Chapter 55 - Calefaction

The southern palisade. The place where the main attack broke through. The ground is still churned and blackened in places, a scarred landscape that the village is slowly trying to reclaim.

We can, indeed, hear it before we see it. A steady, rhythmic clang of a hammer on metal, punctuated by the deep, hungry roar of a forge at full burn. A wall of heat hits us as we clear the gate.

The workshop is a marvel of improvisation. A large canvas awning is stretched between two partially collapsed walls, propped up by two large beams of wood. Beneath it is a chaos of tools, scrap metal, grinding wheels, and buckets of water. 

At the heart of it all is a massive, glowing forge, its embers breathing a fierce orange life into the open air.

And in front of it stands a man.

He’s shirtless, his back to us, his skin slick with sweat that catches the firelight. Every muscle in his back and shoulders is a study in defined, functional strength, contracting and releasing with each powerful swing of his hammer. 

He’s focused entirely on the piece of glowing metal on his anvil, his movements a dance of precise, controlled violence.

He’s not what I imagined a blacksmith to look like. He’s built, but not bulky, a physique that must have been honed for labour, not vanity.

He finishes a sequence of strikes, then takes the metal with a pair of tongs and plunges it into a barrel of water. It hisses, a furious cloud of steam erupting into the air. 

He sets the now-darkened blade aside and finally turns, wiping his brow with the back of a leather-gloved hand.

That’s when he sees us. A slow, appreciative grin spreads across his face. 

He has a jawline so clean it looks like it was carved from obsidian. Even with his short, jet-black hair plastered with sweat he is still the most attractive person I have seen in the village.

He pulls off his gloves, tossing them onto a bench as he saunters toward us, his confidence as palpable as the heat from the forge. 

“I thought the forge got hotter.” he says, his voice is higher than I imagined but I guess not every man can be perfect. 

His startlingly bright hazel eyes land on Clovis. “Lovely for you to finally come check on me Clovis. Who’s this you’ve brought along?”

Clovis just crosses her arms, an amused, exasperated smile playing on her lips. “You used to be such a sweet boy. This is my apprentice Shikara.”

He laughs with a grin that makes my face flush with an immediate, ridiculous heat. “An apprentice? Well, if this is the quality of student you’re taking on, you must be the best teacher in the kingdom. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Shikara. I’m Taelun.”

I can feel a blush clawing its way up my spine, a mortifying reaction I have no control over. 

It’s been so long since anyone has looked at me like that not as a threat, not as a victim, not as a project, but just as a woman. 

I open my mouth to say something witty or at least coherent, but all that comes out is a flustered, breathy squeak. My brain has apparently decided to melt and dribble out of my ears.

Clovis, bless her, seems to sense my complete social collapse and steps in. "We're not here for you to practice your lines, Tae. We need your help with something."

“Always so direct.” he says, winking at me before turning his attention back to Clovis. 

The gesture sends a stupid little flutter through my stomach. "Alright, I'm all yours. What can the humble village blacksmith do for the great healer and her promising new apprentice?"

I finally manage to regain control of my tongue, stepping forward slightly. "It's a bit of an unusual request. We were wondering... would it be possible to create lenses out of mana stones?"

Taelun’s playful expression gives way to a look of genuine confusion. He furrows his brow. "Lenses? You mean... like for a spyglass?"

"No, smaller," Clovis clarifies. "like for glasses. To help someone see better."

He rubs the back of his neck, considering the idea. "Hmm. That's a tricky one. I've never worked with mana stones before. The stones are crystalline, so shaping them isn't the issue. The problem is the precision. To make something that small without breaking... the tools I have aren't fine enough. I'd likely shatter the stone before I got the curvature right." He looks genuinely apologetic.

My heart sinks a little. It seemed like such a promising idea. "What about something bigger? Not for wearing. Just one, singular lens. Something we could look through."

Taelun's face brightens with interest. "A single, larger piece would be much more forgiving. It wouldn't be perfect, but I could cut it down and polish it. But, what's the catch? Do you have a mana stone big enough for something like that?"

Clovis’s expression sobers, and the light atmosphere evaporates. "Well that's the other reason we came to you. I was hoping you might have something suitable in your supply."

Taelun’s smile vanishes completely. He glances over his shoulder before he speaks. "I wish I could help you with that, I really do. But my hands are tied."

He lowers his voice, moving a step closer to us. "Knight Captain Arrian has restricted the supply of materials. I can't get access to anything without a signed requisition order, and even then, they question every piece. They're rationing all materials. Timber, high-grade steel, even coal."

At the mention of Arrian, I feel my shoulders tense up. I glance at Clovis and see a similar rigidness in her posture. The name alone is enough to cause our own isolated incident of mana sickness.

Taelun seems to notice the shift in our demeanour immediately as his eyes flick between me and Clovis, and his expression softens from frustration to a quiet understanding. He sees we're not just asking for a favour; we're running up against the same wall he is.

He leans in even closer and drops his voice lower. "Look, that silver-plated windbag gets on my nerves as much as anyone's. If you two can get your hands on a stone big enough for the job, bring it to me. I'll do the work, no questions asked, no strings attached. It'll be our little secret."

The offer is a small spark of hope in the growing shadow of the Knight Captain’s authority. It's a risk for him, a clear act of defiance. My respect for him deepens beyond his charming smile and impressive physique. He's an ally.

"Thank you, Taelun," Clovis says, her voice sincere. "We appreciate that more than you know."

"We'll see what we can do." I add, feeling a renewed sense of belonging. 

"Good." He gives us a quick, reassuring grin, the easy charm returning now that a plan is in place. "You two should probably get going before one of Arrian's lapdogs wanders by and gets suspicious."

We nod in agreement, turning to leave the circle of heat and noise. The path forward is uncertain, but at least there is a path.

Just as we take our first steps back toward the village gate we are stopped dead in our tracks. 

"Dragging our poor blacksmith into your project, are we Clovis?” 

We all freeze, turning slowly.

Knight Captain Arrian stands there, not ten feet away, his arms crossed over his gleaming silver cuirass. His expression is one of predatory amusement. 

His eyes, devoid of any warmth, lock onto mine.