It is the autumn of the year 1254, Anno Curia, with winter approaching ever so slowly from the frigid north upon the normally so pleasant valleys that you have nestled your armies in. There thankfully won't be much snow like there is back home. Nor will it be so cold as in Greifswald, but nevertheless you want to be prepared for the inevitable.Yet there are dark clouds already gathered over the Mithradian Archipelago; the infidel has been put on the back foot. But now it is the crusaders themselves who threaten to jeopardise the war effort, and Mithradianans themselves have proven no aid either. That one of them has declared himself king is perhaps the worst thing that could have happened at that moment, but it would seem that ambition has won out over nobility in the hearts of man.For now, you can only watch the developments down south with caution. Montpelerin has carved out for himself a very rich realm, and he will entrench himself in it with every day that passes. Your hopes are now focused upon the other three 'big' leaders of the crusade, Marlwick, Castelanne, and Westernesse, and the unaligned knightly orders. There are a lot of players in this game, you have found, and a lot of them are completely untrustworthy.Yet that is not all that you are concerned with, nor is it the biggest problem ever. If you can manage to build a coalition of northern crusaders, you could force Montpelerin to come to terms; aside from that, you could also stand stronger against the imperial government, the Doge of Alotoro, and the infidels themselves. Though with the campaigning season behind you, it will have to wait until next year.Now, you are combing through the bowels of a palace built upon the ruins of an ancient fortress, searching for any clues that may help you achieve your goals. The forge that you found there could serve as the main supplier of arms for the campaign of next year. And indeed, it is a grand thing; the furnaces stand empty, their mouths cold and deprived of their molten metal. The anvils and their tools stand rusted and decayed. Whatever was left of the products stored in the storerooms had also rusted. Getting this place running again might require you to invest some significant resources, both material and human, into this place. But there is an anvil unlike the other. Not black and metallic, but marble, with golden engravings. It emits a faint golden glow with a soft metal hum. It is broad, heavy, and pristine, untouched by time and neglect. A hexagonal hole in the middle, or perhaps it's better to call it a slot or a keyhole.Obviously something belongs there, but when you came down here the first time, you couldn't find the damn thing; you discussed it with the Vilicus, a being who fills the same station as the seneschal back home. Nevertheless, after consulting him and looking around for any place such a thing might be stored, you, like many before and after you, spend a few hours in silent suffering searching for the key
>>6173829And as always, the damn things always lie where you think you had already searched, twice. Under some old rusty pliers and a soot-stained apron, you found the key, a hexagonal seal, it seemed to you. Lined with gold and made of a material you weren't sure you knew. As per usual, there is the usual Imperial symbolism; the laurel leaves and the eagle prominently feature. But in the centre age, an anvil is engraved, upon which a hammer is striking. Which sent lightning bolts flying from it. It was small enough to hold in your hands, but only with the tips of your fingers holding it in place upon the palm of your hand. It was quite heavy, too, so you quickly brought it over to the anvil slot.It fits; that much it does, but alas, while the form is correct, the hexagon itself won't fall nicely in place. ''So close, yet the builders of this place seem to thwart me once more. Why, for the sake of the leaves in Greifswald, won't it fit?'' You said out loud that the more verbal expressions of frustration, you kept behind your tongue for now. Wait a minute, you thought. What if it was made to be that way? Only being able to be put in place by force, the force of, say, a smith's hammer. It would be worth a try, though you didn't know if the one you grabbed from one of the tables would last beyond the first strike.And it didn't; with the first strike, the ancient wood of the handle split in twain. Improving, you grabbed the metal head of the hammer to make it fit that way, and after a few short hits with the metal, you made it fit.
>>6173832The gem in it lighted up, as the precious metals on the anvil started to warm up; it glowed with a red-golden colour, which would have burnt any touched, so you refrained from doing so.In the centre of the hall, a being was taking form, of the same blue hue that the Vilicus was coloured with. It was a short man, a dwarf rather, with a long white beard and a black apron covering his white tunic. ''Grungi, no sorry, Grungurius, master smith, of all varieties, at your service. Be ye guest or resident, I can make and repair anything to do with metal, gold, tin, steel, adamantium, or mithral. I can forge, melt, and decorate any and all weapons, armour, and jewellery you may bring.'' He looked around the hall and to the rooms where the coals and firewood for the furnaces were kept. ''Though you might want to consider foraging for fuel first,'' he remarked.>Greetings to you, master Grungri.>Can't I simply cut down the trees outside?>Is there no magical source to fuel the forges?>Write-in.
>>6173835>>Greetings to you, master Grungri.yo!
>>6173835>Greetings to you, master Grungri.Random magical smith? hell yeah.
