Father wasn't outside the study when we went out through the door. I looked around apprehensively as we descended the stairs, but had little choice but to follow Lyum and Alust as they went outside into the courtyard.

A woman with a boy and girl ran up to us to see Alust, wondering, perhaps, what had gone on upstairs.

"I have been asked to train this boy for the next year," He said simply.

"Papa, why are-"

"Shh, not now Olianna." The mother shushed her girl, "Please tell me it's no more than twice a week." She told Alust, who turned towards the butler.

"Mr. Barker?" He asked.

"I'm afraid Lord Sivis got Olwick and his family will be returning to their fief very shortly. I will be joining you for part of the journey to attend my brother's funeral in Bridgewater. He was a household knight of Lord Sivis."

I had been looking forward to the return to Olwick for a long time now, not least because father promised I could ride back this year. We were supposed to leave on Monday. I hadn't realised Lyum was going to be joining us though. I hope that didn't mean a change in travel plans.

"Mr. Barker," Alust's wife started talking to Lyum, "surely you could reconsider. Why is my husband being sent off like this? Has he served his grace so poorly?"

"Madam, you will take back those words. There is no shame in serving his grace's grandson." Lyum frowned at her. "I hope you understand this as an opportunity his grace has given you. There will be no issue with your pay and board, and Lord Sivis will see to your comfort over the winter."

Mr. Barker was always bowing and 'my lording' when I saw him before, but in front of Alust and his wife, he kept his back straight and seemed to be a figure of authority.

It was somewhat surprising to me, but as the duke's butler, he would be the master of the palace and its people.

Alust's wife looked ready to say something more, but Alust interceded, trying to placate her. "Don't worry, I just need to tutor the boy for a year. If you prefer, you can even stay here in Gristol. That would be alright, would it not, Mr. Barker?"

"Don't be silly, Alust," his wife spoke again, not giving the butler a chance to respond. "We can't stay here without you. Olianna and Orjel ."

She didn't seem happy about going, but evidently saw it as her duty to accompany her husband.

"What is going on?" My father was striding towards us from the door. "Lyum? Who is this?"

I had been a bit concerned when he hadn't been waiting outside of the study when we left the door, so it was a relief to see him appear, confident and strong as always.

"My lord, his grace has assigned Mr. Alust Gramme here as a tutor for your son."

"A tutor?"

"Yes, my lord, Alust was a preceptor from the university, he is well qualified."

"Tilvrade is still young. He doesn't need to be tutored," Father started saying. "Don't worry Tilvrade," he turned to me, "I will go talk to your grandfather about this."

I heard a happy sigh from Alust's wife, evidently relieved that father didn't see the need to take her and Alust away from here.

I grabbed the hem of father's coat, however.

"No, I want to learn. Alust is grandfather's gift..."

I trailed off at father's frown.

"Grandfather's gift?" He repeated me, "What happened to make you so close with my father all of a sudden? A tutor is not a game. He will demand hours and hours of work from you, and strike you when you displease him. We are not high nobles, you do not have to do this."

"Lord Feles...?" Alust hesitantly asked.

"What is it? Alust?"

"I don't know his grace's intent, but I was only asked to watch over Lord Tilvrade until next year, perhaps only the winter, as his grace asked me to speak with him again in the spring."

There was a moment of silence as father seemed to be lost in thought, but then he turned to me.

"You are sure you want to do this?" He asked me.

I nodded with determination.

I wanted to impress grandfather again, to show him and the other nobles in Efeles and Gristol that father, mother and I were not some kind of training dummies to be punched and kicked around. We are the Feles of Olwick and they should take us seriously.

“We will be leaving tomorrow. I'll send Byl with the carriage to bring you to the manor before we leave. My wife and sons will have to ride with you until we can get another carriage, probably in Bridgewater.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When we left the manor though, father didn't take us straight back to Seventhill. Instead, I heard him call out to Byl to take us to lower town.

The carriage clattered over the cobbled road, leaving the Duke's palace and Westhill soon thereafter.

“Where are we going?” I asked father.

He looked at me and smirked, “I wasn't sure you were old enough, but if your grandfather is sending you a tutor, then I have a promise to deliver on.” My father said mysteriously. “I guess it's a day of gifts for you.”

I sat up a bit straighter. That sounded very much like father was planning to get me a gift as well. I wonder what promise this was though?

I pressed my nose into the glass of the new carriage, very happy to have the upgrade from the old one with those rugged shutters. Outside, we were just joining the main boulevard that was more park than road with its rows of trees between three strips of cobbled stone.

We didn't stay on it long, however, as we came out into the city centre, where the road from East Gate to West Gate met the boulevard and separated lower town from Lookout and Westhill.

We turned down into lower town and I thought I recognised a couple of the shops and taverns I had seen before when I had come here with Simila. I had only been here once though, so it was mostly just the shops with colourful signs or open workshops.

We went down the street a ways before father had us stop in front of one of those open workshops, a smithy and its adjacent storefront, decorated in a yellow paint and ornate silver and gold metalwork patterns that made it a little palace of its own.

“This is Gerard's Forge.” Father waved his hand in the direction of the sign that announced that name, jutting out of the wall with a picture of a hammer and anvil. “He's not the best smith nor cursewright in Gristol, but he's one of the few who is masters in both crafts. I promised I would bring you here, remember when I showed you my blade?”

“Of course, father,” I said, smiling up at him.

I had not brought it up with him, since I knew father would have delayed it further if I acted childishly, but I had been eagerly hoping to see the workshop of a cursewright ever since father told me about them. What secrets could they hold? What materials and mana stones?

“Don't get your hopes up quite yet though. I was a bit impulsive this time, seeing as your grandfather is sending you a tutor. I would have liked to talk with Gerard, ask him in advance. I have no idea whether he'll let you in to see him work, or even if he's here right now.

“What do you mean inside though? I can see the forge and work right in there,” I pointed to the open smithy right beside the storefront. It seemed like they invited customers in, surely it couldn't be that guarded.

“Oh, that's just for show. Some of Gerard's apprentices work at the forge there and do repairs or maintenance for his customers, but none of the magic happens in full view of the public.”

He grabbed my hand and we walked into the shop side. I craned my neck a bit to look up at the old man in a simple and well worn grey coat who stood, stooped a bit, looking very old and wizard like.

“Welcome to Gerard's Forge. Ah,” he squinted at my father for a few moments, “is that the young master Feles?”

I covered my mouth and tried not to laugh too loudly. He just called my father 'young master'.

“Ebert, was it? It's been a long time. I'm honoured you remember me.”

“No, no. Honour's mine, my lord. What do you need today? Something for the little one? A shrieking knife or a memorial amule-”

CLANG kling kling CLANG

The old man had barely finished speaking before the sounds of a heavy hammer striking iron rang out through the whole shop, causing me to jump a bit.

“Gerard's making amulets now?” Father asked, unfazed at the loud clamour.

Kling kling kling

“Ah right, you haven't been here in a while,” the old man, likewise, completely ignored the reverberating sound.

I peeked over through the stone arch to the smithy that I had seen when we had stopped in front of the shop. There were two men in there, one of them with a leather apron hammering on what looked like a metal vambrace.

It seems the hammering was done for a moment, as the smith picked up the vambrace in something that looked like hedge cleavers and stuck it into an oven, while the other man poked at the coals with an iron rod.

I judged that the smith here wasn't as strong or muscular as Crion's dad and dismissed him. A blacksmith had to have muscles, right?

“Master Carter, one of Master Gerard's sons returned from apprenticeship with Master Haldor, a silversmith down in Labrine. He set up his own workshop recently with the support of Lord Oederbrin but has been making lower tier trinkets and amulets to sell here as he doesn't have a shop of his own or a full schedule of commissions yet.”

“I'll have a look then. Happy to support a new cursewright.”

“Ahem, mmh...” Ebert looked a bit abashed from father's question, “Master Carter will be honoured, though, I have to mention that he hasn't trained as a cursewright, just a silversmith. The amulets here are charmed by Master Gerard's apprentices.”

“Is Master Gerard not too busy right now? I was hoping to say hello and introduce my son.”

“Right, of course. Wait here as I go check in the workshop.”

The older man left, not through the arch to the smithy, but through a smaller door behind the counter, probably to the real smithy that father had mentioned.

Since there didn't seem to be anything else to do for the moment, I took a look around the store. It was more like a living room than a store, really.

There were a few fancy chairs for customers to sit in and a large, if somewhat cloudy window that as propped open to let out some of the hot air. Father took a seat on one of them, just beside a large plate armour on a wooden stand.

It wasn't all that impressive though. It was just plain steel pieces, no engravings or designs or colours. Pretty much identical to the other one standing beside it, except for how big it was.

CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG kling

The hammering started up again and I looked towards the arch to the smithy. Unlike the other four walls that matched the upscale image of outside the shop, the wall to the smithy was just bare stonework. On it, there were a number of wall fixtures with some of the tools and weapons they were selling.

At least, I assumed they were for sale. There wasn't anything like the price tags that I had picked out of Sam's memories or the enormous display counters with hundreds of staff to navigate and choose from.

Just an old man who I assume would tell you what to pay.

Kling kling CLANG

All of the wall display looked quite dazzling, but there was one thing in particular that I couldn't look away from. It was not the broadsword with its hilt wrapped in green leather, nor the scythe, or what looked like a scythe, but with a hook on the opposite side.

It was just a little box, made of silver that I couldn't make heads or tails of. It seemed to be made of smaller pieces, some round with teeth and others looping together in a kind of puzzle. Maybe it was a puzzle, a cube of challenge for children. But it looked delicate and too purposeful for that.

Kling kling kling