Clyde sleeps peacefully in his bed the morning after the trial. Even while hot in the stuffy room, he’s gotten a little more used to the air of the land. He really didn’t need a blanket, since the atmosphere was heavy enough, but the weight was still nice. He dreamt of kicking back in the living room during the late fall, where the weather was cool enough to open the windows. The crisp air was soothing- perfect for relaxing during a gaming session.

“No need for AC when it’s this nice out today!” he says aloud in the dream, tilting his head back to sip some coffee from his favorite Half-Life mug.

A soft breeze then tickles his ear. How pleasant, he thought, as a smell drifted on the wind. What is that lotion mom uses? …Freesia? Yeah, that scent must be it.

He hears a soft voice ask “What is AC?”

…Wait, wha?

Clyde opens his eyes to see Catherine standing above him, her face just inches away from his.

His whole body jolts back in surprise as he brings himself up at the elbows “What the hell?! Does no one know what privacy is in this world?”

Catherine pulls back and giggles “My apologies, I was told it was okay to come in."

Clyde looks sideways. “Let me guess- was it Airi?”

Catherine nods, “Mhm.”

“I swear that girl has it out for me.” Clyde says, slipping his elbows out to fall back on the bed. “Anyway, AC is a machine that makes cold air.”

Catherine’s lips and brows pop into an excited expression. “That's amazing! It sounds like a frost giant’s stone. They have one in the capital, and it keeps the entire cathedral cool!”

Clyde covers his face with his hands to rub out the sleep. “What do you need?”

“Oh, right! My father told me to come and fetch you.”

Clyde peeks from behind his hands. “For what?”

She shrugs. “Aithne agreed that we would get you in the mornings.” She smiles “But, we have you all day today.”

That’s right. I have a profession now, I don’t remember anyone saying today would be my first day. Oh well.

Clyde looks at Catherine, and she looks back at him. He waits for her to get the hint. The lights are on, but no one's home, I guess.

“Unless you’re here for a show, I’m gonna need some privacy. I sleep commando.” Clyde says plainly.

“Commando?” Catherine tilts her head, but Clyde just sits there.

Her cheeks become two bright apples as her face suddenly flushes. “Oh!! O-of course.” She leaves the room promptly and shuts the door.

“Oy vey.”

Clyde slips into the fresh clothes Airi dropped off while he was in the kitchen with Meri yesterday, and steps out to see Catherine waiting patiently outside. They take off down the hall together.

“How’re you feeling?” Clyde asks. “A lot has happened to you these past two days.”

Catherine nods her head silently. “I've talked to my father about it at great length. We have both decided to atone for our trespasses against you and the others, to the best of our abilities…” her voice trails off and she stops in the hallway.

Clyde continues a few more steps before realizing.

“Catherine?” He says, turning to face her.

Tears are flowing from her eyes like a broken faucet, but she doesn’t even make a whimper.

Spoiler :

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“Clyde, thank you… from the very bottom of my heart. You saved my life, and my father’s, even after you were accused of such a terrible crime. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay you. And I’m so sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t stop him, Clyde. I didn’t know what happened. I didn't know what to think, and I took no action. I’m so, so sorry. I truly don’t deserve the kindness you offer me now,” she sobbed, sniffling in breaths where she could as she spoke at breakneck speed.

Clyde looks at Catherine, her eyes becoming red from her hot tears. He approaches and rests his hand on her head, giving a gentle pat. “Well, I accept your apology, and you’re forgiven- under one condition.”

Catherine rubs her eyes and looks up at Clyde as if called to battle. “I’ll do anything that I can.”

“Stop crying,” he says, giving a pat with each word. “A girl as pretty as you should be smiling, not crying!”

Am I turning into Will?

Catherine gulps and wipes away her tears. Looking back up at Clyde, a fresh stream pours out from both eyes, as if a levee broke.

“I can't, I'm sorry. They just keep coming!”

“I wasn't lying, though! I'm not one to hold a grudge,” Clyde says. “And we really lucked out with the best case scenario.”

“What do you mean?” Catherine sniffles, dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief she pulled from her pocket.

“Well, for starters, everyone is alive and healthy! On top of that, I ended up getting the job I had been refused yesterday, which is a huge win!” he says. Trying to cheer Catherine up, he smiles so hard his eyes are squeezed shut. He continues growing the curved line on his face into a contorted, funny look.

Catherine laughs heartily. “My goodness, what kind of face is that! You’re going to break a blood vessel!”

“The happy kind- let’s go already!” Clyde walks on, while she follows behind, wiping her tears over and over until they eventually dry up.

Clyde finds Meri and confirms that he is allowed to leave the estate. With that, the two travel through the shaded-wood path to town. Conversing back and forth as they walk to Garson’s shop, Clyde describes what his world is like, going into detail about his school and his family, Will and the LARP he played, and the events leading up to their meeting the other day. Catherine asks little questions here and there, but mostly listens, soaking up all of his words like a sponge.

When they arrive at the smithy, Garson is already at the front, bent behind the counter. After straightening up whatever was there, he looks up to see Clyde.

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Dropping the tools he held on the counter, he steps out and slightly bows to Clyde, with his hands glued to his side. “Clyde, please accept my sincere apology. I am truly sorry for what I put you through- it was not right of me and I have shamed myself.”

Clyde waves it off. “Apology accepted, no harm done. What’s the plan for today?” he asks, a hint of excitement in his voice.

Garson stands straight up. “Well, first, let me give you this…” From up on one of the highest shelves near the counter, he pulls out a neatly folded apron made of thick, richly-colored leather. He hands it to Clyde with both hands.

“This apron is made of flame drake’s skin. It has innate resistance to high heat as a special property. I’ve never really worn it, but I want to give it to you, as penance.”

Clyde unfolds it carefully and gawks at it a moment, admiring the stitching and the almost imperceptible swirling pattern of the leather. “Thank you!” he exclaims, tying it around himself hastily.

Garson smiles, seeing Clyde accepting his gift so enthusiastically. “Come on then, follow me. It’s time to teach you the trade.”

Garson leads Clyde back outside the shop and under the stone awning that covered the forge, keeping back to face it in full. “Clyde, this here is the forge. It has a few parts that you should know like the back of your hand: the firepot, tuyere, bellows, and hearth.”

“First, the pot,” Garson says, pointing to it. “It’s where the fire burns, and is typically in the shape of a pot. The tuyere,” he continues, moving his finger over, “is the passage through which air can be forced into the fire. Attached over there is the bellows, or blower, the purpose of which is to send air into the tuyere. Lastly, the hearth is where coal is stored, and it’s right there in front of the firepot,” he explains, walking over to place his hand on the hearth.

Clyde steps around to look at the whole system. “How does the air blow in the forge? Do you have pumps or anything?”

“Awh, come here,” Garson says beaming, walking over to a small chest that’s attached to the tuyere.

“Let me show you my pride and joy.” He opens the chest to reveal a small, transparent-white stone within a magic circle that has been carved into the chest’s bottom.

“This is a bellow stone, it comes from the vocal sac of a bellow frog. If you don’t know, it’s a giant frog that sucks in air and blows it at small game to stun them.”

Clyde bends down to get a better view while Garson points to the symbols. “We can place the stone in an enchantment circle to activate it, which creates the air pressure. This stone was so well preserved that it can create pressure for 10 minutes, for each mana you put into it. Go ahead and try.”

Clyde looks at Garson. “How do I put mana into it?”

“Oh, well that’s simple! Put your hands on the stone and think about transferring your mana inside it. It’s one of the most basic things one can do.” While he chuckles and rubs his nose.

Clyde places his hands on the stone. He imagines his blood and mana flowing through himself into the stone… But nothing happens. Becoming discouraged, he tries again, painting a slightly different picture in his mind each time, but still nothing happens.

“Does it matter that I don’t have a class?” Clyde finally asks, seeing no other way he could fail if it was supposedly so easy.

“No, no, of course not. Every human has mana capacity before receiving a class, as we’re all peasants, though it can differ from one individual to another.” He slaps Clyde on the back. “Don’t worry, though- you should have at least one!”

Clyde keeps trying while Garson heads back inside. “Good Luck!” he shouts from the shop.

Once he’s alone, Clyde sits down in front of the chest. With each new attempt, he tries something different: hand placement, whispering aloud, using a made-up incantation- even resorting to anime tropes, like forcing his hands out kamehameha-style. Still, nothing happened.

I wonder what I’m doing wrong? I’ve been here for a while… certainly something would have happened by now.

Catherine opens the door, and comes into the forging area. “Do you want me to help you?” Catherine asks, “You look pretty defeated.”

“Yes, please.” Clyde says, standing up and dusting his pants. “I’m just not getting it, even though it’s supposed to be simple.”

Catherine holds her hands out toward Clyde. “Here, place your hands on mine.”

Clyde rests his hands atop hers lightly, and she gently grabs hold. “I'm going to send a tiny bit of mana to you from my hands. Is that okay?”

Clyde nods, priming himself for what might happen. I hope this doesn’t hurt.

She closes her eyes, and Clyde follows suit. He could feel a warm tingling inching up his fingertips and pushing into his hands. It felt as though someone put a tourniquet on his wrists, before dipping his hands in warm water.

Clyde’s arm hair stands on end from the sensation. “I feel it, but I'm still not sure how I should take or send it.”

Catherine draws her mana back, and brings her hands to rest behind her. “Just remember the feeling you had, except this time, feel it in your chest first and transfer it into your arms, then hands, before finally forcing it out of your fingers.”

Clyde shrugs, and bends back down to touch the stone. He closes his eyes, and focuses on building the warm sensation in his chest. It takes a moment, but he lets it fester before slowly moving it to his arms, hands, and finally into his fingers.

I feel like the inside of my body is soaking in a warm bathtub, Clyde thought. I could get used to this!

The stone begins to glow dimly.

“That’s it!” Catherine said. “Now, force it out.”

Clyde then pushes it out of his fingertips and the magic stone starts blowing air all around them. Oh my God. I just did MAGIC!

“I did it!” he shouts, looking at Catherine with the same childlike wonder he experienced so long ago at the historical battle demonstration.

Catherine smiles. “Now, put the stone in the bellow and shut its door, so the air can blow the choke. I'll go fetch my father! He'll want you to complete the next step.” She quickly exits into the home-section of the smithy.

A moment later, Catherine comes back in, with Garson hurrying in after, his brow scrunched.

“Hmph… Well, you made quick work of that,” he says quietly, seeing the bellows working well enough. “I figured it would take you longer,” he grumbles snarkily.

Catherine scolds her father, “Dad, stop it! You’re just upset it took you months to figure out.”

Garson pivots the conversation quickly. “For your first task, you will be making nails.”

“Why nails?” Clyde asks.

“Honestly, the answer to that is difficult. Why do anything in this conventional life? Is there a purpose to doing anything, once all is said and done? Eventually, we will all just die, so what’s the point of anything, Clyde? To be honest, I-”

“Dad, stop it!” Catherine shouts, giving him a light slap on the arm.

Garson chuckles a little. “Okay, okay. It’s because we have an order for them and it’s easy enough for an apprentice. Now, watch closely as I make one.”

Garson grabs the tongs next to the forge and places a long piece of metal into the fire with them, allowing the top of the metal to heat until red hot. Then, he pulls it out with the tongs and takes it to the anvil.

Garson hammers the piece of metal, drawing it out to elongate it. After working it for a, he returns the metal back to the forge. Stepping over to his shelf of tools, Garson pulls out a broken axehead, leaving it on the anvil as he retrieves the hot metal once more. Now, he places the hot iron on to the axe-head and hammers it, breaking the long slender piece of metal off.

“Now that we have the setup complete, we take the piece of metal and put it in the nail header. The nail header allows us to make a rivet on top of the nail.” Garson explains. He then pokes it through a small hole in the anvil. “We will use this pritchel hole on the anvil for the length of the nail. From there, you just hammer the rivet.”

Finishing the nail with rapid little taps of the hammer, Garson then places it in a small, wooden box next to the anvil. He hands Clyde the tongs.

“Get to work.”

Taking the tongs, Clyde feels a bit unsure of himself. “Okay… How many do I need to make?”

“More than you can finish today, so get to it.”

Garson watches over Clyde as he makes the first nail, nodding his head when satisfied with his apprentice and shaking it when mistakes are made. When Clyde finally finished the first nail, Garson offered little in the way of advice before taking his leave inside the living quarters.

Clyde, left by himself, continues forging the nails. He did well to monitor the bellows, making sure to feed the stone as needed, but his work on the nails was slow. He ruined many pieces initially just learning how to properly strike the iron. When Clyde finally finished the second nail, he knew he had taken entirely too long. The third nail was too short, the fourth too thin, and the fifth too thick.

It wasn’t until the sixth attempt that he finally made a nail that looked exactly like the one Garson hammered out. He holds it up in the tongs to thoroughly inspect, as he retraces the steps he took in his mind for a streamlined process.

“Mission accomplished!” Clyde beams, feeling a sense of pride in his small, yet monumental accomplishment. He then continues on the grind, making fewer mistakes with each new nail he smiths.