Shadow Clone Sorcery
Chapter 34: Minarv and Magic Elvis (2)

El-Two, or Magic Elvis, as he liked being called, hated working at the arcane smithy. Training under Kat and her father had paid off. He passed all of the tests with flying colors. First, they had him craft a simple knife. Then, they wanted a flanged mace, a gauntlet, a horseman’s axe, and, finally, a cutlass. The latter two weren’t high enough quality to meet the interviewer’s standards.

However, his arcane prowess made a notable difference. Their forges carried enchantments, and alchemical products helped fuel burn hotter or flare temperatures. It was a learning curve that Magic Elvis wasn’t ready for. So, he had called forth the Shade’s Mantle. A veil over the face had helped mute the light far more than goggles. It was also more comfortable than wearing them. Minor tweaks also marginally improved the leather aprons and garments’ heat protection.

Then, when working the hot metal and drawing it out, Magic Elvis also wrapped it in shadows. He had only intended to create a pretty pattern but accidentally ended up infusing the metal with magic instead. Even though his handiwork was far from perfect, the cutlass suffered minor delaminations, and the axe’s edge had suffered a few cracks. The interviewer and foreman weren’t direct, but it seemed no other candidate had managed such a feat. So, he got the job.

The bastards had worked him to the bone ever since. Impossible standards. No direct training. Unsafe work conditions. Work politics. Massive ego trips. Magic Elvis imagined it was how things would’ve likely ended up if Lukas never left Earth and ended up in a corporate job.

Magic Elvis didn’t get to make weapons, but the foreman had him make billets while pouring magic into them, turning ordinary scrap metal and steel into magic steel. It was a slow and tiring process, and he didn’t meet the necessary standards or levels on the first attempt. It didn’t matter if his magic stores were sparse or dwindling. They pushed Magic Elvis until he nearly collapsed, and the shell containing Lukas’s soul fragment was on the verge of unraveling. Then, they pushed busy work on him while his hands were trembling and his head throbbing.

Magic Elvis occasionally considered protesting and quitting. Lukas occasionally wondered whether the time investment was worthwhile. But then, they saw how the foreman and a couple of other smiths manipulated heat and the enchanted forges and drew out the magic in his billets to create tools with internal magic or foci. As far as Magic Elvis knew, the only other smithy with such talents belonged to one of the more exclusive guilds of Iskander. The recent expedition’s leader belonged to it, and they didn’t allow just about anyone to join. In fact, he had heard that most of their members, artisans included, were scouted young or reared from a young age. It was likely nepotism played a significant role.

One evening, when there was no one else in the smithy except for a couple of other assistants, Magic Elvis tried his hand. He took a billet that hadn’t passed the foreman’s inspection and attempted to draw out the metal and magic within. They hadn’t taught him how to do it and rejected every demonstration request or explanation.

“You’re green and untested. How do we know you’re not just going to learn the smithy’s secrets and run off to start your own thing or sell them to a competitor? Prove your worth. Your loyalty. Then, we can discuss such things.”

What the foreman and the other smiths didn’t know was how keen the arcane-specialized clones’ senses were. Magic Elvis saw and sensed the flow of magic far better than Lukas. He also had significantly more focus than him. The Shadow-Sight spell also helped with the task. They wouldn’t explain things, but no one could keep him from watching while he recovered magic or completed chores around the workshop, and he studied the flow of magic within them.

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Replicating their actions proved a challenge. Magic Elvis attempted the process with raw intent first. He intermingled his magic with whatever had merged with the steel. Then, while hammering the billet he attempted guiding it with the flattening and lengthening steel. The magic resisted at first. It was as resistant as the billet before heating.

Magic Elvis worked himself raw. His hands and face blistered as he reheated and kept working the steel. He attempted to squeeze and massage the energy. Nothing seemed to work until he used the Shade’s Mantle. It seemed pure arcane manipulation wasn’t enough. He needed to give the magic purpose. As he worked, the material darkened even before all the heat dissipated. It blackened, looking like a faint shadow on a sunny day.

It took four hours to draw the billet into a forearm-sized straight dagger with a short tang. It wasn’t pretty, but Lukas could feel the magic within. He reheated, quenched, and tested the blade with a file. It was hard and straight. More importantly, it was naturally a dark, almost black, grey.

The workshop was empty when he finished. All other apprentices had long completed their tasks and left for home. He spent some time grinding the blade, giving it a killer edge before wrapping it in a scrappy length of oiled cloth. All the wasted bits went into the junk pile nearby. Magic Elvis hoped to make it look like he was practicing with scrap after hours to hone his skills as all the apprentices were expected to do.

Iskander streets were never quiet or empty. The white and black-flecked walls seemed to glow under the moonlight. Occasional fires and magic lamps cast dancing orange, yellow, or noxious green on nearby walls. It seemed close to midnight, but dozens walked the streets. Magic Elvis kept his head low and the blade concealed under his coat. It was tempting to use Shade’s Mantle, but it was likely to draw too much attention.

High mass already made his walking speed slow and made traversing along the roofs impossible. His progress would slow further if he were to stick to the shadows. Fortunately, he made it home without incident and unmolested.

Elvis hadn’t yet returned. It was expected. He often worked late or spent a little time with Kat after the smithy closed. Lukas didn’t mind since the relationship came with personal smithing lessons they’d be hard-pressed to find elsewhere, and they also received mundane equipment at discounted prices. The business’s owner also didn’t mind if Elvis paid only material and utility costs for pieces he made himself.

Much to Magic Elvis’s surprise, El-Prime was fast asleep. The man rarely went to bed so early. His expression was also strange, carrying hints of happiness and sorrow. As clones, they always knew of everything in Lukas’s mind at the moment of creation. They understood his ups, downs, joy, and sorrow, often better than him. But he rarely let any of it show.

It was Minarv, wasn’t it?

El-Three and El-Four were nowhere in sight. It was unlike Lukas to leave clones idle. It wouldn’t surprise him if they were out making deliveries, staking out the secret docks, or the business that had tried to steal the runic shortsword. The chances of him sending a pair into the undercity were also high. He didn’t bother El-Prime with the question. It didn’t matter.

The day had left Magic Elvis exhausted. He felt ready to pass out. Clones didn’t need sleep, but they enjoyed it. It refreshed their brains and helped them keep going without taxing the magic shell too much. The floor called to him, but he resisted. The others, especially Lukas, needed to benefit from everything he had learned and experienced the past day. He unwrapped the handleless, almost-black dagger, placed it on the empty desk, and took a step back to admire it for a second.

It was pretty and radiated danger. Even though Lukas had left the assassin's life behind, Magic Elvis was sure he’d appreciate the creation, especially because of the magic coursing through it. They needed runes and perhaps a few socketed gems before becoming a true arcane focus, but he was sure it would serve well as a conduit for spells related to shadows and darkness. It was tempting to run tests, but he was far too drained. Magic Elvis worried that pushing his arcane abilities any further would destabilize the magical shell containing Lukas’s soul fragment. So, he removed the trinkets and tools he carried that weren’t a part of the initial cloning, neatly placed them on the desk, and then dispelled himself.