"Tell us what happened, Oslo."

Duke Braster sat in a lounge with his wife. It was still evening after Bellavarn returned. Oslo had come to him after speaking with Trisha and mentioned that they had a problem. They both cleared their schedule for this.

"Sir, I am not sure where I should begin."

Braster ran a hand through his hair.

"Start at the beginning."

"Right. I suppose the first thing I should mention is that every smithy we visited refused us. They denied us service on account of the rumor about Bellavarn."

Trisha was halfway into throwing her teacup when she stopped. It was a gift, so throwing it would upset someone else unnecessarily. Instead, she settled for using her other hand to squeeze Braster's arm.

"That poisonous bitch. It is all her fault. Bellavarn had gone completely unnoticed until now."

Oslo winced. Trisha rolled her head back and massaged her temple, trying to prevent creases from forming.

"Ugh. I shouldn't have invited Lady Wyre so soon. I made excuses, but it is clear that her mind is already set in a direction. Her daughter is a delight, but Lady Wyre can be so petty. She is stubbornly selective for her daughter despite being a baroness. "

Braster looked uncomfortable at his wife's regrets while Olso steeled himself and continued.

"It was unsettling for Bellavarn to be turned away at every occasion, but he quickly bounced back. He wasn't afraid to scrap his original idea decided to work with clay instead of metal."

"Clay?"

"Ceramics is mainly used for pottery, but it holds many other options as well. It was a genuinely good idea. I brought him to visit my old friend Turner."

"Turner's a good man. He has a daughter around Bellavarn's age, doesn't he?"

It took Oslo a moment to keep his expression neutral.

"He does. We visited him, but we received unsettling news. It appears that Duke Astor successfully poached him."

"That brat dares poach from a Duke's territory."

Trisha squeezed Braster’s arm, grounding him. Oslo interjected in the brief pause.

"It is my fault, Duke. I neglected to check in with Turner and let things deteriorate to this point. The worse news is that I did some quick digging, and I have already uncovered evidence that at least three of the smithies we visited had been in indirect contact with Duke Astor. He's been creeping in on our crafters for almost two months. I will need to complete more thorough investigations to uncover more, but I suspect that there are even more hidden damages we are unaware of."

The Duke's silence was more dangerous than any outburst. This was still the edge of his land, and these were his people. Astor controlled nearly all business in and around the capital, but it seems he's looking to expand that influence.

Trisha's consistent meetings with the other noble Ladies didn't reveal anything. There was no chatter about the Astor's moves at all. It could only mean that his subterfuge skills are more advanced than either of them thought. There's a high probability that several other nobles have already defected to his camp.

They must have enjoyed pulling one over a Duchess.

"It is unsettling that we've both overlooked the young Duke Astor. I suppose his parents letting him succeed the Duchy so early wasn't idiocy after all. This is good, though. Bellavarn managed to uncover the plot before it grew into something unmanageable."

"I will need to plan a counterattack. This insult can't go unpaid. Trisha, you should figure out who has been lying to our faces while they still believe we are ignorant."

Trisha's eyes were filled with ice.

"You needn't tell me, dear. I'll make those wenches regret their actions."

The Duke felt a chuckle in his chest and smirked. That was his wife. A boon for friends and a disaster to her enemies. Oslo interrupted once again.

"Duke Astor is the one who has been spreading the rumor."

The temperature in the room dropped. Braster's eyes became chilly and deadly. Trisha was murderous. The combined aura was strangling all the air in the room.

"I'm sorry. I think I misheard. That twerp has been spouting nonsense about my little boy?"

"Surely we didn't both mishear. Right, Oslo?"

Adjusting his collar so he could inhale, Oslo held up a hand and explained.

"Not only did the smithies in indirect contact with Astor know about the rumor, but the last smith that I conversed with blew the rumor out of proportion. He wasn't smart enough to invent the rumor himself, so I concluded he heard it directly from someone else."

Remembering the oaf that called himself a blacksmith, Oslo clenched his fist. The coot was hollering about some sort of lecherous demon. The absurd words caused Oslo to lose his temper. Luckily, removed his gloves off before doing any damage, and Bellavarn was too distracted to notice.

Oslo's knuckles twitched. It had been a while since he dirtied his hands like that.

"It explains why the entirety of high society, including the royal family, all know about the rumor despite us keeping it tightly in house."

Sighing, he remembered his old friend.

"The reason Turner was ultimately pushed to accept was because of his daughter. I spoke with him after Bellavarn egressed and it appears Duke Astor presented the offer in person. It so happened that Turner's daughter, Kelly, was highly susceptible to his poisonous words. Kelly became enraged and demanded her father defect."

It was a well-crafted plan that hit many birds with one stone. It slandered the young Duke and the Sallow house, bought Astor an experienced crafter and deprived the Sallows of business. It was unlikely he knew that he managed to foil Bellavarn's plans for his invention, the events coincidentally coinciding.

There was also winning over a loyal follower in Kelly, wrapping her father around his finger.

Oslo rubbed his eyes.

He wasn't present for whatever occurred between Bellavarn and Kelly, but Kerv looked half as murderous as the Duke and Duchess were looking at him right now. Unfortunately, he wasn't done yet.

"Kelly and Bellavarn had some sort of interaction outside while I was busy. Kerv described it as Kelly’s prejudice greatly insulted Bellavarn. Combined with the constant setbacks and unending judgment from the rumors, it hit him hard. Bellavarn broke down on the ride home."

Trisha was breathing hard through her nose. She wanted to punch something, preferably someone young. Like Duke Astor. Or Melody. Or this Kelly person. Everyone was so quick to judge her little boy without ever getting to know him.

She cooled when she remembered her own actions.

The panic she felt. The horror at what she had seen. Her deepest regret was that she had been fooled as well. It would make sense if Bellavarn blamed her. Trisha was a hypocrite of the highest standard.

A comforting hand squeezed her own. Looking up, she saw Braster's assurance. She could see the understanding and absolution she was looking for. Behind it all, Trisha could see the unfathomable wrath he wanted to bring down. He just needed a valid target.

The Duchess grinned as she realized who the most likely candidate was. Deciding it was time to ask, she spoke in a measured tone.

"Will you tell us what Bellavarn said in the coach?”

Oslo was adamant to keep certain things secret, but he would describe Bellavarn best he was able..

"Bellavarn is an amazing young man. He handled each situation to his utmost ability and always kept the benefit of the family in mind. He was furious, yet fair-minded. He adapted quickly under pressure. Though, I believe he is trying a bit too hard."

His smile turned sad.

"He is afraid you two will abandon him if he doesn't do well. I believe that is the reason he has been studying so hard. He is trying to gain your approval. I suspect that it is the reason behind him accepting Duchess' option of setting him up, even though his wounds haven't healed is because he knew it would make the Duchess happy."

Trisha wanted to cry. Her son! Her little boy. So kind and gentle. So smart and talented. He was her pride and joy, doesn't he know? She would be happy to keep him all to herself. He didn't need to find a lady! He was hers!

Braster felt similar emotions of a more manly variety. He loved his son. When Bellavarn locked himself away, he was worried enough to forget about his curse and even neglected important duties. It was a pleasant surprise when he learned that Bellavarn had been studying magic. His son showed off to the King and put the royal heirs in their place. And then Bellavarn went and created something spectacular—an invention so simple and yet so impactful and extraordinary that it could change the world! His son was not only the most thoughtful person he knew but was more innovative than the past three generations of Sallows.

Braster didn't know how to be prouder.

Every member of house Sallow cared for Bellavarn. They’d been living each day in monotony before he opened them up. Laughing and learning. Playing games. Sharing treats and spreading joy. He brought them all together and made them one huge family.

Bellavarn was loved even if he didn't see it. Even if he felt alone. Everyone in the mansion was here for him now. He would go on to be a great person, and his name would go down in history if he continued down his path.

That was why it was so important to nurture him and keep him safe.

"I wish it was his birthday again so that we could throw him a party."

"Unfortunately, it just passed.

"There is the spring festival next month. Perhaps we can have plans for everyone to go out together?"

Braster folded his arms in contemplation at Oslo's suggestion.

"Hm. It's doable. I can set it up so that everyone is free that day."

Trisha had a thought.

"What is Bellavarn going to do now that there is no one to work on his invention?"

Oslo shifted his feet.

"Well. He plans on doing it himself. He seems confident enough. Turner will be receiving a hefty severance pay in exchange the majority of his tools. Bellavarn even had Nem go back for some supplies, including a bucket of clay. If he is still awake, he is likely shaping it as we speak."

Oslo noticed Bellavarn seemed to be developinga habit of throwing himself into work when he's stressed. It wasn't the worst habit to have, but it wasn't entirely healthy either. Bellavarn was very much like his father in that regard.

"Before you make assumptions, maybe you should visit him."

=

*Splat*

"No! Kerv. I told you. Stop! Get back here. Put that down."

"Hah. You got to catch me first, Bell."

*Splat*

"Kerv. This isn't funny. Stop this. You are getting it everywhere."

*Plop*

"Whoah!"

Kerv slipped and fell back, the wind knocked out of him. Bellavarn pounced, wrestling the small bucket of clay away. Half of its contents were painted across the room from an impromptu mud fight.

"I told you not to do this in the library. Do you realize how long it will take to clean this up? Ah! The water is probably in the books."

Bellavarn set down the bucket and left a wheezing Kerv stranded on the floor. Running over to the bookshelves, he double-checked they were all okay.

Sigh~

"It is my fault for bringing it in here anyway. I just wanted to get started early."

Oslo cleared his throat. Kerv extricated himself from the floor with a wince as Bellavarn leaned out from the bookshelf, finally noticing everyone standing in the doorway.

Trisha covered her mouth while staring at her husbands face, a thick glop of gray paste slipped down wetly.

"Pfft."

Trisha wiped the smirk off her face as Braster wiped his.

"You didn't see all that, did you? I told Kerv to stop."

"It is young master Bellavarn's fault for doing nothing but work."

Trisha noted that he spoke to Bellavarn formerly now that there was an audience.

Braster firmly ignored what just happened to his face and thought about the situation as a whole. For the first time ever, Braster thought that Kerv deserved a raise.

The maids will be the ones cleaning, anyway.

"Did you come to check up on me? I managed a few basic forms, but they need to dry before I can work with them. They are over there."

Bellavarn directed the eyes to a cordoned-off corner. Trisha raised a delicate eyebrow. Braster wrapped a protective arm arm around her as he led the way. She tiptoed slightly behind him, hemming up her dress.

How did all this come from only half a bucket?

Outside, Oslo excused himself to address the pair of maids who were loitering outside. They were in the midst of playing rock-paper-scissors.

Inside, Braster examined nine wet shapes sitting on a small wooden board. A tarp covered the area to prevent disasters—Too small to protect the entire room.

Braster recognized the pieces that looked almost vaguely like the diagrams he'd seen. Six circular disks with smaller rounded prongs arranged in a triangle formation. Holes were cut out of the center.

"What are those little snakes for?"

Trisha pointed to a few thick coils set aside.

Bellavarn called over from where he was airing out a book.

"Those will be the trigger mechanisms later. Place them in the center, click, and the piece will turn."

Trisha turned her head, trying to imagine it. Bellavarn could sense the confusion and walked over, pointing.

"Each disk has a partner that will be connected through a center rod. I kept everything separate so its easier to carve the magical symbols. Trying to get a needle into such a small space would be maddening"

It clicked in both their minds.

"The form is harder to work with than I thought. Turner uses really wet clay. Since he specializes in thrown pottery and not hand-built works, it makes sense."

Bellavarn stated it as if the information was obvious for everyone.

Trisha exchanged a look with her husband, having the same thought.

Our son is a genius.

Bellavarn took their silence as understanding and walked off to greet a despondent Ester and a satisfied Lannie. Lannie won rock paper scissors.

Father and Mother watched their son greet the two maids with a sorry expression. Lannie and Ester exchanged barbs with each other, but neither of them seemed unduly annoyed or upset. Kerv jogged up, rubbing the back of his head. He aimed his palms outward as he got chewed out by both Bellavarn and Ester. Lannie laughed.

Was this a product of Bellavarn's efforts? Kerv had already managed to break Bellavarn out of his funk, and now others were joining in as well. When Misses Vale burst in with a tray of cookies, Braster had to reorganize his thoughts.

Maybe they didn't have so much to worry so much.