Julian peered through the open doorway and saw a strange, pristine chamber waiting on the other side. The room was pure white, almost glowing, and filled with tools and equipment forged from gleaming silver. Every piece radiated a delicate yet undeniable power, as if the air itself acknowledged their importance.
From hammers and tongs to molds and smelters, everything a smith could need was present, and then plenty more besides, all neatly arranged and ready for use according to the crafting style resting in his mind.
Julian did not waste time. He stepped through the doorway into the room, startled when the bronze door swung shut behind him with a solid finality. At the same moment, he felt an unfamiliar energy seep into him from every direction, soaking into his body and soul like a cool, invisible tide.
He did not panic. Somehow, instinctively, he understood what was happening. This was simply the acclimatization process for entering the astral realm. Anyone who came here would go through it once so that future visits would not cause disturbances in the material world.
The adjustment lasted about a minute. Once it ended, Julian felt oddly steady, grounded, like the air in this place now recognized him.
He began walking slowly through the forge, taking time to inspect each tool he passed. He lifted hammers, ran his fingers along the edges of chisels, examined clamps and molds, searching for any special differences. Yet, aside from their flawless construction and subtle power, they functioned like normal smithing tools.
Alright, first things first. I need to decide on a ring design. Thankfully, there are several premade options, Julian thought, a small grin forming as he turned toward the shelf where the ring molds sat.
There were five molds in total. He studied each one carefully, but discarded three almost immediately. Those were all designed to hold gemstones, with prominent settings that would draw attention. He had no plans to create anything so flashy.
Of the remaining two molds, one was a simple, unadorned band, clean and smooth, with no decorative flourishes. Its plainness appealed to him. It would be easy to overlook, which suited his purposes perfectly.
He had not forgotten that he could eventually forge the ring with an inherent ability to be ignored, blending into its surroundings, but attempting that for his very first attempt would make the entire forging process far more difficult. Possibly impossible at his current level. He might possess Celebrimbor's knowledge, but he certainly did not have Celebrimbor's skill.
The other mold was shaped like a bird with its wings spread wide, the wings themselves curving around to form the band. It was a striking design, elegant yet dramatic, and Julian dismissed it almost immediately. Something that eye-catching would stand out far too much.
Decision made, he took the plain band mold from the shelf and carried it over to an infused smelter sitting near the center of the room. This device was designed to melt down whatever metal was placed inside it, then mix and refine the contents into the optimal alloy for forging.
Julian slid the Galleon and the small goblin silver ingot into the smelter's basin, then placed his palm against the panel that served as its magic power source.
Doing this simultaneously infused the metal with his magic, attuning it strongly to him, while also providing the energy needed to run the machine. The process worked efficiently, and after about five minutes, the smelter produced a white-gold alloy heavily biased toward the silver content.
There was a cost, however. In refining the metals, the machine sacrificed around half of the original material. The loss stung his thrifty side, but he grudgingly accepted it as the price of quality.
Using a pair of special tongs mounted on the side of the device, Julian lifted the crucible full of molten metal and carefully poured it into the simple band mold. As the glowing liquid flowed, he frowned when he saw that half of it still remained.
On impulse, he quickly grabbed the bird-shaped mold and set it beside the first.
I will keep the extra one as a blank for later forging, he decided as he poured the remaining metal into the second mold.
Once both molds were filled, Julian waited about ten minutes for the metal to cool and harden enough to work. When that time passed, he took the simple band mold and brought it to the anvil. With a firm strike, he cracked the mold open.
A still red-hot ring tumbled out onto the surface of the anvil, landing with a clear, melodic ting.
Julian reached for a specially crafted small hammer and a set of tongs resting nearby. He took a deep breath, then began to move his spirit according to the instructions laid out in the crafting method.
His clothes fluttered and rippled as if a strong wind had suddenly kicked up around him, though the air remained still. His spirit manifested as a bright white aura surrounding his body, flickering like pale fire.
Julian winced. That much outward manifestation was the result of sloppy control. The technique, properly used, demanded that he concentrate the manifestation into his arms alone.
He forced himself to rein it in. Slowly, painstakingly, he pulled the aura back, struggling to confine it to his shoulders, then his forearms, then finally his hands. It was a strange, deeply uncomfortable feeling, like trying to flex a muscle he had never known he possessed.
Commanding his own soul was not something that came naturally. The only reason it was even possible was because this was the astral realm, where spiritual presence could take form more easily.
It still took him nearly an hour just to get everything aligned the way the method required. During that time, he kept the ring heated in the forge, cycling it in and out of the flames so it stayed hot enough to work without melting.
At last, he was ready.
Julian began to hammer. Each strike was carefully measured, both in physical strength and spiritual pressure. With every blow of the hammer, he pushed a single intent into the glowing metal: the will to shield his mind.
Time blurred. Hours slipped past unnoticed as he remained in place, body aching, spirit straining, striking the ring again and again. Slowly, the metal responded. The faint hum of magic built inside it, growing stronger, more focused, resonating with the concept he was forcing into its structure.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he heard a distinct, low hum come from the ring. It was no longer the random noise of hot metal, but a steady, living vibration. Proof of success.
The moment he registered it, Julian's legs nearly buckled. Exhaustion crashed into him all at once, and he had to grab the edge of the anvil with one hand to keep from simply collapsing to the floor.
Breathing hard, feeling both drained and fiercely satisfied, he looked at the ring on the anvil and spoke hoarsely, yet with surprising authority, "I name you Sanar, after the very thing you were created to defend."
The ring's hum faded smoothly, settling into silence as if it had listened and agreed. It accepted the name, and with it, its purpose.