Deathworld Commando: Reborn - Chapter 162: Dwarven Research And Development.

“So the school even has an underground basement, huh?” I mused as I wiped the sweat from my forehead.

Squeaks led me down a staircase in the back of the workshop that led to a large stone basement that was uncomfortably hot despite the vents leading to the outside. The smoldering heat was escaping from what looked to be a giant furnace in the back of the room. Two massive bellows pumped up and down, seemingly without gears or mechanisms. It must have been magic.

Or maybe a dungeon item? That seems oddly specific.

“It seems so, but the basement isn’t what’s important. It’s this forge. I’m beyond impressed by what Bow managed to create. This is a top-of-line Dwarven forge. I know many men who would sell a limb to even work in a building with one of these,” Squeaks praised.

“Bowen often spares no expense when it comes to his school and students. I’m just surprised he had something like this made,” I said.

“Yeah, he mumbled that it was for some advanced class this or that, but I ignored him,” Squeaks said with a shrug. He motioned for me to follow him. “Now, let me show you my work.”

Squeaks guided me toward the forge, and he pressed a foot down onto a metal lever that slid the metal plate up and away, revealing the blazing inferno inside. The fire was a blinding white that lit up the entire dark basement.

Squeaks removed his top layer shirt, revealing his muscular hairless body covered in carved runes. He tied an apron around himself and used a pair of thick metal tongs to pull out a glowing black scale. He guided it to an anvil with an iron base but a pitch-black top. Squeaks immediately set to work, hammering away at the scale in silence.

I watched on in awe. I had watched Padraic and his father make things at the forge before but never had I seen a master of their craft do it. Yet, there was something different about Squeaks. His entire demeanor and aura changed as his muscles bulged and veins pulsed with blood as he swung the hammer down onto the scale over and over again. His dark eyes were wide and focused intently on the task at hand.

So, this is what a Forgemaster is like? The difference isn’t just in the finished product.

Squeaks let out a deep huff and gave the black scale a sour expression. Now that the black scale had cooled down and lost its red shine, it simply sat there atop the anvil. Its original shape had not changed, and its shiny, lustrous deep black coating was pristine. Squeaks had hammered with all his strength and was not able to scratch a thin layer off the Dragon’s scale.

“I even used the droppings of a White Salamander to fuel the fire this time. I heated it for hours, yet it didn’t even leave a dent. These scales are of the likes I’ve never seen before,” Squeaks grumbled.

“You know I believed you when you said there was nothing you could do about the scales,” I told him honestly.

“I know that…I was just hoping I’d see something with this, but alas, it was just a dream after all. I’ll just have to go back home,” Squeaks said with a sigh as he closed the door to the furnace. “But that wasn’t the good news. This is.”

The Dwarf waddled over to a table, hopped up into a chair, and waited for me to stand over him. He swept a towel off and presented me with an interesting-looking weapon tip. It was built like a large arrowhead with a fine point and barbs sticking out on either side. The stem extended out to a second, wider flared edge.

This is a brutal design. A fine point for thrusting in between the armor and two sets of barbs for disemboweling people and ripping flesh and bone. It also has an excellent weight to it, just right for a spear tip.

I like it.

However, it was made of a unique metal which was odd considering I know what materials he should have used in its creation. I was expecting a black spear tip, yet the one Squeaks handed me was a dark cloudy gray. Smoky cloud-like patterns in the metal reminded me of Damascus steel.

“Did you add something to the metal?” I asked him.

Squeaks grinned and nodded. “I may have been unable to work with the Dragon scales, but the Wyrm parts were another case. I was able to use the scales and the bones. But for this spear tip, I added the bones straight into the cast because your friend Padraic convinced me. I wasn’t even sure what the outcome was going to be, using two unbelievably high-quality and rare materials, but I think it was worth it in the end,” he said proudly.

So he added carbon, huh? More than that, he added the carbon of a legendary beast that wielded immense power. This spear tip is almost glowing as bright as an average person in my Dragon eye. That’s on top of the base Mythril-like alloy of the Shadow Clan.

“What do you think? Padraic poured the mold and everything,” Squeaks asked.

“It’s amazing, Squeaks. Thanks to both of you for your hard work in such a short amount of time. But did Padraic show you what he was capable of?” I asked him.

Squeaks nodded to himself as he let out one great big yawn. “He’s no novice, thankfully. I was ready to teach him from the ground up, but that won’t be needed. His base fundamentals are satisfactory. He had a good mentor, whoever it was.”

I’m sure Padraic’s father can die happy knowing a Forgemaster is praising his teaching abilities. He might just drop dead somewhere right now.

Wait…maybe I shouldn’t be thinking about stuff like that. I take that back, Mr. Whitehelm, wherever you may be.

“What about the other project?” I asked.

Squeaks raised the facial muscles where his eyebrows would be into a scrunch. “Who do you take me for? I’m a man, not a god. I can’t do all of this in just two days while teaching a new apprentice, you know?”

“I wasn’t expecting a finished product. Just wanted to know your thoughts…” I said in my defense.

Squeaks shrugged and pulled out a leather-bound paper notepad. A few days ago, we had gone over a certain project I wanted him to start. Or, at the very least, consider starting. I wasn’t hopeful that he would be able to do it, but…

Squeaks grinned. “This armor you are asking for is revolutionary in almost every way possible, Kal. People have been clamoring for something like this for ages, but all it was at the time was ideas on paper. But you’ve thought a lot of this out…what gave you the inspiration to figure something like this out?”

“It was just a passing thought,” I lied.

Squeaks snorted. “I’d hate to see what happens when you actually sit down and ponder something then.”

“So, is it possible?”

Squeaks sat there for a while in silence. His eyes darted back and forth over the notebook. He took a deep breath and let it out. “It is. I think anything is possible, but something like this armor is going to take years of research. Let alone hundreds of hours of trial and error. I’m thinking of at least two or three years of nothing but prototypes. There’s no way I can justify using top-tier materials on something this ambitious.”

“Then that’s all I needed to hear. I never expected this to be done in a year or even a couple. It’s just good to know that it’s possible,” I told him.

“Yeah, but it’s only going to be possible as long as you keep helping. We are going to need more of those passing thoughts of yours,” Squeaks said with a wink.

“I’ll get right on it,” I said with a smile.

“Anyway…since this is going to take a long time, I figured you would need something in the meantime. So here, take a look,” he said as he handed me his notebook.

I opened the page to find a sketch made of black charcoal. Even with the crude writing utensil, the diagram was clear as day and possessed an uncanny amount of detail. If this was meant to be a quick sketch, then Squeaks needed to become an artist.

“Dwarven hands really can make anything,” I muttered quietly.

“What was that?” Squeaks squeaked.

“Nothing…”

Chainmail… no scale mail armor, huh?

“So you are going to use the Wyrm scales for this, I presume,” I questioned as I handed him back the notebook.

“That’s the plan. Scale mail is typically thought of as being cheap and inferior to chain mail, but with these kinds of materials, that idea needs to be tossed into the fire. Wyrm scales are durable and flexible, and with just two layers, they are stronger than Dwarven Steel, with some proper reinforcements and supporting materials, maybe an enchantment or two…I can create something truly unique,” Squeaks explained.

“I see…that does sound tantalizing.”

“It should. I’m the one making it, after all. It would be lightweight, fit underneath most clothes, and be more robust than most full-plate pieces. Adventurers and soldiers alike would murder each other for an adult Wyrm mail piece,” Squeaks said. He looked at me and gave me a coy smile. “So, are you interested?”

“Please make it for me and, if you could, for my parents as well as for Sylvia and Cerila. It will be helpful in the tournament and any unforeseen accidents in the future. Oh, and make sure Padraic helps you,” I told him.

Squeaks clapped his hands together and grinned. “The other might have to wait a while as I can only focus on so much. But damn…now we are talking…it’s good to be back. Who would have thought these would be my first projects…so many interesting things are on the horizon…” Squeaks said, trailing off. “You really know how to make a Dwarf happy, Kaladin Shadowheart.”

“Maybe your kind is just easy to please?” I suggested with a chuckle.

“If easy to please for you is Dragon and adult Wyrm scales, then so be it,” he chuckled. “Just get me some Stone Honey Mead, and I might consider staying with you forever.”

Stone Honey Mead?

“You mean this stuff?” I asked as I took out a white bottle of alcohol Lauren got me for my birthday.

Squeaks’s eyes bulged from his head. “Yo—you actually have a bottle! Even I had to wait on the list to get one! How!? And a white liquid?! Is this new?!” Squeaks yelped.

I guess despite Squeaks’s oddities, even he loves a good bottle of alcohol. Even I’m partial to the stuff now, as it was a hundred times better than anything I had before.

“It was a birthday gift from a princess.”

“A birthday gift from a princess…what a sentence,” Squeaks muttered back to me.

I gave him a wry smile and sighed. “I tell you what. We can share this bottle together when this is all said and done and you finish your projects for me and the foundation. Just you and me.”

“Is that a promise?” Squeaks asked with a warm smile.

“It is.”

Squeaks nodded to himself and gazed over at the forge. “I guess that means I need to get to work.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” I said, intending to let him stay behind and take my leave.

“I’ll walk you out, at least. Don’t want you tripping over one of those idiots on the way out,” he grumbled back.

Well, I don’t need an escort, but I won’t say no.

I shrugged, and the two of us left the forge. Padraic was as he was, slumped over on the ground, hammer in hand. It seemed Bowen was still fast asleep as well.

And just as I was walking past Bowen, I heard something move slightly, followed by a shout. I instinctively stepped down hard at the feeling of someone grabbing my leg. There was a pained grunt as the air left somebody’s lungs.

When I looked down, Bowen was looking up at me with teary eyes and a face that just read I had betrayed him. I felt terrible for stomping on him, but he was the one that surprised me first. I already had to deal with Sylas, and I suppose I was more on edge after that than I had anticipated.

Bowen’s eyes widened as he snapped toward Squeaks who was standing next to me, looking down at him with pity. “The mask!” Bowen shouted.

“The mask?” Squeaks repeated back, confused.

“The mask…” I murmured.

“That’s right! I completely forgot about it but had a dream, and now I remember everything!” Bowen said excitedly as he slowly raised from the hard floor.

I could hear the bones in his knees crack, and he was slow to extend his back fully. Who would have thought that sleeping on the hard stone ground would be bad for you?

My old silver and gold mask appeared in Bowen’s hand from thin air. The mask was nearly destroyed as it had been melted and thrashed during the Dragon attack. I had given it to Bowen to study not too long ago.

“I have a feeling this item may be interesting,” Bowen said as he handed it over to Squeaks.

Squeaks examined the destroyed item, turning it over in his hands. He narrowed his eyes and scrutinized every inch of the mask as he brought it closer to him. He even thumbed away some of the dangling debris.

“What does this mask do exactly? I’m getting an odd feeling from it…it seemed to have been a high-quality item once but no more,” Squeaks commented as he continued to inspect the item.

“Why don’t you put it on and find out?” Bowen suggested.

Squeaks shrugged and placed the mask on his face without a hint of hesitation. Bowen and I both waited for something to change, but the only noticeable difference was when an ever-so-slight wave spread out from the top of his head, turning Squeaks’s skin a slightly paler color.

“Huh, it appears the mask is useless for those without hair or a darker to average complexion,” Bowen noted.

“This is interesting…I can see with the mask on. I can even breathe with it like it’s not even there. It’s like a helmet but better. What else is it supposed to do?” Squeaks asked.

“Why don’t you hand it to Kaladin? He is by far the best example to showcase the item’s power,” Bowen suggested.

Squeaks flipped the mask off and handed it to me. Within a few moments, Squeak’s skin color had changed back to normal. And I immediately put it on.

It’s been a while since I last put this mask on. It feels like it was just yesterday I was Voker Winterheart.

I watched as my hair turned to ash gray in a wave starting from the top of my head. The color change slowly went to my fingers, changing my skin tone from its usual light tan to a cream white. Within the span of less than a minute, my entire outward appearance had changed.

“Fascinating,” Squeaks muttered. “An item that can change the user’s skin and hair color. As well as works as a perfect item to mask one’s face. Truly a unique dungeon item. How did you manage to break it, Kaladin?”

“The Dragon attack,” I answered simply.

Squeaks made a face of understanding and nodded. “That is one way to ruin a precious item…but despite the damage, its internal functions still operate, which is interesting.” Squeaks looked to Bowen. “It’s a fascinating item, but I don’t work well with dungeon items.”

I took the mask off, and my body returned to normal quickly. I returned it to Bowen, and he put a finger on his chin. “I wonder if that’s the case. There is a part of me that wonders if this item has more to it than what we can see on the surface.”

Oh? Although I used the item for a few years, I never got the impression it may have been handmade. It seemed too good to be a regular dungeon item, but I attributed that to the workings of the mysterious Deguzman.

“Mmhmm?” Squeaks hummed. “Apprentice! Grab the tools!”

Padraic burst straight up from the floor with frightening speed and raced down the stairs into the basement. “Yes, sir!”

“You’ve conditioned him in just two nights?” I said in belief.

“It was a long two days, and he’s a hard worker!” Squeaks chuckled in his high-pitched voice.

Poor Padraic…he never stood a chance.

Padraic came back with a speed that defied the odds of his short Dwarven legs. The man always complained about how running was an arduous task for him yet I’ve never seen him move so fast in my life. Padraic extended the leather satchel of tools with grace like a messenger handing over a letter from a king.

“Good work. Just a bit faster next,” Squeaks said as he took the tools from his student.

“Faster?” Bowen muttered. “Is that even possible?”

The second the tool kit left Padraic’s hands, he fell straight onto his back. I swore he was already snoring before he hit the ground with a thud.

“Now then, let’s get to work, shall we?” Squeaks suggested with a grin. “You won’t be mad if I break this thing, right? I feel like the only way to find any secrets is to get below the surface.”

Bowen looked at me, but I just shrugged. “I gave it to you to study and never intended on taking it back. You two are the experts, so I’ll defer to you. If this needs to be done, then as far as I’m concerned, you should do it.”

Bowen nodded to me, then to Squeaks. And without anything said amongst us, Squeaks took out two very basic tools. Just a hammer and a chisel. Squeaks raised his arm, and with a single tap, he broke into the edge of the mask.

I didn’t know whether to be amazed or not. The mask’s integrity was clearly compromised, but to make it look so easy? I had a feeling I should have been amazed by that strength put into a single precise movement. And Bowen seemed quite dazzled himself.

Squeaks carefully began prying the mask apart, working along the edges with a hammer and chisel. After a few minutes of careful yet expert work, Squeaks managed to separate the mask with nothing short of pure skill.

Squeaks used the chisel to pry the mask apart, fully exposing something that made his jaw drop. His eyes darted around at maximum speed to the point I swore that his eyes would vibrate out of their sockets. Squeaks gasped in astonishment.

“I can’t believe it…I can’t identify at least five of these runes…” he muttered in disbelief.

“Runes? Let me see,” Bowen said, excitement in his voice as he nudged Squeaks to the side to get a better look. “Indeed…I can’t read them,” Bowen said with a grin as he pinched the hair at the end of his beard.

I wonder…is any of this a coincidence? I feel like I should be excited for them, yet I can’t escape the feeling that this was all planned. It’s just too good to be true. Did that merchant foresee all of this? That I would meet Squeaks, free him, and just so happen to possess a rare item with new runes in it?

Who is Deguzman? Was his goal truly to help me? Or is there more to it? There has to be…

I tuned out the world for some time as I pondered all of that. I let Squeaks and Bowen talk amongst themselves like giddy children who just found a new toy. That was until the storm itself rolled in. The wooden doors didn’t stand a chance as they were blown in.

“There you are, my lovely husband,” a very familiar and pissed-off voice said coldly.

Well, I can’t feel bad for him. If he dies, he dies.

Bowen’s face paled at the voice. He didn’t even turn around to face it as he chuckled nervously. “Ahaha…good afternoon, dear.”

“It’s still the morning…dear,” she growled back. “Is there where you’ve spent the last day at? Mhm?”

Sweat beaded down Bowen’s face as he slowly turned to look at his wife. “Ah? Is that so…time really does fly when you are having…uh…resting? And I was preoccupied with a new discovery, yes…my students had concerns and—”

Squeaks patted Bowen on the shoulder and gave him a thumbs up. “Just hurry up and take your punishment like a man. I’ll see you when you get out of prison.”

Bowen chuckled nervously as his wife grabbed him by the collar and physically dragged him out of the room with ease. She was a War God, after all. Unfortunately, Bowen was no match for her in raw strength.

But she stopped right before the door and slowly turned her head toward Squeaks. She was smiling, but there was no warmth or kindness in it like there usually was. “Squeaks.”

Squeaks jolted slightly and looked up at her. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“If my husband comes around, you’ll tell me he’s here, right?”

Squeaks nodded slowly. “Yes…Ma’am…” he said in defeat.

“Oh, and good morning, Kaladin.”

“Yes, good morning, Miss—Jessica. Good morning… Jessica.”

I felt goosebumps appear on my arms when I started to call her Ms. Taurus. But that feeling disappeared upon calling her by her first name, and she just smiled at me and dragged Bowen out of the room.

Another reminder to never anger that woman. Or is this just a lesson from the world to not frustrate a new mother? I think each is an important lesson by itself, so I shall take them both to heart and commit them to memory.

“So, can I leave everything to you, Squeaks?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’ll get it all done soon. Let the president know I’ll start on her projects as well.”

With that, Squeaks and I said our goodbyes. I wished the sleeping Padraic a farewell and made my way back home.

—

Or so I tried to.

“What are the odds of meeting you outside of class, Kaladin Shaodowheart?” Malachi asked me as I was walking out the front door of the building.

“Considering we go to the same school, probably not that low,” I answered dryly.

“Do you mind if we have a chat?” he asked in his smooth, baritone voice, his tiger tail swishing side to side.

“That depends. If it’s about Sylvia, then no. You already heard her opinion. Trying to get to me won’t get you anywhere either,” I answered back curtly.

Malachi winced slightly but maintained a fanged-filled smile as he cleared his brown hair from his face. “I won’t lie, it doesn’t not have anything to do with her, but it is a question pertaining to you as well.”

I sighed and fully faced him. “One question. Don’t let it slip by you.”

“Harsh conditions….” he chuckled.

Malachi stared at me, waiting for perhaps a chuckle back or smile from me, but I just stared at him. I didn’t hate Malachi. I didn’t even know who the man was. But he was trying to do something that benefited him by using Sylvia, and that was something I wouldn’t stand for.

But keeping up general appearances is probably for the best, considering Sylvia slapped the daylights out of him not too long ago. However, he deserved every bit of it as far as I was concerned.

“Are you and Miss Sylvia romantically involved? It appears you live with each other and even raise a child together, yet when I ask around, you two don’t act as if you are together. I just found that odd was all,” Malachi asked with genuine interest.

…

“Yes, we are romantically involved.”

Malachi nodded and creased his eyebrows into a frown. “I see…then the calculated risk I took was bound to fail before I even took it.” Malachi bowed at the waist. “Then I must apologize for my actions. It seemed I should have asked you in the first place. But I hope you understand that speaking to the Dragonslayer is quite difficult, even as a crown prince from an insignificant place.”

“I understand the sentiment. But if you are going to apologize, it should be to Sylvia and not to me,” I told him.

“I plan on doing just that,” he said, rising from his bow.

…

…

“Is that really all you are going to ask me?” I questioned.

Malachi tilted his head to the side. “But you said I could only ask you one question?”

“That is true…I did say that,” I groaned.

“Besides, it doesn’t really matter, does it? I could give you some depressing life story of how my nation is on the verge of falling or how much I’ve struggled, but you wouldn’t really care, would you?” he said.

“Correct.”

Malachi winced again. “Brutally honest…as I’ve heard. You could at least pretend a little,” he chuckled.

Malachi sighed deeply and took off his glasses to wipe them. “If anything, I’m thankful for your open disdain for me. It’s almost refreshing. Considering you’ve been with Miss Sylvia for such a long time, you probably understand where I’m coming from, right? I would take being shown hated over outright hostility in a heartbeat,” he said solemnly as he looked at me with his blood-red eyes.

“…I understand,” I responded simply.

Malachi nodded as he put his sunglasses back on. “I understand that you dislike me. And I believe that due to my mistake, it is warranted. So I will just have to take the time to mend things. It’s a nice change of pace to be disliked for my actions rather than my appearance,”

“Is that your goal? To get closer to us?” I asked pointedly.

Malachi shrugged. “Part of it, yes. I’m here to attend this school for many reasons, believe it or not. Some do pertain to my…standing. Then there are those that I simply wish to indulge in selfishly. I have a long life ahead of me. I might as well enjoy my short amount of time here, no?”

“As long as that enjoyment doesn’t bother Sylvia, my family, or friends, then we won’t have a problem.”

Malachi grinned wryly. “Thank you for your permission…Dragonslayer. I’ll have to keep that in mind as well, it seems.” Malachi bowed again, just slightly this time. “Have a wonderful rest of the day, Kaladin Shadowheart.”

I let Malachi walk away without saying a word to him. There was a part of me that felt bad for treating a stranger in such a way, especially when he seemed so sincere.

But at the same time, I couldn’t trust Malachi. And I did dislike what he attempted with Sylvia, even if he apologized and things were handled.

But most importantly, I couldn’t associate with him until this red prince business was taken care of.