The forest did not yield its path easily.
If Silvana hadn’t led the way, Kang Mujin would have circled among the same trees over and over. The roots did not trip him; instead, they offered footholds where he could step, and the low-hanging branches quietly lifted whenever she drew near. It was less a path than a gap the forest allowed, for a moment.
Kang Mujin followed her in silence. At his waist hung only a single unadorned, single-edged short sword; before entering the forest, Silvana had told him the Council of Elders might ask him to surrender his weapon.
“If they ask me to hand it over, I will.”
“Doesn’t that displease you?”
“When you enter someone else’s forge, you follow their rules.”
Silvana glanced back at him for a moment.
“You’re the first human to compare a forest to a forge.”
“Both will drive you out if you carelessly light a fire.”
The corner of her mouth moved, just slightly, though whether it was a smile was hard to say.
The deeper they went into the forest, the fainter the presence of metal became. In Steel Bastion, even with his eyes closed, hundreds of pieces of iron—nails, hinges, pots, spearheads—would catch at his fingertips, but here he could sense only Silvana’s arrowheads, Kang Mujin’s sword, and the blades of the guards hidden among the trees.
Instead, the sound of living things grew thick—leaves brushing against each other, water flowing beneath the wet earth, an unseen bird shifting from branch to branch.
Amid it all, a bowstring was drawn.
When Kang Mujin stopped walking, three arrowheads aimed at him from behind a thick branch to the upper left, two more from behind on the right, and beyond the vines ahead, a slender blade lay hidden.
“He is a guest.”
Silvana spoke without turning back, and a voice came down from the trees.
“He smells of human iron.”
“The guest also carries iron.”
“I did not tell him to draw his sword. If he draws it, aim then.”
A moment later the bowstrings loosened, and Kang Mujin moved forward again, the arrowheads that had been trained on him slowly scattering among the trees.
“Quite a warm welcome.”
“This is warm, by our standards.”
Silvana’s answer was earnest.
The forest of the Council of Elders sat within a clearing ringed by massive trees, spiral stairways and corridors entwined along every trunk, yet there was not a single nail or iron joint to be seen. Living branches formed the railings, thick roots supported the floor, and at the center of the clearing stood a round table that looked less like a cut tree stump than something that had risen straight out of the ground.
Twelve elves sat around it.
Kang Mujin recognized Delaron among them; he wore the same ash-gray robe he had worn when he came to Steel Bastion, and on his head sat a silver circlet shaped like leaf veins. It was a metal rarely seen in the forest, its silver of high purity, but it had only ever been polished, never once brought near fire.
Delaron’s gaze swept over Kang Mujin’s sword.
“The Council of Elders permitted the envoy’s return, but it did not permit the entry of an armed human.”
Silvana answered as she walked toward the center.
“Kang Mujin is the witness I requested.”
“What does that name guarantee the forest?”
“It guarantees nothing. Which is why you must judge for yourselves.”
Kang Mujin unbuckled the sword from his waist, set it down on the ground still in its sheath, and stepped back.
“I was late because I did not know the rule.”
Delaron’s gaze moved from the sword to Kang Mujin’s face.
“Humans always say they did not know the rule. They say it only after they have felled the trees and diverted the waterways.”
“Not knowing is no excuse.”
Kang Mujin said nothing more, and a brief silence fell among the elders; the old elf on the right tapped the table once with a finger.
Silvana unslung the pack from her back.
“Silvana Eilen, formal envoy of the Forest Elf Council of Elders, reporting.”
A cloth-wrapped object was set on the table. When Silvana untied the knot, a spearhead appeared, with a neat socket and a thick central ridge, its surface stamped with Kang Mujin’s small hammer mark.
“The trial observation of Steel Bastion has concluded. I am requesting the formal dispatch of troops for border defense.”
The leaves above the clearing all shivered at once, and not from the wind alone. Several elders shifted in their seats, and the arrowheads of the guards in the trees lowered slightly.
Delaron spoke first.
“That sounds like a request to send elven lives to guard a human fortress.”
“It is a request to protect our own kin who live beyond the forest.”
When Silvana finished speaking, the elder seated to the left asked a question.
“We received a report that elves being dragged off by demons were rescued. Is it also true that they did not return to the forest?”
“That is correct.”
“Were they unable to return?”
“They chose not to return.”
Silvana placed her hand on the spearhead on the table.
“They said they would guard the crossing for those who might be taken again. Steel Bastion is not elves alone. Humans, dwarves, beastfolk, and other races raised its walls together, and those rescued, regardless of race, now remain there.”
Delaron’s voice lowered.
“We cannot entrust the forest’s forces to the good will of one human. The promises of short-lived races change too quickly, and human cities have always expanded themselves before the forest ever could.”
Silvana’s hand on her bow trembled faintly, and Kang Mujin saw the movement but did not answer in her place. The threshold to be crossed here was hers to cross.
“I do not trust humans either.”
The elders’ gazes all turned to Silvana at once.
She continued, not hiding the tremor in her hand.
“Human cities grow too fast, and their promises rarely last beyond a generation. Even Steel Bastion cannot be guaranteed to remain the same forever. But not trusting and turning away are different things.”
Silvana drew a broken arrowhead from a small pouch at her waist and set it beside the spearhead; its tip was crushed from striking armor, and dried black blood and dirt had caked at the neck where it met the shaft.
“This is an arrow the first dispatched party used atop the walls of Steel Bastion. When the demons scaled the wall, a human soldier shielded an elven archer, and a beastfolk soldier threw his own body beyond that shield. A dwarf repaired the broken bow rest. The elf did not hide behind the human, and the human did not push the elf to the front.”
Her fingers pressed against the broken arrowhead.
“A single battle does not prove eternal loyalty. But it does prove who fought, and who was not abandoned.”
Delaron did not refute her at once; instead he looked at the new spearhead lying on the table.
“What does that piece of iron prove?”
Kang Mujin lifted the spearhead and showed the elders the inside of its socket. At the unbidden motion, metal shifted in the trees above, and the arrowheads all turned toward him at once, but he did not stop his hand.
“A dwarf set the forge, and a human miner used a standard gauge to set the length and thickness. A dwarven smith spread the wings, a raccoon beastfolk wound this socket, and Doria fixed the final joint.”
He flicked the central ridge with a fingernail, and a short, clear ring spread through the clearing—the sound of medium-carbon steel with evenly distributed carbon. The blade was hard, yet the socket was tough, and the iron had been tempered twice so that no seam remained between the different hands that had shaped it.
“The blade pierces the joints of demon armor. The base does not crack easily even under impact, and the shaft’s standard size lets it be swapped out on the battlefield.”
Delaron asked.
“Elves do not favor the spear as a main weapon.”
“I know.”
“And yet you brought this.”
Kang Mujin set the spearhead upright on the table again.
“Because it is proof that Steel Bastion does not stand by any one hand alone.”
“Several races doing the same work does not make them one.”
“There is no need to become one.”
Delaron’s brow shifted.
“Each does their own task properly, and they cover each other’s faults. Even iron of different properties is not worked at the same temperature. Worked differently, but fitted to purpose.”
Kang Mujin added no further explanation; iron did not grow harder through excuses.
Silvana looked around at the elders and spoke.
“The demons do not wait for our judgment. They respect neither the forest’s lifespan, nor do they distinguish the race of those they seize. If Steel Bastion falls, the border villages will vanish first, and after them, our own kin who travel beyond the forest. While we deliberate at length, they will forge more chains.”
At the word chains, Kang Mujin recalled the forward watch’s report he had read before leaving Steel Bastion. The scouts had recovered a new iron scale, a single shipping iron tally, and a chain link fallen from a cart outside the northern forge yard. The tally bore, engraved together, the production count and shipping date of siege-ram bands, giant nails, and small ring chains.
Kang Mujin had examined the link himself before setting out. It was smaller than mining chain and left the same-spaced weld marks needed to link into a longer chain than one used to bind beasts. It was sized for binding people in a line.
“They are making them even now.”
Delaron looked at Kang Mujin.
“Making what?”
“Chains. The forward watch confirmed the link and shipping tally recovered yesterday. Not yet used, but iron whose purpose was already decided.”
Distrust rose on several of the elders’ faces.
“Are you saying that, seated here in the forest, you know the iron of the north?”
“No. My sense does not reach beyond a hundred and fifty paces. What I’ve just told you is what I confirmed and remembered myself at the bastion, from evidence the scouts brought back.”
Kang Mujin looked at Delaron’s silver circlet.
“There’s a crack on the back left of the circlet.”
Delaron’s hand stopped.
“It’s a spot hidden by hair. Something bent long ago was hammered straight without being heated. A crack runs along the overlapped grain.”
Delaron slowly removed the circlet and handed it to the elder beside him, and when that elder’s fingernail, tracing the inside, stopped at a certain point, a low murmur spread.
Kang Mujin looked away from the circlet.
“Iron doesn’t lie. Neither does demon iron. They are preparing both to break the fortress and to drag away those who survive.”
Delaron gazed at the cracked circlet for a while before setting it down beside the table.
“There is no guarantee that such power will not one day turn toward the forest.”
“There is none.”
Silvana’s eyes turned to Kang Mujin, but he did not change his words.
“Power is not a guarantee. You must watch the one who wields it, and the rules.”
“Humans change their rules as often as they make them.”
“Then watch over us.”
Kang Mujin looked in turn at the two pieces of iron Silvana had brought.
“Fight alongside us, but watch. Help, but verify. If Steel Bastion breaks its word, you may withdraw your forces.”
The elder on the right asked.
“You request troops while acknowledging the right to withdraw them first?”
“An alliance forced together is no different from a chain.”
No one answered that at once.
Light falling through the leaves shone down on the table. One was a whole spearhead made by many hands of many races; the other was an elf’s arrowhead broken on a real battlefield. Both revealed purpose in place of words.
Delaron turned toward Silvana.
“You are an envoy of the Forest Elves. Not a spokesman for a human fortress.”
“I know.”
“And yet you have asked to send troops beyond the forest’s borders. Do you also know that this choice could set a precedent granting rights to a human king or commander?”
“I know.”
Silvana picked up the broken arrowhead.
“Which is why command authority, the right of withdrawal, and the scope of supply must be set by us. We can appoint an observer and set a term for the dispatch. What I am asking for is not a blank grant of trust, but a formal force capable of protecting our kin beyond the forest.”
Kang Mujin looked at her hand; the tremor that had lingered until moments ago was gone. She was not the envoy repeating pleas to trust Steel Bastion, but one shaping even her distrust into the terms of an alliance.
“Would Steel Bastion accept those conditions?” Delaron asked.
Silvana did not look back at Kang Mujin.
“If it does not, I will oppose the dispatch.”
At those words, the air among the elders changed, and for the first time something other than simple rebuttal—deliberation—crossed Delaron’s expression.
Kang Mujin spoke briefly.
“We will accept them.”
Only then did Silvana look at him.
“Will you also accept being watched?”
“If there is fault, it should be seen.”
“Do you also recognize the elven force’s independent right of withdrawal?”
“I recognize it.”
“If supply is cut off, or the principle of protecting civilians is violated, the dispatched commander may refuse orders.”
Kang Mujin thought for a moment; on a battlefield with two mingled chains of command, a single moment’s delay could cost lives. Yet neither could he hold the other side’s forces bound merely in the name of alliance.
“Combat orders will follow the chain of command set in advance. But any order to harm civilians or enslave prisoners may be refused by anyone.”
Delaron asked.
“Does that apply to demon prisoners as well?”
“It applies equally.”
Kang Mujin’s answer was brief.
The eldest of the elders rose from his seat, and the end of his staff struck the root-floor once, and the scattered voices settled.
“The request of envoy Silvana Eilen is no longer a simple proposal for dispatch. It is a proposal to protect our border kin and carry out limited joint defense with Steel Bastion, while guaranteeing the forest’s command and oversight.”
He looked slowly around at the elders. The two seated beside Delaron did not soften their set expressions, while the three elders across from them kept their eyes on the arrowhead on the table. The vote remained divided, but at least now it was clear what was being contested.
“The trial observation of Steel Bastion ends here. We will now bring the matter of formal dispatch and the conditions of joint defense to the floor.”
A bell rang from the trees above.
Not metal, but a low, long sound made from a hollow fruit. The elders scattered to their own corridors; some inclined their heads toward Silvana, but some never looked her way at all.
Delaron remained until the last, and picked up the spearhead from the table, slowly tracing the boundary between socket and blade.
“You said many hands made this?”
“That’s right.”
“What happens if one of them breaks the standard?”
“It is caught in inspection. If it can be fixed, it is fixed; if not, it is melted down again.”
“Do you think people can be treated the same way?”
“People are not iron.”
Kang Mujin gazed at the spearhead, then added.
“Which is why more rules are needed.”
Delaron set the spearhead down.
“The forest remembers longer than iron does, Kang Mujin.”
“Then watch the results for just as long.”
Delaron did not answer, and turned away, the silver circlet still unworn in his hand.
Even after the elders had gone, Silvana stood before the table for a while, and Kang Mujin fastened back on the sword he had set on the ground.
“When will the decision come?”
“There will be no immediate vote. The scale of the dispatch, the command authority, and the supply lines must each be discussed.”
“War does not wait.”
“I know.”
Silvana put the broken arrowhead back in her pouch, but left the standard spearhead on the table.
“I will remain here. I need to hear what the elders who oppose this fear, to shape the terms.”
Kang Mujin looked at her hand on the bow; the trembling had stopped, but her knuckles had turned white.
“Will you be all right alone?”
“This is my forest.”
Silvana looked up at the corridor where the elders had vanished.
“And yet, within the forest I thought I knew, it seems I must make choices I never knew before.”
Kang Mujin asked nothing further, and before turning away he looked once more at the round table; the small hammer mark caught the light falling through the leaves. It was iron that did not belong in a forest, yet no one had removed it.
On the way back, a single elven guard accompanied him to the edge of the forest, never once opening his mouth, and never once narrowing the fixed distance between them.
Three more days of travel later, Kang Mujin passed the last marker south of Steel Bastion. When roughly a hundred and fifty paces remained to the fortress, familiar iron caught again at the edge of his blessed sense. He had not been reading the forge and armory from within the distant forest—rather, swords and spearheads of the same standard, moved out to the southern clearing, had finally come within range.
It was not only weapons being arranged.
It was preparation to stand people in formation.
It seemed Rakan had begun to move.
Kang Mujin quickened his pace; before the forest’s answer arrived, Steel Bastion first had to learn how to match its own footing.
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