"Oslo. Save me. Please."
"Master Bellavarn, you brought this on yourself."
"You won't abandon me, will you? Kerv? You as well?
"Don't look at me. I won't be taking your place."
"Don't be like that..."
Bellavarn crumpled, placed his face in his hands. The preview the Duchess gave him of his upcoming get together with a mystery girl filled him with dread. Father escaped. Oslo was remaining neutral, and Kerv was of no use. Bellavarn would die. He would die of embarrassment. Would Mother act as a third wheel?
"God, help me."
Kerv was calling on all his military experience to prevent his laughter. If he let out a squeak, he would be running laps around the carriage as it carried Bellavarn and Oslo. Kerv drew the lottery by being allowed to ride inside consistently; he wasn't about to throw it all away. Kerv was also amazed at how stonefaced Oslo was.
Oslo didn't glance at Kerv, but he got the feeling that Oslo was bragging.
Years of enduring the Duke's and Duchess's shenanigans. Look at me now!
"Oslo."
"Yes, young master?"
Bellavarn still held his face, but he wasn't covering his eyes anymore. His gaze was fixed in imagination.
"How many smithies are around our territory who aren't employed or suspected of working under the Astors?"
"Approximately five in the immediate vicinity. If we go farther towards the capital and out of the Sallow lands, that number is practically nonexistent. The only option would be to hire a rookie with no experience."
"Hm. Out of those five, how many are large enough to handle orders of over 50 in a week. Be it weapons, armors, or trinkets?"
"Two. Three if you include Farriers."
"Which one has the most work experience?"
"Vestals, young Master. It is the largest of the lot."
"Then that'll be our first stop, I assume."
Oslo nodded confirmation. Bellavarn leaned back in his seat, feeling the bump of the wheels as the carriage traveled. Were there no shock absorbers? Maybe that would be his next project.
Looking out the window, he noticed that snow still combed the landscape. Most of it was slush along the streets, but there were patches of pristine, untouched snow as well. Winter weeds were growing rampant in places, popping out of cracks in the road and sprouting in every unlikely place. For how close they were still to the mansion, things seemed more run down.
"Oslo. I am worried."
Oslo's facade broke for a moment.
"About what, master Bellavarn?"
Watching out the window, he noticed the absence of people, and those he did notice gave the carriage odd looks. The few pedestrians huddled together for warmth, and mothers hurried their children along. Looking towards the sky, smoke trails were indicating lit fireplaces, inside and out.
"Several things. But right now, I am worried about the smoke."
"The smoke, young master?"
"Yes. Do you see it? How many there are."
Both Oslo and Kerv glanced out the window at the sky, counting the smokestacks.
"There are quite a few."
Bellavarn folded his arms and his eyes hardened.
"No. There are not enough."
Every single abode should have a fire lit. Every home. Every outside fire. Smithies. Bakeries. Every working place. Yet for every house where smoke rose, there were three that lay dormant.
=
"This is Vestal's, young master."
Bellavarn stepped out of the carriage, making sure to watch his step. His clothes were heavy and warm. He wanted to wear a cap or maybe earmuffs, but that seemed to ruin the 'noble image' he was supposed to have. Apparently, his entire face was always supposed to be visible, lest someone mistake his identity. There were only a few occasions when nobles went incognito.
Kerv and Oslo stood next to him as he looked at the smithy. It was a large half-open structure where workers walked to and fro. There seemed to be even more people than necessary. Loiterers were around the outskirts as well. People congregated near the warm building. In the sky, Several smokestacks converged and created a large cloud that billowed away. It smelled like sweat and smoke.
It didn't take long for the group to be noticed. Standing beside a carriage with the Sallow crest. The presence of a noble permeated through the crowd quickly. Bellavarn didn't even have to ask before he was ushered politely inside.
Kerv watched the crowd warily. Their numbers were many, and he would have trouble fending them off if something happened. Maybe they should have brought another few guards. Bellavarn had refused since they were merely on business, and the presence of more guards would send the wrong message.
Oslo did most of the talking initially, and they were eventually brought to a waiting room that wasn't overly hot. Bellavarn still untightened his clothes a bit. Two minutes and the manager walked in. It was a woman. A tall, tanned, and muscular woman who had her hair protected underneath a bandana. Her clothes were sleeveless and she seemed to have come directly from the forge. A sheen of sweat coated her skin. She was a manager who still worked, a respectable person. Bellavarn liked her immediately.
"I apologize for the wait. We are busy and I wasn't expecting any esteemed guests."
Bellavarn spoke, able to handle his own dealings.
"It is not a problem. We didn't send word ahead, and you seem to have an abundance of staff to take care of. I assume you are Vestal?"
The woman's expressions were mostly flat and unreadable. She didn't grovel, but neither was she disrespectful.
"Alex Vestal. Most of that lot work for free just to stay near the fire. Easy on my pockets as long as they stay out of my way."
Bellavarn smirked. This fit his impression of what a smith should be. No nonsense.
"I won't waste your time. I wanted to order some prototypes. They would be small works about a palm's size, circular with three curved prongs, and I would need about a hundred of them. Can you do it?"
"Depends."
Bellavarn quirked an eyebrow when she didn't elaborate. He figured she would ask to see a drawing or know the exact dimensions before giving a hard answer. Bellavarn brought a simple schematic.
"On?"
"Which Ducal Household you are from."
A subtle befuddled look came over him. Oslo answered for him.
"Did your assistant not mention? You are in the presence of Bellavarn Sallow, son of Duke Sallow."
It was a little grand but appropriate for a noble. Was she expecting the Astor's? But they are in Sallow's land.
"Then the Vestal Smithy won't be working for you."
"For what reason? You are aware this smithy is on Sallow land?"
Her answer didn't make sense.
"My assistant said I was meeting with a Duke. I figured it would be Duke Astor. Not the son of Duke Sallow. We've heard the rumors about you. We don't do business with your kind. If it were one of my other customers or workers, I would beat them with my hammer..."
Kerv took a threatening step and Vestal raised her arms. She held no hammer.
"...but since you are a noble, I can't touch you. I can, however, refuse your business."
Rumor... The rumor with Melody? Did it reach the masses? Would a smith know about such a thing? Even still...
"You are awfully quick to judge someone based on a rumor. You haven't even asked me if it is false. Yet, you refuse to do any business based on the words of another."
"If I asked, you would just lie, or your butler over there would lie for you."
...
Bellavarn was silent. Kerv was glaring daggers at the woman and wanted to draw his sword, but she made no threatening moves. Oslo spared a glance for his master but was also glaring. Both of them learned that Bellavarn wanted to solve his own problems these days and were waiting on his words.
Lost in thought, he wondered why someone so detached would judge him so harshly. The rumor was false. No one ever asked him his viewpoint. Even the staff that viewed him in a bad light had to be told outright or learn over time he was not the man they thought he was. Everyone just assumed he was guilty by accusation alone.
Now, did he have to spend time earning this random smith's trust? The rumor hadn't been proven or corroborated by anyone who witnessed the event. The maids and staff gossiped, yes, but it never left the mansion. The Duke made sure of that. Yet, not only the nobles knew, but the common people as well? Either there was a spy among the household, someone cast incredible magic, or Melody was the one spreading the rumor...
Bellavarn didn't know which option was the worst.
Standing, he spoke with authority.
"The rumor is false. Whatever you have heard and from whatever source, you believe lies. It is a shame because I had a favorable impression of you before you decided to judge me."
He was Bellavarn Sallow. A Duke's son. He didn't need to stand for this continued biased judgment. He didn't have to earn everyone's trust. They should earn his. Alex Vestal just lost all of it and would never earn it back.
"We will not be working with you, even if you beg later. Also, no one from the Sallow household will be doing business with your smithy from now on. I look forward to the moment you regret your hasty actions."
With that, Bellavarn walked out. Oslo turned and followed while Kerv stayed a moment longer to stare Vestal down. Vestal just smirked and watched the three walk out.
The only reason Bellavarn didn't shut down the smithy entirely was that it provided a haven for a number of individuals.
"Oslo. Are you sure that the Astors aren't controlling that place?"
"Positive."
"Then..."
Something was wrong, and Bellavarn could smell the foreboding a mile away.
=
"All busts."
Every smithy, large and small, turned them away on account of 'rumors'. None of them even specified what the rumor was. Just that they refused to do business with his 'ilk'. Was Bellavarn wrong in assuming it had to do with Melody? Maybe they just didn't like nobles. Or perhaps it had to do with his father. There was also the chance that the people near the capital simply didn't like the Sallow family.
"I can try taking up a hammer. This item you need is small, right? How hard can it be?"
Bellavarn held his chin in thought, not glancing at Kerv.
"You're body type is all wrong. You won't be able to do it."
Kerv looked shocked and slightly hurt, and Oslo gave him a sympathetic pat on the back.
"No. I have a back-up plan. Although there is no way to tell if we will be turned away again."
"What do you have in mind, young master?"
"Ceramics. The only reason I chose metal to work with was because I was caught up in the idea of a weapon. However, once fired, ceramics are nearly as sturdy. Particularly bisque-ware. Glazed works shatter more easily but we don't really need them to be glazed. If we can find someone who works in non-traditional ceramics, it should be easy. In some ways, pottery is more mass-produced than metalworks. It just hasn't picked up in this era."
"Do you need someone who doesn't work with pots?"
Bellavarn shook his head.
"No. It shouldn't be a hard adjustment if they have a few years of experience. Hell, I can do it myself."
Kerv wondered when Bellavarn had time to take up ceramics but brushed it off as him being multi-talented. He was even learning to knit at the moment.
"There shouldn't be a need for that. If that is the case, we have a crafter on retainer. They wouldn't refuse you. If they do, you can just work with them like you did the rest of the staff."
Bellavarn and Oslo smiled at each other. That would be perfect. They didn't even need to run about in the first place.
One of the carriage horses whinnied as it chewed on some budding weeds. Bellavarn did a double-take. Was that...?
"Alright. I will talk to the potter then. Also... Oslo, do you think you can have someone start collecting those weeds? Don't burn it but stockpile it instead? I may have use for it."
Kerv gave him an odd look. Surely he wasn't going to use him in creating his weapons.
"The Stink Weeds? They are useless. Only good as horse feed and makes their breath stink."
Bellavarn remembered a stray passage from a book. It was an old book that was there originally, collecting dust until he unearthed it. He made a point to at skim through every book in the library—no point in unknowingly getting a copy when they had one already.
"If it isn't too much trouble, do it. Use some of the money that was set aside for the blacksmiths to pay someone to collect it. Worst-case scenario, it turns into a public service.
"Yes, young master. As you wish."
A bow from the butler was clearly conveying his skeptic nature, but Bellavarn only smiled. Bellavarn bent down and plucked a bundle-full. It smelled abhorrent and was likely the antithesis of mint leaves.
Add another project to the list.
Bellavarn gave the nod to the carriage driver, Nem, who was trying to stay warm.
"Shall we head out?"