Weste the Magnificent's Arc

Chapter 2 of 7

Weste needed to understand gold before he could shape it. He walked to the market and found a merchant selling small scraps of precious metal. The skeleton held a thin piece up to the sun. Gold caught light differently than copper—warmer, richer, alive. He bought three small pieces with his cart earnings and hurried home to his workbench. Heat, hammer, cool, repeat. He practiced the rhythm. The gold bent smoothly under his hammer, but Weste knew he was guessing. He needed to learn proper techniques from masters who came before him. Days later, he heard travelers mention an old library half-buried in the desert sands. They said it held scrolls about ancient crafts. Weste packed water and walked for hours across hot sand. The building rose from the dunes like a sleeping giant—sandstone columns and marble steps covered in grit. He climbed inside and found rows of shelves still standing. Dust covered everything. He pulled down scroll after scroll, searching for goldsmithing secrets. One scroll showed detailed drawings of scepters held by forgotten kings. Another described how to mix metals for strength. Weste traced the diagrams with his bone finger. This was what he needed. He carried the scrolls back home and spread them across his workbench. The drawings showed him what he'd been doing wrong. Gold needed exact heat, not guessing. He built a small outdoor workspace beside his door with a flat stone surface and a heavy anvil. A charcoal block sat ready for quick cooling when metal got too hot. Weste heated a gold scrap in his forge until it glowed orange. He pulled it out with tongs and hammered it flat on the anvil. When it cooled to red, he pressed it against the charcoal block. Steam hissed. The metal darkened and hardened. He did it again with the second piece, then the third. Each time, the gold responded better to his hammer. The rhythm made sense now. Heat gave him control. The anvil gave him precision. Cooling at the right moment locked in the shape. Weste looked at his three flat pieces of gold and felt something shift in his chest. He wasn't guessing anymore. He was learning. Desert winds picked up the next morning. Sand whipped across his outdoor bench and stuck to the hot metal. Weste needed protection for his equipment. He found sturdy wooden poles and thick white cloth at the market. By afternoon, he'd built a tent over his workspace. The fabric snapped in the wind but held firm. Inside, his air pumps stayed clean and dry. Cacti grew nearby, and small desert flowers peeked between the rocks. Weste hammered another piece of gold under the shelter. The tent blocked the sand. His tools stayed clean. He worked for hours without stopping to brush grit from his anvil. When the sun set, he stepped back and studied his setup. He had knowledge from the ancient scrolls. He had a proper workspace. He had protection from the desert. The legendary scepter was still far off, but the path forward was clear.