Chapter 6: Shadi
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Chapter 6: Shadi
Shadi
Solday did not bring any lessons with it, but instead the obligation to assist the artificer in the workshop for a full bell. While Martel did not know what this entailed, he had helped his father often enough around the smithy. He wondered if magic would be involved; he imagined how one might use sorcery to improve crafting or even weave spells into the items.
Once the breakfast bell had ended, Martel made his way to the workshop. He entered a large room filled with numerous tools, workbenches, a forge, and more things he could not recognise. Beyond that, doorways opened into other chambers. The noise of people at work permeated the space. Tools cutting or grinding, hammers clanking, the hiss of fire being awakened.
A handful of other students arrived at the same time as Martel, novices and acolytes alike. They obviously knew their duties, as they all continued past him to take up a workstation or move deeper into the complex. After a short while, only Martel remained.
Eventually, he was approached by a middle-aged man with imposing forearms, wearing a leather apron. Martel recognised a smith when he saw one, and he could only assume this was the master of the workshop.
"You're new?" asked the smith. "Tall for a novice."
"Yes, master, today is my first day here. I'm Martel."
"Hah, good name!"
Martel laughed a little, feeling more at ease. "My father thought so. He was a smith."
A heavy hand fell onto Martel's shoulder, but the gesture was not unkind. "Well, let's put you to work. I'm Master Jerome. If you're new, I'm guessing your magical talents remain raw."
"Yes," Martel admitted, a little embarrassed.
"No bother. There's plenty of mundane work to be done. When you become an acolyte, depending on your gift and your interest, we may find better work for you, even teach you a craft."
His ears pricked up at that. While being a weathermage remained his ambition, learning a craft, perhaps like his father's, sounded useful. "I would like that. I was hoping maybe I could work some more bells besides the one I'm scheduled."
"Your family far from here, boy?"
"Up in Nordmark, yes."
"And your pa ain't around anymore."
Martel shook his head. "Caught a fever last winter. My brother has his forge now."
The artificer nodded a little to himself. "I'll see if there's an opportunity for you to earn a few coins. For now, go through that door." He pointed. "That's the washery. You'll help with laundry today. The servants will show you what to do."
"Will do, master."The original appearance of this chapter can be found at Ñøv€lß1n.
Master Jerome winked and pushed the boy in the back towards the washery before returning to his own work.
~
Washing clothes proved to be dull and tiring labour, but Martel did not mind. He was accustomed to helping with chores from home, and like in the kitchen, the servants proved friendly, if distant. Martel began to understand a divide between the servants of the Lyceum and students like himself. Even if he did not see it, at least not yet, they knew; he was but another in a long line of novices passing through their home and work area. They spoke of people and made jests known only to themselves and not him. When the bell rang, Martel bid them a polite farewell and left the washery.
Before he could depart from the workshop itself, the artificer called out to him. "Martel, boy, one moment."
"Yes?"
"I have a letter that needs delivery to a craftsman in town. Would you like to earn five coppers?"
Although generally ignorant on the monetary value of labour, even Martel knew that was good payment. The idea of being helpful to Master Jerome also suited him. "I'd be happy to, master."
She laughed. "I'll keep that in mind. I'm Shadi, by the way."
"I'm Martel."
"Are you hungry?"
"I suppose. I'll probably have to go back to the Lyceum now or I might miss lunch." The idea of missing a meal put a fright in him.
"Nah, come with me. I was on my way out when those yokels came by. There's a tavern close by that's got good food."
Martel's only experience with taverns was the one in Engby, which his father had forbidden him from entering. But the prospect of a friend free from the entanglements at the Lyceum enticed Martel to such a degree, Shadi could have suggested they opened a portal to the Netherworld and he would still have followed. Another issue presented itself, though.
"I don't have any coin. On me." He hurried to add the final words so she would not think him penniless, even if that was the case.
"It's not much, I'll pay this time. Consider it my thanks for helping me out." She winked.
The prospect of a second time pleased Martel; especially as he might at that point have coin to return the favour. He suddenly remembered his errand. "First, I need to deliver this letter to Master Farhad's workshop." He looked up at the sign hanging over the door. "Is that here?"
"Master Farhad," Shadi giggled. "So funny to hear someone refer to dad that way. Yep, you found it."
"That's lucky." His fingers fumbled inside his robe and dragged out the letter.
"Let me take it," she suggested. "I'll go inside and leave it, grab a few things, and we'll go eat."
"Sounds good to me." Martel gave her the parchment and watched her scarper inside. As the door opened, he caught a glimpse of a workshop full of strange tools, small bits of metal formed into odd shapes, and large wooden casings he could not grasp the use of.
Quickly, Shadi returned with a smile and a large piece of cloth she swaddled around her neck. She locked the door. "Old man's asleep. He needs his nap," she explained with a wry smile. "Let's go!"
~
The place in question proved to be a small house with an open wall providing access to a kitchen. Even from a distance, Martel could smell the food. It was a strange mix of meat and spices; upon approach he realised the place served lots of items, which accounted for the unusual blend of scents. "Two fish in bread," Shadi told the man who accepted her money. He stood behind a counter that Martel now saw was hollow; a fire burned slowly inside, keeping it heated along with the bowls placed upon it. Deftly, the seller grabbed two pieces of flatbread and wrapped them around some fish. Shadi grabbed them both and gave one to Martel.
Back on the street, he took a careful bite. He could not recognise the fish, which had a strong flavour; yet hunger always proved the best seasoning, and he ate it with delight. The bread, freshly baked, provided a satiating feeling as well.
"I've never seen a place like that," Martel admitted between mouthfuls. "Back home, a tavern is a place for drunkards. That's what my dad said, anyway," he quickly added.
"If you go to the harbour, that'll probably be the case," Shadi admitted with a grin. "But most places in Morcaster, a tavern's just a place that'll sell you food. Or drink. Where are you from?"
"Nordmark. I've only been in Morcaster a fiveday."
"Hey, I can show you the city! There’s lots of places to see all over."
Finishing his lunch, Martel smiled even as he still chewed. "That sounds great."
"You can come by the workshop when you want. Dad doesn't need me there all the time anyway."
"Alright. I don't have much to do on Mandays or Soldays."
"And you can show me more magic!" Shadi suggested.
"Certainly." Hopefully by then, he would have learned some.
They continued for a while through the Khivan enclave, talking and walking until Martel remembered Master Jerome's admonishment about being out after dark. The winter sun already hung low on the horizon, so he told his new friend farewell to return home to the Lyceum. It was only on the way back he realised that he never found out what a watchmaker made.
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Chapter 6: Shadi
Shadi
Solday did not bring any lessons with it, but instead the obligation to assist the artificer in the workshop for a full bell. While Martel did not know what this entailed, he had helped his father often enough around the smithy. He wondered if magic would be involved; he imagined how one might use sorcery to improve crafting or even weave spells into the items.
Once the breakfast bell had ended, Martel made his way to the workshop. He entered a large room filled with numerous tools, workbenches, a forge, and more things he could not recognise. Beyond that, doorways opened into other chambers. The noise of people at work permeated the space. Tools cutting or grinding, hammers clanking, the hiss of fire being awakened.
A handful of other students arrived at the same time as Martel, novices and acolytes alike. They obviously knew their duties, as they all continued past him to take up a workstation or move deeper into the complex. After a short while, only Martel remained.
Eventually, he was approached by a middle-aged man with imposing forearms, wearing a leather apron. Martel recognised a smith when he saw one, and he could only assume this was the master of the workshop.
"You're new?" asked the smith. "Tall for a novice."
"Yes, master, today is my first day here. I'm Martel."
"Hah, good name!"
Martel laughed a little, feeling more at ease. "My father thought so. He was a smith."
A heavy hand fell onto Martel's shoulder, but the gesture was not unkind. "Well, let's put you to work. I'm Master Jerome. If you're new, I'm guessing your magical talents remain raw."
"Yes," Martel admitted, a little embarrassed.
"No bother. There's plenty of mundane work to be done. When you become an acolyte, depending on your gift and your interest, we may find better work for you, even teach you a craft."
His ears pricked up at that. While being a weathermage remained his ambition, learning a craft, perhaps like his father's, sounded useful. "I would like that. I was hoping maybe I could work some more bells besides the one I'm scheduled."
"Your family far from here, boy?"
"Up in Nordmark, yes."
"And your pa ain't around anymore."
Martel shook his head. "Caught a fever last winter. My brother has his forge now."
The artificer nodded a little to himself. "I'll see if there's an opportunity for you to earn a few coins. For now, go through that door." He pointed. "That's the washery. You'll help with laundry today. The servants will show you what to do."
"Will do, master."The original appearance of this chapter can be found at Ñøv€lß1n.
Master Jerome winked and pushed the boy in the back towards the washery before returning to his own work.
~
Washing clothes proved to be dull and tiring labour, but Martel did not mind. He was accustomed to helping with chores from home, and like in the kitchen, the servants proved friendly, if distant. Martel began to understand a divide between the servants of the Lyceum and students like himself. Even if he did not see it, at least not yet, they knew; he was but another in a long line of novices passing through their home and work area. They spoke of people and made jests known only to themselves and not him. When the bell rang, Martel bid them a polite farewell and left the washery.
Before he could depart from the workshop itself, the artificer called out to him. "Martel, boy, one moment."
"Yes?"
"I have a letter that needs delivery to a craftsman in town. Would you like to earn five coppers?"
Although generally ignorant on the monetary value of labour, even Martel knew that was good payment. The idea of being helpful to Master Jerome also suited him. "I'd be happy to, master."
She laughed. "I'll keep that in mind. I'm Shadi, by the way."
"I'm Martel."
"Are you hungry?"
"I suppose. I'll probably have to go back to the Lyceum now or I might miss lunch." The idea of missing a meal put a fright in him.
"Nah, come with me. I was on my way out when those yokels came by. There's a tavern close by that's got good food."
Martel's only experience with taverns was the one in Engby, which his father had forbidden him from entering. But the prospect of a friend free from the entanglements at the Lyceum enticed Martel to such a degree, Shadi could have suggested they opened a portal to the Netherworld and he would still have followed. Another issue presented itself, though.
"I don't have any coin. On me." He hurried to add the final words so she would not think him penniless, even if that was the case.
"It's not much, I'll pay this time. Consider it my thanks for helping me out." She winked.
The prospect of a second time pleased Martel; especially as he might at that point have coin to return the favour. He suddenly remembered his errand. "First, I need to deliver this letter to Master Farhad's workshop." He looked up at the sign hanging over the door. "Is that here?"
"Master Farhad," Shadi giggled. "So funny to hear someone refer to dad that way. Yep, you found it."
"That's lucky." His fingers fumbled inside his robe and dragged out the letter.
"Let me take it," she suggested. "I'll go inside and leave it, grab a few things, and we'll go eat."
"Sounds good to me." Martel gave her the parchment and watched her scarper inside. As the door opened, he caught a glimpse of a workshop full of strange tools, small bits of metal formed into odd shapes, and large wooden casings he could not grasp the use of.
Quickly, Shadi returned with a smile and a large piece of cloth she swaddled around her neck. She locked the door. "Old man's asleep. He needs his nap," she explained with a wry smile. "Let's go!"
~
The place in question proved to be a small house with an open wall providing access to a kitchen. Even from a distance, Martel could smell the food. It was a strange mix of meat and spices; upon approach he realised the place served lots of items, which accounted for the unusual blend of scents. "Two fish in bread," Shadi told the man who accepted her money. He stood behind a counter that Martel now saw was hollow; a fire burned slowly inside, keeping it heated along with the bowls placed upon it. Deftly, the seller grabbed two pieces of flatbread and wrapped them around some fish. Shadi grabbed them both and gave one to Martel.
Back on the street, he took a careful bite. He could not recognise the fish, which had a strong flavour; yet hunger always proved the best seasoning, and he ate it with delight. The bread, freshly baked, provided a satiating feeling as well.
"I've never seen a place like that," Martel admitted between mouthfuls. "Back home, a tavern is a place for drunkards. That's what my dad said, anyway," he quickly added.
"If you go to the harbour, that'll probably be the case," Shadi admitted with a grin. "But most places in Morcaster, a tavern's just a place that'll sell you food. Or drink. Where are you from?"
"Nordmark. I've only been in Morcaster a fiveday."
"Hey, I can show you the city! There’s lots of places to see all over."
Finishing his lunch, Martel smiled even as he still chewed. "That sounds great."
"You can come by the workshop when you want. Dad doesn't need me there all the time anyway."
"Alright. I don't have much to do on Mandays or Soldays."
"And you can show me more magic!" Shadi suggested.
"Certainly." Hopefully by then, he would have learned some.
They continued for a while through the Khivan enclave, talking and walking until Martel remembered Master Jerome's admonishment about being out after dark. The winter sun already hung low on the horizon, so he told his new friend farewell to return home to the Lyceum. It was only on the way back he realised that he never found out what a watchmaker made.
Chapter 6: ShadiShadiSolday did not bring any lessons with it, but instead the obligation to assist the artificer in the workshop for a full bell. While Martel did not know what this entailed, he had helped his father often enough around the smithy. He wondered if magic would be involved; he imagined how one might use sorcery to improve crafting or even weave spells into the items.Once the breakfast bell had ended, Martel made his way to the workshop. He entered a large room filled with numerous tools, workbenches, a forge, and more things he could not recognise. Beyond that, doorways opened into other chambers. The noise of people at work permeated the space. Tools cutting or grinding, hammers clanking, the hiss of fire being awakened.A handful of other students arrived at the same time as Martel, novices and acolytes alike. They obviously knew their duties, as they all continued past him to take up a workstation or move deeper into the complex. After a short while, only Martel remained.Eventually, he was approached by a middle-aged man with imposing forearms, wearing a leather apron. Martel recognised a smith when he saw one, and he could only assume this was the master of the workshop."You're new?" asked the smith. "Tall for a novice.""Yes, master, today is my first day here. I'm Martel.""Hah, good name!"Martel laughed a little, feeling more at ease. "My father thought so. He was a smith."A heavy hand fell onto Martel's shoulder, but the gesture was not unkind. "Well, let's put you to work. I'm Master Jerome. If you're new, I'm guessing your magical talents remain raw.""Yes," Martel admitted, a little embarrassed."No bother. There's plenty of mundane work to be done. When you become an acolyte, depending on your gift and your interest, we may find better work for you, even teach you a craft."His ears pricked up at that. While being a weathermage remained his ambition, learning a craft, perhaps like his father's, sounded useful. "I would like that. I was hoping maybe I could work some more bells besides the one I'm scheduled.""Your family far from here, boy?""Up in Nordmark, yes.""And your pa ain't around anymore."Martel shook his head. "Caught a fever last winter. My brother has his forge now."The artificer nodded a little to himself. "I'll see if there's an opportunity for you to earn a few coins. For now, go through that door." He pointed. "That's the washery. You'll help with laundry today. The servants will show you what to do.""Will do, master."The original appearance of this chapter can be found at Nvl1n.Master Jerome winked and pushed the boy in the back towards the washery before returning to his own work.~Washing clothes proved to be dull and tiring labour, but Martel did not mind. He was accustomed to helping with chores from home, and like in the kitchen, the servants proved friendly, if distant. Martel began to understand a divide between the servants of the Lyceum and students like himself. Even if he did not see it, at least not yet, they knew; he was but another in a long line of novices passing through their home and work area. They spoke of people and made jests known only to themselves and not him. When the bell rang, Martel bid them a polite farewell and left the washery.Before he could depart from the workshop itself, the artificer called out to him. "Martel, boy, one moment.""Yes?""I have a letter that needs delivery to a craftsman in town. Would you like to earn five coppers?"Although generally ignorant on the monetary value of labour, even Martel knew that was good payment. The idea of being helpful to Master Jerome also suited him. "I'd be happy to, master."She laughed. "I'll keep that in mind. I'm Shadi, by the way.""I'm Martel.""Are you hungry?""I suppose. I'll probably have to go back to the Lyceum now or I might miss lunch." The idea of missing a meal put a fright in him."Nah, come with me. I was on my way out when those yokels came by. There's a tavern close by that's got good food."Martel's only experience with taverns was the one in Engby, which his father had forbidden him from entering. But the prospect of a friend free from the entanglements at the Lyceum enticed Martel to such a degree, Shadi could have suggested they opened a portal to the Netherworld and he would still have followed. Another issue presented itself, though."I don't have any coin. On me." He hurried to add the final words so she would not think him penniless, even if that was the case."It's not much, I'll pay this time. Consider it my thanks for helping me out." She winked.The prospect of a second time pleased Martel; especially as he might at that point have coin to return the favour. He suddenly remembered his errand. "First, I need to deliver this letter to Master Farhad's workshop." He looked up at the sign hanging over the door. "Is that here?""Master Farhad," Shadi giggled. "So funny to hear someone refer to dad that way. Yep, you found it.""That's lucky." His fingers fumbled inside his robe and dragged out the letter."Let me take it," she suggested. "I'll go inside and leave it, grab a few things, and we'll go eat.""Sounds good to me." Martel gave her the parchment and watched her scarper inside. As the door opened, he caught a glimpse of a workshop full of strange tools, small bits of metal formed into odd shapes, and large wooden casings he could not grasp the use of.Quickly, Shadi returned with a smile and a large piece of cloth she swaddled around her neck. She locked the door. "Old man's asleep. He needs his nap," she explained with a wry smile. "Let's go!"~The place in question proved to be a small house with an open wall providing access to a kitchen. Even from a distance, Martel could smell the food. It was a strange mix of meat and spices; upon approach he realised the place served lots of items, which accounted for the unusual blend of scents. "Two fish in bread," Shadi told the man who accepted her money. He stood behind a counter that Martel now saw was hollow; a fire burned slowly inside, keeping it heated along with the bowls placed upon it. Deftly, the seller grabbed two pieces of flatbread and wrapped them around some fish. Shadi grabbed them both and gave one to Martel.Back on the street, he took a careful bite. He could not recognise the fish, which had a strong flavour; yet hunger always proved the best seasoning, and he ate it with delight. The bread, freshly baked, provided a satiating feeling as well."I've never seen a place like that," Martel admitted between mouthfuls. "Back home, a tavern is a place for drunkards. That's what my dad said, anyway," he quickly added."If you go to the harbour, that'll probably be the case," Shadi admitted with a grin. "But most places in Morcaster, a tavern's just a place that'll sell you food. Or drink. Where are you from?""Nordmark. I've only been in Morcaster a fiveday.""Hey, I can show you the city! There's lots of places to see all over."Finishing his lunch, Martel smiled even as he still chewed. "That sounds great.""You can come by the workshop when you want. Dad doesn't need me there all the time anyway.""Alright. I don't have much to do on Mandays or Soldays.""And you can show me more magic!" Shadi suggested."Certainly." Hopefully by then, he would have learned some.They continued for a while through the Khivan enclave, talking and walking until Martel remembered Master Jerome's admonishment about being out after dark. The winter sun already hung low on the horizon, so he told his new friend farewell to return home to the Lyceum. It was only on the way back he realised that he never found out what a watchmaker made.
