"Ozlo, you damnable blunderfuck!" Flinching back from Burgins shout, he stopped for a moment, taking an assessment of the situation. Before responding to his masters exclamations.

"S-Sorry!" Ozlo replied while doing his best to make space between himself and Burgin.

Burgin takes a deep sigh and sets down in a nearby chair. "No boy, it's my fault. I should have been more specific. When I told you to empty the water from the barrel because it had started to stink, I should have told you to fill it up. It's okay boy, we all make mistakes." Burgin took note of the increased distance between himself and his ward and a dark look filled his face as his mind started working. "Ozlo... Did you think I was going to hit you?"

"Yes sir" Ozlo hastily replied.

Burgin rubbed his chin, as he was prone to do while thinking, and replied. "I see, I see. And are you used to being hit?"

"Yes sir. Mother Patricia would say that if you spare the rod you'll spoil the child. And I wasn't spoiled sir." Ozlo replied.

"I see, I see... Well, I'm not going to hit you. Yell at you, maybe splash some water on you. Hell, I might even toss a hammer in your general direction. But I will not hit you. If I'm hitting you, it means you're dead or dying. Understood boy?"

Hastily shaking his head, Ozlo nodded in the affirmation.

"Good, good lad... Anyway. Don't leave the barrels empty. I'd dock your pay, but I'm already doing that... If you empty the barrels, fill them up with new water from the pump and make sure to scrub the muck from the sides. It shouldn't hurt the metal if the water is brackish, but it will definitely hurt my nose. Understood?" Burgin asked while gesturing to the barrel.

"Yes sir" Ozlo replied once again.

"Good, good... Now go." Burgin waited a few moments and when Ozlo didn't head towards the barrel he cleared his throat. "Ahem, NOW!"

Rushing into action, Ozlo moved to drag the barrel to the pump and fill it with clean, fresh water. As the liquid filled the barrel and Ozlo's arms began to ache from pumping up and down he began to think about his current situation. "Life outside of the church is... It's great. I mean, I'm sure Burgin could, but he's never raised a hand to me. Sure he's loud, but at least he feeds me well. I think I've had more meat in the past few weeks than I have in the past few years at the church."

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Snapping Ozlo out of his thoughts once again, Burgin shouted towards him. "Ozlo, almost done? We've got blades to quench and things to hammer."

Grabbing the barrel by it's lip, Ozlo did his best to start moving it back towards the door. But try as he might he couldn't get the thing to budge. After fruitlessly tiring himself out, Ozlo defeated, heads towards Burgin.

"Burgin I-" Interrupting him, Burgin stepped through the doorway towards the barrel and lifts it with what seems like minimal effort. "Aye lad, I figured you couldn't move the barrel once filled. Let this be a lesson to you. Don't be afraid to ask me for help. You can't do it all boy, no-one can. But a second hand can make all the difference."

Stepping out of Burgins way, while trying to guess at how strong Burgin has to be to lift the barrel like it was a mug of ale, Ozlo responds. "Yes sir. I will sir."

Burgin gave Ozlo a wan smile and gestured to a chair while taking a seat for himself. "Good, good. Now gather round. I have something important to discuss with you and I'd rather do it sitting than otherwise." Ozlo took his seat and waited patiently while Burgin cleared his throat.

"Ahem. Hmm. Hmmmm. Let's see. Alright, this isn't easy but I'd wager it's about time. Boy... Why do you think this place is so empty? This shop I mean." Burgin leaned back in his chair and waited patiently for a response.

Thinking to himself, Ozlo recalled a conversation he'd had with his master previously. "He said that he couldn't take on big orders because he doesn't have enough help... That must be it." Ozlo voiced exactly that thought. "Because you don't have enough help." Feeling proud of himself for remembering such a detail, Ozlo smiled internally to himself.

Burgin on the other hand, was doing no sort of smiling. In fact, he had grown more somber and aged by the minute. "Aye lad, Aye... And why don't I have help?"

Scratching his head, Ozlo tried to think of a few possibilities, but before he could voice them, Burgin stood up.

"Bah. There's no sense beating around the damn bush like a virgin asking out his first girly to the harvest festival. They're gone boy. They left, and then they died."

Fuming, Ozlo's master slumped back in his seat with a defeated look on his face. "Look lad, it ain't what you're thinking. They were fools. Good boys, but fools. They thought the world was their oyster and all they had to do to win at life was to reach out and pluck themselves a pretty little pearl. But all they got for their trouble was murdered. Murdered by the damn aristocrats or the church or... Or..."

Burgin, seemingly all ranted out, slumped back in his chair before reaching into his shirt pocket. Inside he pulled out a small silver flask filled with something vile smelling and even worse tasting. "Anyway, I'm sure you'll hear all this and more from your new friends at the CDF in a few days. So I figured I'd tell it to you straight. All my apprentices wind up dead. Dead and gone from their own foolish deeds. They'll tell you I'm cursed, or that it's my fault. And maybe their right. But you're safe here boy. I wouldn't... I couldn't lay a hand on you. Ignore the rumors, understood?"

Unsure of how to answer, Ozlo merely shook his head and waited for confirmation from his master.

"Good... Good lad. Anyway, I've rambled enough and the day is done. Go to bed a bit early boy, you've got a long day ahead of you tomorrow if you want to work of your debt."