Ch. 02: A Woman’s Touch

"Myrnil. She just gave you eight pounds of fucking Myrnil."

Daniel was hunched over the counter, staring greedily at the metal ingots. His voice was full of awe and with a tinge of what could've been jealousy. He nodded and then started taking some things out of his bag and laying them on the table next to the ingots. When I took a closer look at the pieces he was setting out, they were sword molds. He'd given me three. One for a long, thin blade; another for a shorter, thin blade; and the last was for a very long, very thick sword. They were all straight swords, standard for the area. Apprehension billowed up in my chest as I stared down at them. "Looks like you'll need these, lad."

"No!" I shook my head. "Why don't you make it? I'll give you the Myr-whatever and the coin and you can do it."

"I don't think that'll work, Johann, my boy," Daniel replied, eying the ingots again, longingly, before shaking his head. "Before I came down here, I checked at the inn. That lady you described is staying there. The serving girls there tried lying to her about something and this woman, whoever she is, called them out immediately. She seems to know when people are trying to pull one over on her. Demanded Bill fire his own daughter for lying to her. And what's more, he did it! Honestly, for the best. Damned girl was always off necking when she was supposed to be bringing me my drink!"

I frowned at the counter; at the sword blade molds; at the ingots. I ran a hand through my dirty blond hair and sighed. Who is this woman? The queen herself couldn't demand Bill demand he fire his own daughter. Daniel clapped a hand on my shoulder, breaking me out of my despair. "Lad, just do it."

"None of this makes any sense," I murmured, despondently. I glanced up at Daniel. "Why me? Why not you?"

"Few things in this world make sense," Daniel confided, sagely. "Women are seldom one of them, my boy. How much did she pay you?"

"I dunno. I haven't looked." I grabbed the purse from its resting place, undid the strings and spilled the coins out over the table, each with the queen's face in profile staring up at me or a sword aglow with flame. Thirty gold coins sparkled up at me. My breath caught. Maybe they're fake, I tried to convince myself. A derisive voice in my head countered, Yeah, sure. She brought in eight ingots of an incredibly rare material, but she's going to give you fake coins. That makes sense. I hesitantly reached out and picked up one of the coins. It was cool to the touch in that way only gold was; had the right weight and looked new. Almost certainly freshly minted in the last two months or so. This was a year's wage; covers all of my expenses. Stella's too. Maybe more, with the way this year has been going.

Daniel picked up two coins and held them up to the light. He gestured at me with them and started heading out. "For the molds."

"Wait!" I called out. Daniel stopped for a moment, looking over his shoulder. "What do I do? I've never made a sword before."

"Well, I've never worked with Myrnil, Black Mithral in Common, before, but I've worked with Mithral a time or two." The man turned to face me, but his eyes didn't meet mine. "Each of these rare metals are different. Adamantine works like steel." I watched Daniel's hands clench as he spoke, going through the motions mentally, working through them to get the comparison right. "You heat it up and pound it into shape. It's hard work, but if ya can do it right, it'll never break. Mithral's strange. More willow-y and flexible." He swayed his arms to illustrate his point. "Its weight is deceptive. Makes for armor as good as steel but half the heft. Shouldn't be that strong for how light and flexible it is. Work it closer to bronze than ya do steel and you'll get it." He finally met my eye and smiled at me. Weakly, I managed to smile back. "That's why I got ya the molds, boy. Find the melting point, cast them. Afterwards, just grind in an edge, keep it sharp and polished and you'll have yerself a sword." He shrugged, his smile curdling into something more sardonic. "Besides, if ya fuck it up, then you'll have proved yer point and ya can send her my way, and I'll show her what a real weaponsmith can do."

He left after that. I stared at my counter, considering his words. There were still a few hours left in the day. 30 gold coins. The number echoed throughout my head. I took one of the ingots and hefted it. I found myself mesmerized by the strange almost oily sheen. The metal's still weird. I found myself staring at it from an angle where it appeared mostly green on the surface and I couldn't help but think about her pretty green eyes. My heart didn't quite quicken merely at the thought of the noblewoman. It's just exciting, I tried to tell myself. Working with a rare material. That's all.

Crossing the room, I loaded it up into the crucible and started heating up my forge. I worked the billows, watching the strange metal heat up, but never lose shape. It started to glow red hot, but I could not get it hot enough. I gave up after an hour, frowning. I closed up shop, stewing on my thoughts. What in the hells am I supposed to do? She won't take no for an answer; apparently she'll know if I'm lying, and I can't even get the damned things to melt.

The next day was already a hot day by the time I got to James' forge. Lady Summer exerting her authority one last time before Fall overtook her, I thought. It was nearing the end of the fourth month, Char, and soon winter would be here with Ciat. Then the New Year, with Yekava.

The noblewoman was leaning against the wall next to the door, in a thick cloak with the hood up. I nodded to her, wordlessly, unlocked the door and wheeled coals into the forge. She walked in and leaned herself against one of the tables lining the back wall. Her eyes followed me like a cat's, almost luminescent from underneath her cloak. Her attention never wavered from me. Not for an instant. I shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, trying to ignore it.

I managed that for all of a minute or two, then I broke the silence, "Uh. You're a bit early. I haven't made any progress yet. I had other things I needed to finish that day. Maybe you could come back later. It'll take a few days before I have anything ready for you, anyway. C-come back then." Something about her put me on edge. I couldn't quite explain it.

"No." The single syllable held the same tone of finality that she'd used the first day we met. I sighed.

"So you're just going to stand there all day?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes," the noblewoman replied with a playful lilt. A chuckle escaped my lips.

"Look, I get that you're a noble or something," I began. She met my eyes, challenging me in some way, but I continued on over her silent objection. "Things usually just go your way, but this isn't going to work like that. I'm not going to have someone just stand there and watch me work all day."

She considered this for a moment and smiled. "I think you will grow accustomed to it."

My shoulders slumped and I shook my head, making my way to load up coals into the forge. I could still feel her eyes on me, taking in every motion. Trying to ignore her, I started pumping the billows to build up heat. It took a long time to get the temperature high enough. I continued pushing air onto the coals, trying to feed the flames enough to even soften the ingot. After about half an hour, she kicked off the wall and was standing next to me. She pushed me out of the way and grabbed the billow handles and started pumping it. I was so shocked, I didn't think to back away.

It was obviously difficult for her and I could see sweat sheen her face after just a few moments. I leaned over her shoulder to get sight of the crucible. Remarkably, the ingot started to melt. I also caught the scent of her perfume. Sandalwood and something else. Whatever it was, it was too subtle to identify. But I found it intoxicating. Normally, my forge smelled like sweat, hot air and burning coal. Especially on a sweltering day like this. She smiled at me. Our faces were only inches apart. Her eyes met mine, and her pupils were huge. My heart skipped a beat. Kiss her, some unbidden thought boiled up from a place better left alone.

"H-how?" I managed, backing away from her. From the corner of my eye, I think I saw her frown. I pushed on, a change in the subject would let my worst impulses die down."What did you do?"

"Some things need a woman's touch," She responded with a haughty grin, breathing heavily. "Don't you need another ingot or two?"

I turned my back to her, mouthing several words I doubted she would appreciate and grabbed another ingot and loaded it up. She started pumping again. She was doing it slower than I was, but somehow it felt hotter. Her fingers were flexing as she pressed her palm down onto the handle. I watched the other ingot melt down and pool almost over the top of the crucible.

With some tongs, I grabbed the stone cup and brought it over to a sword mold and poured it out. The mold came in two parts, both made of a special clay. There was a hole to pour the molten metals into to make sure there was very little variance, I put a press on either side to tighten the space as much as possible. She came over to stand next to me and watched the white hot metal take shape. I looked over to her and quickly away when she met my eyes and smiled at me. I felt flush. It must be the heat. That's it.

"Now what?" She asked, standing very close to me. I swallowed, trying not to be entranced by the smell of her perfume. It's just been too long since you've had... company, I told myself.

"Uh. Well, I'm going to quench the blade in oil, cooling it. After that I can work the metal some and start to get it to be a..." I froze. Mostly. My hands were shaking. It was going to be a weapon. An actual weapon. There was a reason I did not make swords.

The demand was there. Every few years the kingdom went to war with other lands. There is always money to be had in war. But since I saw someone gutted out on the street, I could not stand weapons. Unbidden, the coppery smell of blood flooded my nose. My mind was filled with blood leaking from a man's stomach. I could see the light leave their eyes.

And this woman just breezes in and forces me to make one. Against my will. Anger surged through me for a moment and I looked over to her, opening my mouth to say something. She met my eye, studying me. My heart skipped another beat, and those thoughts, the memories faded, replaced by her sharp, intelligent eyes; her pouty lips. I took a deep breath. I could use the money, I reminded myself. So could Stella. Suddenly, she seemed too close to me. I tried to focus on anything but her proximity to me, but it was difficult. After a moment, she nodded, eyes tracing the steam coming up from the mold. I turned to face her properly. "Who are you?"

She did not look up immediately. Even I could tell she was trying to come up with a convincing lie to tell me. Why, though? I asked myself. Probably not something I could ever understand. She bit her lip and then nodded. "Call me Morgana."

"Alright, Lady Morg-"

"No, not Lady Morgana." Her eyes flashed up to mine. "Morgana."

"Morgana, then. Why do you need a sword?" I asked, carefully removing the brace, and the still hot weapon out of the clay with a pair of long handled pliers. It didn't break, thankfully. I took a few steps over to my oil pool and dipped it in. The liquid boiled violently for a moment or two, before she answered my question.

"That's a complicated question." Her eyes never left mine. If anything they focused more intently, almost as though they were searching for something.

"Okay," I began, trying to keep the exasperation out of my voice. "Why did you need me to make a sword for you? This stuff is rare and I'm told that better smiths than I have squandered what they got their hands on."

"That's also a complicated question." She smiled at me, satisfaction apparent on her face. "I think it's cool enough to work on, now."

I let out an annoyed breath and took up my hammer. I pulled the blade from the oil and brought it over to my largest anvil. I used a small hammer to even it out where it needed it and a sander to thin out the edges. I did this for the rest of the day and she watched me work, in an almost unblinking, cat-like manner. We did not speak for the rest of the day as I reheated and shaped it into what I needed it to be. She didn't need to work the billows for that. I just needed it hot enough to become malleable. As I worked, I found myself less focused on her. I was aware of her presence, but it became... natural, somehow. Comfortable.

The initial shape came fast, but I lost myself in making small, subtle changes. At dusk, I looked up and she was just gone. I had gotten a lot of work done on it and it was not in bad shape. Just a little bit more work and I'd have her out of my hair, I thought. An unconscious frown spread across my face and I didn't realize it until I looked around the room, which suddenly felt a lot larger.

The forge does feel a little more empty without her. But I thought much the same since James' passing. I closed up shop and cleaned it up. Forges should have a master and a few apprentices. That's all. It's just not the same otherwise. Some part of my mind tried to point out that James had only had me as an apprentice, but I ignored that voice.

I woke up early the next morning. I'd not slept well. I couldn't stop thinking about the woman. She's irritating and demanding, I thought. And pretty! A different voice offered. And I couldn't disagree with that. And interesting... The thought rang out in my head like the chime of a hammer striking metal. I was excited for the first time in a long time. I wanted to see her. I was even looking forward to making the sword. To see if I can. After an hour of staring at the ceiling and trying not to fantasize about her pretty eyes and entrancing perfume, I gave up on getting any more sleep.

I made my way down the uneven stairs and into the main part of my home. Morgana was waiting for me from a seat at my kitchen table. Dawn had not peaked over the mountains, but here she was. I froze and looked around. She had lit a candle and was reading by it. I recognized the book. It was one from my shelf, a battered epic I'd bought from Ahmed years ago. She had a small smile on her face as she gestured at a plate sitting there on my table.

I looked down and there was a full breakfast waiting for me. Toast, eggs, ham. There was even orange juice. There was no fire in the stove and it didn't feel warm enough in the tiny kitchen for anyone to have cooked here. And that doesn't look like what they serve at the tavern. I wasn't sure where she could've possibly gotten any of that. I looked from the meal, then to her and back again, then took a seat, eating quickly. If she's not going to mention why she was here, I am not going to question it. She finished up her meal a little bit before me, and continued to read. At some point, she closed the book and studied the small bookshelf I had. "You have quite the collection, Johann."

It was the first time she'd used my name. I froze for a moment, trying to sort through a complex web of feelings that were burbling up for my attention. I laughed a little nervously. "Hah. Yeah. Ahmed keeps teasing me. Saying I'm trying to rival the libraries in the capital."

"You're not quite there yet," she remarked, a small smile spreading across her face.

"No, not yet," I agreed after swallowing a mouthful of the breakfast she'd brought. It's delicious. Better than the tavern, better than anything I could make. "I... It's nice to get away from the monotony of real life." It was a difficult thing for me to admit. I wanted to like my life, but despite everything, this was the most fun I'd had in a long time.

"You have a lot of romances," she said, trying to sound nonchalant. That's the first time I've ever heard her like that. Not domineering, but searching for something. "But your home hardly has a woman's touch. Do you... Is there...?" I got the sense that she didn't quite know how she wanted to ask this.

"N-no," I admitted. "I've courted a few gals here and there. But I haven't found anyone who... felt right."

"Most people would settle down with anyone," she remarked, not meeting my eye. "Why won't you?"

"I've seen real love," I replied, wistfully. I didn't want to talk about my parents who died so early that I wasn't sure that their love wasn't the nostalgic belief of a child. But they weren't the only example I'd seen. "Daniel... the weaponsmith I tried to send you to, and his wife. James and Stella, my master and his wife. That's the kind of love I want. Settling just doesn't seem right when there's that out there in the world."

A soft smile spread across her face. Not the mischievous smirk or the haughty grin I'd seen her wear, but something gentler. More beautiful. She brushed her hand with mine and my heart went racing. "I think you're absolutely right about that. There's a lot of love in the world. In forms people can scarcely imagine. And I think yours is closer than you think."

"I have my doubts," I replied, forcing good humor into my voice. "But we'll see."

She shrugged and opened my book again. I finished my breakfast, enjoying the silence with her. Afterwards, I picked up both plates and took them over to a basin and sat them down, leaving them. As I started to open the door, she spoke up.

"Aren't you going to clean those?" She asked, finally looking up from her... my book.

I turned back and looked at her. Her eyes were on the wash basin. She looked up to me. This was when I realized that this was the first time I had ever seen her with her hood down. Her lips were pouty. She had a slight nose, dark hair and high cheekbones. My breath caught for a moment, before I could shake my head. "I, uh, I figured I could do that after work."

"No, do them now. Work can wait." She said simply, sitting back down. I frowned but went out to get some water from the well. When I got back, she was still reading her book. I took a bar of soap and scrubbed the plates clean in the water and set them to the side. When I finished, she was already standing and waiting. Her book was nowhere to be seen. I glanced around and noticed it back on my shelf. The exact space I'd had it in since I'd finished it. She looked at me expectantly. I took my time, annoyance stirring a bit in my chest. Why am I letting her boss me around? Why in all the hells is she in my house? Reading my books? I berated myself for a while longer as I made my way past her. She followed silently.

For the entire quarter mile, I could feel her eyes on me. I did my best to ignore it, taking in the town. I lived in a small village. Sofen, less than fifty people, most of which were farmers. There wasn't a major city for a month's hike in any direction. At least. I felt a little guilty for complaining about how dull it could be. It is boring. But it's quiet and the people are honest. The walk cooled my temper some. My fellow villagers watched us walk by, lips pursed in curiosity. Daniel eyed her warily. Sister Lily frowned at her, seeming confused. Bill the barkeep bowed his head deeply, but I felt his eyes on me too. I thought I could hear people starting to whisper as we passed through the town square. I did my best to ignore that too. It's a small town and people are going to gossip. Nothing I can do about that.

When we got into the shop, she took a stool out and sat down, producing her... my book again. I did a double take, frowning. She smirked at me and nodded to the forge. I worked in an amicable silence with her, making the changes to the sword. The first thing I did was polish it a bit, seeing how the shape had taken. I'd chosen the shortest mold, given that it was closer to the knives I was used to making. Shaping the handguard was honestly the most complicated part, but once I'd gotten one side, the other came quickly. It was just a matter of learning the strength and resistance of the metal and using it to my advantage. Something I was used to for finer pieces anyway.

I finished the work about halfway through the day, cleaning off the blade and polishing it until a reflection could be seen. The dark leather for the hilt took me a little while to fit properly. I hadn't noticed it when she had first put them out on my counter, but now that I was actually paying attention, the leather had little designs imprinted on it. It was a strange script I didn't recognize, but I'm pretty sure it was a language.

Daniel had told me it was going to take longer, but I compared it to the work of the blade I bought from Ahmed and it was at least as good. It was a dark gray, but still had the oily, rainbow look at the edges of the light, which caught the eye well. You could even make out a reflection in it, despite the dark color.

Incomplete, I thought, frowning at it. It's like every other weapon I've ever seen. Plain. Workman. I looked at my client, who was watching me intently. She needs something that reflects her a little better. Complicated. Interesting... Beautiful.

I spent some time with an etching tool, carving out an intricate tendril-like design over the blade and guard; much like I did for a lot of the finer silverware that I made. What's the point of using such fancy materials if you're going to leave it plain? My mind dredged up my master's, James, words. He'd always loved taking the time to etch in designs and had me practice a lot. He'd always say, "It sells better. Keeps them coming back." After a few hours, I'd finished. Before presenting it, I swept up any of the shavings. I doubted there'd be enough to use for anything, but you never know.

"Well," I said as I stood before her and presented her the weapon, pushing away my memories of my old master. "I guess it's done."

She took the sword from my hands and examined it. She turned to the light coming in from the open door and inspected it closely, her fingers running over the etching I'd added. The blade reflected in her big, green eyes. She traced a finger over the designs I had worked into the blade, a smile slowly spreading across her face, as her eyes met mine in the blade's reflection. "This is perfect. Well done."

"Well, I'm glad that you like it. There's still a lot of material left over." I started to collect the ingots on the table. "You could probably sell it. And I can get you some of your money back."

"No," she replied. I was beginning to think that was her favorite word. At least when it came to me.

"What do you mean 'no'?" I asked, barely managing to keep annoyance from my tone. "You asked for a sword. I gave you a sword."

"I want another one," the noblewoman said simply. "As you said, there's plenty of material left over."

"Why!?" I demanded, unable to keep the heat out of my voice this time.

She just smiled and walked over to the billows and started pumping them again. "Come on, then."

I stared at her for another moment or two, trying to decide if I should try to maintain my stubbornness or just go with the flow, then shook my head, grabbing two ingots and putting them in the crucible before putting it into the forge. It won't kill me to spend another day or so with her. I refused to admit that I wanted to spend more time with her. She's just a client. A pain in the ass. And the sooner I fulfill the order, the sooner I can get back to my life.

We spent the rest of the day melting down those ingots and pouring them into the mold. She watched patiently, sweat sheening her face again. She still had not put her hood back up and had opened her cloak a little bit more, and I could see her chest, pushed up high. I tried not to notice. Especially when I realized she was standing closer to me and I could see down her dress a little. Even in the warm forge, she seemed hot. And her perfume overtook my nose again.

I busied myself by getting to work, trying to put her out of my mind. I managed to ignore her so well that I didn't even notice her leaving. I saw her watching me work on another small project for a while and when I looked up, she was gone. "What a strange woman."

When I got home, I made all my preparations for dinner and before going to bed, I locked the door. I don't need her just letting herself into my home whenever she pleases, I told myself, not realizing I was smiling at the table she'd sat at this morning.

I gathered some water, heated it, and scraped the sweat and grime off of myself with some soap, using the same basin I had this morning. I grabbed a book I had bought from Ahmed years ago and read for a few hours, still trying to push the smell of Sandalwood and the sight of her smile out of my head. I must've passed out at some point. My dreams were filled with swords and green eyes.