The walk home was quieter than usual.
The events beneath the mountain lingered in my thoughts long after I left the memorial behind. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the rows of ancient skeletons resting where they had fallen centuries ago.
After arriving home, I greeted Father and Mother before quietly eating dinner with them.
No one spoke much that night.
The entire kingdom had attended the burial.
Words weren't necessary.
Once dinner was over, I excused myself and returned to my room.
Closing the wooden door behind me, I placed the small cloth pouch Charles had entrusted to me on the table.
"...Let's see."
I loosened the drawstring and gently emptied its contents.
Four objects rolled onto the tabletop.
A bronze bracer.
A simple ring.
Part of a broken shoulder guard.
And a narrow bracelet.
None of them looked particularly valuable.
The metal had darkened with age, its once polished surface dulled by centuries beneath the mountain. Fine scratches and shallow dents covered each piece, silent reminders that they had once been worn by people who lived, worked, and fought.
I reached for the bracer first.
The weight surprised me.
"...Heavy."
Heavier than it should have been.
Running my fingers across the surface, I could still feel faint hammer marks beneath the weathered patina. Whoever had forged it hadn't cast the metal. They had folded and hammered it by hand, layer after layer.
The craftsmanship alone surpassed anything I had seen in Metal Veil.
My attention shifted to the engravings.
Mountains.
Straight lines.
Small circles.
Geometric shapes connected by thin grooves.
The carvings weren't deep. In fact, they were remarkably shallow, as though whoever made them cared more about precision than decoration.
I rotated the bracer beneath the lantern.
The light caught the grooves from different angles, revealing details I hadn't noticed before.
Some lines were thicker than others.
Some circles were perfectly round.
Others were divided into four equal sections.
"...Strange."
Setting it aside, I picked up the ring.
Unlike the bracer, its surface was almost completely smooth.
Only the inner band had been engraved.
I narrowed my eyes.
"...There."
A small circle surrounded by four intersecting lines.
Exactly the same symbol carved onto the bracer.
Not similar.
The same.
I immediately placed the two pieces beside each other.
The proportions matched perfectly.
The spacing.
The depth.
Even the angle of the engraved lines.
Whoever had made them had followed the same standard.
That couldn't be a coincidence.
Next came the broken shoulder guard.
Nearly half of it had been shattered away, leaving only a jagged fragment behind.
Even so, several familiar symbols remained.
A triangle enclosed within a square.
Three parallel lines intersecting a circle.
Another divided circle.
Again...
The same symbols appeared.
I carefully arranged the three artifacts across the table.
Some markings repeated.
Others never appeared more than once.
Finally, I reached for the bracelet.
Compared to everything else, it was by far the most intricate.
Unlike the scattered engravings on the other pieces, the bracelet's markings formed one continuous band that wrapped around the entire circumference.
There were no empty spaces.
Every symbol flowed into the next with deliberate spacing, almost as though they were meant to be read in order.
I slowly turned it between my fingers.
"...This one is different."
The bracelet didn't feel decorative.
It felt...
Intentional.
I pulled a sheet of parchment from my desk along with a piece of charcoal.
One by one, I began copying every engraving.
Whenever two symbols matched, I drew a line connecting them.
The divided circle appeared three times.
The intersecting square appeared twice.
The mountain symbol appeared only once.
Soon the parchment was filled with sketches, arrows, and notes.
Yet no matter how many times I rearranged them...
Nothing resembled a language.
No words.
No sentences.
No obvious meaning.
I leaned back in my chair and stared at the drawings scattered across the desk.
"...These aren't decorations."
"...But they aren't letters either."
My gaze slowly shifted toward the stack of weathered books resting beside my bed.
Ancient books.
Books no one else in Metal Veil seemed interested in reading.
I could have sworn...
I'd seen symbols like these before.
Not carved into armor.
Not engraved onto jewelry.
But somewhere within those forgotten pages.
I carefully gathered the artifacts back together before reaching for the first book.
"...Let's start from the beginning."
---
The engravings were too small.
No matter how closely I examined them beneath the lantern, the curved surfaces of the artifacts distorted the patterns, making it difficult to compare one symbol with another.
"...There has to be a better way."
After a moment of thought, I left my room and quietly made my way to Father's smithing workshop.
The forge had long since gone cold.
Only the faint smell of charcoal and iron lingered in the air.
Near one corner of the workshop sat a large clay pot used for making casting molds and repairing damaged furnace bricks.
"...This should work."
Scooping out a small amount of soft clay, I carried it back to my room.
Along the way, I grabbed several blank sheets of paper from the study and returned to the workshop one last time.
From the ash bucket beside the forge, I collected a handful of crushed charcoal before mixing it with a few drops of lamp oil inside a small wooden bowl.
The black powder slowly became a thick, inky paste.
It wasn't perfect...
But it would have to do.
Returning to my desk, I picked up the bronze bracer.
Carefully, I pressed the soft clay over the engraved surface, making sure every groove was filled.
Using the edge of a small wooden scraper, I removed the excess until only a thin layer remained just above the surface of the metal.
"...Good."
Next, I spread a light coating of the charcoal mixture across the clay.
The black paste settled over the raised surface while the clay beneath supported every tiny engraving.
Before it had time to dry, I gently laid a clean sheet of paper over the bracer.
Holding my breath, I slowly rolled the curved surface across the paper.
The motion had to remain steady.
Too much pressure would smear the ink.
Too little would leave gaps.
When I finally lifted the paper...
A dark impression stared back at me.
Every line.
Every circle.
Every tiny geometric symbol.
Far clearer than anything I could have observed by eye alone.
"...It worked."
Encouraged, I repeated the process with the remaining artifacts.
The ring required far more patience because of its size, while the broken shoulder guard produced several incomplete impressions where the metal had fractured.
The bracelet proved the most difficult.
Its engravings wrapped around the entire circumference, forcing me to make several overlapping impressions before I finally captured every symbol.
Soon, the desk was covered with sheets of paper.
One by one, I arranged them side by side.
Repeated symbols were marked with charcoal.
Matching patterns were connected by thin lines.
I compared their spacing.
Their orientation.
The order in which they appeared.
Hours passed.
The lantern flame burned lower.
Yet no matter how many times I rearranged the pages...
Nothing revealed itself.
No hidden message.
No recognizable language.
No pattern I could understand.
I leaned back in my chair and let out a long sigh.
"...I'm missing something."
These engravings had meaning.
Of that, I was certain.
But meaning alone wasn't enough.
Without the knowledge to read them...
They were nothing more than beautiful lines carved into ancient metal.
My eyes drifted toward the stack of forgotten books resting nearby.
If these symbols had survived on the artifacts...
Perhaps they had survived within those pages as well.
Tomorrow...
I'd begin searching from the very first page.
---
The next several hours passed in silence.
One by one, I pulled the old books from the shelf beside my bed and spread them across the desk.
Most were little more than collections of faded illustrations and fragmented notes copied from even older texts. Many pages were damaged beyond recognition, while others were missing entirely.
Finding anything useful felt like searching for a single grain of sand.
Still...
I turned every page.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Every time an illustration contained an engraved weapon, a piece of armor, or an ancient artifact, I compared it against the impressions I had taken from the recovered relics.
Most of the time...
Nothing matched.
Sometimes the symbols were completely different.
Other times, they were too worn to make out.
Several drawings were so crude that I couldn't even tell whether the engravings had been copied accurately or merely sketched from memory.
"...Come on..."
I flipped another page.
Then another.
Hours slipped by.
The lantern beside me had burned low by the time I finally stopped.
"...There."
A symbol near the edge of one illustration caught my eye.
A divided circle.
Almost identical to the one engraved on the bronze bracer.
My heartbeat quickened.
I quickly searched through the impressions scattered across the desk before placing them beside the drawing.
"...Another one..."
A second illustration contained the same intersecting square that appeared on the broken shoulder guard.
Not exact...
But close enough that I couldn't dismiss it as coincidence.
I continued searching.
By the time I finished, I had found only a handful of similarities.
Five.
Perhaps six at most.
Out of hundreds of symbols.
I leaned back in my chair.
"...That's all?"
It wasn't enough.
The books contained only illustrations.
There were no explanations.
No translations.
No notes describing what the engravings meant.
For all I knew, the artist who had copied these drawings centuries ago could have made mistakes.
The symbols might not even be accurate.
I rubbed my temples.
"...So I'm back where I started."
The only thing I had learned was that the engravings weren't unique to the artifacts.
Someone...
At some point...
Had seen them before.
My gaze drifted toward the closed bedroom door.
"...Maybe Father would know something."
The thought lingered.
Father had spent his entire life around metal.
If anyone in Metal Veil understood ancient craftsmanship, it would be him.
Yet...
I hesitated.
What if I was wrong?
What if these matching symbols were nothing more than coincidence?
I had no proof.
No translation.
No understanding of what any of it meant.
Showing Father now would only give him questions I couldn't answer.
After a long moment, I quietly gathered the papers into a neat stack.
"...Not yet."
If there truly was a connection...
I needed more than a few matching symbols before involving anyone else.
Until then...
I'd continue searching on my own.
---
Several weeks passed.
The memorial beside the waterfall gradually became part of everyday life in Metal Veil. Children crossed the bridge each morning without fail, offering quiet nods to the three ancient suits of armor before continuing on with their daily routines.
Life had returned to normal.
The excavation beneath the mountain continued.
The blacksmiths resumed their work.
The builders pushed the tunnels farther into the mountain.
As for me...
Every spare moment was spent studying the artifacts Charles had entrusted to me.
My desk had become a mess of parchment.
Sketches of symbols.
Lists of repeated patterns.
Notes comparing the engravings with the old books from the library.
I had filled page after page.
Yet despite weeks of work...
I hadn't moved any closer to understanding them.
The symbols remained as mysterious as the day I first saw them.
I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my tired eyes.
"...I've reached a dead end."
Everything I could learn from the books had already been learned.
The illustrations contained too little information.
The artifacts themselves refused to reveal anything more.
If I wanted answers...
I'd have to look somewhere else.
My thoughts drifted toward the only place in Metal Veil older than the hidden kingdom itself.
The Magma Ox Forge.
Father often spoke of it with admiration.
It was where the finest blacksmiths gathered to study, exchange techniques, and preserve the traditions of dwarven craftsmanship.
If anyone had encountered engravings like these before...
It would be the masters there.
"...Looks like I'll have to see it for myself."
Making up my mind, I stood from my chair and began gathering everything I would need.
The charcoal impressions I had painstakingly copied over the past several weeks were carefully rolled into separate scrolls before being tied with thin cords.
I selected the bronze bracer Charles had entrusted to me.
Out of all the recovered artifacts, its engravings were the clearest.
Finally, I gathered my notes.
Rather than leaving loose sheets scattered across the desk, I stacked them neatly between two thin wooden boards and secured them with leather straps, creating a simple folder to keep everything organized during the journey.
Once everything had been packed into my satchel, I looked over the room one final time.
The books.
The sketches.
The unfinished pages.
"...Hopefully..."
"...I won't be coming back empty-handed."
---
The journey to the Magma Ox Forge took most of the morning.
Father walked ahead with practiced steps while I followed closely behind, my satchel bouncing lightly against my side with every step.
Inside were weeks of work.
Sketches.
Notes.
Charcoal impressions.
And one bronze bracer recovered from the forgotten chamber beneath the mountain.
The familiar scent of burning coal greeted us long before the forge came into view.
Massive stone furnaces roared day and night, filling the valley with waves of heat strong enough to distort the air itself.
The rhythmic ringing of hammers echoed from every direction.
To any dwarf...
There was no place more alive.
After greeting several of the master smiths, Father led me toward a heavily reinforced storage room tucked away behind the main workshop.
Several thick iron bars sealed its entrance.
Inside...
Rested dozens of dark gray metal ingots.
Each was roughly the size of a brick.
"...These are them."
Father folded his arms.
"The ingots recovered from the old warehouse."
I stepped closer.
Their surfaces looked almost untouched despite years of study.
"...Have you learned anything?"
Father shook his head.
"We can't melt them."
He picked up a heavy hammer resting nearby.
"We've tried every furnace."
Every known fuel.
Every technique passed down through generations."
The hammer struck one of the ingots.
**CLANG!**
The sound echoed throughout the room.
Only a tiny dent remained.
"The metal doesn't crack."
"It doesn't soften."
"It barely deforms."
"...Almost as though it refuses to change."
I slowly nodded.
It sounded familiar.
Very familiar.
After thanking the smiths, Father brought me deeper into the forge.
Toward the cattle forge.
The largest furnace in the entire complex.
Its enormous stone basin glowed a brilliant orange as molten metal churned inside like liquid fire.
Several apprentices continuously added broken tools, worn-out farming equipment, and damaged weapons into the furnace to be recycled.
I quietly reached into my satchel.
"...Father."
He glanced over.
"I'd like to test something."
I held up the bronze bracer.
"The engravings?"
I nodded.
"If it's ordinary bronze..."
"...it should melt."
Father studied it for a moment before giving a slow nod.
"...Go ahead."
Using a pair of tongs, I carefully placed the ancient bracer among the pile of scrap waiting to be melted.
One by one...
The broken tools disappeared beneath the molten metal.
Old sickles.
Bent chisels.
Rusted axes.
Their edges slowly softened before dissolving into the glowing pool below.
The bronze bracer remained.
Minutes passed.
Nothing changed.
It didn't glow.
It didn't soften.
It didn't even discolor.
Father frowned.
"...Impossible."
The surrounding smiths slowly gathered around the furnace.
One of them adjusted the bellows, feeding even more air into the blazing fire.
The flames surged higher.
Still...
The bracer remained exactly as it had before.
Father reached for a pair of long forge tongs.
"...Let's pull it out."
He carefully gripped the bracer.
The instant the iron tongs touched its surface...
A faint blue light pulsed through the engravings.
Once.
The symbols illuminated like flowing veins beneath the metal before fading almost immediately.
"...Father?"
His eyes widened.
The tongs slipped from his hands.
The bracer clanged against the stone floor.
"Ashtir!"
Before anyone could react...
His knees buckled.
The color drained from his face.
He collapsed.