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Ideal.1
Miles' eyebrow raised as he glanced down at the small pitchfork he was working on. How did that even happen, he wondered.
The sun was beating down on him, but it was mostly the heat of the forge that kept him sweating. His hammer lay next to him, the one thing he truly trusted, one of the few gifts that he'd ever received from his Master.
"Miles," his master said gently. "Stop looking at it and just get to forging it. I don't pay you to look at things quizzically," he said.
"You don't pay me at all," Miles' answered with a grin. His Master was the sole smith of Plum, a small island off the coast of the continent, and Miles knew he was lucky to have an apprenticeship at all.
Although really, having two tails wasn't much of a disfigurement in his mind, as it didn't stop him sitting on his behind all day pounding out nails and horseshoes.
"Of course I don't, because you look at things quizzically!" His Master smiled back. He was an older man, human, clean shaven and yet had the wrinkles of someone in their late sixties or early seventies. He wasn't frail, not yet, although if anyone would ask him they'd get the answer of 'of course I am!'
"I'm just wondering how this happens," Miles said, pointing to the pitchfork. "By all rights it should have been impossible."
Most pitchforks had two prongs, and Miles had seen all kinds of things going wrong with them. He'd seen them out of alignment, he'd seen them spread out too wide, he'd seen shattered ones, but never ones that criss-crossed with each other, creating a type of X shape.
"Miles, kid, there's a lot you need to know in the world," his Master said wisely. "Sometimes, it's easier to just not ask questions because the answer is going to only make you question yourself. Mostly your sanity, sometimes your wisdom."
"And I'm just the smith, not here to tell them how to live their lives?" Miles asked, getting a small smirk out of his master.
"Well, there's that too," his Master admitted, sitting down across from him. He took a breath of the fiery air, currently lit by the small fire rune running underneath the forge. Miles didn't have it all that hot at the moment, but he'd turn it on in a minute or two. He was too busy trying to think of how this happened than he was trying to fix it!
His Master closed his eyes and seemed to enjoy the feeling of the warm Plum sun on his older body. "Miles," he said after a long moment. "I know you islanders have your own legends and culture, and it's not something that most humans know."
Miles glanced at him, before he put down the pitchfork. This was starting to sound like a Serious conversation, and that meant he needed to give it his all. "Some of us do. Most of us just take in the legends of the humans and make it more about islanders," Miles admitted.
"But you know some of the originals, right?"
Miles nodded. "I know a few. Cream knows more."
"Which one's Cream?"
Miles blushed gently. "Mallow. The rabbit islander who you always tease me about eating," he said after a moment. His Master smirked, showing that he hadn't actually forgotten a thing. "Why?"
"I got an...odd commission the other day," his Master said quietly. "And I wanted to run it by you."
"But you're the master."
"And you're the apprentice," the blacksmith said with just as much force as Miles had. "Which means you should be wanting to listen anyways."
"I am listening, I just don't know where this is going," Miles questioned.
"Then don't think about how to respond," his Master said gently, "Just listen, and think. Those ears on your head are big for a reason, just as large as your brain is."
Miles rolled his eyes, but relaxed against the chair. It was a solid metal chair, built for forging without risking their backs. Although really, considering his Master preferred the stools it went a long with saying that only Miles ever used it.
"It was from a hedgehog from out in Apple," his Master said quietly. "Do you know anyone from out there?"
Miles tilted his head. Apple was on the continent, nearly three days journey off of the coast after he'd reach Mango. At least, as far as he knew. He hadn't seen any maps for a long time. "In Apple? No, I don't know anyone."
"I see. He was asking for the best blacksmith in the land, and apparently Smith Roberts suggested he try me and my 'unruly islander apprentice.'"
Miles blushed. "I wasn't unruly! She came onto me!" That was a scenario that he didn't like thinking about. He'd tried hard to purge it from his mind, although his master definitely liked bringing it up.
His Master laughed, throwing his head back. "Oh, I know Miles! I'm just teasing you. What I want to know though if there any legends regarding hedgehogs in particular."
Hedgehogs? Islander myths had a lot of hedgehogs in them, seeing as they were closely attuned with the chaos field. "There's quite a few of them. None that are from any specific region though."
"Any widespread ones?"
That was a tough question. Miles glanced upwards, noting that the sun was almost three quarters through its daily journey. He had only around another hour before he'd get off work for the day. Or really, training for work. He was, after all, only an apprentice.
"There's a few," Miles admitted. "I'll have to ask Cream about them, but off the top of my head, there's the Black Shadow, which is about a hedgehog as cold and dark as the night, capable of going faster than the eye could see."
"I see. Any weapons?"
"Nothing in particular. Most of the Black Shadow myths are all about him coming in with his hands and feet. His hands capable of molding pure fire, and punishing those that offend him."
"So he's a defender?"
Miles shook his head. "That's what the makes the Black Shadow myths so effective. Each one tells a different story of what offends him, so in one he's a defender of the innocent and in another he's burning down a food house."
"And islanders worship him?"
"Sometimes. There's also the Silver Hand, who was said to be capable of lifting the entire continent using his mind alone. He's the one responsible for the island creation."
"Mind alone. So no sword there?"
There was a sword involved now. Miles would have to file that away for later. "Using a sword...not that I can think of. I'll ask Cream tonight, if you'd like."
"I think you'd rather ask her a few other things instead!" his Master teased, and Miles rolled his eyes. "Now, to answer your original question, it appears they shoved this pitchfork against a rock one way, before doing it again on the other side."
"Why?" Miles had to ask. His Master gave him a half-hearted glare, before Miles waved him off. At least he had the how. It was something deliberate, probably to make his Master's life harder, or worse, his own. Some of the other people in Plum didn't like the fact that he had the sole attention of 'the best damn smith in the world'. Although if anyone asked him he'd point to someone else too.
Miles nodded, before he kicked the small rune on the forge, a bunch of rocks that were piled together. This one made the actual fire rune, buried deep within the rock pile, start to glow red hot. He waited for a few moments, before he grabbed the pitchfork and slowly lowered it in. He wasn't going to try to melt it. He was just trying to soften it a bit, and then he'd have to re-temper it so the steel gained back it's strength and durability.
He counted to fifteen in his head, before he pulled it out. It wasn't ridiculously hot, but it was hot enough that now he could hammer the points back out. He laid one side against the flat edge of the anvil, before he slammed his hammer down on it, feeling it straight instantly.
Each hit had to be carefully measured, otherwise the entire thing could break and that would be a week's worth of pay he'd be out of. If he was actually getting paid, that was.
He knew why he wasn't. As an apprentice, it was supposed to be up to the Master smith to care for his safety, room, and board. But he also had access to the books, and knew that the 'Master Caliburn' was a Master, but he was also quite poor.
Of course, to people that didn't have much to begin with, he was about as rich as a sultan. As in, he could afford cushions on his stools.
Once the first point was straightened, he didn't immediately start hammering the other side. He got a nod of approval from his Master as he stuck it back in the forge again, letting it warm up again before he took it back out, hammering the second point back into shape. Then the third time back in the forge, before it went into the water, and from there the oil.
Once it would cool off relatively naturally, it would be a beauty of a pitchfork. "So how long do you think this one's going to last?" Miles asked as he set it aside. Was that the last piece for the day?
"I give it three days, depending on how much they want to pay," his Master shrugged. "It needed to be done anyways. That's it for today. Turn off the runes and go to take your shower."
Miles grinned, before he started the complex task of turning off the forge. It wasn't nearly as simple as pressing another rune, not like it was to turn it on, because the heat still had to go somewhere.
He wasn't a runescriber though. He'd wanted to be, when he was younger, but when Cream took her own apprenticeship to the local healer, she kept breaking her tools and couldn't afford the rates to get them fixed.
So Miles went to the Master smith instead, to be able to fix her tools. He knew a lot about them, but exactly how they worked, why they worked...that wasn't him. Maybe he could switch and re-apprentice at some point, but right now he was satisfied just fixing up some weird person's mistake with a pitchfork. Better for him than a farmer. He didn't think he'd be able to live out there in the hot sun, day in and day out. The ones that do it already are good at it, and didn't need his help. But the Master did, and so Miles was here.
The heat dissipated from the rune, Miles touched the other rune on top of the forge, a small water creation rune that would dissipate the rest of it. He turned around to the water table, where they kept the water, and pressed the rune to drain it.
The oil was intended to stay, because no rune could create oil on its own. Miles didn't know why, because he wasn't a runescriber.
With everything turned off that needed to be, turning off the other half dozen runes that they used throughout the day, including the grinder and such, he made his way out to the back.
The sun was almost fully setting now. There was a small water set up close to the forge, built specifically for him. According to the Master, after a while his scent was profoundly strong when he was sweating most of the day. It'd taken the Master only two days before he couldn't take it, and shown Miles to use the new shower in the back.
He slipped off his boots, his thick gloves, and his other leather protection. He usually just had on the apron, but they'd been doing grinding earlier so he had elbow pads and knee pads on, as well as the full regalia for his back. Those sparks were mean.
He reached for the water rune, turning it on with a simple touch. Most runes were simply touch activated, but they had to be pressed with meaning. What that meant, Miles didn't know, but it was a common enough instruction.
The water was ice cold as it flowed out of the pipes, striking him directly. He gave a soft hiss before his body started to get used to it again. It always took a moment to get water through his fur. He made sure to get a few drinks of the perfectly clean water as it was coming out of the pipe, a solid steel creation that his Master had made.
His fur now ice cold, and the sweat of the day now somewhere on the grass near him and nowhere on his actual body, he gave a few stretches before he slipped on the boots and gloves again.
His Master watched him come in from his place next to some accounting books. "I always get a bit envious of you islanders sometimes," he muttered as Miles walked in, his fur slightly poofy but still very much wet. "Never need a towel, do you?"
"You need some help?" Miles asked, pointing to the large book. His Master shook his head.
"No, I'm good for the day, boy. Head back home, and I'll see you at dawn to find out what some other schmuck's broken," his Master snarked. Miles gave a half wave before he headed out the front door.
Plum was a small village, a coastal town that saw most of its economy come through trade. The docks weren't too far away, and Miles could hear the lap of the ocean against the wood. The small waves hitting the one tiny beach. The entire island was, with the exception of the docks here, in a valley surrounded by cliffs and mountains.
It made Plum a very safe place to be, if he had to be honest. He'd heard of monster attacks in other places on the continent, but there hadn't been any in Plum, just about ever. The unique structure of the island is also what enabled it to have just about every biome possible. It had snow in the higher of the mountains, decent warmth in the valley area where the actual city was, a large forest that actually took up half of the remaining land that wasn't used for farming, and some decent natural pools and waterfalls.
What it didn't have though, was anything that would bring people to it. Most of the people in Plum were either born on it, or made it the last leg of their journey to retirement, like his Master had. As such, it had an odd population crisis where most of the people were too old to work or were busy trying to save money to move out to spend it within the island.
The village part of the island was essentially five streets held together by random pathways. They made sense to him, seeing as how he was an islander, and this was an island. His Master had complained about it for a while though, so Miles suspected that it was different on the continent.
The Smith's area was large and relatively ornate, a large gated building with a few windows showing the kinds of things that his Master had made. Just down the road was the bar, which was where most people would generally go to hang out. They had an area that served local juices, and it was really the only entertainment that anyone could find on the island.
Unless they were him or Cream, but considering that there was only one of him and only one of Cream, no one else would get to see the sights he did.
He walked down to the apothecary's, the closest thing to a healer than Plum had, and knocked quietly on the door. He half expected her Master, Rosenstem, to actually answer, as she often did when it was time for him to take Cream away. That usually ended up with her teasing him incessantly for minutes on end.
Instead it was Cream herself who answered. A tall brown rabbit islander, her ears went down nearly all the way to her hips. She had a small green dress with hundreds of pockets, the usual garment of an apprentice apothecary. Her eyes lit up as she saw him. "Oh, Tails! Master, it's time!"
"Is it that time already, Mallow?" Rosenstem said from the inside. She peeked out the door, as if expecting someone else there. She was an older human with hair the same shade as grass, and a green and purple pocketed dress that showed she was the master here. "Huh. So it is. You know, boy, I was seeing her flirt with a few of the other boys today."
"If she was that's up to her," Miles rolled his eyes as Rosenstem laughed, as Cream attempted to defend herself. He'd heard it all before, and it wasn't as if that was unique. Rosenstem often complained about seeing them together.
Which was odd, because they weren't actually together. They'd grown up on the island, and Miles could honestly never have hoped for a better friend. And that was long before Cream had wanted to learn the arts of the apothecary.
He waited patiently as she changed into a small orange casual sundress, heading out the door with a small wave to her Master. The instant the door closed, the real Cream came out. "I don't know why she does that," Cream complained.
"I do, it's fun to make you blush," Miles smirked. Cream rolled her eyes, punching his arm lightly. He recoiled back, acting as if he was hurt by it. "Oh, so angry! What'd she make you do today?"
"Count daffodil flower petals," Cream sighed. "Apparently some mixtures require exactly thirty nine petals, and forty two ounces of the stem, and thirteen rose petals."
"Thirteen? What is this, a poison?" Miles asked. He didn't know much about flower lore, that was entirely Cream's specialty, but he at least picked up a few things from her complaining. He at least knew how to make a simple healing paste, but it would have nowhere near the efficacy that Cream's would have had.
She shook her head, her ears flinging about. "No, not a poison. It's actually a pesticide, to protect the crops against any locust swarm that decides to pop out this year."
"The next ones not for another five or six years," Miles pointed out. He remembered that year specifically, because that was the year that his parents had gone to the continent, along with Cream's, and simply never came back. They'd intended to, as far as they knew, but simply put...nothing had come back. No parents, no money, as if both sets had simply vanished. In Miles' thoughts, that meant a monster had got to them.
Cream had often protested, saying that she was sure everything was fine, and they were simply too busy to write. Miles hoped it was hers, as much as his logical mind was assuring him otherwise.
"There are other things too, like diseases and such. Remember three years ago? That's what it protects against," Cream acknowledged. Miles nodded. A disease had come through the fields a few years back, and it'd almost wiped Plum off the map. It was only by Mango deciding to be nice to their island neighbors that they managed any food at all.
Miles led her to a small pathway out to the forest. "Oh yeah, got a strange question for you," he said quietly. "My Master was asking about islander myths and legends earlier."
"Yeah? Why?" Cream asked. She jumped over a small branch without looking that it was there. Miles ducked under some blackberries that threatened to hit him in the head.
The forest path was the quickest way up to their actual place of residence, seeing as how the village had taken away where they'd lived previously after their parents couldn't pay the mortgage anymore. Or rent. Miles wasn't sure what happened.
"He wanted to know. Got a strange order in from Apple, should be here in the next few days. If it's not already here and just waiting for him to get around to it," Miles explained. "Something about a hedgehog."
"Black Shadow and Silver Hand?" Cream came up with instantly. Miles shook his head.
"Nah, I told him about those."
"Well, there's the legendary hero," Cream said, "but you must have told him about that one."
"That was a hedgehog?" Miles asked. In his experience, the legendary hero had been whatever islander was telling the tale! He'd heard foxes, rabbits, wolves, hawks at one point, hedgehogs for obvious reasons, echidna's although no one has seen any of them for ages...
"In more than one version," Cream clarified. "The legendary hero, faster than speed itself, carrying themselves on the wind."
"Again, he was a hedgehog?"
"Or she," Cream shrugged. "I've heard it both ways. Hedgehog, non-hedgehogs, man, woman, I've heard all kinds."
Miles nodded, before he found the right tree. They'd already made it to the edge of the forest farthest away from the village, close to one of the mountains and cliff sides that hold in most of the warm weather.
"Ready?" he asked. Cream nodded, before she shut her eyes and focused. Miles did the same, feeling the general chaos field around him. It was around all living things. The grass. Cream, the owls in the trees, the insects throughout the forest, the trees themselves, and even him. Generated by their presence. He found his own unique field, the field generated by his chaos, by his emotions, and started to spin his two tails. He was thought of by a freak by many of the villagers of Plum.
One tail went into a spin. The other followed it. It should be impossible. He knew his own anatomy enough to know that, just as Cream's own unique ability should have been impossible.
He gave a soft jump before his tails spun faster and faster, impossibly fast, pushing down against the air beneath him. He'd been six when he figured out he could do this. Eight when he could do it willingly. Now, nearly seven years later, he flew to the top of the trees.
Cream flew right behind him, her own ears propelling her upwards like a bird's wings. Again, something that should be impossible, but to an islander, impossible was only a challenge.
Onwards and upwards they flew, until they found the small cave towards the top. Tails landed first, letting the small charge of energy dissipate from him as his tails reverted back to normal. Cream was a moment behind, and he could feel the small spark stored in her leave her body as she, too, let it go.
Control of their own chaos field was a rare ability, highly sought after in islanders. However, both of Cream's parents, Vanilla and Jazz, had told her that she should hide the ability to the best she could before they left. Miles' own parents, Rosemary and Amadeus, had left him with a single message that he'd had yet to decipher, but Cream's message had told him he should hide his own control.
Miles stepped in, quickly turning on the small fire rune in the corner. It was cold, this far up, but it was better than living in the mountaintops directly.
Their cave was rather tiny, in comparison to most of the houses down below. But it was home to them. Two beds, one on each side, with a small pile of dirty clothes on one side, each of them coated with soot, and a smaller pile of dirty clothes coated with dirt on the other. A much larger pile of clean clothes sat not far away. A single shelf contained the fire and water runes that they'd used for heat and water.
Cream landed softly on her bed of hay and leaves. "It's nice to be back before sundown. I hate winter for making the sun go down sooner."
"It's always harder to navigate in the dark," Miles agreed as he sat down at the shelf. They didn't have an ice rune for a coldbox, and the only way for them to get one was to raid someone's house and hope they didn't wake up, or buy one. And considering that most runescribers wouldn't take 'please use this rock' for their runescribing, it was going to be a long time before they got anything similar.
"What are you feeling like for dinner?" Miles asked as he went through a small brown bag. The fire rune was slowly heating up. It'd be almost ready for cooking with.
"Do we have any oil for dressing?" Cream asked from the bed. "If not, then berries and plain lettuce would have to do."
"Berries and plain lettuce it is," Miles grinned as he threw a few leaves towards her. Cream returned it as she started to nibble.
They didn't have much, but it would do. Their parents had told them to live, and live they shall.
Welcome to a brand new story. Similar in style to Blooming Tides, this one again features Tails, and now Cream. But as normal with my pure AU's, the situation here is very, very different. The biggest thing to realize is that this a medieval setting, so there won't be robots or any advanced science jazz. Tails is still smart, but...no robots. Also, Cream's full name is "Mallow Jackrabbit". Everyone who has a relatively simple name, such as Sonic, Knuckles, Blaze, etc, have different names here. Exception is Miles "Tails" Prower and Amy Rose, who already has a full name.
More differences to come, but this is enough to start to understand the story. Everything gets explained as it goes on. A lot of inspiration from the Legend of Zelda series, but it's still very much its own monster.
Until Next Time!
