Chapter 35: Blacksmith's Duties
"—You may leave!"—ordered Vulcanusmon firmly, his voice echoing through the volcanic caverns of his forge.
From his elevated platform, he had a privileged view of the bustling assembly line winding through the interior of the forge. For weeks, Octomon and Asuramon had worked tirelessly, their precise and rhythmic movements filling the forge with the constant clanging of metal. Despite the exhausting labor, the workers remained relatively motivated: the Olympian had promised them a generous raise, a deal previously negotiated with his brother, Mercurymon.
Vulcanusmon couldn't help but feel satisfied with the recent improvement in his fraternal relationship. Mercurymon, ever pragmatic, had offered to cover overtime costs using the income from his vast network of couriers. Moreover, he had visited the forge regularly, observing the progress of the projects with curiosity and showing an unexpected attentiveness to the blacksmiths and the industry's dynamics. Each visit from the Olympian was met with renewed enthusiasm by the Octomon and Asuramon, who strove to showcase their best creations.
The business, already thriving, was now booming. A recent commission to replicate weapons for the Olympians had doubled the workload, turning the forge into a hive of activity.
For his part, Vulcanusmon found peculiar solace in his work during the absence of his wife, Venusmon. Their frequent disagreements often drove him to craft jewelry pieces as peace offerings, small bursts of creativity with which he sought to make amends for his missteps at the exclusive social gatherings she attended. Venusmon adored those gestures, and he enjoyed seeing her proudly display his creations at every event she attended. On occasion, she had even offered to bring him along—an offer he always declined. He felt utterly out of place outside his forge, often thinking he understood his tools better than he did other Digimon.
However, jewelry-making had been set aside. Before leaving, Venusmon had confided in him a secret: a mission of utmost importance. She had asked him to forge a glorious weapon, worthy of ancient times. Vulcanusmon couldn't help but notice the irony; Venusmon, who had always been more pacifistic than other Olympians, was now requesting something powerful yet unmistakably elegant.
Knowing his wife well, he understood that the key lay in creating something unique and unparalleled—a work that was not only functional but also embodied beauty in its purest form. The challenge was monumental: no bows, swords, or shields—anything reminiscent of the weapons of other Olympians was out of the question. What Venusmon desired was something that stood out as much as she did.
His thoughts were interrupted by the unexpected arrival of a figure at the entrance to the forge. After the workers had departed, a Sepikmon, one of Mercurymon's messengers, appeared. His arrival was surprising, as it was usually his brother who visited the forge without needing intermediaries.
"I regret to inform you that my lord Mercurymon is currently unavailable," said the messenger respectfully, bowing slightly. "He has sent me in his place to carry out the routine visit. I hope this does not inconvenience you."
Vulcanusmon let out a sigh of mild disappointment. He had been expecting his brother's visit but nodded courteously as Sepikmon handed him a letter.
"Here is a missive to verify it," added the messenger, maintaining his formal tone.
With the parchment in hand, Vulcanusmon looked at the messenger with a mix of curiosity and resignation, wondering what news this unexpected twist in his routine day might bring.
The Sepikmon produced an envelope with fluid movements, as if conjuring it from thin air. Vulcanusmon took it with his sturdy forearms and, without hesitation, broke the seal. As he unfolded the letter, he immediately recognized his brother's neat handwriting.
"Dear Vulcanusmon,
First, I deeply regret being unable to attend our meeting. The preparations for the upcoming palace gathering have proven more complicated than expected, and my presence here is essential. I will miss our conversations, which have so strengthened our bond these past weeks. Please accept my apologies.
To make up for my absence, I want to share some delicate matters with you. I trust your discretion, as many of these points will be discussed in future meetings, but I prefer to confide my thoughts in you first.
As you may already know, your wife is engaged in a mission of great importance. Venusmon tends to act independently, so it is possible that you are as uninformed as I am. However, I must admit that her dedication to the cause has surprised me. The first part of her task was a success, which has led me to host an unexpected guest in the palace. She is, in fact, the main reason I cannot leave. I will officially introduce her at the next meeting, so for now, I will leave you in suspense.
On another matter that has consumed much of my time—Ceresmon. After intense negotiations, we have finally reached an agreement. Although I would have preferred a more diplomatic solution, the outcome will benefit everyone. You know how impatient she has always been, so we had to act swiftly. When her case is presented at the table, I will appreciate your support. As you know, she has suffered immensely during her captivity and needs our assistance to recover. It is comforting to have her back. Let us hope we can soon reclaim the rest of our own. That is one of our primary objectives.
Lastly, I must inform you that Minervamon's health is delicate. Though too proud to admit it, she sustained injuries in the last incursion. Marsmon is tending to her, and I am confident that with my treatment, she will recover soon. There is no need to worry.
All of this has led to multiple delays in the gathering and, indeed, in our meeting today. At least I consider the plans to be progressing successfully despite the inconveniences and adjustments I've had to make. It will all be worth it.
As for your responsibilities, I have sent one of my most loyal messengers to supervise the state of production and the weapons. You know how much I value detailed monitoring to plan the next steps of our revolution. He will report everything to me upon leaving your forge.
Once again, I apologize for any inconvenience caused by my absence.
Affectionately, your brother,
Mercurymon
P.S.: Destroy this letter after reading it. It is best to leave no trace of such sensitive correspondence."
Vulcanusmon read the final lines with a mix of resignation and routine. Without a second thought, he enveloped the missive in flames with his fiery hands, reducing it to ashes in an instant. Displays of affection and secrets were common in his family; it wasn't unusual for such instructions to accompany important confidences. The revolution they led was rife with risks, and any leak could spell disaster if the high-ranking law enforcement forces uncovered their plans. Fortunately, Mercurymon's messengers were discreet and efficient in their duties. No one would suspect that, alongside their usual tasks, they were gathering intelligence for the Olympians.
As the ashes dispersed, Vulcanusmon mentally reviewed the letter's contents. Mercurymon's absence was more than justified, and there was no reason to doubt either his brother or his messenger. However, the idea of allowing the Sepikmon to roam his facilities and inspect the progress on the armaments didn't sit well with him. Still, he knew he had no choice. If the monkey tried anything untoward, the forge's security would be more than enough to stop him, and Vulcanusmon himself could handle any situation.
What stood out most to him was the comment about Venusmon. Though it wasn't the first time his wife had disappeared for a mission, Mercurymon's tone reassured him. At least this time, her absence was justified. Regarding the mysterious guest, Vulcanusmon felt intrigued. If it were their mother, Mercurymon would have warned him to prepare, considering their love-hate relationship with her. He couldn't quite determine who it might be. The possibilities were endless. It seemed to be someone important enough to reside in the Palace of Mirrors as a guest. He would have to wait to uncover her identity.
On the other hand, the news about Minervamon caused him mild concern. His sister had always been strong but reckless, driven by an insatiable curiosity that often put her in danger. He wasn't surprised she had been injured, though he trusted that Marsmon and Mercurymon would ensure her swift recovery.
The matter of Ceresmon, however, troubled him less. He had always considered her mentally unstable and didn't want to imagine how captivity had affected her psyche. While Mercurymon's demands were reasonable, they didn't concern him much.
As he reflected, Vulcanusmon raised his gaze and found the Sepikmon silently watching him. The messenger's tribal mask concealed any hint of emotion, remaining as unperturbed as ever. Vulcanusmon met his gaze sternly, evaluating him. The messenger didn't even flinch, patiently awaiting the Olympian's instructions.
"Whenever you're ready," Vulcanusmon commented, dripping with irony. Sepikmon nodded, keeping his reserve. Apart from delivering the letter, he seemed to have nothing more to say.
The pair began descending to the lower levels. Vulcanusmon deactivated the main security systems, allowing for smoother passage. With each step, Sepikmon avoided looking directly at the Olympian, as if striving not to provoke distrust.
A platform carried them to an even deeper underground level. Vulcanusmon led the way until they arrived at an imposing metal door. He activated the mechanism with a firm motion, and the portal slowly rotated open, revealing a broad entryway. Even if Sepikmon wanted to, it was unlikely he could replicate the process.
"This way," Vulcanusmon instructed. Sepikmon followed without uttering a single word.
The heat grew more intense as they advanced, causing the messenger to sweat.
"As we approach the volcano's core, the temperatures rise. My apologies. It's a natural defense," Vulcanusmon explained, unfazed.
The winding corridor ended at another door. Vulcanusmon placed his hand on an integrated panel, and it opened, revealing a well-lit hallway. Instantly, several numbered sections unfolded before them. Some were empty, while others contained extraordinary weapon designs.
Sepikmon observed silently until his curiosity led him to the first section. Inside were a pair of massive swords with electric details, as if lightning bolts were trapped within. Surrounding the swords were golden weights fashioned into hammer-like shapes. In the second section, a collection of golden spears of varying sizes rested in order, from the thinnest to larger, sharper ones. Among the spears, a pair of staves stood out, adorned with sapphires at their ends.
"A lot of gold," Sepikmon remarked while jotting down notes in his notebook.
"It suits us. Or, well, most of us," Vulcanusmon replied with a flash of humor that caught the messenger off guard, drawing a smile.
The third section displayed a navy-blue room housing several tridents crafted from Tylomon tusks. The following two sections were empty.
"Oh, Neptunemon's King's Bite. Wonderful. They'd barely notice the difference from the original."
"The original was lost years ago. Leviamon must have swallowed it in ancient times. Since then, Neptunemon has been using the second one I crafted for him," Vulcanusmon clarified.
Sepikmon took notes but showed the god a meticulous record of completed weapons and their distribution. It didn't seem suspicious—rather efficient, a trait Vulcanusmon deeply appreciated. It was a necessary quality for forge work.
The sixth section housed ivory lances with scythe-like ends, alongside silver crescent moon-shaped bows. The next section was similar, but the bows were black with gold sun-shaped details, accompanied by metallic claw coverings.
"The twins," Sepikmon commented, referring to the symmetry of the weapons.
"Aside from offering protection, those coverings help improve shooting accuracy," Vulcanusmon added, admiring the design quality.
In the eighth section, also scorching like the seventh, humanoid gauntlets rested—large and robust, intended for close combat. In the ninth, a collection of hunting knives gleamed under the light.
"I'd recognize my lord Mercurymon's Aztec anywhere."
"That's the one he's requested the most replacements for," Vulcanusmon admitted, a mix of resignation and pride in his voice. "Years ago, we had quite an argument: he broke three in just one year. I've now made fourteen."
Sepikmon seemed to enjoy the anecdote, revealing a hint of admiration for Mercurymon. Vulcanusmon wondered if his brother's relationship with his employees was closer than the one he himself maintained with the forge staff.
When they reached the tenth section, Vulcanusmon gestured to the compartment's emptiness.
"That one's mine. It's empty because I've prioritized the others' weapons."
Sepikmon made no comment but quickly jotted down notes.
The eleventh section contained several swords and shields adorned with serpent motifs.
"Minervamon has never needed a replacement. I doubt she'll appreciate me recreating her weapons," Vulcanusmon said with a touch of indifference.
Finally, in the last section, the intoxicating aroma of wine escaped from some stored barrels.
"We'd better keep our distance," Vulcanusmon warned. "This substance is... dangerous. It's one of the replicas that's caused me the most trouble."
Sepikmon nodded and, following the Olympian's advice, left the area. Vulcanusmon ensured everything was securely locked before guiding the messenger back to the platform that would return them to the upper level.
"Everything in order?" Vulcanusmon asked, watching Sepikmon review his notes.
The messenger gave a brief nod without saying anything further.
"I know I still have to recreate my own weapons, but they're the least of my worries," the Olympian commented, attempting to break the silence. "I can make them in no time. I thought it best to get ahead with the others' work."
Once again, the response was silence.
Seeing that his brother's servant seemed unwilling to talk, Vulcanusmon decided to accompany him to the exit. He felt somewhat uncomfortable justifying his work to someone of lower rank with whom he had barely any relationship. If it were up to him, he would have preferred to address the matter directly with Mercurymon. However, the messenger's presence was a novelty in his routine, and he had tried to use the opportunity to engage in conversation, albeit unsuccessfully.
It was an effort he regretted. Visits were rare. His employees came only for work-related reasons, and their exchanges rarely went beyond trivial courtesies. He regarded them as an extension of his professional family: respected, well-treated, but distant. It wasn't friendship; it was camaraderie in the strictest sense. Social relationships had never been his forte, but at least he felt admired by his employees and considered himself a fair boss.
Isolation wasn't foreign to him. Since his marriage, some family members had grown distant, and although Venusmon filled much of that void, he knew he couldn't hold on to her too tightly. She was a free spirit, and any attempt to tether her would destroy what they had built together. Despite the ups and downs, their union endured, and Vulcanusmon was deeply grateful for it. But he was also aware that they were not in their best moment. Perhaps the revolution would bring them closer.
Mercurymon's recent outreach had been a breath of fresh air. The few visits he received broke the monotony of the forge. They shared much more than family ties; both were leaders of essential operations in the Digital World. Despite current tensions, Vulcanusmon admired his brother's effort to maintain contact. He was the only one, besides his wife, who seemed to consider him in the revolution. The others seemed to disregard his advice, as if his reserved nature diminished his wisdom.
"Good evening," Sepikmon said, interrupting his thoughts. He gave a slight bow. "I will inform Lord Mercurymon of all the progress."
"I hope next time he comes in person," the Olympian replied with a faint smile.
Sepikmon hesitated for a moment before responding:
"If he's not too busy, I'm sure he will."
"That doesn't sound very convincing."
"Lord Mercurymon has been extremely busy lately. He barely spends time in his castle, and his visits to the central office have also decreased."
"I see…" Vulcanusmon let the silence settle, uncomfortable yet necessary. This seemed to contradict part of what his brother's missive had said. Finally, he added, "Well then, I won't keep you. You surely have a long journey ahead. Return safely and deliver my news to my brother."
"So I will," Sepikmon affirmed before bowing once more and agilely descending the volcano slope. Vulcanusmon watched him until he disappeared from view, impressed by the messenger's dexterity.
When the figure vanished, the god closed the great gate behind him and returned to his forge. That place was his refuge, his oasis amidst the chaos of responsibilities. Yet, a feeling of dissatisfaction gnawed at him. He missed the days when grand commissions filled his agenda, when his work was as thrilling as it was prestigious. Now, everything seemed routine.
He tried to dispel that unease by returning to the one thing that always brought him peace: his work. He pulled out his sketches and began designing weapons for Venusmon. That task not only filled him with purpose but also nurtured a secret hope: perhaps, if he managed to impress her, they could recapture some of the spark they had lost.
The idea of accompanying her to one of those events she frequented—perhaps a romantic getaway to the spa she mentioned during her last visit—cheered him. With those sweet thoughts in mind, he focused on his drawings.
He knew he wouldn't have everything ready before their next meeting, but the mere possibility of trying was enough to keep him going.