Chapter 12. Its all skill.

  Abram watched closely while Sid worked on the fire.

  The big guy didn’t really talk much but hot damn could he start a fire. The man was very skilled in the craft, starting a flame with a single motion. Abram had never seen so many sparks spit, and only from a couple of damn rocks.

  A dragon would of either been jealous or proud, and Abrams curiosity about Sid spiked.

  “What was it ye did Sid?” Abram asked with a lifted eyebrow. It was a wild eyebrow too, peppery in color and texture. “Back at yer settlement?”

  “Uhm, …I was a blacksmith.” He answered refitting the axe head in its sheath before he sat along the tree with his sword and satchel.

  “Really?” Abram asked interested. “How many stars?”

  Again, the mention of this star?

  Sid lifted a bushy eyebrow, allowing Abram a closer look at one of them dark beady eyes.

  “Stars?” Sid repeated. He had only made swords and wood axes, recently he discovered he knew how to make bucklers.

  “What’d you mean, like service amulets for the churches? No, nothing like that, just some short swords and axes things of quick trade.” He answered, not entirely sure of the question.

  Sid would never make those stupid amulets. He hated adventurers. Or tokens, or players or whatever the hell they were calling themselves these days. Not that it matters he hated them all. Just a bunch of foolish, weapon wielding holy warriors wasting their time. Not only that but most of them never accomplish anything good.

  He never understood how one could celebrate glory at another’s loss.

  “No I means yer blacksmith rank how many stars ye got?” Abram explained, watching while big Sid searched in the satchel at his side.

  Removing the canteen crafted from a wide and stout pale yellow gourd, Sid gave it a good shake before he remove the plug.

  “I have no idea what your talking about Abram?”

  Abram was now the one who shared the blinking look of confusion. Eyeing that heavy man take a drink. How the hell does he not know about stats. Everyone had stats, walking was a stat, it was the most basic of all stats much like chewing food, but still it reflected aura.

  “Okay well how long ye been smithing then?” Perhaps he could make an estimated guess.

  “Cairo’s credence I have no idea.” Sid stuttered with a mouth numbing swig. “45 years maybe?” He answered questioningly, prodding the fire with a long stick.

  Like reading, Sid was horrible with numbers. This was all thanks to the legion he lived under for such a long time.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “4 or 5 years.” Abram barked, mishearing the mustache. “Why ye gots to be at least 2 stars in your 1st tier.”

  Sid had absolutely no idea what and the actual hell this man was talking about now. He took another swig and hounded for the answer.

  “If I was tell me how I’d know.”

  Again Abram released a series of blinks, if he wasn’t careful a moth might find him suitable.

  “It not be something me can explain Sid it be something ye feel. It be like a force of passion, an internal feeling like a pocket of energy. It be the same energy ye be puttin into those swords and axes ye craft. It reflects the passion, Sid. Ye be puttin aura into yer work, the purer and more passionate ye is with yer work the more it reflects.” He tried to explain.

  “And that builds stars?” Sid asked doubtfully.

  “In a sense. I’m not sure exactly how it be workin Sid, but I do knows that the brighter yer aura the brighter yer stars, brighter yer stars better yer craft. It’s all skill Sid. The more ye do it, the better ye get. It be pretty straight forward stuffs.” It was a mysterious answer.

  Sid tried his best to absorb the nonsense and took another swig. The juice was sour, and it warmed his stomach. It also intensified the sleepy drowse he fought with; he hadn’t slept for two nights now and he may lose the battle. His eyes became heavy, and he conjured another question to humor the voyager.

  “What about your stars, are they shiny?” Sid asked slightly slurred.

  “Thank ya for finally asking. Overall ranked. I be in me 2nd Tier only one star right now.” Abram said proudly, straightening his jacket from his sit down. “But it be a damns shiny silver one.”

  “Is that good?” Sid asked deflating that proud moment, one could literally hear the air as it raspberry from Abrams ego. Sid didn’t know if he should be impressed or not.

  “What do you do?” He asked prodding the fire again.

  “I be a voyager, a collector of sorts.” Abram smiled mischievously.

  “Like a merchant?” Sid yawned.

  “No. no, not like a merchant, I collect, I don’t trade.” Again that smile was salty.

  Without surprise, Sid really had no idea what the hell Abram was talking about. Tier 2 didn’t sound that impressive and he only had 1 star. What and the hell was a collector, everyone traded its part of surviving.

  “What about your donkey it got stats?” Sid chuckled to himself, half hooded eyes slurred his vision with a slow blink.

  Abram hated when people would objectify animals, they were creatures of the land too, just like him and Sid. With some practice and patience they were better than people in Abram’s opinion.

  “Him Sid. Arieo is a him.” Abram corrected with flat tone, him and Sid shared a series of flat blinks, and a moth flutter through, right between the stare down.

  Sid wasn’t used to being corrected and he didn’t appreciate it.

  “And yeah, he gots some stats, don’t ye buddy.” He picked up his tone speaking over his shoulder.

  Arieo looked up from his grass, chewing gracefully. Swallowed softly and swished his tail. His beautiful brown eyes shimmered handsomely as the fire light splashed alongside his face and short goofy body. He directed a stare at big Sid. Blinking those charming eyes and a flick of a tall ear, he cast a glance as if to say.

  “Yeah, I’m real fast.”

  Sid’s face twitched tight with confusion while he glanced between the two of them. Shaking his head he took another mouthful of that sour juice. It was funny how something so cool had such a distinct burn. The warmth lingered from the tip of his tongue all the way down into the pits of his belly. Resting his heavy head against the tree he sat. He watched a pulsing green shimmer and twist in the night sky. The fire crackled softly while warmth soaked his feet. The gentle weave of the flame sang a tender song, lulling the heavy man to sleep.

  Abram watched him closely, he could not put his finger on it but this big fellow Sid, he seemed vaguely familiar. Something about those beady eyes. He had a short thought before the gourd rolled from a thick hand. Shrugging the thought away, Abram reached with a crawl retrieving the gourd. It was empty.

  “Ye tired?” Abram asked turning to face Arieo.

  Arieo flicked one of them tall ears and blinked. He wasn’t tired but he did enjoy watching the soothing rhythm of the fire. It paired delightfully with his grass, and the big moon out there.

  “Yeah, me neither.” His master replied.