Chapter Ii A Womans Touch

"Myrnil. She just gave you eight pounds of fucking Myrnil." Daniel was hunched over the counter, staring greedily at the metal ingots. His voice was full of awe and with a tinge of what could've been jealousy. He nodded and then started taking some things out of his bag and laying them on the table next to the ingots. When I took a closer look at the pieces he was setting out, they were sword molds. He'd given me three. One for a long, thin blade; another for a shorter, thin blade; and very long, very thick sword. They were all straight swords, standard for the area. Apprehension billowed up in my chest as I stared down at them. "Looks like you'll need these, lad."

"No!" I shook my head. "Why don't you make it? I'll give you the Myr-whatever and the coin and you can do it."

Daniel eyed the ingots again, longingly then shook his head. "I don't think that'll work, Johann, my boy. Before I came down here, I checked at the inn. That lady you described is staying there. The serving girls there tried lying to her about something and she called them out immediately. She seems to know when people are trying to pull one over on her. Demanded Bill fire his own daughter for lying to her. What's more is he did it. Honestly, for the best. Damned girl was always off necking when she was supposed to be bringing me my drink!"

I frowned at the counter; at the sword blade molds; at the ingots. I ran a hand through my blond hair and sighed. Daniel clapped a hand on my shoulder, breaking me out of my despair. "Lad, just do it."

"None of this makes any sense. Why me? Why not you?"

"Few things in this world make sense. Women are seldom one of them, my boy. How much did she pay you?"

"I dunno. I haven't looked." I grabbed the purse from its resting place, undid the strings and spilled the coins out over the table. My breath caught. Thirty gold coins were sparkling up at me. This was a year's wage. Maybe more, with the way this year has been going.

Daniel picked up two coins and held them up to the light. He gestured at me with one and started heading out. "For the molds."

"Wait!" I called out. Daniel stopped for a moment, looking back. "What do I do? I've never made a sword before."

"Well, I've never worked with Myrnil, Black Mithral in Common, before, but I've worked with Mithral a time or two. Each of these rare metals are different. Adamantine works like steel." I watched Daniel's hands clench as he spoke, going through the motions mentally, working through the motions to get the comparison right. "You heat it up and pound it into shape. It's hard work, but if ya can do it right, it'll never break. Mithral's strange. More willow-y and flexible. Its weight is deceptive. Makes for armor as good as steel but half the heft. Shouldn't be as strong as it is for how light and flexible it is. Work it closer to bronze than ya do steel and you'll get it. That's why I got ya the molds, boy. Find the melting point, cast them. Afterwards, just grind in an edge, keep it sharp and polished and you'll have yerself a sword. Besides, if ya fuck it up, then you'll have proved yer point and ya can send her my way, and I'll show her what a weaponsmith can do."

He left after that. I stared at my counter, considering his words. There were still a few hours left in the day. 30 gold coins. The number echoed throughout my head. I took one of the ingots and hefted it. The metal's still weird. I loaded it up into the crucible and started heating up my forge. I worked the billows, watching the strange metal heat up, but never lose shape. It started to glow red hot, but I could not get it hot enough. I gave up after an hour, frowning. What in the hells am I supposed to do? She won't take no, apparently she'll know if I'm lying, and I can't even get the damned things to melt.

The next day, she was waiting for me as I opened the door. It was already a hot day, Lady Summer flexing one last time before Fall overtook her. The noblewoman stood there in a thick cloak with the hood up. I nodded to her and started loading coals into the forge to prepare for the day. She walked in and leaned herself against one of the tables lining the back wall. Her eyes followed me like a cat's, almost luminescent from underneath her cloak. Her attention never wavered from me. Not for an instant.

"Uh. You're a bit early." After a few minutes, I broke the silence. "I haven't made any progress yet. I had other things I needed to finish that day. Maybe you could come back later. It'll take a few days before I have anything ready for you, anyway. Maybe come back then."

"No."

"So you're just going to stand there all day."

"Yes."

"Look, I get that you're a noble or something, that things usually just go your way, but this isn't going to work like that. I'm not going to have someone just stand there and watch me work all day."

She considered this for a moment and smiled. "I think you will get used to it."

I sighed and went to heat up the forge. She watched me. It took a long time to get the temperature high enough. I continued pumping air onto the coals, trying to feed the flames enough to even soften the ingot. After about half an hour, she left the wall and was standing next to me. She pushed me out of the way and grabbed the billow handles and started pumping it. It was obviously difficult for her and I could see sweat sheen her face after just a few moments, but remarkably, the ingot started to melt. I also caught the scent of her perfume. Sandalwood and something else Whatever it was, it was too subtle to identify. It was intoxicating. Normally, my forge smells like hot air and burning coal. Especially on a sweltering day like this.

"How?" I looked between her and the crucible full of molten material, flabbergasted. "What did you do?"

"Some things need a woman's touch." She responded with a grin, breathing heavily. "Don't you need another ingot or two?"

I turned my back to her, mouthing several words I doubted she would appreciate and grabbed another ingot and loaded it up. She started pumping again. She was doing it slower than I was, but somehow it felt hotter. Her fingers were flexing as she pressed her palm down onto the handle. I watched the other two ingots melt down and pool almost over the top of the crucible. With some tongs, I grabbed the metal and brought it over to a sword mold and poured it out. The mold came in two parts, both made of a special clay. There was a hole to pour the molten metals into to make sure there was very little variance, I put a press on either side to tighten the space as much as possible. She came over to stand next to me and watched the white hot metal take shape. I looked over to her and quickly away when she met my eyes and smiled at me. I felt flush. It must be the heat. That's it.

"Now what?" She asked.

"Uh. Well, I'm going to quench the blade in oil, cooling it. After that I can work the metal some and start to get it to be a..." I froze. Mostly. My hands were shaking. It was going to be a weapon. An actual weapon. There was a reason I did not make swords. The demand was there. Every few years the kingdom went to war with other lands. There is always money to be had in war. But since I saw someone gutted out on the street, I could not stand weapons. I could still smell their coppery blood. See the light leave their eyes. And this woman just breezes in and forces me to make one. Against my will. Anger surged through me for a moment and I looked over to her. She met my eye, studying me. My heart skipped another beat. But I could use the money. So could Stella. I tried not to think about her standing right there, next to me. After a moment, she nodded, eyes tracing the steam coming up from the mold. I turned to face her properly. "Who are you?"

She did not look up immediately. She bit her lip and then nodded. "Call me Morgana."

"Alright, Lady Morg-"

"No, not Lady Morgana." Her eyes flashed up to mine. "Morgana."

"Morgana, then. Why do you need a sword?" I asked, carefully removing the brace, and the still hot weapon out of the clay with a pair of long handled pliers. It didn't break, thankfully. I took a few steps over to my oil pool and dipped it in. The liquid boiled violently for a few a moment or two, before she answered my question.

"That's a complicated question." Her eyes never left mine. If anything they focused more intently, almost as though they were searching for something.

"Okay," I began, trying to keep the exasperation out of my voice. "Why did you need me to make a sword for you? This stuff is rare and I'm told that better smiths than I have squandered what they got their hands on."

She just smiled. "That's also a complicated question. I think it's cool enough to work on, now."

I sighed and took up my hammer. I pulled the blade from the oil and brought it over to my largest anvil. I used a small hammer to even it out where it needed it and a sander to thin out the edges. I did this for the rest of the day and she watched me work, in an almost unblinking, cat-like manner. We did not speak for the rest of the day as I reheated and shaped it into what I needed it to be. She didn't need to work the billows for that. I just needed it hot enough to become malleable. The initial shape came fast, but I lost myself in making small, subtle changes. At dusk, I looked up and she was just gone. I had gotten a lot of work done on it and it was not in bad shape. A little bit more work and I'd have her out of my hair. The forge does feel a little more empty without her. But I thought much the same since James' passing. I closed up shop and cleaned it up. Forges should have a master and a few apprentices. That's all. It's just not the same otherwise.

I got up the next morning and made my way downstairs and Morgana was waiting for me from a seat at my kitchen table. Dawn had not peaked over the mountains, but here she was. I froze and looked around. She had lit a candle and was reading by it. She had a small smile on her face as she gestured at a plate sitting there on my table. I looked down and there was a full breakfast waiting for me. Toast, eggs, ham. There was even orange juice. I looked from the meal, then to her and back again, then took a seat, eating quickly. If she's not going to mention why she was here, I was not going to question it. She finished up her meal a little bit before me, and continued to read. Afterwards, I picked up both plates and took them over to a basin and sat them down, leaving them. As I started to open the door, she spoke up.

"Aren't you going to clean those?"

I turned back and looked at her. Her eyes were on the wash basin. She looked up to me. This was when I realized that this was the first time I had ever seen her with her hood down. Her lips were pouty. She had a slight nose, dark hair and high cheekbones. My breath caught for a moment, before I could shake my head. "I, uh, I figured I could do that after work."

"No, do them now. Work can wait." She said simply, sitting back down. I frowned but went out to get some water from the well. When I got back, she was still reading her book. I took a bar of soap and scrubbed the plates clean in the water and set them to the side. When I finished, she was already standing and waiting. Her book was nowhere to be seen. She looked at me expectantly. I took my time, anger stirring a bit in my chest. Why am I letting her boss me around? Why in all the hells is she in my house? I berated myself for a while longer as I made my way past her. She followed silently.

For the entire quarter mile, I could feel her eyes on me. I did my best to ignore it, taking in the town. I lived in a small village. Sofen, less than fifty people, most of which were farmers. There wasn't a major city for a month's hike. At least. But it's quiet and the people are honest. The walk cooled my temper some. My fellow villagers watched us walk by, lips pursed in curiosity. Daniel eyed her warily. Sister Lily frowned at her, seeming confused. I did my best to ignore that too. It's a small town and people are going to gossip. Nothing I can do about that.

When we got into the shop, she took a stool out and sat down, producing her book again. I worked in an amicable silence with her, making the changes to the sword. The first thing I did was polish it a bit, seeing how the shape had taken. I'd chosen the shortest mold, given that it was closer to the knives I was used to making. Shaping the handguard was honestly the most complicated part, but once I'd gotten one side, the other came quickly. It was just a matter of learning the strength and resistance of the metal and using it to my advantage. Something I was used to for finer pieces anyway.

I finished the work about halfway through the day, cleaning off the blade and polishing it until a reflection could be seen. The dark leather for the hilt took me a little while to fit properly. I hadn't noticed it when she had first put them out on my counter, but now that I was actually paying attention, the leather had little designs imprinted on the leather. It was a strange script I didn't recognize, but I'm pretty sure it was a language. Daniel had told me it was going to take longer, but I compared it to the work of the blade I bought from Ahmed and it was at least as good. It was a dark gray, but still had the oily, rainbow look at the edges of the light, which caught the eye well. You could even make out a reflection in it, despite the dark color. But it looked too simple to me. Incomplete somehow. I spent some time with an etching tool, carving out an intricate tendril-like design over the blade and guard; much like I did for a lot of the finer silverware that I made. What's the point of using such fancy materials if you're going to leave it plain? My mind dragged up my master's, James, words. He'd always loved taking the time to etch in designs and had me practice a lot. He'd always say, "It sells better. Keeps them coming back."

"Well," I said as I stood before her and presented her the weapon, pushing away my memories of my old master. "I guess it's done."

She took the sword from my hands and examined it. The blade reflected in her big, green eyes. She traced a finger over the designs I had worked into the blade, a smile slowly spreading across her face, as her eyes met mine in the blade's reflection. "This is great. Well done."

"Well, I'm glad that you like it. There's still a lot of material left over." I started to collect the ingots on the table. "You could probably sell it. And I can get you some of your money back."

"No."

"What do you mean 'no'? You asked for a sword. I gave you a sword."

"You're going to make another one with what's left over."

"What? Why?"

She just smiled and walked over to the billows and started pumping them again. "Come on, then."

I stared at her for another moment or two and then shook my head, grabbing two ingots and putting them in the crucible before putting it into the forge. We spent the rest of the day melting down those ingots and pouring them into the mold. She watched patiently, sweat sheening her face again. She still had not put her hood back up and had opened her cloak a little bit more, and I could see her chest, pushed up high. I tried not to notice. Especially when I noticed she was standing closer to me. Even in the warm forge, she seemed hot. And her perfume overtook my nose again. I busied myself by getting to work, trying to put her out of my mind. I managed to ignore her so well that I didn't even notice her leaving. I saw her watching me work on another small project for a while and when I looked up, she was gone. "What a strange woman."

When I got home, I made all my preparations for dinner and before going to bed, I locked the door. I didn't really want her coming and going as she pleased in my own home. I washed up in the same basin I had cleaned the dishes in that morning. I grabbed a book I had bought from Ahmed and read for a few hours, still trying to push the smell of Sandalwood and the sight of her smile out of my head. I must've passed out at some point. My dreams were filled with swords and green eyes.