He called the boots and their attendant modular enchantment 'Freerunners'. In concert with the naming conventions of the spellbreakers. Though he yearned for a break, Tyr worked through it. Thankfully, the other skillbooks hadn't been so painful as the first. Information coursing through his mind. It taught him how to do a thing. Not the significance of said action. All they offered was knowledge, not skill or talent, but that was enough. Only practice would bring him to understanding the true lessons within. But Tyr had a near eidetic memory. While others might waste that which they were given, he couldn't possible. For the runes, he copied them all into his grimoire along with some other bits of information regarding things that were less easily understood as a reference.

Beating the warped pauldron upon his anvil back into place with newly fit runes and a repaired augment socket with a light heart. It was a good day. The work was finished fast, before the noon sun, leaving him time to eat alongside Hogan. And Benny, who joined them.

“I like that armor more than the last one. Seems more... I don't know, you? Seeing those other version of my Tyr wearing similar sets was a bit jarring.”

“Tell me about it.” Tyr sighed. “Imagine learning there were a bunch of Benny's running amok in the astral space.”

“Well, if theory holds true.” Benny laughed. “There probably are. I've always been a bit of a rascal. And some of them recognized me.”

“Funny how that works.” Tyr mused.

“Not really.” Benny shook his head. “Just means we were fated to be brothers after all. Forever. Across all timelines. I find great comfort in knowing that there were other me's to watch your back, as reckless as you are. It's very romantic.”

Tyr smiled at that. Benny was a good man, and friend. Always so blunt and honest, just like he was. Crude, too. They were a good fit, and Tyr hoped he would stay after a time. Benny burned hot and bright. Iscari, who Tyr missed a great deal, was like the sun. But Benny, the campfire he was, was a welcome companion on a cold night. A soothing presence. At times that was more literal, with them joining one another in slumber, the kijin was wise beyond his years and recognized the signs of stress, providing what comfort he could. Usually in the way of food, but it helped all the same.

“I made this for you.” Tyr said, handing over an oilcloth wrapped parcel.

“Another gift?” Benny wasn't as bashful as Jura. He saw the intent and welcomed it. Gift giving was common in his culture, and brothers of war were bonded in ways that mated pairs could never be. What emerged was an axe not unlike his own. Two handed, an angular blade of blue steel. His eyes glistened as he took in every curve. The face of an oni, the demon kijin, was stamped at the center of the blade. A symbol of great honor among his kind. It touched him, to know that Tyr had decorated it as the smiths of his people would. “I am truly blessed, brother. I feel a great love for you, but I always knew you were the partner of my life.”

“Er...?” Tyr coughed awkwardly. “I like you, as well.”

“Do not be so bashful. To love your brother is to be human. You've none of your own, correct?”

Tyr shrugged. “I can't be sure quite yet, but if the new son of Jartor is my brother – I do not know him.”

“Then I will be your first true and sworn brother.” Benny swiped his hand along the blade, a jagged tear in the flesh a testament to its wicked sharpness. Extending his hand, Tyr eyes it nervously before shaking his head and doing the same. He knew what a blood oath was, and what it meant. “Brothers?”

“Brothers.” Tyr nodded, resolute. Benny accepted him for who he was, which in Tyr's mind wasn't much better than the things people called monsters. To reciprocate his oath was only natural, that kind of faith was quite rare and he felt warmth blossoming within him.

“Forever, then. Until we fall beneath a red moon. My birth mother was a prophetess. Rare amongst our kind. I do not know her name, only that she was. Did you know that?”

“No.” Tyr snorted. “How would I know that?”

Benny smiled. “She had eleven children throughout her lifetime, and I was the twelfth and youngest. I've met none of them, so I've never had a brother either. As far as I know, they were all females. Which is good, kind of the opposite of your kind. I was the runt of her litter, a rascal and a male. Destined only to be used in my culture, but I believe she foretold of our meeting.”

“Truly?” Tyr furrowed his brow, tilting his head as he always did. To be told that he was Benny's foretold 'partner' was daunting, but he'd remain steadfast in the face of this faith. It was the least he could do, and it was interesting. “What did she say?”

“She said I would ride a white wolf to great victory under the blood moon. That I would defeat many foes and be remembered as a hero. And that the white wolf would howl for me when I was bloody and broken. That he would sing my praise and call me brother. I think... Well, obviously it's you. Perhaps it is Okami. I know not, and I care not. We are one, my brother. You are my partner now, and I am yours. Okami, too. As bound in soul as in fate, we are together. Do you understand?”

Tyr nodded. As grim in face as the prophecy shared with him. Wishing he'd never asked. Still, it was worth knowing. Better to see the red moon and know that he'd need to put himself in Benny's place to show this 'fate' of his how little he cared for it.

–

“You spend a lot of time here. You like doing this?” Jura asked, frowning down at the man hunched over the anvil. Pulling bits of broken chain from a hauberk and setting them aside before replacing the rivets with those newly forged. His work was meticulous, and the snow white hair grown long again hung precariously over the fire. Though it seemed unconcerned with burning him. His hair glistened in the firelight, even in the midday. Two weeks had passed, and he'd rarely left the place. None of them complained, though. He always returned with miraculous gifts worth a ransom, for those that would accept them.

“It's relaxing.” Tyr said. “Hard to step away from. It soothes my mind. Does it bother you?”

“Not exactly.” Jura replied. “I was wondering if you wanted to spend some time with me?”

“To do what?”

“Does it matter? Is it not good enough to be in the presence of a beautiful woman?”

“Do you promise to refrain from making mating comments?”

“I will strike you about the head, you wretch. You are not as nearly charming as you think you are...”

Tyr chuckled. He felt so... So good. Like a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders again, like he was among friends. And he was careful of how he approached them. They were all so good and full of light. Not possessions, but true friends. Valuable companions. Leaving him wishing that he'd treated the others like that, he'd made a terrible mistake but he was far too petty to ever admit that.

“I'd love to.” He said with finality, dusting his hands free of soot before frowning, pulling out a bottle of cleansing liquid and pouring it over his head. That which the cloth was infused of, but much more effective. One over his head and every inch of him was clean. “Jacob's Necessities and Niceties!” He suddenly screamed at the top of his lungs, hands cupped around his lips. The forge men seemed used to the outburst, but the adventurers prowling through the streets were not. Some stepped forward to confront him for the fright, with Tyr squaring up and staring them down. When they continued on, he needed only flash his badge. And then, he would bully them into visiting some random alchemists shop in the city. Jura was similarly taken aback, but she had no interest in a scrap over it. The more time passed, even in pleasant times, the more fearsome Tyr appeared. His focus was so cold, brutal, and efficient. Orcs were hot blooded by nature, but he was like the fiercest winter blizzard. The way he beat that metal into shape for hours on end with no sign of fatigue impressed the employees of the forge, but it terrified her.

In the pit of her core, she felt like she was facing down her late chieftain once again. When she was a weak and impotent child, her mother pleading to allow Jura's father to stay and live with the clan. She couldn't put her finger on why. Kul'ar had been a true monster. Killing nearly fifty men before being taken down, and Tyr was not like him. Perhaps it was the authority of a one-time prince, that kind of authority you were born to. Kul'ar was warm and fatherly, he cared about the tribe more than anything else, the differences between the two men were as plain as day.

“What... What was that?” Jura asked, scowling at him in discomfort. Her smell wasn't the only advanced sense she was capable of. Orcish ears, too, were far more sensitive than a humans. Hers were currently ringing with his abrupt exclamation.

Tyr sighed, taking her aback once again as he extricated himself from the smithy and took her arm in his like he was escorting a maiden. He saw how the other adventurers looked at her, even as a half orc. They were in the republic, after all. Conflicts with orcs were not so rare. Jura, on the other hand, widened her eyes and blushed. Not so bold after all, he guessed. “Sorry, there is a guy that sells this stuff but he'll only sell it if people are shameless enough to advertise for him. Despite the name of his shop, the guys name is Jason. Weird, right? Anyways, the utility potions he sells are extremely popular so this is how he ensures he's getting word of mouth. I guess... I certainly don't mind, I'll yell as loud as he likes as long as he keeps selling me that cleansing oil. It cleans everything.” Tyr looked at her with extreme seriousness as they walked through the tight packed streets of Aurora together like lovers.

“Everything. I've no idea how it works, though. Guess that's how he makes his money.” Tyr mused with a thoughtful expression.

“Are you going to ask me what I planned to do?” She asked. He hadn't thought to. It was in the middle of autumn, and here in the republic that meant it was cold now. Tyr didn't mind the cold, naturally, but that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate the furnace of her skin. She was astonishingly warm and soft. With the rigid muscles just beneath. Her athletic body near as tall as he was, making their passage through the crowd that much easier. People either got out of the way, or were... Uh... Gotten out of the way.

“You know, there sure are a lot of people here considering the gate has been closed for weeks. But okay, what do you want to do?”

“I want you to help me...” She shuffled. Tyr looked at her disapprovingly. He felt... Free? More outgoing all of a sudden. Like there was a real connection. Not a romantic one, granted, but he appreciated her. His new lot in life. At least he'd try to show her the respect she deserved as a dependable companion. Except for Benny, she'd visited him more than anyone. “Don't look at me like that, you dog.” Jura sighed. “I want you to help me summon my familiar.”

“Familiar?” Tyr frowned. He was familiar with the concept. Many conjurers would rely on familiars as both guardians and conduits for specific magic. But Jura was not a true mage. While she could use magic, she'd never been trained, nor could she wield all elements. Perhaps that was his human bias speaking. Abe was certainly a mage, after all. Or perhaps her 'beast magic' used conjured familiars like anything else, rather than taming them...?

“The essence you've given me. I've read the skillbook, and I need first use it to constitute a familiar which will eventually grow to become a magical beast. Think of it like... We're hatching an egg? Just a magical one.”

“I see.” Tyr's eyes brightened, but his frown remained. He was happy to be asked for help, to be relied upon. The only problem was... “I've no talent for ritual magic, Jura.”

“Neither does Abe. Not in this regard, at least. He can't use the magic necessary. For a greater essence, it's a requirement. So I was thinking...”

“That if I couldn't, that I'd know someone who was more competent?” Tyr asked. Her expression sank, but that wasn't what he intended. She had that look about her that must've matched the expression she'd given her masters guards when he'd been displeased. Like a failure had settled over her shoulders. Tyr didn't like it in the least. “Nobody is good at everything, Jura. I am ignorant to many forms of magic. I...” He sighed. As they said, go big or go home. “I cannot, technically, use human magic.”

“So you've some orcish blood after all?” She asked.

“...What? No... Well, actually, I've no idea, but I doubt it. There are no orcs in Oresund. But anyways, I'll do my best.”

–

“Um...” Jura paused, staring at the man before her in fright. “Tyr?”

“Hmm?” Tyr, on the other hand, didn't seem to care much. “It's okay to be nervous, but it's fine. This guy really knows his stuff. Both of them do, honestly.”

Standing opposite them both were Captain Daito of the Hunter's and Grand Archivist Gerald. Both were legends sung about even beyond their homeland. Leaving Jura wondering what kind of strings Tyr needed to pull to summon them both on a whim like this. How important was he? And what was his relationship with these men?

Gerald had already been weeks upon weeks attending to in-depth reports on the astral gates and various phenomena. Not much he didn't already know. He took breaks, usually just in his quarters. Contrary to rumors about him, he loved the outdoors. This was simply an excuse to leave those claustrophobic walls and breath in fresh and find fresh inspiration. “My lady, it is not good to be so tense before a binding ritual. I am sure I understand your concerns. Tyr is a close friend of mine, and with that being said, you could consider us friends. Is that alright? As I understand it, you have already committed to a bonding, so what's his is yours as far as our human sensibilities go.”

“A bonding?” Tyr frowned, but everyone was ignoring him now.

Jura gulped, but she nodded. Tyr had a weird way about his consideration of authority. He didn't hate them all, but he disliked most authority figures. Gerald was simply first in line of a few bureaucrats he could stand to be around. As a benefit and testament to his character, he had immediately agreed to help. A ritual master, making it easy.

Conversely, Daito had insisted on his own attendance. Tyr didn't ask, when the man suddenly arrived out of the blue, but he also didn't protest. It was his right as captain. Jura was, in his mind, was the future of the Hunter's guild along with the rest of them. Rangers and Beast Masters, in the magical sense, were rare disciplines of study. To see one come up through the ranks would be a pleasure. And he knew they needed it. Over seventy percent of their guild had been wiped out over the span of a few months.

Daito whistled. “Talented. Beautiful. Mannerly. Good gods, Tyr. How'd you rope a woman like that?”

“Dumb luck.” Tyr replied, smiling at Jura and resting a steadying hand on her shoulder. “But I do not believe I was the one doing the roping, old man.”

"Old man..." Daito shook his head wistfully. "Gods, you're annoying."

Jura gulped, again. This was too much for her to handle, but Tyr leaned forward to whisper in her ear. Loud enough for three in attendance to hear, though she'd remain unawares. And Tyr certainly wouldn't correct her. “I have faith in you. These are our friends, and if we mess up, we can try it again and again. No need for you to be anxious.”

His words were rather shit in terms of encouragement, but his tone... Something about the way he spoke was not. They were like steel girders that could support an entire tower. So full of faith and confidence that it cooled the hot anxiety threatening to overwhelm her mind. The essences would remain, but the reagents for the summoning would not – and that was the scary part to a person who already felt overcome in her debt to a single man.