With the rest of the afternoon to myself – save, of course, for Taffy’s reassuring presence - I investigated the workshop. Perhaps there were other projects like the wood glue already underway. If I could find records of what I’d been working on, it would simplify so much.
The alchemy area where I found the glue appeared surprisingly clear, if a little charred and pitted. However, within some drawers nearby I found thin strips of miracle shoot bound together with tine, like wooden scrolls. Unrolling them revealed not an order list, but possibly even more useful, recipes. A cursory inspection of the rest of the drawers revealed more for various basic concoctions, tinctures and pills. Some notes on the ingredients list were clearly added retrospectively and I could only hope I’d already begun the process of working out which local ingredients could be substituted into the standard recipe. I tried not to be distracted but couldn’t help a second glance at the various mortars and pestles as well as knives of all shapes, their spectrum of gleaming metals sparking vague memories of testing what was inert with different compounds. There was a surprising amount of glassware, even a still with a frankly intimidating amount of looping glass pipework, though I hoped would make more sense once I’d tried a few simpler recipes. At least it was clean and empty for now. I’d tackle that challenge another time.
Walking around the large room I was once again taken aback at the sheer quantity and variety of equipment present. It felt more like a workshop for a dozen people than an individual. Cupboards that I thought would be full of materials or ingredients instead revealed more tools, and reassuringly, the occasional wooden scroll. A connecting room led to a vast warehouse where most of the materials were kept, though buckets of clay and sand as well as a few heavy looking ingots rested by the forge. I thought I’d found a partially started project when I spied a circle of wood resting on a bench across the room, however the gleam of a latch and the reveal that it was actually two tightly concentric circles of wood put doubt in my mind. Picking it up, the term tambour floated from a subconscious itch into my conscious mind, along with the knowledge that it had something to do with embroidery. Perhaps used to stretch the fabric? At least I had a place to start and getting this wrong was less likely to accidentally poison someone or cause an explosion. Yet, somehow I doubted embroidery was an urgent project. At least, not in an adventurers’ guild.
Tools for fabric and wools, one of which looked amusingly like a spinning top, flowed into those for leatherwork. Needles remained throughout, but rounded points to slip between fibres gave way to those sharper and more blade like. There was a wooden board among the leather with sketches for a leather cuirass or bodice. It appeared overly form-fitting for the former yet was clearly designed for protection, so I wasn’t entirely sure how to define it. Perhaps there was a word I didn’t yet remember that could perfectly describe it. Regardless, the design was clearly missing a lot of details. At the very least the lack of sizes was an obvious omission, but in general the design had a feeling of roughness, more like putting charcoal to wood on a concept than writing a technical plan. Though why one would ever want armour with unnecessary convex angles that would draw a blow into your chest was beyond me.
Checking the barrels of weapons by an open hatch, one overflowing, the other barely half full proved more illuminating. After exploring some documentation nearby (mostly written on miracle shoot slats once again) as well as the labels on the barrels, it became clear this was a drop off point of sorts. The overflowing barrel was for weapons owned by the guild that were rented out or used for practice, or simply weapons so badly broken their owners sold them. The half full barrel was weapons owned by others submitted for sharpening or repair and each bore a small tag of wood noting their owner. The quality of those in need of sharpening varied concerningly, some as sharp as could be expected without a proper grindstone, others dull as a club or pitted and chipped to the point of being barely salvageable. The spots of rust on some of the iron or steel spoke of poor care. Bronze both was less susceptible to corrosion and lost its edge faster, so likely received maintenance more frequently, and yet much of it had faded to a dull brown flecked with green. The patina would protect the metal beneath, unlike rust which would eat through, yet I couldn’t help but feel the lack of waxing to prevent such spoke of a lack of respect the wielders had for their weapons. Tutting to myself I decided the barrels were as good a point to start as any, but I’d give preference to those who had shown the most care for their weapons. From a practical perspective they would also take the least time to bring up to standard, though I wouldn’t pretend pettiness wasn’t the deciding factor.
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Fishing out the handful of guild-owned blades that just required sharpening to start, assuming it would be less of an issue if I misjudged the grindstone for those, I set to work. Setting the pile by the bronze sword still in need of polishing I took the time to more closely evaluate the grindstone options. It would seem I had been using the finest grit previously, which made sense in retrospect as it would always be the grit one finished on, perhaps I had simply applied too much or uneven force with the sword earlier? It wasn’t bad per say, and was certainly useable, but I wanted to do better. Knowing there was only one way to achieve that, I picked up a bronze axe and set my feet to the treadle.
***
There weren’t too many bronze weapons in need of sharpening, so I was surprised to look up and see the angle of the sun distinctly lower than when I’d started. Savoury smells were also beginning to waft in from afar, no doubt drawing a dinner rush for Eimer. Despite my rumbling stomach, I wanted to try and get the weapons polished and waxed so I could consider them truly ready. I hadn’t found either in or around the alchemy station but given the scouring rushes were near the grindstone, it didn’t seem unreasonable that such things might be too. A short search later and my hope was rewarded. As I began rubbing the rag dipped in polish in small circles that brought a shine back to the sword I started with, I considered what I had learned. Firstly, I should have started with an axe. Axes were substantially easier to sharpen than swords, partially because of the shorter blade length, and partially because it was easier to keep a grip on both sides. Though given how heavy duty my gloves were, perhaps I was being a bit overcautious with my grip on the blades? Bronze yielded deceptively easily to the grindstone, keeping the pressure smooth and even was the true challenge.
Though as I began to polish the next blade and saw its subtly different shade and sheen another complication became clear, bronze was not all the same. I had thought some felt different on the grindstone than others, but I had not fully considered that bronze, as an alloy, would vary. I had a feeling in the dwarven holds things might be more strictly categorised, metals purer and alloys more precisely mixed. But in a country that was mostly wetlands, even the purity of an ingot of copper was in question. Though I had a sudden recollection that tin impurities in copper were how bronze was discovered in the first place. Ironically, that only served to illustrate how significant the impact of small impurity could be. Feeling a little dumb given the subject of most of the day’s discussions, it finally occurred to me that skills likely played a part as well. Skills of miners, smelters and smiths could all have an impact on the final product. Once I started working with steel, something called finers would too. Utilising the skills of those earlier in the production chain could be a real game changer, and another half dozen questions made the top of my list for Argat.
“Damn kid, lost all yer memories and yer still back here before dinner, tryin’ to make loaner equipment fit for the emperor’s palace.” I might have taken exception to the kid comment, but the grey-haired man in the doorway personified the word grizzled. Crisscrossed with myriad scars, missing an eye, and leaning confidently against the doorframe, I figured this dude called everyone kid. “I’d tell ye the bronze stuff is mostly used by newbies who barely know which end is the pointy one, so ye don’t need te be so pernickety, but it never stopped ye before. I’m Kete by the by, glad to see you up and about again Vaul. Now, let’s grab some grub before you inevitably lose track of time and start workin’ into the night again.”
“I’m not that bad surely.”
“Oh? How long do you think I’ve been standin’ here then?”