The wind howled this high - whipping at the fur cloak that draped over the veteran Knight's shoulders. Shrugging against the cold, he lifted his free hand to draw the cloak closer about him. The other hand held the reigns of his steed: the beautiful and surefooted Unicorn he had come to name Airoso - which meant graceful, elegant, and smart in his native tongue of Montefort. Behind followed his companion Lord Rhygar, along with his squires Olvar and his son Raphael. Raphael's companion, the ranger and expert archer Anguy, brought up the rear. Simon led them gingerly along the goat path that ran between cliffs and rocks, winding its way slowly up the mountainside.

Not for the first time Simon questioned the wisdom of coming here so late in autumn. The temperatures were low, the winds high, and one never knew when a storm might come to dump snow upon them or to douse them in freezing rain. Such would surely be the death of them. But the Queen's tourney would be held soon, and they needed the finest weapons and armor if they were to compete well and make a good impression at Court. They needed a master smith, one of the best - and rumor had it that these mountains held one of the best in the world. This smith apparently kept to himself, far away from civilization, and worked his craft with magical fire that came from his own hands. He seemed just the man to craft the enchanted weapons and armor that Simon and his companions required.

The Knight had no doubt that this work would be expensive - but fortunately, they now had the coin to spare. When he and Olvar had signed on with the caravan over a year ago they had been poor and penniless, but now that it had completed its circuit of the continent they had received a healthy share of the profits. Moreover, they had gained much in spoils following the many battles they'd had along the way. The journey had been long and arduous, but well worth it. Not only had they become wealthy, but they had found Lord Rhygar and Simon's own son along the way. Looking back, signing on with Steelshanks may have been the greatest decision Simon had ever made.

Now was the time to spend their coin properly - on outfitting themselves as proper Knights and Squires. The journey up the mountain was treacherous - between the wind and cold and the sheer drops, Simon felt on edge constantly. The climb wasn't just physically fatiguing, but also mentally. Late was the hour before they finally came upon the dwelling of the lone smith.

At the top of a cliff the ridge flattened out, revealing a hut beside a steaming hot spring. A bubbling creek flowed nearby, one Simon was sure was ice-cold from snowmelt. A cave opened up in the rock of the next rise behind the hut. Several smaller huts lay here and there as well. Simon assumed they held the tools and materials the smith needed for his work. Hot and cold water, a cave, tools… he has everything he needs here to ply his craft. The man knew what he was doing, indeed. 

Stepping toward the hut, he knocked brusquely on the door. "Hail, master smith! I am Simon, Count of Montefort, here with Lord Rhygar of the Rills, my squires Olvar and Raphael my son, and the master bowman Anguy. We come to commission you for a project to properly outfit us for the Queen's Tourney in Adeluna. Will you help us?"

The White Knight stood back, and awaited the smith's response.

It was a simple place, really. When he’d found the main hut in his travels, accompanied by the steaming spring and icy creek, he knew right away that this would be a fine place for a forge. He set up shop in the cave just behind the hut, hauling stone from the mountains and using his magic to cut it to shape. It was not the first forge he had built, so the work came relatively easily, with few stops to consider his next course of action. In a matter of only a day and a half, the tiefling had a fine place to pursue his craft. His final action was to lay his blackened hands on the coals and set them alight with a slow, intense burn. With the young flame nestled down, he gave a few gentle pumps from the bellows, coaxing out a warm orange glow that quickly spread through the bowl.

With the heart of his little camp completed, he set about organizing his other equipment. A series of small sheds would store what he needed, from wood to ore to completed works. Their small size made them easy to build quickly. He had four of the little huts completed in just a day and a half. Next came the main cabin where he’d been sleeping at night. It was mostly outfitted, but clearly abandoned, so he cleared out any old dust that was lying around smothering the place. He crafted a sturdy chest for his personal belongings, then a wide, but simple worktable to house his prints and plans.

In less than a week he had turned a single old cabin into a proud little forge, and the success stood him a little taller.

He went about his work there, using the two different waters he had access to in order to attempt a perfection of his new steel recipe. His progress was very fine indeed, and acceptable to most, but he knew he could improve upon it still. It was while he was hunched over his prints for the steel that he heard a knock at the door, setting him on edge. Company was only ever business or trouble. Listening to the announcement however, the tiefling’s shoulders slowly relaxed. His hooves clicked lightly on the wooden floor as he moved to unlock the door, peering outside with cautious golden eyes. “Sir Montefort,” he greeted. “Your armor serves you well, I hope?” Over the strangers his gaze bounced, lingering briefly on the warg-riding squire he recognized to give a small nod. The others were all new. “I heard no news of a tourney, but I’ll never turn away a commission.”

Waving a clawed hand for them to follow, he stepped out the door, closing it behind him with his tail. “What are you in need of this time, sir knight? Armor for your company? Or weapons perhaps?” Laskus led the way back to the forge itself, stopping in the entrance to the cave to face them again. The heat from inside was like the lazy breath of a dragon against his back. “Your commission has my full attention, good sir.”

Simon inclined his head. "Well met, master armorer. I approve of your new compound. It is well-placed, and orderly." He turned to follow the Tielfing back toward the cave that housed the forge. "Yes, Laskus, I have found this armor quite pleasing," he said, smiling in approval. "It is without doubt the finest suit of mail I have ever owned." The white enameled plate was perfectly formed to his figure, layered over gleaming chain and leather bleached and boiled. It was inlaid with runic scrollwork of silver that warded him from evil. "It has served me well, but has taken some damage from our last battle. I shall require it to be repaired and polished before I compete."

The White Knight stood up a little straighter as they stepped into the cave and out from under the oppressive downpour. "I shall also require a new mace, hilted in ivory and runed in silver, as well as a lance twirled with white and navy blue. Both weapons will need to be enchanted for efficacy and sharpness." 

He made a broad gesture toward his companions and mount. "My Unicorn shall require full barding as well. Chanfron, Criniere, Croupiere, Flanchard, Peytral, chainmail linking about the reigns… And a caparison bearing my standard upon it. That shall be the project for me personally. Next, we have my man Lord Rhygar." Simon motioned the ruddy Lord forward.

"Lord Rhygar will also be competing at the tourney. He shall require a suit of plate, blue trimmed in yellow. He'll also require a kite shield and lance of the same coloring, and a proper broadsword. He has opted for chainmail barding for his steed, and a caparison with his standard."

Next he motioned to his squire. "Laskus, may I present to you my Squire, Olvar. The lad will be needing a glaive, made to his specifications. He also rides a warg, and will be needing platemail fitted for the hound's legs and head."

Finally, he gestured to his son. "And this is my boy, Raphael. Being an Atavian, he cannot take flight in a suit of steel plate. He requires armor, but it has to be impossibly light. My only idea for a viable option would be mithril. I know it is difficult to procure, and even more difficult to work. Could you fashion a suit of plate from the metal? Moreover, it has to be specially formed to be aerodynamic so as not to interfere with his ability to fly. The plate will be enameled and inlaid just as mine, with matching spear and kite shield. He also possesses a long insectoid thorn, which he would like to have fashioned into a rapier, and a long thorned vine he would like made into a whip. Can this be done?" 

Raphael's kit was the most specialized, most complicated, and no doubt most expensive. Simon feared his request would be beyond even the skills of the legendary Laskus. But if anyone could do it, it would be this solitary Tiefling. Almost as an afterthought, he remembered his son's companion. "Ah, yes, and the remaining fellow here in Anguy. He is a master archer, and would like a longbow of yew, tipped in horn, with a bushel of bodkin-tipped arrows. He also requires studded leather, and a falchion and buckler for close combat." 

All done, he gave a sigh and a wry smile. "A small order, I know. Hopefully you do not find it too boring."