Grand Saint Alloy

Tristan was unsure where to go once he got out of the building. Most of his memories of the Forest Caldera were foggy at best, he remembered the temple, the smithy he had used as an obstacle to evade the guards, and the two-story building where he had fought Henry. Aside from that, all he had were his old home and the sifting grounds.

On the upside that guaranteed anywhere, he hid would be random. The downside was, he had no idea what places were prudent hiding locations. So he decided on a location that was both obvious and unexpected. He went to the old temple. It was just as large and gaudy as it was previously, though a layer of dust covered the statues of Vent, Furnace, and Ripple. Tristan was not sure if that was a type of sacrilege or if they believed the wooden carvings were simply well-cut pieces of timber.

When he pushed on the doors he found them barred from the interior. The fact that it was a bar was a good sign, as it could only be placed from the interior. After circling the building he found a back door that had a fancy brass lock on it. It would not take the standard key, but it was made of un-augmented metal and Tristan was several times stronger than the people it was made to stop. He backed up and sprinted into the door shoulder first.

The lock held, but the wooden catch did not. It splintered inward giving Tristan access to the temple. Everything inside was dark and it became even darker when he shut the door behind him. He was in some kind of storage closet, there were spare desks, extra lecterns, what looked like painting supplies, and many other things that were difficult to identify in the gloom. Tristan dragged one of the desks over to block the door closed. It would not stop anyone, but they should still assume the door to be locked.

What he was looking for was a quiet place to meditate. He needed his kern to be repaired as quickly as possible. Thankfully it was a simple break, not something like the destruction that had occurred in the dissonic silver flames. This empty temple would be just what he needed. He exited the storage closet and found himself in the main court of the building.

The stained glass of the windows was darkening as the sunset. Tristan looked over the room, all the wooden pews had cloths draped over them, presumably to keep the dust off. He decided the Guider’s office would be the best location, not because strategically it was better. If hiding was the most important factor, then he would crawl under the pews and meditate there. The Guider’s office simply had comfy chairs.

Chairs that were fortunately still there. He walked around the desk and sat down. He started to hum a mindless tune while he focused on recovery. The last healing reservoir he had taken was not able to completely heal him, but he would say he was at around eighty percent, at least physically. He still had a fist-shaped brand in the center of his chest, it was not the worst scar he could get, but also not one he would prefer to keep.

The broken kern put itself together in a relatively rapid period of time. Eleven hours was not bad. He did suspect that the more forces he was able to draw upon the more quickly it would repair. It would never be fast enough to make it safe during a fight but, eventually, it might not ruin his day.

He sighed in relief, and let his metal sense expand again. It was disconcerting to lose something he relied so heavily on every time his kern broke. It covered most of the temple by this point, informing Tristan of every nail and screw within a hundred and fifty feet. He was interested to find that the frame that held the stained glass in place was metal. There was also something much closer.

Right behind Guider Daphan’s desk was a false wall. It was well hidden even from Tristan's senses. In fact, the only reason he discovered it was because the camouflaged door still possessed metal hinges. Was it a secret escape passage to the sewers?

Tristan probed the wall trying to find a way in. It had to be something Guider Daphan could do. He was tier three, but he was also old, meaning it was not a strength based latch. Sliding his nails along the wooden slats of the wall found no gap. There was not even the outline of a door he could trace.

The opposite side of the door was in a corner, making the straight edge that would allow the door to swing blend in seamlessly. When scraping did not work, he tried prodding. He only found something because he was looking for it. At any other time, he would have chalked it up to degradation due to the passage of time.

Two separate boards could be depressed. This would flex the opposite side up and release a catch that was holding the door closed. Once the door was released, it swung open silently revealing a hole cut straight into the ground. It went down almost as far as his metal sense could. Tristan frowned, that was much deeper than the sewers should be. If his senses had not expanded by a few feet he would not have been able to feel the faint amount of metal coming from below.

It was almost as if it was made specifically to avoid the senses of civil protectors, as they should barely be tier four. That thought caused a greedy gin to spread across Tristan’s face. If it was hidden from a civil protector, then it was something a person in his tier would want. Well, that was only true if it had not already been moved to the head family's home. That dowsed Tristan’s excitement, there was a good chance he had burned all his prospective valuables before claiming them.

There was a ladder made of wooden pegs set into the wall. Again, no kern would be able to sense those. He tested his weight on them, it was very likely that they would support Daphan and not himself. They groaned under his weight but did not break. Not wanting to test his luck, Tristan hurried down. No light came from below and there was not enough metal to see his surroundings with.

He groped around for a few minutes. There was a strong feeling of metal essence coming from the opposite side of the room, but he soon realized he was seeing it through one or more walls. That was one of the flaws of his metal sense, he could not feel what was between himself and the metal.

Thinking for a moment, he retrieved the pendant he had taken from Regis. It glowed ever so slightly, but not enough to illuminate his surroundings. He was after the essence inside. Turning he tore one of the rungs out of its bracket. The amulet was set in its natural formation, draining every piece of fire essence from the one wearing it. When reversed it would push fire essence into anything that was wearing it.

He wrapped it around the rung and then inverted the reservoir. Sure enough within a few minutes, he had a torch. It would not last long, but it gave him enough light to find and light a candle sitting on a side table. He stomped the rung out on the floor and proceeded with the candle. The whole interior was made out of stone bricks and had a half-cylinder construction.

There were no glow stones, most likely to avoid Henry’s attention. Along one wall were barrels filled with wooden staves, all of them painted a golden color. Beside them were hoops with mounting brackets. He was standing in the room where the acolytes had their weapons constructed.

Next, his eyes settled on trays of round molds, and beside them was a box filled with essence reservoirs. Most had not been attuned to an element yet. There was a good number of them inside. Tristan was not going to waste time counting them, he would steal them and make something with them. Or more realistically, make healing reservoirs.

The underground area was split in half by a wall. He felt something filled with metal essence waiting to be claimed inside the other room. He found a doorway, that lacked a door. Any intruder that successfully found this place would not be impaired by a simple lock. Inside the other room were completed staves with untuned reservoirs installed. He liberated those.

The opposite wall held several objects some familiar, some foreign. He was excited when he discovered his daggers. Once he discovered how valuable the reservoirs attached to them were, he assumed they would be repurposed. Their cutting ability had to make this this workshop’s job much easier.

He picked them up. They no longer felt familiar, he had grown too much without them. They had a tier five reservoir, meaning it was a safe artifact to use now. However, the unstoppable cutting power was no longer as absolute as it was before. Most of what they could slice he could simply break with his hands.

Adamance was a good force, but these blades relied on simple geometry to cut. The enemies he had to worry about could bend the laws of nature to serve them. He would keep the daggers, but as his opponents grew they would quickly reach their limit.

Next on the wall was a familiar bracelet. It was the pair to the one the assassin tried to use. Tristan couldn’t use it, but he still pocketed the device. His hands were already full, but he promised to return and reclaim the rest.

That was when he heard voices, “I don’t know why he left the door open?”

“It can’t be considered a secret room if you don’t lock it up?” Another voice scoffed.

Tristan blew out his candle, plunging the chamber into darkness. Now that he had seen both rooms he would be able to navigate through them. He just hoped that neither of them had a dark kern.

There was a thud followed by some swearing, “Forsaken Guider, there’s a rung missing.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Two feet landed on the floor, “Where is the candle? Jin, I think there’s someone down here.”

“Then be quiet, oaf,” The one who fell said.

Tristan approached the empty doorway. When he felt the stone touch his fingers, he hid just inside the doorway. It would be hard to see him unless one fully entered the room.

“Do you want me to make some light?” Oaf asked.

“No, wait while I check things out,” Jin said.

So a light and a dark kern. The light kern could glow like a glow stick, though this one needing a candle meant he had a weak kern. Dark kerns could see well in darkness at any tier, but from his fall, Tristan assumed him to be low tier as well.

He could not hear Jin’s footsteps, but the man kept up a constant stream of whispers, despite telling Oaf to be quiet, “the essence spheres are gone,” he kept moving, “the candle is in the middle of the other room. I think this place was robbed.”

“Are they still here?” Oaf asked.

“I don’t see any oh, for-“ Jin’s voice cut off when Tristan's left hand closed around his shoulder and his right knocked him out with a single strike to the face.

“Jin, Jin. Are you dead?” Oaf asked his voice trembling.

Tristan needed to ask these two some questions.