Heat bore down upon him like a sledgehammer to the head. Cera knew that he couldn't merely avoid the heat of the afternoon, working only in the cooler hours of the dawn and dusk. There was too much to do, far too much potential that lay in every golden hour gifted to him for Cera to avoid the stifling temperatures of high-noon. The armor crafting had gone well enough, though Cera barely even recognized the young stallion Rhoa had become. Still, there were far greater projects that would require the efforts of both himself and Bucephalus, ones that would do far more than aid the people of the Dragon's Throat in personal endeavors.

Though he knew the stallion little, having been Forger for a scant amount of time before his promotion to Chancellor, Cera still wasn't sure how to accept the brute now that he was back in the Forger's fires at Cera's side. Cera was undoubtedly possessive of his title and his skill, and he felt like Bucephalus was impeding on that, sticking his nose where it didn't belong. Ilaria, in her far more hot-headed nature, was quite vocal on the subject.

"We are the Forgers! He needs to get out, we don't need him!" Cera sighed good-naturedly as she hissed, swatting her paw against his leg where he was digging a hole as circular as he could make it. Demanding his attention to an argument Cera had heard a thousand times since Bucephalus had joined the ranks. Or rather, had joined Cera, since there was only the Prince. There had only ever been Cera. Their Forgers shifted constantly, and Cera had been the only one to stay in the program even as a Diviner. His blood sang for crafting, even as he was raised on the different roads of life. Midas had planted inside him the seed of a warrior, the tendrils of religion that Cera had taken from him and fashioned on his own. Cera stood in the middle of a thousand different paths, capable of dipping his hooves into every pool. It was comforting, knowing he would always be able to find a task for himself. He'd had enough of being left behind. "Exactly. Bucephalus left. He does not deserve to come back." Cera winced softly to hear the words inside his mind. His own abandonment issues had clearly made an impact on Ilaria as well, and they were horrifically familiar in that aspect.

"We need his help. That's enough for me." It was spoken aloud, what little it mattered. Ilaria huffed and clambered up his wing, purposefully digging in her sharp little claws. Cera winced against the stabbing pricks of pain, but rolled his eyes at her behavior and lifted his head to the skies. A song rang out, one that summoned for all who heard it. An important task was at hand, one that would help should any other Tallsuns be as fierce as the one they were currently experiencing.

It was time to build a well.

@[Bucephalus] && @[Gaucho]? && @[Ampere]?

Maybe a few other volunteers, but not too many!