“Bart! It’s so good to see you!” Mama pulled the young man into a hug with a laugh. “You never come by to see us anymore! Is everything alright at the Sanctum? Do you need anything? You know you can always stay here, we have plenty of room.”
Arty managed to pull away from the hug only to have Papa clasp his hands on his shoulders. “Glad to have you, Bartalan. Staying for dinner?”
Saga watched all this with amusement, standing back to let her parents work their magic. Arty was orphaned during the plague when she was a barely old enough to walk, the same plague that had almost claimed her mother and unborn brother. After Saga met Arty by chance as a child, they became fast friends. Epic and her parents treated him like family as well, with Mama in particular offering to adopt him formally.
Arty had politely declined, saying he was happy staying at the orphanage in the Sanctum as he got to help the mages sometimes. Even still, Saga’s parents always made him feel welcome when he came by. An acquaintance had mentioned to Saga once that they seemed almost happier to see him than their own children, but Saga knew it was just them trying to make sure he felt like he had a family, even if not officially.
“Please, Master Lorana, if you must use an informal name, please call me Arty.”
“Of course, Bart! I mean, Arty!” Saga’s mother knew his preferred name full well, but, like Saga’s own exchange with him at his door, this was something of a ritual between the two.
Miss Lessa came into the entry chamber to check on the commotion and beamed when she saw the young guest. “Mister Fox! Can we expect you for dinner? We can easily make another seat.”
Arty opened his mouth to object, but Saga cut in. “Yes, Miss Lessa, thank you. He hasn’t eaten all day.”
“Probably spent all day working on his gadgets, the fool boy. I’ll get him fed.”
Arty stared at each of the adults and Saga in turn, mouth agape, before surrendering. “I suppose I should eat something...”
Papa finally took his hands off of Arty’s shoulder and gave a rare laugh. “Yes, you should. Dinner is soon, but not yet. Join us?” The large man led everyone into the sitting room.
The Hearthwoman had a fire going to stave off the early spring chill, and Saga was especially happy to see fresh tea on the long, low table. She helped herself as everyone settled into the two couches on either side of the table.
“So, what brings you by?” Saga’s father had gotten straight to business. He complained to his family about his duties as Craftking and Blacksmith Councilor, but moments like this reminded her he was well-suited to the job. “It’s good to see you, of course, but you need help with something.” It wasn’t a question.
Papa’s look wasn’t harsh, it was actually friendly by his standards, but Arty withered under it all the same. “Well, King Va-”, he began, but Papa cut him off with a sharp gesture.
“Enough of that. I tolerate it at the Council, but in my own home, with family,” he stressed the word, holding the young man’s eyes, “you call me Carver. Master Carver if you need to be polite, but I ask you to try just using my name.”
This exchange wasn’t a repeated one like the others, largely because Arty was afraid of the Craftking. That’s not right, Saga corrected herself. Arty doesn’t fear Papa, he’s just overwhelmed by his presence. Arty hasn’t fully accepted that we really see him as family, even after all these years.
Arty had frozen, so she nudged him with her foot to shake him out of it. He cleared his throat and nodded his head. “Yes, Carver. I’m sorry, it’s a force of habit. I don't want to refer to you so personally among my peers…I don’t want them to think I’m lording it over them.”
“It’s fine, Bartalan. Just, please, at least here?”
“Alright. Carver.” At the old man’s warm smile, Arty visibly gathered his courage to continue. “Do you remember that idea I had for an artificial wind shield a year or two back? I can’t remember if I told you directly or if Saga might have.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
When Carver made it clear he didn’t recall the device, the mage explained it’s design and workings with the man. As he did, Saga whispered to her mother. “Where’s Epic? It’s almost time for dinner, and he might have some input on Arty’s project.”
Mama looked at the clock then back at Saga. “He’ll be home soon, he was working on his armor.”
Saga nodded and turned her attention back to the main conversation. Arty was just finishing his explanation, and her father was nodding thoughtfully. Papa didn’t have much knowledge of magic, but he knew enough to understand what Arty needed.
“So, some thicker copper wire, and a stronger Redlight?” He peered down at his tea, furrowing his brow. “The wire is simple. I can do that myself after dinner, won’t take long. The Redlight, however…”
“I understand if it’s too much, Carver. I didn’t even want to ask, but Saga—”
“No worries, Bartalan.” Papa shook his head and gave his daughter a bemused look. “She tries to fix everything, like Lorana.”
“Hey!” Saga and her mother shouted in unison, looked at each other, then laughed.
Papa shook his head, smiling, then continued. “Still, I’m open to the request, and I understand why this device is important, if it works. My only concern is that any Redlight I grant you will probably be consumed by the shield. Am I correct?”
Arty gulped. “Yes, sir.”
“The Redlights we use in the forge last practically forever. I can grant you one from one of the Master forges, they’re just as strong as when they were created. However…” He had a glint in his eye, and Saga swore she could see the gears turning in her father’s head. He says he hates dealing with the business side of things, but he’s dangerously good at it all the same.
Before Arty could say anything, Papa stood up, walked to a small table in the corner with some paper and a pencil and returned. Most people used ink and quill to write these days, but many craftsmen preferred using the fine charcoal pencils favored by the Carpenters in their work. He held the pencil over the paper and looked back at Arty.
“We’re due for a shipment of Redlights from Merallo soon. Ask the man in charge of shipping them for a few extra for my household. You can give him a letter from me promising payment, but I’ll require something from you.”
Arty grew tense, and Saga noticed his hand was resting over where his coin pouch would be hidden in his tunic. Her father, apparently having also noticed this, chuckled. “Not coin, Bartalan. You can’t afford it, or you wouldn’t be here.” He leaned in. “When you finish your device and are able to produce them in numbers, I want you here installing them on our walls.”
Arty’s eyes bulged. “Master Vance? My device can barely cover a wagon, as it stands, I don’t know-”
He was cut off again, this time by Saga. “Arty, you’re going to Merallo. The Red City. I have no doubt you’ll not only finish your device, you’ll improve it. I’m sure Papa here is thinking the same thing.” She gave her father a questioning look, and he nodded.
“She’s right. I know it will take time, but when it’s ready, I want you here, in Beacon’s Ridge, setting those devices up to protect the city.” He grinned. “We’ll pay you properly, of course.”
Mama had been deep in thought until now, but chimed in at this, giving her husband the stern look she usually reserved for her children. “Carver Vance, don’t you dare ask him for a discount.”
“I’m giving him one of our best Redlights, Lore. I have to make up for the loss somehow.”
“He’s family, and he'll be a Master at that point. We pay our craftsmen fairly.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll let those two factors even each other out.” Papa waved a dismissive hand. Saga could tell her parents were mostly joking, and she got the feeling this back and forth was more for Arty’s sake than an actual discussion.
Arty watched the exchange in bewilderment. “Um…Master Carver? Master Lorana? I don’t mind offering a discount for the work.” He hunched his shoulders, as if embarrassed to continue. “For family, I mean. I don’t even know if this will work, though.”
Mama and Papa looked at each other, then at Arty, then back at each other, before finally breaking down into laughter. Saga joined in, giggling, and even Dapper chittered on her shoulder.. Arty frowned and looked between the four, confused and clearly annoyed. Saga, still giggling, placed a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, Arty, we’re not laughing at you. It’s just…on the one hand, you finally called us family, but on the other, you’re the person in this house with the least faith in you. Even Dapper knows you can do it.”
Dapper chittered again, waving his pedipalps in a little dance for Arty, which finally made the young mage smile for the first time since he’d entered their home.
“You’re right.”
“I know I am,” Saga beamed.
“You’re right,” Arty repeated, “the design is sound. With the resources in Merallo I should be able to improve the device, and when I’ve earned my Mastery I can return to Beacon’s Ridge and set up my devices here. For a modest fee. A discount for my adopted hometown.”
Papa nodded, smiled, and finally began writing. “Dapper, kind sir, could you grab me another sheet of paper?”
Dapper bowed to Papa, such as he could, and leaped over to the stack before, more carefully, bringing the sheet back stuck to one of his legs. Papa accepted it and began writing a second document. “I can have these scribed in ink later,” he said as he finished, presenting them to Arty, “but how do these look?”
Saga glanced at the two papers - one was the letter to a shipping manager in Merallo and the other was a contract for Arty - and turned her attention to the window. As if on queue, her brother’s tall frame came into view down the street.