Ch. 03: the First Night

This is a rewrite of a previously published work. There is a lot of new content in it, but it is not wholly new content. There will be new chapters coming.

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I woke up the next morning later than usual; the sun was already well over the horizon.

I turned over and jumped, falling out of the bed. Morgana had been lying next to me, fully clothed. She was not wearing her cloak, but a dress made of fine green silk. Matching her eyes. She smiled at me and stretched, which brought my attention to her chest. Her breasts were pressed up high and were an eyeful. When she spoke, I managed to tear my eyes back to her face. It was the first time I'd seen her out of that cloak, after all. "I was wondering when you'd be up. I don't know how you could sleep on this thing. It's so uncomfortable. Very lumpy."

"B-b-b-but I locked the door!" I stammered, crawling back until I hit the wall behind me.

"I noticed. That was very rude of you. Come. Breakfast is ready." She said, failing to suppress the smirk on her face. As she got out of the bed, I caught her eyes trailing down from my face, a blush creeping over her own, her smile widening. I looked down, realized I was naked and had been the entire time she was here.

I felt my face heat up quickly as I folded in on myself, trying to hide my nudity. My heart was pounding in my chest and would not calm even after she left me alone. I quickly dressed, muttering to myself about pesky nobles just doing as they please. I wanted to be furious with her, but embarrassment and more than a little curiosity kept my anger mostly in check. What did that look mean?

When I finally got down to the kitchen area, she was sitting at the table, eating a piece of toast and reading a book. Wait, that's my book. I was reading that before I fell asleep. It was a romance novel about a knight that falls in love with a princess and goes through several trials to earn her hand. And she does what she can to help him. The book was well-worn, even before I had bought it, and had quickly become one of my favorites. This just keeps getting more and more embarrassing, I thought. I glanced at the table. There was again a plate of some beef, eggs and toast and another cup of juice waiting for me. At least that smells good. And I tried not to think about the scent I'd accidentally inhaled when I rolled over.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked, the embers of anger present but not yet inflamed. I was more annoyed than properly angry.

"Why am I reading?" She asked, flipping the page, casually. She hadn't looked up since I'd walked down. "Because I want to."

"No!" I shouted and she jumped and stared at me, her mouth hanging open. Guilt spread through my stomach. I took a breath and forced gentleness back into my tone. Like working bronze, I thought. Malleable, but brittle. "Why are you here? Why did you break into my house and make me breakfast? Why do I need to make you another sword? Why me?"

"Nevermind that." She returned to her book and casually waved her piece of toast at me. "Eat up. I'm hoping to finish that sword today."

I sat down and eyed her from across the table, unblinkingly. She kept her eyes firmly on the book until I gave up and started eating. I saw her smile; I swear I did. After finishing, I took the two plates, gathered the water and washed them. Then I emptied the basin and started heading down to the shop. People watched us as we passed through the town square. I didn't greet anyone. I was too frazzled.

She's just infuriating, I thought. Another voice in my head countered, Why? Because she snuck into your bed? You wanted her there. I tried to deny that, but I had been trying not to think about the gorgeous noblewoman like that. When we finally arrived at James' forge, she watched me shape and form the sword into a proper weapon. After a few hours, it was a perfectly functional blade, fit for a battlefield I'd never see. She had watched me throughout the entire process, eyes subtly tracing over my hand motions, like the alternating hits, done to a rhythm that had been instilled in me from when I started fifteen years ago. When I was finished, I didn't quite slam it down in front of her.

"Here." I said it with a little more ire in my voice than I meant to. I was still mad at her; or maybe I was scared of her. I just never know what to expect around her. She is just around. Doing things. I don't get her.

"No," she replied, shaking her head. "It's not done."

"What do you mean it's not done?" I growled, gesturing with the weapon in my hand. "It's a sword."

"No," she repeated firmly. Then softened a little bit, closing the distance between us. "Well, yes it is, but it's not done. You need to add the designs to it. Like the other one." She met my eyes, searching for something. My heart skipped a beat. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. Willing myself to not give in.

"No!" I shouted again. She took a step back. "Damn it, no! I won't."

"Blacksmith!" She shouted back, steeling herself. This time I jumped. Her tone softened again. "Blacksmith. You will do it. You must."

I stared at her for a long time. Then I took up the sword again and looked at it. Then I looked over to its sister sword. I hesitated. She's right. It needed something. I grabbed my etching tool and started going to work on the blade. She watched me work for a while longer. This time I caught her when she was leaving. I did not say anything. I was still fuming at her. But she paid me to do a job. And I'll see her tomorrow.

I did not see her the next day. There was no breakfast waiting for me. After I had gotten home, I did not bother to lock the door, since it did not keep her out, and no one else would rob me here. It was a peaceful little village, and the lock was cheap. Any child could pick it. When I got to the forge, the sun was already high above the ground. I kept looking around for her, expecting her to just appear out of nowhere. That's ridiculous, I thought. She's no witch. Just a pretty noblewoman, seeing how the peasants live.

When I opened up the shop, she still was not around. One of the swords was missing. The first one I had made. The second one was exactly where I left it. There was no note. The coins were still in the chest that I kept. I looked around and after waiting for a bit longer, I got to work on different projects that I had put to the side. Another silverware set. It came out fine. But every once in a while, I would look up at the second sword. Why didn't she take both of them?

Stella stopped by after a while, bringing lunch and smiling sadly as she looked around. After a bit of small talk, she said, "I heard you had a lady friend around here for a couple of days. Are you getting married?"

I noted the hope in her voice. Some of the women in the village had talked to me for a while, but it always seemed to end shortly after it began. Stella wanted me to settle down. She had been trying to get that to happen since I was fifteen and first took up the hammer. I just figured I was not anyone's type, exactly. I'm not handsome or particularly big. Especially not for a blacksmith. I'm average. Blue eyes and dirty blond hair and a beard that comes in darker than my hair, with eyebrows to match. I keep it trimmed and I keep clean. Or as clean as I can in a forge. At this point, I was more or less content to live alone. But it was nice waking up to breakfast every day.

"No, nothing like that, Stella." I said tersely, dismissing the idle thoughts of the noble. Of her at my breakfast table. And especially of her in my bed. "Just an overbearing client."

Stella made her way over to the sword that lay there, bare, with no scabbard. She wrapped her wrinkled hands around the hilt and picked it up, with some difficulty, despite its weight. Or lack thereof. The material was incredibly light. She was old. Her age and grief had thinned her out some. Not too long ago, she would have been considered stout and healthy, but now she was thin and willowy. She fingered the sword, following the etching. "It's fine work, Johann. You should be proud."

"I guess." I responded absently, returning to my work.

"Are you going to be making swords now? Weapons?" She asked, eyes shifting from the sword over to me. "Daniel wouldn't be happy to hear that."

"No, it was just a custom job." I muttered, not wanting to think about her. Though, hardly a day had gone by without idle thoughts of her.. "She'll be back for it, I'm sure. Then I can go back to my life. Making gates and silverware and horseshoes. What I'm good at."

Stella clicked her tongue at that and put the sword back down. She stayed a little while longer. This time she did not cry. She just eyed everything sadly. Even me.

A few days later, Daniel came down to take a look at the sword and talk about business. While deftly spinning the blade in his hand and making sharp thrusts and quick slashes with it. He's way too comfortable with a sword in hands, I thought, unable to peel my eyes away from the practiced motions. It is beautiful; in its own way. Without stopping his routine, he asked, "Where'd she go?"

"I don't know." I replied a little bitterly. "She was here, she took one of the two swords I made and left that one behind. I don't know why."

"It's good work. Honestly better than I figured it would be." Daniel made another slash through the air, which whistled as it was cut in twain. I shrugged noncommittally. Daniel laid the blade back down and looked at me. "You are a good whitesmith, my boy. Fair blacksmith, even. You did something special with that blade and probably the one she took, too. It's a little flowery for my taste, with the little designs. A little light too, but it's good work."

"Then why didn't she take that one, too?"

"Bah! The girl's daft. That's why. She overpaid you for it and provided materials well beyond your years to boot. And you managed it better than anyone. 'Cept for me of course, lad." He sobered up a little bit and met my eye and raised a finger. "And don't ya forget it, neither. Just cause you made two good swords, doesn't make ya a weaponsmith! Only room for one in this village, alrigh'?"

"Don't worry, Daniel." I nodded, smiling. "I've no intention of making any other weapons."

"That's good, boy. Let's go get a drink."

I did not get any word until near the end of Yekava, almost three months after I'd last seen Morgana. I could scarcely believe that I'd not seen her since the last week of Char, Outside of my dreams at least. And idle thoughts. Late night what ifs, I thought. On the 48th day of Ciat, I put the sword up where no one could see it. If she came back, I could always retrieve it. It took me a while longer to figure out how she had heated the forge enough to melt the last two ingots down. I tried recreating the motions with her hands, but that didn't seem to do anything.

Slowing down my billowing did help some and got me closer, getting a more consistent heat throughout the forge. I couldn't get it to fully melt until I just lost myself in it. I'm not fully sure of what the difference was, but they melted eventually. I did not really know what I was going to make at first, but eventually I decided that I could make a pair of daggers to go with the pair of swords. It came to me after seeing a puppet show in town of a master fighter using a dagger to defend himself while slashing ahead with a large sword.

The image of the noblewoman fighting with the shortsword in one hand and not having anything to defend herself haunted me. But her recreating the swordsman's stance with the dagger in her offhand seemed right. And it meant that she might be able to hide something on her person if she had to relinquish the short sword. I remembered her in the green dress. It was fine silk and tight on her. I don't know where she'd conceal it, but she'd figure it out. I tried not to dwell on the sight of her in my bed, in a tight dress, pushing up her chest, staring at me with those eyes that matched the dress.

I did not tell Daniel I was doing this. It was a sore subject with him. Especially when I would not let him sell the sword. He thought I was going to try and muscle in on his territory.

"It's not like you are going to do anything with it." He mumbled over ale one night. "Could fetch a copper or two from one of the adventurers that pass through."

"It's not mine to sell," I muttered, shifting my own ale in my hand. "It's hers."

"It's been months!" He exclaimed loudly, drawing the eyes of the other tavern goers. "She's not coming back. She's already got one."

"It's not like any of the adventurers around here could even afford it," I mumbled, shrinking down on myself, before taking a swig. "Besides. It's spoken for. It wouldn't be right to sell it to someone when it's been promised." Eventually, the argument died down. Both Daniel and I could be incredibly stubborn, but there wasn't any use in ruining our friendship over this.

It took me a while to figure out how to make a proper mold for daggers, but I managed it. Work was a bit slower in the winter and I had plenty of time. I designed them to be perfect pairs to the swords and etched them precisely and intricately, wrapping the remaining leather around both of the hilts carefully. I even tried holding them together and alternating hands with the sword. It felt a little awkward. Maybe awkwards not the right word, I thought. I could see how you could fight like this, if you needed to. But I'm just not a fighter. I put them away with the sword. I figured I would never have to look upon them again.

That is, until the first day of spring. I was clearing out the last snow of winter, or at least what I was hoping would be the last snow of winter, from my forge, when a person in full plate mail walked up to me and all but shouted in an echoey distorted voice, "Are you Johann the blacksmith?"

"Uh," I began, before fully processing what the knight had asked. "Yeah. I'm him. How can I help you? If you're looking for weapons, you'll be wanting Daniel."

"You are to come with me." The voice in the helmet said, tinnily.

"With all due respect, I have work I need to do. I need to get started on Davidson's hoe and scythe." I said, unable to keep the fatigue and, frankly, boredom from my tone. The warrior grabbed my hand and started leading me down the road towards my own home. I struggled, but his grip was like a vice. When we got to my place, the knight finally let go and gestured inside.

"Start packing. We have to leave today."

"Leave where? Where are we going? You know what. No. I'm not going anywhere. I live here."

The knight grimaced and started ruffling through a bag at his side, before finding a missive and thrust it into my chest. It read:

Johann the blacksmith is to be escorted to the capital by orders of the queen. He will likely try to resist. He is a guest and is not to be hurt, but he will come. He is in possession of two daggers and a sword made of Myrnil. Have him bring those with him.

~ M

"What in the sixteen hells?" I demanded as the knight pushed me inside. He made his way to my bedroom and started pulling clothes down and throwing them into a bag. I just stood there and watched him, flabbergasted. I didn't think to even attempt stopping him. He stood a head taller than me and also had a thick sword sheathed at his waist. The knight looked around and then directly at me.

"Where are the daggers and the sword?" My eyes flicked to a loose floorboard then back before I could stop them. The knight stomped over there and pulled it up and then the daggers and sword, now with a full sheath, out of the hole. He did not bother to replace the floorboard and simply pushed the bag of clothes and weapons into my arms. "Let's go."

I blinked in confusion at this as I was rushed out of the door and back down the road. Every time I tried to stop, the knight would just push me forward. And I couldn't find the words to resist. At least nothing beyond, "No." Which wasn't my most convincing argument. We stopped by the town long enough for the knight to purchase a horse and for me to tell Daniel that I was going out of town.

"Why?" My friend asked, eyeing the knight who was looming behind me suspiciously.

"I have no idea," I replied bitterly, glaring back at the knight, who stood there impassively. "It's by order of the queen, though. So, whatever I did, it's important. Here's the key to James' forge and here's one to the lockbox. Make sure Stella gets both."

"Mm," was all he responded with, eying the knight behind me.

After that, the knight and I were on the road. I had never really ridden a horse before, but it was easy enough after a time. They are really quite nice animals. We traveled until dusk when the knight set up camp and I tried to build up a fire, with mixed success. Most of the vegetation was still soaked through from the snow, so it was slow going. And despite my rather docile horse, I was sore from the saddle.

Eventually, the knight took off the helmet and I found out that he was actually a she. She had short blonde hair shaved on one side and intense green eyes and pouty lips. The one thing that seemed a little out of place was that she wore obvious makeup. Her lips were painted, her eyes were shadowed, and her eyelashes were exaggerated. She was gorgeous. Severe, and strong features, but beautiful in a way I'd never really seen before.

There was something familiar about her, but I could not place it. She watched me the entire time, as though trying to puzzle something out. I hadn't been in the right headspace to notice it at first, but her armor was immaculate. Freshly polished with no dents or scratches on it. I'd seen some of the armor that adventurers sold to Daniel. It was always half destroyed, bloody and rusting, I thought. Maybe she's a new knight. She looks young. Young was relative in this case. She was about my age and I struggled to accept the fact that I, or she, were in our thirtieth year.

"I never asked, because we were a little... Rushed." I said, trying to focus on stoking the fire and not her gaze on me. "What's your name, Lady Knight?"

"Carmella." She said flatly. "You may address me as First Knight Lady Carmella, blacksmith."

"I'd prefer it if you called me Johann," I replied, trying to add what I thought was the right amount of deference into my tone.

"Mm," was all she said. That reminded me a little of Daniel. Just matter-of-fact. Despite her relative youth, every movement she made was graceful; her hands never slipped, her footing was always sure. It was even light, somehow, despite wearing armor that must've weighed half as much as I did. She spent the night brushing out the horses and feeding them apples from her pack. Her features softened considerably when she was doting on the horses. She looks almost approachable like that. My eyes fell on the sword she had on her hip, easily more than a foot longer and more than twice as thick as the ones I had made. Maybe not.

The next day we got up an hour before dawn. Well, I say we. She got up before me and demanded I get up and make her some breakfast. "Blacksmith, get up." I rolled over and tried to ignore her, but she put her foot on my back and kicked me. "Blacksmith!"

I grumbled and pushed myself to my feet. At least I was dressed this time. I had dreamed about the time Morgana had accosted me in the morning. I did not know why I was thinking about her. Probably because of the sword and daggers. I glared up at Carmella and brushed myself off. "You didn't have to do that, Car-"

"First Knight Lady Carmella," she cut me off, nudging me, painfully, with her foot again.

"Of course," I said, rolling my eyes. "First Knight Lady Carmella." I hadn't slept well and was more than a little annoyed. But there wasn't anything to be done about it.

"Make me breakfast, blacksmith." She said, impatiently tapping her foot.