First Attempt

Rivyn stared hard at the jumble of materials laid out in front of him on the bench, the gemstones catching the dim, dusky glow of the forge, while coils of silver and gold threads laid off to one side, in a neat little bundle—waiting to be made into rings or amulets. His hands flexed with anticipation, and this feeling, a strange excitement that churned with nerves in his core, now came time for his next project: making beauties.

He had been used to the hammer and iron, which he had held for years, feeling the weight of a hammer in his hand with the rhythmic pounding of a metal against an anvil. But this? Craft something so delicate as an enchanted ring? It represented new country-a frontier-and Rivyn found himself not at all sure his skills as a blacksmith would translate into this more rarefied of crafts.

"Very good," he said to himself and rubbed his hands in between concentrations for the little ring, which he would start first. "Let's see if I can do this."

The System had given him little more than the briefest of nudges when he'd started making his accessories: just faint kicks in the right direction to get him shaping the magical materials into existence and setting fine metals imbuing with enchantments. Everything else, though—the rest was left to him to figure out. He reached for a length of silver wire, smooth and cool against his skin, and bent it around into a thin ring.

It started out innocently enough, shaping the metal into a flawless circle, then polishing and fine-finishing the edges; but as Rivyn dove deeper into his labor, he learned this ring-making business was a far more sensitive art compared to the forging of swords. The slightest misalignment may mean the entire structure fell apart, and unlike in armor or weapons, there was little place to use brute strength.

His hands moved with deliberateness of slowness, carefully bending the wire into position. Each motion felt foreign, almost unnatural. He was used to wielding a hammer and tongs, but here in this sensitive craft, every millimeter meant something. Beads of sweat started building on his forehead now, this time not because of the heat but because of the hard concentration needed for perfection.

Finally, after minutes had elapsed beyond counting, Rivyn pieced the rough structure of the ring together. It was only a plain band of silver, but it felt almost triumphant. He set it down on the table and took a deep breath, wiping his brow off.

What really lay ahead, however, was whether it would work as magic.

He produced a small moonstone, its glow soft, almost pulsing, from the pouch he had bought at the market. To Rivyn's touch, the stone felt warm, and inside it, there was that humming; low ranking it was, perfect for his first try at enchanting an accessory, but it would still require a fine hand for proper binding of the magic.

A prompt appeared at the edge of his vision-a notification from the System about the basic flow:

[Enchanting Process: Infuse gemstone with mana, then channel magic into the accessory.]

"Oh sure," Rivyn said confidently, but his voice trembled with a hint of doubt. He had enchanted weapons before but never something this small.

He cupped the moonstone in one palm, and the silver ring in the other, closed his eyes, and began to pay attention to the flow of mana that united them. The now-familiar warmth of magic stirred his fingertips as he began the transfer, guiding the energy from the stone into the silver band; it was a long and laborious task, infinitely more sensitive than any magic he had tried to this date.

The room was quiet, except for the hum of the remaining magic released into the air. Every thought consumed Rivyn's mind, and he knitted his brow, giving all his attention to the ring nestled in his hand. Slowly, the energy of the moonstone flowed into the silver, blending with the metal in a soft, almost imperceptible manner.

This was done with the softest of clicks.

Rivyn opened his eyes and glanced down at the ring. The moonstone was now set into the band of silver, shining softly with the mana that coursed through it. It could hardly be counted among the more powerful enchantments; it was a basic effect of enhancing the mana, but it was his first real step into the realm of enchanted accessories.

A harmonious chime echoed in his mind as the System assured him of his success:

[Accessory Created: Enchanted Moonstone Ring]

[Effect: Minor Mana Boost]

[Crafting Proficiency Increased.]

Rivyn stared at the ring for one minute, then slowly exhaled the breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. A smile played about the edges of his lips. Rivyn had done it: he had made his very first accessory.

It wasn't perfect-the silver showed slight unevenness in some places, and the enchantment was not half as potent as it might be-but a start it was. Rivyn felt pride swell despite the imperfection. He had walked through the first of many doors into a new world of craftsmanship, a world that beckoned the use of a blend of skills and patience he had never used.

He placed the ring upon the workbench and stared at the soft light from the moonstone. It was so painful yet exciting beyond repression, an opportunity for rings, amulets, and charms that would be made true.

But Rivyn knew this was just a start. If he wanted to make it in accessory-making, there needed to be improvement. Such a market as that found in Velira faced hard competition, and no one would invest in an accessory poorly made by some no-name blacksmith. He needed to get better with his skill, quicker, and perfect his craft if he ever wished to make a name for himself.

It was not until later that day that Rivyn decided he would take the ring to the market to see how the waters ran. Selling it, or at least getting some sort of feedback, would most certainly bring him a far clearer view of where he stood as an accessory maker. Wrapping the moonstone ring in soft cloth and tucking it away into a small pouch, he set out with care into the busy streets of Velira.

Ironworks Market was a sea of energy, all adventurers haggling hard over weapons, armor, and other supplies. Rivyn made his way over to a vendor he knew—the man was a battle-hardened adventurer who had apparently retired to selling gear and equipment to lesser-ranked folk.

He lifted his head to the approach of Rivyn and cocked his eyebrow. "Rivyn, isn't it? You're here to sell me more swords?

"Not today," Rivyn said, drawing forth the pouch. "I have been concentrating on something else."

He handed the ring to the vendor, who eyed it with suspicion. "A ring? You're a blacksmith, aren't you?"

"I am," Rivyn replied, his voice steady. "But I've started making accessories as well. It's enchanted—minor mana boost."

The trader peered closely at the ring, turning it delicately in his fingers. His brow furrowed as he estimated the workmanship, evidently surprised that a blacksmith could be capable of such finery. After a long moment, he handed it back. "Not bad," he said, "but nobody really thinks of accessories when they think of a blacksmith. They're going to want to know if you can back up that claim. Maybe if you put some more stuff out, people would start to take you seriously." Rivyn nodded, trying not to show his frustration. He had anticipated skepticism, but actually hearing it was a little different. "Thanks for the feedback." As Rivyn stepped out of the marketplace, the vendor's words continued to eat at him. It seemed no one expected a blacksmith to fashion accessories. While he knew what he was doing, apparently trust was one thing he couldn't acquire until he showed his craft. He badly needed that people saw his creations. It was important for him that everybody who passed his shop should see what he was capable of doing. As the idea crystalized in Rivyn's mind he picked up the pace, chaffing at the bit to return to his workshop. If people wouldn't give him a chance, at least they'd see it with their own eyes.