[Ironworks]Is it hot here, or is it just you? (Rhuryc)

[Jilitse]

Is it hot here, or is it just you?
51st of Summer 510 AV
The Ironworks
Oh, it's you again. Hi, it's me again.

The Nuit had recently thought of adding a weapon to arsenal of magical stuff, something to protect herself with. The Ironworks was pretty popular for a shop to buy a weapon, for it is known to have Ros Vizerian, an Isur, as the owner. She could not settle for anything less of course, and after buying herself a good sturdy sickle to practice with, she found herself returning every now and then, checking the forms of fixtures, materials and equipment. She tried to study them by looking a them, trying to check how each piece of material is made. Studying by merely looking is not a good way of learning something, of course, and Jilitse almsot desired to take up apprenticeship as a metalsmith.

She thought of Sahova, where everything was possible, where she had access to a forge, where she could smith her own metal tools.

She situated herself just outside the shop, a still cloaked figure watching passersby. The Nuit wore her cloak, but revealed her face. She counted the people who passed by, and the people who went into the forge. She would casually glance at the items they bought, which ranged from weapons to tools to farming equipment.

Jilitse also tried to overhear their sentiments, some of them commenting on a fair price, or a bargain. Money and value was something Jil didn't really place any importance to at the moment. She does not haggle, and often took an item for the price it was given to her. And so she found the conversation of the three men who were standing across the street curious, how they compared prices between three items that looked identical. All three were swords of similar sizes, she could not see if there were any special designs on their hilts.

They were a boisterous bunch, earning a few untoward stares from a few citizens. "Told 'ere to cut me 10% or I'll stop buying, ho ho ho." This, from the burly man, the biggest of the three. He looked like a Knight, probably out of duty. Jilitse tried not to stare too much. She surmised that he must be a regular customer, as the second man had said that "...they let regulars a small cut back if it's a relatively common item." Of course, Jilitse thought, a common item would be easy to produce, and if sold in big quantities, it could still give profit to the shop owner - a smaller profit, but a profit nonetheless. She gave the Ironworks a look. What would a shop gain by giving discounts to people? She gave her attention back to the burly man, who said it was all about "cust'mer loyalty". She gave up listening to them when they started bragging about other things, and counted the customers who went by now and then. The Nuit noticed that the Ironworks had its own share of peasant customers. Most of them bought sickles for the fields, as a farmer "should not be without one", one of them had told her when she inquired about their chosen "weapon".

Bells passed by, and nothing interesting happened. The Nuit kept looking about, never sitting her gaze at more than one person. She found them quite unnerved when she gave them her unblinking stare, and she didn't want to invite trouble. Jil enjoyed watching people, observing their actions and gestures which they thought nobody saw, overhearing their thoughts and conversations which they thought nobody listened to.

[Rhuryc]

Late. Why was he late? Sleep. That's why.

With a grumble Rhuryc pushed through the morning crowds. Street after street was taken in side, the young man trying his best to remain civil while hurrying within enough reason to not attract the attention of the Knights. In his rush he had only just donned his clothing and did a poor job of it, his belt fashioned in such a way that the blasted thing kept undoing itself. At least he was able to walk upright. With one hand on his breeches and the other used as incentive to clear the way, the young apprentice pushed, pulled, and otherwise did whatever he could to reach the Ironworks. His foot falls echoed in his wake, the hard leather soles of his boots clattering against cobble with every trying step. At one point he was forced to dodge a wagon by means of a leap, one that sent the horses that drew it into a frenzy of kicking and whining. Whoops. With a twist and duck, Rhuryc slipped away from the scene and hop-skipped his way into the smithing district, disappearing into the gaggle of other fanatical apprentices.

The outskirts were the same. Folks came and went with various requests, some taking orders from the days previous while others still transported iron from the mine, depositing large casks and crates unceremoniously wherever they found room. Rhuryc sniffed at that. He was the one left to move those blasted containers. He grunted and shifted forward, taking the time now to readjust his belt to state in which it managed to hold his pants. No doubt the buckle was broken. For once, maybe, he could make something useful in his spare time. Maybe. He mused at the wonders his master had most likely prepared for his consumption that day and his hopes, dreams, and whatever silly notions he held were cast down to reality in a streaming, glorious flame.

Passing a group of loitering businessmen, or whatever they were - in earnest Rhuryc did not care much, but they appeared to be discussing weapons. The rest of the inhabitants were naught but the usual. A few smiths dotted the wares here and there while delivery men and messengers made a mess of the business, clogging the forges with requests and questions about the latest hauls of supplies. And then, of course, there was the mysterious Nuit poised at the end of it all, watching and observing the goings on like she did every day. Wait, what?

Nuit?

Rhuryc came to a jolting halt. His eyes flicked to the form a familiar, unblinking gaze, one that he figured he would never see again. Strange. Taking it as a sign of some sort the young man drastically altered his course and approached the undead woman, his hands turning to the insides of his pockets as they often did when he remained unsure of his actions.

"Jilitse?" Rhuryc's baritone cut through the idle chatter that surrounded them like a knife. Neat trick, that. "Morning, I guess. What brings you to the Ironworks?"

[Jilitse]

Jil gave Rhuryc a smile. It's the follower of Tyveth! She seemed to have attached the names with the deities they worship, it was easier to remember them that way. "A pleasant day to you as well." She noted his unkempt appearance. "I was just observing the people, the customers, the loyal ones." A slight frown. "It seems to me that the prices of the goods they sell in here vary when people haggle." She did not know what haggling was, she had an idea - more than once she had mentioned people wishing or asking for a discount, but the Nuit thought it wasn't that simple since not everybody was successful.

"I have recently bought a sickle in here." She explained, "I returned to see what others bought for a weapon. Apparently, I have chosen a farming tool." She laughed. It was empty, hallowed, but it was a laugh. There was something amusing about buying a sickle for a weapon. There should be, or else it wouldn't have made Jil react the way she did.

"What about you?" She asked, "Are you here to buy a weapon?"

"I met Ros the other day when I came in. I believe I know his ancestors. Or if they were not, then possibly closely related." Another chuckle and a knowing smile. This smile seemed to have deep roots, for Jilitse had come across one of the Vizerians a long, long, time ago.

"The Ironwork's customers are usually very busy, they hardly notice me loitering about here. I listen and observe people. Once, a farmer was kind enough to talk with me. He was all praise about the equipment he bought here." Jil said, patronizing the forge Rhuryc worked for.

"I'd love to see the kind of forge they use inside," this said, after knowing that Rhuryc worked for the forge, "but I suppose they do not allow visitors?" The question, of course, translated to 'Would you be a dear to let me inside?'

[Rhuryc]

Rhuryc felt his head reel. Not even a minute had passed and already the Nuit was out with her questions and comments, the ceaseless purvey of knowledge and conversation almost enough to knock the young man into a restless stupor. No matter, he found that unlike their temple meeting he was in a fresh state of mind. A worried, terribly late state of mind, but a rested one nonetheless. He smiled through the woman's words and followed her eyes as she spoke, even going so far as to seem frightened when she laughed. Such an empty, hallow gesture, Rhuryc felt like laughing just to inject some life into the exchange.

"Sickles are sharp, I guess." He spoke, stupidly, distracted by the onlookers that took time to eaves drop on their conversation. Rhuryc knew most of them and they were undoubtedly curious as to whom the apprentice kept as company. Rumors would fly. "I prefer swords though; already have one, so no. Not here to buy a weapon." He gave the Nuit a brief nod and his gaze flicked about, almost instantly landing on the door that lead to 'his' particular smithing. Freedom!

"They're all usually too busy talking to so much as notice anything. Which, I'll guess that my Master is, probably, nowhere near." Jilitse's meaning was clear. Even to him. More than once folk had attempted to obfuscate their meanings under harmless questions, Rhuryc figured that was simply how the Nuit spoke. She was practically alien to him, after all. "Just this way." His voice trailed off as he made his way forward.

As he suspected the forge was untouched. Rhuryc opened the door and allowed for the Nuit to enter first before he closed the portal behind them. The smithy itself was small and cluttered. Almost every inch of space was used. In the center of the room a hearth sat flanked on both sides by rows of tools and large deposits of coals. The anvil was nearby and on top of the face was a singular hammer, one of which the man was intimately familiar with. The windows remained closed and the air was stiff, still, the only means of its egress being the chimney that lead up from the forge. In an effort to redeem his tardiness Rhuryc strove forward ahead of the Nuit and slid up to the hearth where he began to shovel coal into its center. He could not very well start his work before there was a fire.

"It's nothing grand. In fact, we mostly just make the boring product here. Nails, horseshoes, farming tools." He added the last bit in minor attempt at humor.

[Jilitse]

Jil followed Rhuryc silently, and smiled upon entering the forge. It was nowhere near as big as those what they had in Sahova but every tool possible seem to be covered. The excitement, the rush of wanting to work came back. She spilled herself, "I have worked in a similar forge." Since their meeting, Jil was thankful for having met Rhuryc, his philosophies tucked together with the new ones she had recently learned. "Have I mentioned to you that I came from Sahova?" She waited for his response before continuing, "I worked with golems. Machines built by some of the best gadgeteers in all of Alahea." She pursed her lips upon mentioning the word. Alahea was nothign but a distant past to some of the Nuits in Sahova, but not to those who could remember, and remember it well.

"I know very little metalsmithing." She said, touching the surface of a nearby anvil, "we have our own forge in Sahova, together with apprentices who worked with our best smith." Slaves, not apprentices, but Jil thought it polite that she should use softer terms to not shock the man. He was, after all, one of the few who was civil towards her.

"What are you planning to do today?" Her usual monotone had a singsong quality to it now, and the slight change in attitude was noticeable. She was very interested in the forge. To the point of wanting to work, Rhuryc can assume as much. A Nuit who exhibited its interest was quite easy to read.

"I can watch... or help if you want to..." Maybe Rhuryc would. He was late, and he probably had a few things to do which he could not finish if Jilitse did not help. The only thing was that Jil was used to the forge in Sahova, and the things she smithed were usually small parts of a golem, nothing too heavy or too dangerous.

She looked very eager, as she threw her gaze from one equipment to another. "Would you mind showing me how you do things around here?" Rhuryc should, of course. The Nuit looked like she might pick up a tool and start working, anyway.

[Rhuryc]

"Golems? We don't do much of anything like that." Rhuryc said as he finished shoving coal. He went around to the side of the forge and produced a torch and fiddle around with some strange, queer contraption, one that produced sparks it seemed. Aptly named a 'sparker', the man used it to light the torch and then made his way back to the forge, much preferring this method of flame over the various others. He grabbed a poker on his way and went about setting the coal on fire, the action of which took a bunch of stabbing and waiting, the latter being the most frustrating part of it all. In little time the apprentice was up and running, the small flame nursed to succeed on its own before he departed from the earth and started tending to the tools.

In response to Jilitse the apprentice's hand shot out towards a bit of parchment posted up by the door. Several orders were written on the surface, most of them taken in Rhuryc's hand writing. Not that the Nuit would notice that. "We've got about a million horseshoes to make." Rhuryc spoke with a tangible boredom in his voice. There were always horseshoes. "A few farming implements and one of the weapons forges is requesting more tools. So. Ah, I guess I can use you." Such a strange thought. The apprentice with an apprentice? And what struck the man as truly peculiar - The woman was showing interest. That, above all else, seemed disturbing.

"Alright, yeah. Sure." With a bob to his head and spring in his step Rhuryc removed the coat from his back and motioned for Jilitse to follow him. One his way he grabbed both a caliper and a block measure, the location being a large stock of iron in the corner of the smithy. There was several casks lined up inside, most of them containing iron blanks and unshaped, thin pieces of iron that a smith would be easily able to manipulate. To the side remained some thicker specimens, blocks for making some of the larger items, but the majority of material was obviously for smaller, every-day product. The apprentice sat back on his heels and started soring through the mass. "This part is self explanatory." He said. "Find some iron that fits the dimensions you're looking for, thereabout. Most of it can be shaped to different means on the anvil though."

Rhuryc was satisfied with one of the smaller bars. If he were to be showing Jilitise what to do than he was best to stick with what he knew. Their journey continued by the freshly started fire and, with tongs in hand, Rhuryc took a firm hold of the bar before he trust it into the fire. With a glance he looked over at the Nuit and offered her the handle, if just to give the woman something to do.

"And now we wait. The iron will become red then orange, followed by yellow and lastly white. You want to take it out when it's a good, right mixture of orange and yellow, anything hotter and the iron will just start to melt."

[Jilitse]

Jilitse observed as Rhuryc lit up the forge, preparing the coal on his own. How pathetic the human existence who does not know how much help golems can be, she thought. She just stood still, eyeing the contraptions Rhuryc had to fiddle with. Everything seemed a lot tedious without magic.

"A million?" The Nuit asked Rhuryc. And then repeated it inwardly. "A million." How long does it take to make one horseshoe? Jilitse peered into the list, Rhuryc did not really need a million horseshoes to make. What was it with humans and their habit of exaggerating their estimates? Their flair for dramatic speeches sometimes confounded the Nuit. Nonetheless, she anticipated being taught the human way of doing things. And so she eagerly checked the smith's corner where all the raw materials were kept. It seemed to be kept orderly, but not orderly enough for the Nuit who lived quite a rigid work schedule in Sahova.

She accepted the tongs on one of her gloved hands and held the small bar against the heat. Waiting would be easy for someone like Jil, and she waited, waited, concentrated her vision on the small bar. She watched it glow slowly from the sides. The forge burned brightly, the warmth enveloped her. Then the iron bar sizzled into a flaring red hue. She kept her arm still, exchanging the tongs with the other hand only when she felt the weight of the tongs and iron bar a little uncomfortable. In Sahova, they had golems that functioned as blowguns to make sure that the heat was kept at a decent metalsmithing temperature. Here, it was simply pure labor. Poking coal, keeping the heat at the correct temperature, standing in front of the forge.

When the iron started to sizzle into a pale orange hue, she glanced back at Rhuryc, as if to ask what comes next.

[Rhuryc]

Rhuryc held his laughter. Exaggeration, it seemed, was lost on the Nuit. In that moment the man felt as if he would never be able to understand Jilitise - so long as he was human. Now there was interesting thought. With a shake of his head Rhuryc brought himself back into the now, his eyes latching back onto the iron as it heated in the flame.

"To be honest we usually just set multiple bars in the fire at once." He punctuated his words with a gesture to the side of the hearth where a small section was flattened for just that. "So we can start multiple projects at once, but ah. This is for learning purposes." His gaze flicked to the Nuit when she asked her voiceless question. "Bring it over here, to the anvil." A hand waved the woman on and Rhuryc turned about. A few strides brought him to the item in question where replaced his trusty poker with a wide, simple hammer. His other hand extended as if he expected Jilitse to hand over the tongs. Otherwise the event might be a tad unusual.

"The first step is to bend the bar." Rhruyc lightly tapped the round protrusion on the side of his anvil. "You place it there, on the horn, and beat the heated piece to form a 'you' shape." With a steady hand he grabbed a hold of the tongs and placed the center of the heated iron over the aforementioned horn. Holding it tight to the edge Rhuryc brought the hammer down with a quick, heavy strike that collided in a rush of sparks. The impact was repeated once, twice, and over again, each designed to curve the iron around to the desired shape. For one to watch the scenario time passed as if in another dimension -that is to say the world slowed. Rhuryc seemed accustom to dilation in time, but there was no way around it. Blacksmithing was boring. "You have to be careful not to upset the metal. Light enough strikes to bend it, but if you hit it too hard then you'll start to shrink it in one dimension and widen the sides. Cleaning that up is a whole other ordeal."

When the shape of the shoe was finally finished Rhuryc transported it to the face of the anvil. He turned and grabbed a rectangular piece of metal, stuck it into one of the square wholes on the surface, then unceremoniously set the would-be shoe on the top.

"With something like this detail doesn't matter too much." Rhuryc taped the shoe a few times and watched as the 'punch' drilled a whole through one side. "You need eight holes, four on each side, so that they can nail the shoe to the hoof. After that you're pretty much done. Here, give it a shot." The man stepped aside and offered both the tongs and the hammer to Jilitse with a grin. Even someone who had never been a forge before was hard pressed to fail a few taps. He hopped.

[Jilitse]

The Nuit was more than glad to return the tongs with the sizzling iron. She eyed him and his manner of working. He seem to be following a certain procedure. And he spoke without airs, without belittling Jil's unfamiliarity with horseshoes, without nitpicking at her lack of knowledge in making horseshoes. Now here, here was a master who would be easier to follow. Given, Rhuryc was spoonfeeding her each step, but metalsmithing did not really leave a lot of room for creativity - especially when you're creating horseshoes "Bend the bar." Jilitse echoed. "Bend it into a 'you' shape." Like a horse's hooves. Horseshoes are for the horse's hooves, makes sense. "Not to upset the metal." Even the nuit found that amusing. But of course, once again, she was hearing Rhuryc's words, not understanding its concept. From the way he explained it, he must be referring to using the right amount of force. Yes, of course, that must be it. She watched intently, ignoring the heat. She was quite thankful that she was wearing her cloak, if she was exposed to this kind of temperature without so much as a towel to cover herself... she focused back to what Rhuryc was doing.

It was hard to appreciate forging metal, for it took time, talent, and more time before it starts to take on the shape it had to have. The Nuit could not get bored and found each pound, each strike, part of the process. She observed with her static stare, standing still like a statue until Rhuryc moved and explained how it was supposed to be punched. In Sahova they had golems that punched metals on command. Jil accepted the tongs and the hammer, and then aligned the forged shoe, estimating a good space away form the first hole. She started tapping with enough force to punch the metal. One, two, three, four. Clang clang clang!

She repeated this, trying to get the hang of it. One hole after another. She assumed she could punch the rest of the nail holes, working slowly but deliberately. The alignment of the holes was off by a few noticeable marks, but then again, Rhuryc didn't really mention anything about aligning the holes and keeping a certain amount of space in between.

And then what happens? She stopped, hammer in hand, seemingly frozen in time.

[Rhuryc]

Rhuryc silently admitted that the Nuit's gaze was uncomfortable. She possessed more focus than any creature he had ever met. It made sense in some strange, alien way, those unbound by time would lack any idea of boredom. If you lived for an eternity than there was no time to waste, after all. With such thoughts Rhuryc felt his mind reel and he was quick to return his focus to the task at hand, but he could not help but feel as if he were starting to understand the woman just that much more. Fascinating, yet odd. He was still unsure of how much he really wanted to know.

"Good!" Rhuryc beamed, his lips curling into a grin. "Well done. Just ah, put it over there." He gestured to an empty stone shelf away from the hearth and beneath a window. "We can let horseshoes cool by air, since there's no real worry about the material warping. It's thick enough that any obscuration won't ruin the product."

While the woman busied herself with that Rhuryc found his own way to the material storage and produced a few more unworked bars. He placed three of them into the flame along the ledge of the forge and took a fourth and placed it onto the face of the anvil, waiting long enough for Jiltise to return until he continued. He took a moment to collect his thoughts and reviewed what was necessary to help. He could use her as a striker, perhaps? No, she would have to know how to work the iron. Even then what was he going to make that required one? Maybe she could just help with the shoes. Twice the production, maybe. The man bobbed his head for no apparently reason and appeared somewhat satisfied.

"Right. There's a lot you have to know, first being the processes." Rhuryc paused and his eyes flicked to the left. "Upsetting is easy. You heat the end what you're working," He lightly tapped the top of his example bar, "And hit it until it shortens the metal. That'll widen a base. For nails and objects that need some kind of handle or grip. Punching is what you just did to the shoe," He moved his hand to the hardy that he had set into the square hole before. "We use it to make holes and decorate surfaces, but it can also refer to cutting or drifting. You do those with a chisel. Er, hot or cold. A hot chisel for heated iron and a cold one when it's cool."

The apprentice paused for a moment, glancing around at the myriad of tools and equipment. There really was a lot to know. How the hell had he memorized all of this?

"You with me so far?"