The Blacksmith and the Noblewoman

The ringing of metal resounded through the small building, a shop only large enough to accommodate supplies and the forge itself. The ventilation was poor, and so the heat from the furnace was intense, as each blow shaped the metal into the deadly weapon it would become.

A bit more, the woman thought, striking it with intent, until her mind filled with the sound she had grown so used to hearing. She thrust the blade into the water nearby, and steam hissed for a moment before the even singing of the metal resumed.

“Atta girl,” she said, tilting the blade around to give it a feel.

The bell at the door of her shop rang as it opened, and a loud, jolly voice called out from the entryway. “Talking to the merchandise again, Yvonne?”

“Nothin’ you would understand, Gaz,” Yvonne muttered, hanging the sword with the finished products without facing him. His boisterous voice was indistinguishable from any of her long-time customers. “Here with another shipment?”

The older man grunted as he set a box down on her counter. “Business from the boys in the local Zoner Commission. Rumor is there might be work for them soon, and that convinced them that they’d put off equipment maintenance long enough.”

Yvonne turned to the man, and lifted her goggles to see him better. She was used to working in the heat, but for as sweltering as the building was, he wasn’t fazed at all by it. One might assume that his frequency to the shop acquainted him to it, but his unnaturally bright red hair and orange eyes marked him for a Flametouched, and there wasn’t much in the way of heat that could bother him.

“They should bring ‘em to me sooner. I could have had a whole list lined up ahead of them,” Yvonne grumbled.

“You could, but you don’t, do you?” Gaz said with a smirk, prompting a scowl from the blacksmith. The mercenaries of the Zoner Commission were all regulars and the bulk of her orders, but Gaz was usually their representative as the oldest (and frankly wisest) of the group.

“Ah, no offense, lass. I just mean that we know you will take real good care of them and the army’s Zoners will all keep to the fancy shops the nobles like.” He slipped a piece of rough parchment across the counter to her with a list of the trunk’s full contents.

Yvonne flipped open the trunk and read the list as she ran one thick finger across the metal of the blades and armor inside, confirming with her ability that what she touched matched the list. “Not too bad. Should be a quick fix for most of them. When do you reckon you’ll head out?”Gaz shrugged. “Within the week, if we get the call. Hard to say when we mostly serve as backup. Hasn’t been a truly deadly Zone in a while, so work’s thin.” He sniffed and nodded sagely. “Time’s like these when you want to be prepared just in case, you know?”

Yvonne nodded and she kept perusing the list. The bottom of the parchment had a price already listed on it, which annoyed her somewhat, but it was accurate. There wasn’t a pressing need for her to change her rates at the moment, so Gaz had figured it out based on previous charges, she supposed. “I won’t let them go unprepared. Have ‘em ready for you in a few days. Deliver them to the Commission’s halls myself, as usual. Regular repair fee.”

“You’re a gem, Yvonne,” Gaz said with a wave as he waltzed toward the door. “I’ll have payment ready when you stop by.” The bell chimed as the door closed behind him.

She started to unpack the trunk when she heard Gaz outside. “Oh, beg your pardon, lass.”The bell chimed again, and Yvonne looked up to see another redhead enter, but this one far more of a natural hue and emerald green eyes - an Untouched, though the sweat beading on her forehead the moment she walked in was the second sign.

“Hello?” The waver in her voice betrayed her anxiety, and she was visibly uncomfortable from the temperature, but she was keeping a strong smile on her face nonetheless.

From head to toe, she looked the part of a noble, but her clothing was far more masculine than most noblewomen would dare - pants and a jacket instead of a dress, and her straight hair was cut simply at the chin instead of a long, elaborate style like most kept.

Then there was the sword on her hip. That was another mismatch from the typical noble strolling around town.

“Can I help you?” Yvonne asked, eyebrow quirked as she looked the woman over.

“The receptionist from the Zoner Commission pointed me in this direction with a strong recommendation. I was hoping to get my sword repaired.”

Yvonne would have to bring something extra for the receptionist when she delivered Gaz’s order. She wasn’t much of a cook, but a small token would be within her means.

“Certainly can, though… you don’t seem the type to visit a store like mine if I’m being honest.” Yvonne admitted.

The redhead rolled her eyes. “The stuffy fools at any place my father recommends always try to use my visit for leverage. Or worse, try to sabotage my baby.” She patted the sword in its sheathe.

What sort of blacksmith sabotages a sword they’re working on? Yvonne wondered. The woman’s visit was becoming stranger by the minute.

“I had enough of it, so decided to try a place in town,” she said happily. “Speaking of stuffy though, I uh… suppose some ventilation is out of the question?”

Yvonne shrugged and walked to the window, cracking it open some and letting a fresh breeze in. The redhead sighed in relief as the blacksmith walked back over.

This new woman was quite a few inches taller than her, and while definitely not composed of the same bulk of muscles that Yvonne’s trade had gained her, she was clearly no slouch. The loose fabric of her shirt hid some, but the undone top button showed off just enough skin to let her know the woman was toned underneath it, but Yvonne caught herself and peeled her eyes away to continue business.

“Alright, let’s see the damage then,” Yvonne said, holding out both hands. The woman pulled the sword slowly and handed it over with a polite bow. It was a bit unnerving, given how infrequently such gestures were made to someone in her position. The blade was notched in several places, the marks of many battles it had suffered without proper care.

“Magus’ beard, lady, what have you been doing with this thing?” Yvonne cried.

“Well, you see, I-“ she started to reply before Yvonne held a hand up to stop her.

“Apologies, I was thinking out loud. I prefer to ask the blade myself. Had one too many customers try to spin a yarn about their ‘routines.’”

The woman looked on in surprise as Yvonne placed the longsword flat on the counter and ran her fingers along the blade.

What have you been up to?  She asked of it, and a hum began to fill her thoughts. With it, flashes of duels - the woman expertly wielding the blade in solo bouts again and again.

And again.

Always against men. Noble men, if she had to guess from the images.

Yvonne whistled. “That’s… a lot of duels.”

The lady ignored her, her eyes filled with bright fascination. “You really can speak to metal!”

Yvonne blinked and tugged the neck of her shirt aside to better show the dark brown patched across the side and back of her neck. She tapped one with a fingernail, showing off the hard surface with the sound, as if rocks were embedded in her skin. “Earthtouched. This just happens to be my talent with it.”

Normally, with people somehow unfamiliar with the Touched, such demonstrations invited crude stares, but she noticed that the woman’s eyes seemed more drawn to her bare arms than the demonstrated proof of her affliction. Not a bad reaction to get, considering Yvonne prized her strength.

The noblewoman shook her head as if from a daze. “Ah, yes, it sounds incredibly handy for your line of work! So uh… what would I owe you for such work?”

Yvonne smiled. Maybe this noble wasn’t so bad. She pulled out a small sheet of parchment and began to take notes. “Well, overall the sword’s a good make, but some of the notches will take some metal bonding to fully repair. Noticed a small crack forming along the tip of the blade, so we’ll wanna get that looked at before it becomes a bigger problem…” she listed the prices next to each service and totaled it up at the bottom, circling the number and handing the sheet over.

The woman nodded. “Very reasonable.” She said.

Yvonne stiffed a reaction to that comment, as it wasn’t a small sum she had listed for the work.

“Fair warning though, you did get here just after a fairly large and important order was made. Have to prioritize that first, but let’s say four or five days?” Yvonne said. “Ah, and a name for this beauty,” she looked at the sword.

A red tint was showing in the redhead’s cheeks, and it wasn’t just flush from the heat. “My name is Lirena Barton. Do you flatter all of your customers so?” She asked with a mischievous grin.

Yvonne stared at her in shock for a moment. “I-I meant the sword… but not that you’re not… uh…” She cleared her throat. “Wouldn’t be appropriate to say such things to the client. Well met, Lirena. Yvonne Darlain, if the name didn’t come with recommendation.” She held out her hand, and Lirena eagerly shook it, now looking somewhat smug. The handshake only confirmed to Yvonne that there was strength in those thinner arms.

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Darlain. Since you are so busy, I will be sure to drop back by for the sword myself. It will be a nice jaunt out even if you aren’t quite finished.”

“If that’s your preference, I’ll have it ready for your pickup,” Yvonne said.

Their hands separated, and Lirena moved toward the door with a small wave of her fingertips.

“Yes, my preference… Until we meet again, Miss Darlain.”

Yvonne stared at the doorway after Lirena left, trying to get her thoughts in order.

“Quite the owner you have there,” she finally said to the sword, then tied the receipt she had drawn up to the hilt and hung it on the work rack.

Though she wasn’t aware of it, she worked the rest of the day with a beaming smile.