Part VIII: Weapon of Mass Destruction
Chapter 3: If the Runes foretell
Timeline AO 298
Before I could ignite the flames of war, I had to place my weapon, The Ghast, into Hacktor Derkillez’s hands without drawing any undue attention. The key to this was Hef Fastuz and his impeccable reputation as a master smith. For nearly ten grueling years, Hef toiled relentlessly at his forge, pouring every ounce of his being into crafting The Ghast and its lesser-known counterpart, The Grim. His dedication transcended the mundane, pushing him to a level of mastery that few could ever hope to achieve. In the quiet solitude of his smithy, Hef found a rare inner peace—a harmony of mind and body known only to those who have truly mastered their craft.
As someone who understands a thing or two about mastery, I must admit, Hef’s unwavering focus impressed even me. I could wax poetic about the brilliance of his single-minded pursuit of perfection, but it would likely be lost on you—so I’ll spare you the details.
All journeys, however, must eventually come to an end, and by the time Hef reached the age of 77, his two masterpieces were finally complete. But once finished, Hef faced an unexpected dilemma: who was worthy to wield such formidable creations? He probably assumed that Baldur or another Drokka elite would claim them, as is often the case—the rich and powerful always seem to acquire the best of everything. Yet, Hef, in his humble and devout nature, did not concern himself with such inequities. His focus remained on his work, leaving the rest to the gods.
And that’s exactly how I planned it.
Hef’s devotion led him to the kingdom of Iztak, the religious heart of the Drokka people. There, he intended to consult the Runes from The Well of Wyzdom, relying on Mirkir the Wyze to interpret their guidance. Little did Hef know, I had already ensured that Mirkir was well aware of The Ghast and its importance. As The Spirit of the Well, I whispered to Mirkir, revealing the weapon’s power and its potential to change the course of history.
In the year AO 298, Hef completed his underground journey to Iztak, his faithful Garf pulling the cart that held his precious cargo. When he arrived, Mirkir was ready. The moment Hef presented his offerings, Mirkir read the Runes with a sense of purpose that left no room for doubt. The gods, he declared, had chosen prince Hacktor Derkillez to receive these gifts.
And why not? Hacktor was a royal Balkery, a prince destined to become Kon-Herr Drokka, and Hef, ever the devout believer, accepted the Runes’ decree without question. In his mind, the will of the gods was undeniable: “if the Runes foretell, then reality must follow.” So, without hesitation, Hef returned home, content to wait for Hacktor’s arrival.
But in the midst of this carefully orchestrated plan, a crucial detail slipped through the cracks. Mirkir, so focused on The Ghast and its implications for Hacktor, overlooked the second gift—The Grim. This oversight cost me dearly, as it meant that I missed the opportunity to fully understand the power of that seemingly inconspicuous blade. Sometimes, it’s the little things that unravel the grandest schemes. But what’s done is done.
As the year AO 298 progressed, everything was falling into place. My plans with Hacktor and Hef, and the secret machinations of The Priory of the Myz, were all converging. The Siq still stood, and Baldur still reigned as king, but the impending meeting between Hacktor Derkillez and Hef Fastuz was destined to change the world forever.
The Apocrypha of Azazel 