“There he is.” Saga smiled and raised her hand to wave at him through the window, but hesitated. Something was wrong. He wasn’t walking normally, it was more of a shuffle, and his shoulders sagged. He looked like he’d been working for days straight, a look she knew too well. “Miss Lessa! Some water at the door, he did it again!”

She was on her feet and moving towards the entry room before the others could react. The door opened just as she reached it, and her brother stood there looking dazed. Before she could say anything, he pitched forward, and she only barely managed to catch him and lower him gently to the ground. Well, not too gently. This idiot’s going to work himself to death, she thought, checking him over.

Miss Lessa - always quick to respond - was at their side in seconds, water in hand. She handed the cup to Saga, who put it to Epic’s lips. He was conscious, barely, and he drank without argument.

After Saga pulled the cup away, he opened his mouth to speak, but Miss Lessa had already begun to chide him. “Epic, you fool boy. I knew you weren’t in your bed last night! Master Lorana told me to leave you be, but I knew!” She scowled down at him, and Saga noticed with some amusement that the woman didn’t seem terribly concerned for her brother's well-being. She looked more annoyed, if anything.

The Hearthwoman’s loud scolding made him wince in pain. “Sorry, Lessa. Had some extra work to get done.” He glanced up at Saga, then his parents as they finally entered. “For a client. Oh, hi Arty. Forgot you were coming today.”

Arty peered around Papa’s large frame at the prone young man, looking confused. “That's enchanted, I can feel it from here. Who enchanted it for you? Master Lorana and I are both here.” He looked up to Saga’s mother, who shrugged but kept her eyes fixated on her son.

“It was Betha. I was going to come ask you to help me after dinner, Arty, but she saw me working and wanted some enchanting practice.”

“Uh-huh,” Arty grinned. “I’m sure that’s all you were doing.”

Epic gave Arty a cocky grin, then seemed to suddenly remember that his mother and sister were present and hung his head, hiding a blush. Saga did her best not to snicker, she really did, but the sharp look—and small smile—from her mother told her she’d failed.

“I mean, we took a break or two. It’s hard work.” Epic’s voice had strengthened, but it was clear he was barely staying awake. Saga knew it was more than just the hard work. Mama had been pregnant with her brother when the plague had come to Beacon’s Ridge. They had both survived, and Epic was just as strong as his father, but he’d always lacked in stamina. A single hour of work without a break could be enough to send him to bed on some days.

In spite of this, or perhaps because of it, he always pushed himself harder than his peers, insisting on taking extra work and training with the Guards in unarmed combat. It was probably just as well he wasn’t a drake like Saga or their mother; or he’d probably kill himself trying to enchant something. On the plus side, though, he tended to work faster and more efficiently as he’d learned to work around his limitations.

“What were you working on that was so important that you risked an accident in the Forge?” Papa’s voice cut in, stern, and the look he gave his son was mildly disapproving. “What if you’d fallen into the fire or something? You need to rest, or you’ll be a danger to yourself and everyone around you. I appreciate your dedication to your work, but…” He paused. “Wait, Betha? Isn’t she a Goldsmith? She’s that first mercury who studied metallurgy with you, right?”

Epic didn’t respond at first, avoiding looking at everyone, but eventually he sighed. “Help me up?” he asked Saga, and she obliged. As she did, he smoothly produced a small, intricately designed silver ornament from his belt pouch. Despite not having actively trained as a Blacksmith in years, Saga could still tell such a piece would've taken some skill and time to make. “Alright, alright. I've been teaching her some basic blacksmithing so she can branch out a bit, and in return she's been teaching me to work silver. I spent the past couple of nights making this, with her help, and tonight she enchanted it for me. It’s for you.”

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With a start, Saga realized he was holding it out to her. “Me? What? Why?” She stared at the piece, eyes wide in shock.

He snorted and continued to hold it out. “I obviously can’t come with you on your trial, even if I was allowed, so…I wanted to keep you safe. I learned how to work silver specifically to make this. I kept a Redlight lantern on the table while I worked it so it has durability, and Betha added the spell.”

She accepted it from him, cradling it in her palm. It was in the shape of a flower, a rose with thorny vines reaching around to form the clasp. When she carefully opened it, she was delighted to see the hinge was worked into the flower so that it looked three-dimensional, like a little carving of a flower rather than a flat reproduction. “What does it do?”

He grinned, excited. “It’s for self defense. It stores wind while you move, and when you activate it, it releases a burst of wind in all directions. Should be enough to knock most men flat when it’s fully charged, though that would take about a day of walking.”

She realized the implications immediately. “So...if I’m dancing or traveling long distances, it’ll charge even faster?”

“That's right.”

Her eyes began to tear up, and she threw her arms around him. “I was wondering why you’ve been so distant today. I thought maybe you were mad at me, but you were trying to hide this from me.” She gave him a squeeze. “Thank you, Epic.”

Arty chimed in. “That, and he didn’t want you to know he was worried about you.”

“Thanks for that.” Epic growled at Arty, but his heart wasn’t in it. Saga could feel how weak he was, and she finally broke from the hug. “You need to rest, and to eat.”

“In that order? Food sounds good, but I’m about to pass out.” Epic looked to Miss Lessa, who nodded. “Get some rest, Epic. I’ll make sure you have a hearty meal waiting for you.” Her eyes sharpened. “Don’t think you can do this all the time just because it was for a touching gesture this once. If I catch you exhausting yourself like this again I’m not feeding you for a day.”

Epic stared at the woman, mouth agape, then looked at his parents for support. Papa pretended not to notice, but Mama grinned. “She has your best interests at heart, young man. I’m sure you can survive without food for a day if it comes to that.”

Epic hung his head in mock dejection, groaning, and Saga gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Thank you again. Get some rest. I’ll be sure not to leave in the morning without saying goodbye first.” With that, she gave him a light push towards the stairs, and he gave her a weary smile before heading to his room. The gathered family and friends watched him go.

“That’s a powerful enchantment,” Mama commented once he was gone. “Betha might be even more exhausted than he is, and she’ll probably be drained for days after that. Make sure you take good care of it, Saga.”

Saga nodded and pulled her braid up to attach the clasp to the base of it. Miss Lessa appeared behind her, adjusting something and nodding to herself. “It really is a fine piece, Lady Saga, you’d best not lose it.” She frowned then. “You know, it doesn’t really suit the braid very well. Perhaps you should switch to a tail? I’m sure it will be a perfect fit.”

Saga hesitated. She’d worn her hair in a braid like her mother since she was old enough to help out in the Forge. It was a common style for women who worked there if they wanted to keep long hair, as it made it easier for them to keep it out of their way. On the other hand, dancers like her usually left their hair free or put it in a tail. Even though Saga wasn’t officially training as a Blacksmith anymore, ever since she’d reached Journeyman, she’d kept the braid out of habit. She looked to her father, but he was deep in conversation with Arty. This was the last remaining trace of her time learning under him.

Except…

Her eye itched, and she scratched at it idly. ”You’re right. Still, I do prefer the braid. Perhaps we can tighten it up a bit after dinner, make it not so loose? I’m sure the clasp would fit properly then.”

“Of course, Lady Saga.”

“Please don’t call me Lady, Miss Lessa.”

“Then don’t call me Miss, Saga.”

Saga exchanged a grateful smile with her, and the group moved into the dining room where a pair of servants, Miss Lessa’s apprentices, were setting the places. The older woman gave them hushed orders, and one of the places was removed smoothly. Saga sat next to Arty, across from her parents, and surveyed the meal before her. Roasted bird and vegetables with mashed tubers on the side. Saga’s mouth was already watering, despite having eaten only hours previously. Papa wasn’t lying when he said Alder needed a raise. She heard an odd sound and looked at the young man next to her.

“Was that your stomach?”Arty stared at the plate in front of him, and she thought she could see his cheeks redden in the warm light. “You haven’t eaten all day, have you? Were you that absorbed into your wind shield?”

“I could swear I had some fruit for lunch.”

She snorted. “Sure, yesterday.”

He shot her a dirty look and began to eat. She smiled but, as her gaze drifted to the spot next to her, at the end of the table, realization struck.

“Where’s Grandpapa?”