A week passed. It became routine for Cane's teammates—and Sophie—to train in the Ringworld. His arm had healed completely, and he resumed work under the masked identity of Jonas Ironfist.
Classes were going well, too. In his spare time, Cane trained with Pudding and Moxie, refining team movements and tactical coordination in preparation for the upcoming village investigation.
This morning, Cane trotted down the steps of Seven Tower—Telamon had sent word that Jonas wanted to see him.
When Cane arrived at Telamon's office, a stable rift was already open. He stepped through without hesitation and emerged into the familiar rune-lit chamber.
Jonas was sitting upright on the cot. The largest shirt they could find stretched tight across his broad chest. Both of his eyes, now clear blue, focused on Cane for a long moment.
"Apprentice… I thought you—"
The giant's voice broke. His eyes brimmed with tears.
Without speaking, Cane crossed the room and sat beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder.
"I was sleeping on deck," Cane began quietly. "Woke up just before the pirates fired. I shouted a warning and dove overboard. I waited in the sea until they left. Everyone was either dead… or gone."
Jonas wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "I was hit by shrapnel. Woke up hours later, disoriented—and locked in a cage like an animal."
Slavers, Cane thought. But not the Twisted Snake. He'd checked their captives. Jonas' size alone would've been impossible to miss.
"I escaped with two others," Cane continued. "Made landfall… eventually ended up here."
Jonas studied him, then grinned suddenly. "I can feel the metal in you. We share ironborn blood. But you, Cane… you're a true metallurgist."
The praise landed like a weight. Cane had grown and flourished since their separation. Meanwhile, Jonas had endured captivity and scars.
"Had I known," Cane said quietly, "I would've come sooner."
"I know," Jonas said. "I know."
He glanced at Telamon. "You said there was somewhere I could go—to work the metal and heal."
Telamon nodded. "It's up to my nephew."
Jonas didn't flinch at the word. In their village, everyone called elders 'Uncle' or 'Aunty.' "I don't understand."
Cane chuckled. "I see. The Resolute Forge."
Telamon smiled. "Indeed."
"When I arrived, I restarted an old forge outside of town," Cane explained. "To keep it secret, I took on a persona—masked blacksmith, name of Jonas Ironfist. You were already registered as a journeyman in the capital, and I found an old badge in the smithy."
Jonas laughed. "You became me."
Cane pulled the mask from his belt and slipped it on. His body thickened, hair turning salt-and-pepper, a beard emerging across his jaw. "Told them I was badly scarred."
Jonas raised an eyebrow. "But there can't be two of me."
Telamon stepped forward with a different mask—thin, almost delicate, like butterfly wings. "This will give you a single burn scar. Nothing too bad. You'll look like the masked smith—but with your own face."
Jonas turned it over in his hands. "Weightless."
He pressed it to his face. The transformation took seconds. His body slimmed slightly, matching the masked version's size. His beard and hair shifted to the same muted shades.
"Whoa," Jonas said, flexing his arms. "I feel strong… but puny."
Cane coughed into his hand. "Just tell people you got tired of hiding your scars."
Jonas exhaled slowly. "Can't even feel the thing on my face. So tell me… what's this forge like? Why'd you call it Resolute?"
Cane grinned. "It's a named forge, Jonas. Come with me, and I'll introduce you to Chimi."
With the mask in place, Jonas's clothes loosened considerably. He stomped once, swung his arms, then twisted side to side. "This isn't an illusion?"
"No," Telamon replied, circling him with a critical eye. "Your size, appearance, even your coloring have been altered. Your face remains yours, just scarred. Everything else? Real. Don't worry about it falling off—you can bathe, run, even swim."
Cane snorted. "Sorry… Jonas doesn't swim."
"How do I take it off?" Jonas asked.
Telamon handed him a ring. "Touch the rune on this ring to your forehead—it deactivates the mask. Use it whenever you like. Or don't."
Jonas bowed. "Thank you."
"Although we've only just met, I consider you family," Telamon added, nodding toward the ring. "It serves a dual purpose—it also stores a substantial amount of equipment."
Cane didn't comment. A mask that altered your form and a ring that stored gear? That was Grandmaster work, no question. "Uncle, can you send us to the smithy?"
Telamon tapped his cane. "Off you go."
The forge was quiet when they arrived. Tools hung neatly in place, bins of rare alloys were stacked in rows. It was organized, but lived in—personal.
Jonas took a slow breath. "Feels right."
'Feed me… feed me… FEED ME!'
Cane chuckled and tossed a scoop of coke into the forge. The flame roared to life.
"Come on out and meet someone."
A tiny figure marched from the fire, wings fluttering, small horns glinting faintly in the glow. She hadn't grown much since Cane had freed her.
"Chimi, this is Jonas Ironfist."
Jonas leaned closer, grinning. "A fire imp? Where'd you find one of those? Hello, little one."
Chimi waved shyly, tilting her head.
"She was trapped in a cannonball," Cane said, telling the story of how he and Fergis freed her.
"I was captured too, Chimi," Jonas said, chuckling. "Don't worry—we'll get along great."
Cane moved to the workbench, pulling his adamantium tools from storage. "What do you think?"
Jonas picked up a hammer and gave it a test swing. "Adamantium? Weighted perfectly. I always wanted a set."
Cane grinned and pulled out a head-sized bundle wrapped in leather, dropping it onto the table with a solid thud.
Jonas raised a brow, then opened it—and froze.
"This is… starmetal?"
Cane nodded. "Lodged in the chimney when I found this place. It had a shell of hardened sulfur that ignited on contact. Burned the forge down. Blacksmith didn't make it."
Jonas hefted the piece with reverence. "Heavy… dense… dangerous. Have you forged with it?"
"A little," Cane said, pleased. He laid out Blue, Starstrike, Starbolt, and the eight psi-daggers. "I only extract slivers, bit by bit. But when I mix it with other alloys…"
Jonas tested the blades one by one, nodding at the craftsmanship. "This is Craftsman-level work. You've surpassed Journeyman."
Cane's throat tightened. When they'd left Loramo, Jonas had been coming to the capital to earn that rank—and officially promote Cane.
Now...
"Check the bins," Cane said instead.
Jonas scanned the metals. "Adamantium just sitting around like it's steel… Wait. What's this?"
"It's an alloy I made," Cane said, grinning. "Guess the mix. I call it Salt."
Jonas touched the surface, then looked up. "Silver for sure. And cobalt?"
Cane nodded.
Jonas laughed, the sound echoing off the walls. "Salt? Your naming sense is horrifying."
Cane made a face and pointed. "Try that one."
Jonas placed his hand on the next alloy. "Titanium… and tungsten steel. You created this too?"
"Yep. Want to know what I called it?"
Jonas groaned. "Please don't say Tungtanium."
"Huh?" Cane raised a brow. "How'd you know?"
Jonas facepalmed. "Of course it is."
Cane grinned wider. "This weekend, we'll go to the capital and get you certified as a Craftsman."
But Jonas hesitated.
"I lost everything," he admitted. "My ledger, creations, notes—a lifetime of work. They won't promote me just because I say I'm ready."
"Leave that to me," Cane said, clapping him on the back. "Will you be okay here?"
Jonas wandered through the forge, peeking into the small bedroom and kitchen. "This setup's better than I ever had."
"Good," Cane said, heading for the door. "Now let's walk through town. Let folks see the blacksmith… unmasked."
Jonas groaned but followed.