Sir Ozcar had approached the smithy after discussing with the mercenary guild about a man named George, who he supposed to have been Sir Anthony’s disguise. Apparently, there had been another young man who had joined on the same day, Jack. He had heard that Jack was meant to be the Apprentice of a Smith Terry, so he wanted to check on Jack and to speak with Smith Terry in case the man knew where Sir Anthony had gone.

To his surprise, once the Smith had opened the door, he had found the very man who had slain Sir Anthony. The gem in his pocket had been growing warmer with each step towards the smithy, and once he had seen Smith Terry, it had grown almost hot enough to burn him, and he could smell the stench of death on the Smith’s body.

Right now he could swing his blade down and cut the man in two if he wanted to, and though the girl may attack Jack, he would hope she was smart enough to know her place. The look in her eye made him doubt the plan, but he also didn’t want to show Jack such an unsightly scene.

“Good evening,” Sir Ozcar said. The threat in his voice was obvious, and Smith Terry understood that the Knight knew.

Smith Terry stared into Sir Ozcar’s eyes, seeing the viciousness within them, and he sighed slowly. “Merri,” he said. “Go put on tea for our guests. Jack, why don’t you help her? I’m sure you know the taste of these good Knights.”

Sir Ozcar’s never left Terry’s, though he could see that Merri was hesistating. The girl was currently counting the steps it would take for her to reach her father’s sword, which was currently hidden under his bed in a long lock box. Even if she moved as quickly as she could, she would never make it. Then there was Jack, who was currently being a naive little boy beside her. If she wanted to, she could probably lunge at him and use him as a hostage.

“Merri,” Terry said, his voice now filled with a greater authority, the authority of a father. “Please, go put on some tea for our guests.”

Merri sweat slightly and then slowly stood up, Jack following her lead. “Yes, father.” She glared at the Knight, moving in such a way that she was always looking at him, even as she left the room.

Jack looked at the girl, raising his brow. He had no idea why she was behaving like such a buffoon, but he supposed she must have worked quite hard. He looked to Sir Ozcar and smiled. “Two sugars?” he asked.

“Yes,” Sir Ozcar replied, “please.”

“Me as well,” Sir Anya said, peeking her head above Sir Ozcar’s shoulder. She smiled at the boy. “It’s good to see you, little Jack.”

“And you,” Jack smiled, bowing his head.

“Jack,” Terry said, “please assist Merri.” Even though the boy’s presence was currently keeping him alive, it would be best if the Smith had some time alone with the Knight.

Jack quickly disappeared, leaving the Smith alone. Sir Ozcar remained standing on the doorway, but the Smith sighed, turned, and then led them deeper into the house. Sir Ozcar remained at bay for the moment, following the smith until they were far enough away that they wouldn’t be found right away if he were to draw his sword.

Terry reached around and grabbed a bottle of wine, pouring some in for himself. “Do you drink?”

“No thank you,” Sir Ozcar replied. “I didn’t fancy the bottle as much as my colleague.”

Terry poured himself a drink, noting that the other Knights had chosen to stay outside the room. “Suit yourself,” he said, taking a long sip. Though his throat was trying to close from the nervousness, he managed to drink it.

An awkward silence loomed within the room. The room itself was fairly colourless, mostly brown and grey, but he knew that it took only a moment for the Knight to add a splash of colour.

“We don’t like nobles,” Terry said carefully.

Sir Ozcar narrowed his eyes. Anyone else wouldn’t have understood what the Smith had meant, but Sir Ozcar had been there for the briefings. ‘So you’ve chosen to give up information for your life,’ he thought. ‘We’ll see how much it’s worth.’

“Bloodwalls aren’t so bad, though,” Terry continued.

Sir Ozcar narrowed his eyes again. He understood what Terry meant, but he straightened up. “Speak bluntly.”

“What happened with Sir Anthony was an unfortunate mistake,” Terry said. “He came across us at the worst time.”

“An unfortunate mistake?” Sir Ozcar snapped, his voice like venom. “His death was indeed an unfortunate mistake, the last you’ll ever make.”

“I swore him an Oath.”

The Knight narrowed his eyes. “What kind of Oath?”

“I promised that I’d look after Jack,” Terry said. “I intend to keep the Oath, even if he’s dead.”

Sir Ozcar grit his teeth. He wasn’t sure if he should believe the Smith, but at the very least he didn’t run away. For that, he had earned a little bit of respect. “Tell me what happened.”

Terry told Sir Ozcar what had happened that night, and he could see that Sir Ozcar was keeping himself restrained.

“Then swear the Oath to me,” Sir Ozcar said, grabbing a dagger from his belt.

“We should talk about Jack first,” Terry said. He was hedging his bets, just like last time. He would put his life on the line for this gamble. “From what I know, he needs to have some kind of title before returning. His older brother is gone, he joined a Brotherhood, meaning that the position of the Heir is currently unfilled. That must be a bother to Chief Bloodwall.”

Sir Ozcar narrowed his eyes, trying to not give anything away. He couldn’t possibly reveal the plan that Chief Bloodwall had, and it was getting dangerously close.

“Jack will be a Smith in as little as six months,” Terry said. “Six months is all I need.”

“There’s no point in him becoming a Smith in six months. He needs to have the skill of a real Smith, someone who can work well in Bloodwall. What’s the point in having a half ass Smith when our lives are on the line?” The Knight was almost growling at the Smith.

Terry narrowed his eyes, getting suspicious of the Knight. “Did Smith Kanders tell you?”

“…” Sir Ozcar frowned. “He told us that Jack had some talent for smithing.”

“Then your Smith is blind. He doesn’t have some talent for smithing, his talent far surpasses anything I’ve ever seen. Even I won’t be able to teach him anything useful after six months.”

Sir Ozcar raised his brows, surprised by the admission. Smith Terry didn’t appear to be lying, he wouldn’t with his life on the line. “What do you mean?”

“The boy made three daggers yesterday. Not just any daggers, but each were one part cobalt.” Terry stared into Ozcar’s eyes, which flashed with surprise, and then confusion.

“That’s impossible. He hasn’t been smithing long, and you’ve been gone half the time.” Sir Ozcar wasn’t going to call the Smith a liar, though. This was too preposterous to even lie about.

“It’s not impossible,” Terry said, shaking his head. “You saw the dagger my daughter held, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Sir Ozcar said. After a moments silence, he cocked his head. “You’re not going to tell me he made that dagger.”

“His skills speak for him,” Terry said. “Six months was already too long of a time line. If you want him to be a smith in three months, then that’s fine too. I’m sure he’ll learn the Breath of Fire soon, once I pass on the teaching.”

“Sir Bartholomew,” Ozcar called. The Knight appeared and Sir Ozcar, leaving the smith behind with a watcher. He marched past Anya, and then to the room where Merri and Jack were currently making tea.

Merri snapped her head towards the Knight, her eyes wide. She gripped the teapot with one hand, ready to toss it, but Ozcar looked to Jack. “Jack,” he said, pointing to the dagger which currently lay on the counter. “Who made the dagger?”

“I forged it today,” Jack said, smiling. “I shaped it and then Smith Terry polished it.”

The Knight refused to relax. “How much of it did you make?”

“I shaped it, then tempered it, and Smith Terry cleaned it up so it didn’t look like excrement.”

“So you made it all by yourself? You could have polished it too?”

Jack nodded. “Smith Terry told me it was adequate,” he said, smiling. “Yesterday I made three daggers, but they were only one part cobalt.”

Saying something like that was perhaps audacious to most other people, and Ozcar had only ever heard Kanders speak so dismissively of an item which was one part cobalt. The Knight looked to Merri, then back to Jack. “Alright,” he said, smiling. He placed a hand on Jack’s head, ruffling his hair. “Looks like you’re going to become a fine Smith. I’ll go and speak with Smith Terry to let him know we’re happy with your progress and for you to continue to work with him. It’s a shame you couldn’t work under Smith Carlson, but that’s alright. Keep up the good work, alright?”

Jack nodded his head, smiling even wider. Though he was exhausted, he was happy to hear Sir Ozcar’s kind words. He suddenly felt a surge of energy, as though he could create another dagger of two parts cobalt.

The Knight waved as he left, and once he was in the hallway, he suddenly felt extremely tired. He rubbed his forehead and then shook his head, walking back to the awaiting Smith. Sir Anya gave a look, and Sir Ozcar shook his head. He walked into the room and sighed, glancing at Sir Bartholomew, who stepped outside.

“Do you understand what I need to put up with?” Terry asked.

“I understand,” he said. “It seems I won’t be able to get vengeance for my fallen brother.”

“I’ll tell you where his body is. I’ll take good care of Jack, and I’ll send him back in six months. I’ll swear an Oath to you.”

“You want me to leave you be, and you’ll leave us be?”

“The Bloodwalls have held a single task since for generations, and there’s no need for anyone to step on that business.”

Ozcar looked up, wondering how much he could say. “Train Jack like you would your daughter. You can quicken his training, but not by much. Keep his talent a secret for now. If his talents are exposed, move him along so he can grow into the best Smith the world has ever seen.”

Terry looked to Ozcar, tilting his head slightly. The realisation dawned on him in the silence. “You don’t want Jack to return to Bloodwall.”

Ozcar returned the look to Terry. There was a moment which passed before the Knight raised the dagger. “Swear it,” he said.