Chapter 59: Welcome to the Crafting Ark

  Tristan watched as the girl and her astral both reappeared, and he could tell from the grin on Sophie’s face that something amazing had happened during her tier-up. But rather than just [Identify] her immediately and ruin her surprise, he decided to ask her about it.

  “So, how did it go?” he asked, the excitement clear in his voice.

  “I’m a {First}!” she yelled louder and louder until she was practically screaming. “I’m a {First}! I’m actually a {First}!”

  Tristan watched her hug and shake Poof joyfully. “Congratulations,” he replied. “Is that as good as it sounds? Obviously you’re excited, but--”

  “It’s even better!” Sophie interrupted. “I got five choices, which isn’t even close to guaranteed when you do something as focused as I did, but that didn’t matter because I got offered one Class that hadn’t ever been chosen before.” She finally loosened her death grip on Poof and held the fluffy little astral out in front of her. “I’m the first ever pure astralist!”

  Tristan found himself smiling with her. “That sounds like exactly what you were looking for! But what does it do? What are its perks?” He indicated Poof. “If you don’t mind sharing, of course.”

  “Not at all!” Sophie replied, clearly excited to talk about it. “I finally have the ability to talk to all of them telepathically, not just Sneakers. And they can talk back too! So that’s pretty awesome. It even has unlimited range.” She quietly smiled at Poof for a moment, before blinking back in astonishment. “Well that was a bit rude, Poof,” she said, turning back to Tristan with a shake of her head. “We’ll definitely have to work on that.”

  Tristan suppressed a laugh. It didn’t really surprise him that Poof would have a bit of an attitude on her. Though he did kind of wonder what the puffball might have said. He guessed that it had to do with all the bows Sophie kept forcing on her.

  “That does sound super useful. Especially the range thing.”

  “Each of them also got a new Major Skill, which I can’t wait to test out! And a few other things, too..."

  As her words faded away and her eyes somewhat glossed over, it was clear that she was getting lost in her interface. Tristan would have been content to just smile and wait patiently, understanding how the tier-up process could be a bit overwhelming, but after only a few seconds Poof let out an annoyed meep and began squirming. She actually managed to worm her way out of Sophie’s grip and started to fall--until Tristan caught her.

  “Don’t worry little one,” he told the astral mage, “she’ll pop out of it soon enough. For now, you’ve got me. Hope that’s alright.” He stroked her fur delicately, earning himself a rare coo.

  About a minute later, Sophie blinked rapidly and said, “Sorry about that. I just had to clean up some of the options, rearrange the display, you get it I’m sure.”

  Tristan shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. Every so often I pop into my Status and change the abbreviation for Will. It’s kind of fun.”

  Sophie scrunched her face up like she’d bitten into something sour. “I’m sorry, you do what?”

  “You know, just a fun little tweak to how the Will stat is displayed. I went with 3-letter abbreviations for all the stats--"

  “Obviously,” Sophie added, “but--"

  “--But when it came to Will, well, I just switch it up periodically.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s not your Status. I’m thinking next time I might even do M-C-T.”

  “What?” Sophie blanched. “For ‘Will’? Why?!”

  “For Mental Control.”

  This time it looked like Sophie tasted something bitter. “I know that’s what the stat does, but as an abbreviation, that’s awful. Please, just promise me you’ll at least never tell anyone else about this.”

  Tristan laughed. “No guarantees. What do you use for Will, anyway?”

  “W-I-L.”

  “But then it looks too much like WIS, which is Wisdom,” Tristan said, raising an eyebrow as a sly grin crept across his features.

  Sophie stared at him, then looked down at Poof nestled cozily in his arms. “This is who you choose over me? This?” She sighed, in what Tristan hoped was mock agitation. “Anyway, now that that’s done and we’re both Tier 2..."

  “The Crafting Ark?” Tristan suggested hopefully.

  “Yep! It’s time for the Crafting Ark,” Sophie confirmed. “Though obviously I haven’t had the opportunity to ask my friend yet. I’m sure it won’t be a problem! Let’s go!”

  - - - - -

  A week later, they were standing beside what Tristan knew was technically a dock, but it was unlike any dock he’d ever seen before. First and foremost, this one didn’t go into water. No, this dock went up, and up, and up. It went so high into the sky he could only barely make out the landing, or mooring, or whatever it was supposed to be called. And then there was also the ship docked up there, just hanging midair, mocking the laws of gravity.

  The Crafting Ark.

  Even all the way down on the ground, just seeing the ship of legends, he could barely contain his excitement. His hands were covered in sweat, no matter how often he wiped them on his pants. At least he could see he wasn’t alone in his feelings. The only reason he didn’t spend more time studying the long line of people waiting to ascend the stairs was because he was one of them. He also wasn’t exactly in line yet, but Sophie had said she’d have that fixed momentarily, so he let his eyes wander--which was great, because Tristan couldn’t keep his gaze off the amazing airship. How many of the innovations of the realm had happened within its decks? How many crafters had found an Inspiration (or more!) that changed their profession forever?

  Hearing Sophie stomp her foot brought his attention back to the ground. Apparently she’d hit a little snag with her friendly connection.

  “What are you talking about, Willis? You can’t just dance around the fact that you owe me a favor.” Her voice went into a low but syrupy sweet growl. “By the gods, I will tell your parents--or maybe even your betrothed--about the assistance you begged me for not six months ago! Do you really want that? Do you really want that secret to come out?”

  The young gnomish man ran a shaky hand through his tangled, strikingly blue hair. “Sophie, it's not that I don’t want to, but--"

  “But when the shoe is on the other foot you suddenly seem to care a lot about the rules, is that what I'm hearing?” Sophie didn't so much as blink as she stared down at the gnome. “I'm not even asking for much, just putting our names on one list!”

  “You don’t think that’s--? Look at the line! This flight has been booked up for months, Soph!” He lowered his voice. “There are rumors that Inspiration Jack is about to tier up, and no one knows what that will mean for those aboard.”

  Tristan's ears perked up. Luckily Sophie gave voice to what he'd been thinking, and better than he would have.

  “All the more reason to get us up there, Willis! And you are going to find us adjoining cabins, or so help me, the next time you or your friends find yourselves in legal trouble, you’ll have better luck finding the Sovereign making a second city than me. Is that what you--?”

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  Before Sophie had even finished the question, the gnome hurried off, muttering about needing to “talk to some people.” Within five minutes, he was back with two tickets in-hand. The moment one of them touched Tristan’s hand, he got a new notification:

  Tristan Hammerson, you have been granted access to the Crafting Ark. May your crafting dreams soar as loftily as this vessel. Watch your step!

  A surge of electric excitement ran down his spine at seeing his name on that line. It was quite literally a dream coming true. Filled with pride, he and Sophie stepped into the line that slowly climbed the long, winding stairway and went all the way up to the Crafting Ark.

  Willis practically hissed at Sophie, “That’s it. We're all square now!”

  “Of course we are, Willis. And thank you.”

  Tristan thanked the little blue-haired gnome, too. Then he was gone, letting them stand in line. Tristan didn’t even mind the wait. He just kept staring up until, eventually, up they went.

  And it was a long way up.

  What was more impressive to Tristan, however, was just how big the ship was quickly becoming above him as they approached. He'd seen descriptions and pictures of the Ark, of course, but no description could have ever captured just how massive this ship really was.

  The higher they rose, the harder it was to keep the whole ship in view. He could probably count on one hand the number of things he'd ever seen that were actually larger than the Ark, and that included both the Embrace's temple and the enchanted canopy in Rockmoor.

  But the Crafting Ark wasn't even half as old as either of those landmarks. At most it was a hundred years old, according to the stories, and supposedly built from scratch by Inspiration Jack all by himself. Well, that last part Tristan was beginning to have serious trouble believing. Just imagining the magic needed to make any ship fly was beyond his understanding. But this ship was the essence of grandeur. For the whole ship to have been made by one person alone, well, that felt impossible. Especially since it was well known that the man was still a mortal. Surely such an undertaking would have taken one man a whole lifetime.

  As Tristan took his first step off the railed ramp and onto the enormous vessel, he received a surprising notification:

  You have been invited to the Crafting Ark raid. Accept?

  From the look on Sophie's face, she's received the same invitation. This is a dream come true. Why would anyone ever refuse? He shook his head in amusement before responding with the easiest Yes of his life.

  Immediately his entire display shifted, shrank, and reorganized, making room for a huge new interface. His vision was suddenly flooded with tons of names and bars, some of which he easily recognized as health and mana. But there were dozens more, some including symbols and timers and more that simply overwhelmed him. There had to be hundreds of people in all, with the number only continuing to grow. It was honestly a cluttered mess, and more than a little daunting.

  He tried to move some of the elements around, and after a few initial hiccups, he actually found it quite easy to do. He was able to filter and organize groups, minimizing several and outright hiding others. It only took a minute to fully return his display to mostly normal.

  “Well, that was a mess,” Sophie said beside him. She was stroking Poof in clear agitation.

  Tristan only smiled. He'd found something exciting buried in the raid’s group-member list. Hidden in what must have been the oldest group of all, as it was beneath all the other icons and bars, he'd spotted a name without any other identifiers, and it was marked simply “I.J.”

  He's here somewhere, Tristan thought, genuinely excited. I hope I can find him.

  One look around him, though, put some serious doubt into the ease of such a thing. From where Tristan was standing, he couldn't see either the ship's bow or stern end, not that he knew which was which. He also wasn't entirely sure how many decks were above or below them, mostly because of all the rooms and suites lining the long, seemingly-endless corridors.

  What he did see were lots and lots of people. Some of the other new arrivals were gawking, just like he and Sophie were, but there were even more moving with purpose, carrying or pulling large bags or carts behind them. Each and every one of them wore a similar, determined look on their face, and not a single one held a weapon.

  Everyone here seemed to be a crafter, and they were all clearly hungry for the next leg of their journeys.

  With his own voice barely above a whisper, Tristan directed a question toward Sophie: “What do you think the odds of us meeting Inspiration Jack are?”

  “That depends,” a nearby elf said, shuffling closer after having clearly overheard Tristan's question. “How likely are you to have an Inspiration?”

  This elf might have had the longest pointed ears Tristan had ever seen. They towered easily a full hand's length above the elf's long, braided gray hair. Then again, the man's beard also nearly touched the floor, despite the man being as tall as Tristan was! He used [Identify] out of habit.

  [Status blocked]

  It was a whole bunch of nothing. It reminded Tristan of the shop in Rockmoor, MidKnight Plate, except this was a person.

  Who is this guy? he wondered.

  “Well, I'm not a crafter,” Sophie was saying.

  “And I've never had one,” Tristan added, “though my father did once. It was while making the [Ossified Darksteel Leg Plates] that eventually Erathor the Wall would buy.”

  The old elf clicked his tongue. “I saw those pants once, just before the Wall went to fight the dragon whose foot would flatten him. They seemed well made, though even they couldn’t save him.”

  “That wasn't my father's fault.”

  “Obviously not, young Hammerson. Though, do send your father and mother my best when next you see them. I haven't had the pleasure of Marrik’s company in over twenty years.”

  Tristan blinked back his surprise. “You knew my father? Who are you?”

  Sophie elbowed Tristan lightly, whispering, “Don't be rude.”

  “It’s perfectly fine, young Adrielle,” the elf countered. “I haven't yet introduced myself, and as you’ve likely noticed, [Identify] is blocked on the Ark.”

  That comment sent Tristan into a scanning frenzy, but no matter who or what he tried to [Identify], it all came back the same.

  [Status blocked]

  The elf was still saying something to Sophie about her parents or family, which seemed to be a sensitive subject. Tristan only got pulled firmly back in when the stranger gestured to him. “I actually attended Marrik and Christha's wedding, after all.”

  If the elf’s declaration was true, that would make him one of Marrik Hammerson’s oldest friends, but Tristan had never heard a single word about him. Granted, his father was notoriously tight-lipped about his past, but still!

  “Yet now, having said that,” the old elf continued, looking straight into Tristan's face, “I can see Christha’s eyes in you. Paired with your father's build, I should have recognized you immediately.”

  Tristan felt a little flattered, and his posture straightened a bit, as though to live up to the comparison. “So whose regards shall I send along?” he asked.

  At that point, Poof chimed in with an adorable, “Me-meep?” and bounded clear out of Sophie's arms and into the elf's.

  The old elf's fingers immediately began to scratch right beside the astral’s oversized eyes, a place Tristan had only recently found that Poof loved. “Spiro,” the old elf replied. “Please send my warmest regards.”

  “I definitely will,” Tristan said, happy to meet someone close to his father.

  “Wonderful! As I once told your father, ‘May your hammer ever strike true, young Hammerson.’ To you, my budding astralist, I offer my congratulations on your great accomplishment and title. I'm sure I will soon hear of the pride your parents will show once they learn of your increasingly-rare accomplishment.”

  Strangely enough, though he carefully handed Poof back to Sophie, his comment seemed to leave her even more tense. Her fingers barely moved across the soft astral’s back, as she only responded with a restrained, “Thanks.”

  The old man seemed to already be looking beyond them.

  “Now if you’ll excuse me, there are many other people to meet. If you’re fortunate, maybe we’ll see each other again later. It has been a pleasure meeting the three of you. Welcome to the Crafting Ark.”

  “You as well!” Tristan replied. “And good luck in your crafting on this voyage!”

  Spiro bowed deeply. With a few serene steps, he was off and engaging with another set of new arrivals.

  Tristan found himself bowing in return before he turned back to Sophie and Poof. “He seemed nice.”

  “Dangerous,” Sophie replied, offering her word as a replacement. “I don't know who he is, but he knows a lot about both of us considering he can’t [Identify], and he implied even more.”

  Tristan watched the elf, Spiro, interacting with the next group of four. “Huh. He just looks like an old elf to me.”

  Sophie, standing right beside Tristan, shivered. “He knows my parents... Just do me a favor and be careful anyway.” She clearly shook her head, and the chill seemed to descend through her body. “Anyway, want to get to our rooms and unpack a bit before you inevitably get to crafting?”

  Tristan nodded. “I don't have much, but..."

  He broke off mid-thought, completely caught off guard by one of the newest arrivals to the ship.

  “Tempy,” he whispered.

  Standing there, not ten paces away, wearing a plain but sleeveless white shirt, was Temperance Harrow.

  She looked up, having just been greeted by the old elf, and for a brief moment Tristan saw her eyes slide right past the elongated ears. To him.

  Their eyes caught.

  And she smiled at him.

  He smiled back, only catching the tail end of what Sophie was asking. “...Know her then?”

  “Yeah,” he managed. “How long is this trip again?” He still hadn't looked away, though she had. She was currently laughing at something the elf had said.

  “A month,” Sophie answered, “as it travels almost to Camille. You’ll be able to see The Champion’s Arena before we land.”

  Plenty of time, he thought. He shook his head free of his thoughts and looked down at Sophie who was practically rolling her eyes. “Sorry,” he began. “Yeah, let's head to our rooms.”

  And then they were walking away. Sophie explained, “I got us each maps,” and told all about the ship and their coming ‘vacation,’ but Tristan only heard pieces of it.

  Plenty of time, he thought with a smile.