Little soldier boy The day had started normal for the young boy. Only the slight drizzle outside kept him from going to the gardens, though as the day passed the rain grew heavier. He could of went outside but he didn't feel like getting soaked. Instead he padded along the halls. His nails kept themselves tucked neatly away giving him a silent but sure pace. He had no destination in mind but his nose had brought him around the place. The castle was vast, he knew he could get lost, though an adult to help him was never far. A fact he took for granted. The castle kept him safe and warm. His fiery eyes shone with curiosity as he came to a floor with a strange scent. It was heavy and kind of musky. His little mohawked head poked into the room, to find a large room with many objects. They definitely looked like something an adult could wield. Long, with what he guessed was wooden handles and some shorter. He pushed into the room with a childlike whoa of wonder at the objects. Most were out of reach, but he still moved in eyeing them all. As he found one closer to the ground he stood on his back legs and batted at it until it dropped down with a clatter. The noise made him jump and tuck his tail, wide eyes on it as the weapon came unsheathed in the clamor. Its blade was swirled with strange materials but he wasn't perturbed. He stepped to it and laid before it, it looked like something he could chew on and not get in too much trouble. Maybe he should chew on the wooden part though? His eyes went to it and he decided then. There was teeth marks on the weapons handle and he figured why not add his own. So he placed a paw on it unsettling his claws on it to better gripp it by the cross section and began chewing the thing. The taste wasn't too horrid and there was definitely some relief for his teeth that seemed to want to cause him a headache all the time. Teething mom called it. He hated it. Walk, "Talk", Think Come marching home

Artorias had been spending much of his time working in the forge lately. Shaping metal, smelting billets of Carpathian steel, smithing new blades and repairing old ones. It was as if the Lord of Cinder was preparing for a war—and in some ways, maybe he was. The Hallows had to be ready to stand toe to toe with any foe and win, and that meant having the technological advantage, namely superior equipment. So Artorias worked tirelessly to meet the needs and path of the pack, as well as working on commissions for other wolves. It was hard, tiring, sweaty work, but Art loved it!

The dire brute had stepped away from the forge for a short break that rainy day, giving himself some time to cool off and grab some lunch before returning to his work. The Lord had never even noticed the little pup playing troublemaker sneaking into the forge until he walked back in and found Titus sitting in the middle of the floor, gnawing on the hilt of a blade. Art blinked, surprised to see his nephew here. Pups weren’t allowed in the forge or armory unattended. But rather than start with stern yelling or a scolding, Artorias chose a different route, knowing his sister would likely be giving the boy a talking to about safety and following the rules.

Despite his giant size, Artorias was actually quite deft on his paws from his years of navigating rough terrains. Sneaking up behind the lad, Artorias cleared his throat with a loud "Ahem," and fixed Titus with a serious stare. "Find something interesting, Titus?" he asked his nephew rhetorically, glancing to the Carpathian steel blade the lad had found. "What did your mother tell you about coming in here alone?" It wasn’t a rule just to be strict. The forge was a dangerous place to the unskilled and unaware. He raised a brow at Titus; he expected an answer from the pup.

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian"

There will come a soldier Titus had been alone in the forge for all of a few minutes, maybe less when he heard his uncle clear his throat. His eyes went wide and he turned them to his uncle. A pup caught doing things he shouldn't but then again Titus had been so bored, and going outside had been out of the question with the rain. His teeth didn't come off the sword though as he gnawed on it one more good time before giving his uncle his full attention and a slow wag of his tail. The first question came and he let go of the weapon with his teeth, opening his mouth to speak but then closing it when Artorias asked another without waiting for the answer to the first question. How did he expect to learn what Titus had found if he wasn't gonna let him answer before asking more questions? He set his eyes on the sword for a moment before he moved them back to the behemoth male before him. He tilted his head and gave a thoughtful look for a good minute. Mom had talked about a lot. Stories about his dad. Lots of rules. He didn't really get why there were so many rules. So long as they were staying out of the adults ways and not hurting anyone wouldn't that be good enough? Like why couldn't he be in the armory room? He wouldn't ask though. Finally he brought his fiery eyes back to his uncle an answer on his tongue. "To not come in here without someone?" It came off more a question than a statement but he wasn't sure this was one of the places yet. but then an idea came and he gave his uncle a big grin. "But I'm not alone now! Your here!" His tail thumped as he smiled up at Artorias. Maybe he could help him work! Walk, "Talk", Think He will slay you with His tongue He will tear your city down

Titus turned and looked at him with the wide-eyed gaze of a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar—yet despite being caught, the boy continued to gnaw on the hilt of the sword. Artorias raised a brow as if silently asking "Really?". The boy had definitely gotten the trademark Carpathian headstrong gene. Matching fire opal eyes from both wolves locked while Art waited for his nephew's response, and when it came... well, it certainly knocked the Lord of Cinder off his feet! Titus recited the rule, then immediately countered by claiming he wasn't alone in the forge now and that Art was here. Artorias' expression was frozen as his mind crashed under the innocent logic of a child. Titus' excuse sounded exactly like something he would've said when he was a pup and getting into all sorts of misadventures and hijinks. Well shoot, looked like the lad was pretty savvy after all.

Seeing how happy and blissfully innocent Titus was to be here, all Artorias could do was stare back at the boy, the corners of his lips twitching up into a smile as his serious expression broke. Dammit, he'd gotten him! A chuckle rose from the dire brute's chest, turning into a full belly laugh. "All right, wise guy, you got me there. But no more sneaking in here on your own until you're older, okay? It's very cool in here, but everything is very dangerous if you're not careful with it." Walking over to one of the workbenches, Artorias fetched a piece of cocobolo wood wrapped in leather he'd been preparing to make a handle out of and handed it to Titus, trading him for the sword. "Here. You can chew on that. We don't want to be playing with anything sharp until you're big enough to pick it up."

Artorias lifted the sword up and brought it over to the nearby grindstone. He'd left it out after heat treating it to sharpen it and get it edged and ready for battle, so thankfully Titus wouldn't have been able to cut himself on the dull steel. Still, he didn't want to be teaching his nephew bad weapons safety habits. "Would you like to help me finish this blade, Titus?" Art offered, motioning for the pup to come join him and pointing out a pedal at the base of the grindstone. "Push down on that with all your might over and over. That'll start this stone wheel turning and I'll show you how we sharpen a sword." There were many parts of forging and honing a blade that were especially dangerous, but this was a fairly harmless way for his nephew to help him if he insisted on staying in the forge.

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian"

There will come a soldier His tail seemed to only pick up speed when Art started laughing. No way was he gonna be mad or in trouble if his uncle was laughing. His little triangle ears perked as Art spoke and he watched him move. Though his eyes became confused when Art traded him out a wood piece for the awesome weapon he had previously had. A flip of his ears direction as he glared at the floor. He had like how that other one was kind of shiny. The leather hadn't tasted good but had kind of felt nice as he chewed on it. Plus the words Art had. But he had picked it up somewhat hadn't he? Wasn't he big enough now? His eyes returned to normal though as he looked back up at Art. He nodded anyway though and gave his uncle a soft "okay". But then an offer was made and Titus was jumping up in excitement. He was gonna get to help! "Yes, yes, yes! I swear I'll be the best helper uncle Art!" he made his way over and with the enthusiasm of a pup ready to learn at their first day of school stood listening. Pedal. Step on it. Alot. And they would sharpen the sword! He nodded and with eyes narrowing on the pedal he braced. Pouncing on it carefully. Then he was bouncing his front half on it to try to get enough weight and pressure on the pedal to help Art work. Though he wasn't looking at much else other than the sword and the starting to spin grind wheel. Walk, "Talk", Think He will slay you with His tongue He will tear your city down

Artorias had seen the clear disappointment in his nephew’s eyes when he’d relieved him of the blade he’d taken, but his duty to keeping Titus safe and educated outweighed any tender feelings toward the lad’s disappointment. When he had been his age, Artorias had also pined for a sword of his own. It was only once he was a yearling and old enough to handle such a weapon was he permitted one. He’d hated it too, but now that he was older he could understand why. Titus would understand one day too. For now, safety was paramount over enjoyment and coolness, and a pup handling a sword? Well, he might as well have turned himself over to Bowen to end his life now!

Thankfully, Titus was quick to recover his enthusiasm as Artorias asked the boy for his help sharpening the sword. Titus did as he was told, and when the grindstone began to spin, Artorias brought the edge of the blade to its surface. The shrill raking of steel against the stone filled the forge as sparks flew from the sword as its edge was honed. Art moved his paws with deft practice, handling the blade this way and that to shape the edge exactly as he wished. It was a showcase of his abilities as a bladesmith. This was a craft he’d been perfecting for most of his life, and it showed in his labor of love for the weapons he made.

"Bună treabă, nepotule. Keep doing what you’re doing." Art smiled down at Titus as he praised the lad’s enthusiastic assistance. With Titus working the grindstone, Artorias continued working the edge of the blade along the grindstone, sharpening it down until one side was honed to a deadly flawlessness. He then turned the blade around with a quick flip of the sword in his paws and proceeded to repeat the process on the other side, careful to make sure none of the sparks flying off the blade came near Titus. "Do you know how to tell if a blade is sharp enough, Titus?" asked the much larger brute to the pup, a knowing smile on his muzzle. This would lead them nicely into the weapons testing part of the forging process, which Artorias knew Titus would get a kick out of.

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian"

He will tear your city down He kept bouncing on the pedal with a grin. Finally someone was letting him help and he wasn't in their way! And he was getting to make a sword! What could be any cooler? He couldn't think of anything else. His siblings would be so jealous and mom would be so proud. Plus if he did good he bet Uncle art would let him help out more around here! Or maybe even give him lessons on how to fight! His grin was ear to ear as Art gave him praise in the native tongue of their family. His tail even started wagging a mile a minute. The praise was something he definitely enjoyed. Fiery eyes watched as best he could as he bounced to keep the grind wheel turning. The sparks dancing off the blade as it was sharpened making him almost mesmerized by it. Though Art's next words and question had him looking to Artorias's face. Pace of his bouncing slowing as hi scrunched his eyebrows together in thought. How could you test a blade's sharpness? Couldn't you just stab something? Or did you cut it? That was definitely a question. "Ummmmm, you stab something? Like a melon or a big ball right?" He was smart but definitely didn't know this answer so he gave his best guess. He figured that sounded right. A grin came back to his face as he went back to his bouncing on the pedal, almost having forgot while he came up with the answer. Walk, "Talk", Think

_{Art by Asena}

help craft a sword 2/3
receive a lesson on sword crafting 1/3(?)

The boy's mind was as sharp as his heart was enthusiastic. When Artorias posed the question of testing their blade to him, Titus took a moment to collect his thoughts, then suggested stabbing something like a melon or a ball. Artorias gave a hearty chuckle and grinned down at his young nephew. "Those are indeed good tests to put a blade through! Though stabbing usually tests the strength and sharpness of the tip more than the blade itself. We will be putting it through a stab test as well though." As he finished honing the opposite edge of the blade, Artorias brought the sword up to eye level, scanning and analyzing the edges on all four sides for any obvious signs of cracks, chips, or imperfections. When he didn't see any, he nodded his head, giving it the seal of approval from the smith. Then he looked to Titus and motioned him over to the other side of the forge.

On the opposite side of the room stood a battle worn training dummy that had clearly seen many seasons of abuse and repair by the bladesmith. Its limbs were made out of thick tree branches, its body a straw-stuffed sack, and its head a solid leather ball. All perfect for testing the lethality of a blade on. "To test the sharpness of a blade, we cut something with it," he explained to Titus, taking the sword up in his jaws and giving it a few simple flourishes to test its weight and balance. Every sword was unique and the first thing any fighter should learn was their weapon's balance. Shooting a roguish grin to his nephew, Artorias lined up his strike, and with a spin and a flourish, he brought the sword clean through the front two legs of the dummy, cleaving through the branches as if they were made of butter.

The wood fell to the floor with a clatter as Art brought the sword back around, checking the edges for any chipping or cracking from its first blow. Lowering himself to his belly, he held the sword for Titus to see as well, running a claw carefully along the sharp edge. "Look at the edge. We always check our weapons after testing for signs of damage or failure. Cracks, chips, bends, warps, anything that is no longer straight or sharp. Do you see any signs of failure in this blade?"

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian"

Little soldier boy His Uncle's word had him stopping his motions and sitting with a perplexed expression. Wasn't stabbing and slicing kind of the same thing? He could do both with his claws, and he lifted a paw and extended his claws examining them as he thought. His claws were kind of like tiny swords in a way weren't they? The were sharp and could slice and cut, yet also could stab into things. He retracted them and looked back at the work he and Artorias were doing. He'd have to ask him in a moment about why they didn't make tiny swords for paws. They'd definitely be lighter and easily taken everywhere one went. Plus if one paired them with leather or metal guards they could be used defensively too. He watched as his uncle eyed the sword's sharpness and he lowered his head to mimic the eyeballing. He had no clue what to look for but he did it regardless. When Art nodded and motioned for Titus to move across the room he did as he was asked with his little tail lifted and wagging. Every step was silent and he grinned from ear to ear as he waited and watched from the safe spot his uncle asked him to. His ears pricked listening to his uncle's answer on how to test a sword's sharpness. His fiery orbs growing excited as he Watched his uncle approach the dummy. When he slashed it and the clank of the wood happened his eyes sparkled with the wow of the movement his uncle did. "WOWWWWW!" The amazement clear on his face. Ok he definitely liked that. Then he was moving closer and As soon as Art was on his level and explaining what they were supposed to look for after testing it he lowered his head and narrowed his eyes on the blade. Warps, none, check. Cracks, that looked kind of like a scratch, maybe might of. Bending, none, it was still straight as it had once been. Chips, he couldn't see any, so check? He looked up at Art before he spoke again. "Ummmm is that a scratch? Or the start of a crack? Its hard to tell..... Is it okay if it's scratched as well?" He tilted his head and waited patiently for the answer. He could ask his question after the answer was given. As soon as Art had answered and seemed to have no more answer to give Titus decided now was perfectly timed to ask his question. "So why don't we make tiny swords and attach them to guards for the ankles that way they can be used like my claws and still be defensive in a fight?" His tail wagged and he grinned at his own genius and inventive nature. Walk, "Talk", Think Come marching home

help craft a sword 3/3
receive a lesson on sword crafting 2/3

Titus' enthusiastic reaction when Artorias cleaved through the dummy's legs brought a smile to the older wolf's lips. The curiosity and fascination of a puppy was something to be marveled, and it reminded him very much of himself when he had been the boy's age. Always curious about the weapons and blades of the adults, eager for the day he would get to have one of his own. While the pair of wolves inspected the blade, Titus pointed out a spot and asked if it was a crack or a scratch. Turning the blade sideways so they could inspect it across the metal, Artorias noted it was little more than a small cosmetic scratch along the edge of the blade. "Scratches are fine, and many can be buffed out with whetstones when you sharpen and hone a blade over time. Cracks are bad though. A crack is a weak spot in your steel, and a weak spot will break eventually. The last thing you want is for your sword to break in the middle of battle."

Bringing a paw up to the blade, Art rested a claw on the flat side of the blade and slowly ran it back and forth over the scratch. "The way we test if a mark is a scratch or a crack is to run a claw over it. A scratch you won't feel, but a crack will catch on your claw. Then we know we have a problem." Artorias moved his paw away to allow Titus to do the same thing and feel over the scratch with his claw. "You feel how it's still smooth metal? It's not catching your claw, so we know it's just a cosmetic scratch. These happen all the time from use." Picking the sword up and setting it down on the workbench, Artorias began to wipe the blade down with a rag to buff it out and make the steel shine. "Now we just clean it up and this sword is done!"

As he polished the sword, Artorias heard Titus ask a peculiar question. Could swords be made small and put on their claws? Art took a breath as he pondered over the thought. "That would be possible to do. I know wolves that have metal caps they wear over their fangs for battle to make their bites more dangerous and deadly. I suppose the same technique could be made for claws. Like razor claw caps." As for the why part of the question, well, that was a more nuanced answer. "Everyone's combat style is different, Titus. There is no right or wrong way, just personal preference. You make good use of your claws, like many others do. Others prefer their jaws and fangs. Others still have other mutations they use, like spikes and quills. But me...?" Artorias picked up the sword in his jaws again and swung it through the air, pointing it off at an imaginary enemy. "I like the reach a sword has. I can strike with lethal force farther away and keep my opponents back while still doing damage. I know that if they want to get to me, they have to clear my sword first." Once more he set the sword down on the table, looking down at Titus and hoping he had answered the lad's question satisfactorily. "Does that make sense, Titus?"

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian"