Garson thinks to himself, as he walks out to check on Clyde. Wow, he didn’t even take a break! He is taking this more seriously than I anticipated… As Garson watches him work, he can see just how much improvement has taken place in this short time.

Garson nods to himself, impressed at his new apprentice’s quick learning. Compared to that first nail, his hammering is more precise… He even recognizes when the metal is too cool to work now.

Clyde completes the head on the nail he’s currently working on and prepares for the next just as Garson approaches. He slips the nail out of Clyde’s finger to examine. Looking at the edges, point, and head, he smiles. “Well, it’s time for grub.”

Clyde puts the tools down and goes into the smithy with Garson, following him behind the counter and into the backroom. As he enters, Clyde notices it’s a dining room complete with a modest kitchen. Flowers and plants hang around the room acting as natural borders to the small windows that surround the dining table. Woah… I know he lived here, but it’s such a nice room. It really feels like an inviting home.

Catherine walks into the dining area with a stock pot in hand, clad in a beige apron with her hair neatly tied back into a ponytail. “I hope you like potato leek soup!” she says, placing the large pot in the middle of the table. Garson picks up his bowl, and swiftly dunks it into the pot, filling it to the brim.

“Dad! I told you to use the ladle!” she yells, using her apron to tidy up the table as Garson’s bowl drips.

Garson shrugs his shoulders and starts slurping down the soap in his bowl.

“Dad, use a spoon!” Catherine shouts, tossing a spoon to her father. “We weren’t raised in barns, for Amare’s sake!”

“Oh, I’m just complimenting the chef” he says cheekily, winking at Clyde before drinking more of the soup. “Spoons only slow me down.”

Feeling hungry from the day before, Clyde picks up his bowl and copies Garson. “When in Rome, do as the Romans do!” he says as he lifts the bowl to Catherine. After a small sip of the hot, pale liquid, he tilts his head back for more. Delicious! he thinks, guzzling down the soup after having hunger linger for so long.

Catherine looks at Clyde and blows up her checks, holding back shouts of frustration. Seeing her expression, Garson starts chuckling, spitting some of the food out of his mouth back into his bowl.

Catherine averts her eyes quickly. “Dad, that’s gross! Let me get you a new bowl!” she says, heading back toward the kitchen cabinets.

“Naw, that’s wasteful!” Garson calls out before gulping the remnants down. He quickly inhales another two bowls and heads back out to the shop.

Finishing his own portion, Clyde asks for seconds. Annoyed he mimicked her father’s brutish behavior, Catherine quickly grabs the ladle and loads his bowl with soup.

“How do you like the soup?” she asks as she hands the full bowl back to Clyde. “You can at least tolerate it, I see!”

Clyde nods, “It’s really good, yummy in the tummy,” he says in between bites.

“I’m glad! I wish I could have made something more fancy for our first meal together, though.”

Picking up on the implication, Clyde asks “If I keep working here, do I get to enjoy your cooking everyday?”

Catherine giggles, “Well, of course! We won’t let you starve- we aren’t drudge owners.”

Clyde tilts his head. “What is a drudge? I don’t think I’ve heard that word before.”

“Slaves that have no value are called drudges. They are normally convicted criminals.” she explains. “They are often overworked and receive little to no food. Most of them don’t live very long; they are seen as expendable because they’re so cheap to buy and no one will care if you mistreat them.”

Clyde puts his spoon down. “I really hope that none of the people that were summoned here with me become drudges…”

“I’m sorry,” Catherine replies sympathetically, reaching her hand over to rest on Clyde’s. “But, I’m glad you're here,” she adds, maintaining eye contact. She blushes and turns away shortly after, realizing her forwardness.

Clyde picks up his bowl and slurps it down fairly quickly, but nothing compared to the speed of Garson. “Thank you for the food,” he says, taking his bowl to the counter. Standing there for a minute, Clyde turns to face Catherine.

“Honestly, I really miss my home… But, I’m glad that I was there to save you. Even with everything that resulted, I’d do it again.”

Clyde excuses himself and quickly heads back to the forge to continue his work. While walking out the door, he hears a faint “Thank you.”

What Catherine had told him caused a pit to form in his stomach. What if Aithne deemed him useless and suddenly worked him to death? Buyer's remorse is a real thing… But if I can help it, I won’t become a drudge. I just have to work hard to earn my keep.

Amidst his contemplation, Clyde zoned into his work. He struck the iron with more purpose and drive than earlier, and focused as much on making a quality product as possible. After some time, he didn’t even notice Garson and Catherine walking over to him.

Garson clears his throat, “you’re free to head back now, boy.”

Clyde gives a start as he brings down the hammer. “Okay- let me count the nails really fast, though, to see how many I made.”

Garson and Clyde count the nails together in groups of ten. Ending with a count of 47, Clyde leans back in his chair. “47 nails in 8 hours...” He looks towards Garson. “How many total do I need to make?”

“The order is for 1,000.” He hits Clyde on the back. “But don’t worry, you’ll get faster. You’ve already improved so much. I watched your strikes, and you are gaining familiarity with the iron and hammer. Black smithing is a skill that comes with time and experience- you did good work today.”

“Clyde, I can take your apron for you and clean it,” Catherine offers, pointing to his soot-covered clothes as Garson steps out for a moment.

“That would be great! Thanks, Catherine,” he says, taking it off to hand over. Holding it out to Catherine, Clyde spots some writing on the back of the apron in fine, elegant script.

“Catherine, what does it say on the apron?” he asks, pointing to the back of the leather.

“Oh, that? It’s from my mother. It reads: ‘For my husband, A heart clad in iron, but forged in love.’ Sweet, isn’t it?” Catherine says as she hangs the apron up.

“Again, good work, Clyde!” Garson says, walking back into the main area. “Now get going. Best not to make the lady cross with ye.” He pats Clyde on the back.

Clyde dusts himself off with big pats to his clothes, and washes his hands in the basin outside. Taking off back to the estate, Catherine waves him goodbye.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” she yells.

Clyde waves while walking. “Yeah, see you then!”

That inscription… The apron must be a precious family item.

Clyde returns to the estate and is met by Airi. Disgusted by his appearance, she licks her thumb and drags it across Clyde’s head, inspecting the grime on it. “You are filthy- go take a bath. The water should still be warm.”

Standing up straight and tall, Clyde gives a form-perfect salute. “Yes, Ma'am. Right away, Ma’am.”

Airi sighs and shakes her head as she walks down the hall in the opposite direction. Following orders, Clyde makes his way to the bath. While not hot, the water was warm enough to clean his skin of the caked-on dust, and the medicinal waters turned a murky grey as the soot dissipated. Despite the wonderful soup he swallowed up earlier, his stomach rumbled hard for more food, so he dried himself off quickly to fetch what was left of dinner.

He ate his cold food alone in the great hall quickly, since the creaking of the large, darkly-lit room gave him the willies. Coming back from the kitchen, he encounters Aithne in the hallway.

Aithne, as sultry as ever, had propped herself up on the hallway entry table, resting her hands on it behind her. “How did it go today?” she asked smoothly.

“Great, actually. I did magic and made nails,” Clyde said, stopping shortly away from her.

Aithne notices his hands and gestures for them.

Bringing them up for her to see, Aithne takes them in her own and frowns at the calluses, which are open and weeping. “Let me call for Hayden so he can heal you,” she says, pulling him in a little.

Clyde takes his hands back and hides them under his pits. “No! I don’t want them healed.”

Aithne crosses her arms. “Why?”

“Because they are an indication of my effort and growth!” Clyde says earnestly, looking down at the red sores on his palms.

“Fine then, go to your room. Meri should be there waiting for you,” Aithne says in a low tone, indicating her irritation.

“Why is she there?”

Aithne starts off toward her room. “You’ll find out,” she says from a ways down the hall.

Clyde makes his way back to his room, slowly opening the door and peeking inside to ensure all was well. Thankfully, he saw Meri sitting at the desk, with what looked to be chalk pieces and two black boards in front of her.

Meri turns to face Clyde as he enters the room. “The lady has told me to teach you how to read and write in our language.”

They begin with the symbols and letters of the language, as Meri writes each down and makes the sound aloud while pointing to them. Clyde did his best to recreate the sounds of each as he copied the letters on his own blackboard. He needed to repeat this step multiple times just to remember a few. I can see this taking a while.

Meri fell asleep on his bed as he continued his study, taking a long while to practice the sounds and quiz himself over them. He also tries his hand at connecting one letter to another, observing how smoothly they connect together.

Remembering back to the message engraved on his new apron, he even jots down some of the words he can still picture in his mind.

Finally reaching a breakpoint, he looks over at Meri all sprawled out over the bed. With nowhere for him to lay, he covers her up with the light blanket and returns to the desk. “I’ll just rest my eyes for a bit,” he whispers to himself.

Within a few minutes, he’s fast asleep.

~

After a fast and loud rapping on the door, Alistair barges into the room, coming right up to the desk.

Still very groggy, Clyde lifts his head from the hard desk. “Uh, yes?” he asks through a yawn, realizing it’s now morning seeing the sunlight burst through the hallway window through the open door.

“The lady is waiting for you, so hurry and get yourself presentable.” And with that, Alistair turns heel and jaunts out of the room.

“Well, thanks for telling me where she was waiting…” Clyde grumbles aloud.

Clyde looks over to the bed, and sees that it’s tightly made. I guess she left a while ago…

Clyde speeds out of the servant’s quarters toward the main hall until he is greeted by Meri. Upon seeing him so disheveled, she messes with Clyde’s hair, trying to smooth it out. “You have such a bad bedhead.”

“Yeah, well, no time to worry about that,” he sighs, gently moving Meri’s hand away. ”Lady Aithine is waiting for me, apparently. Do you know where she is?”

“Yes, she is eating in the hall now. I’ll come with you, since I haven’t eaten yet.”

The two walk to the dining hall together. Bread, milk, butter, and cheese have been neatly placed on the table for the many people sitting there to partake of. As if planned, the two seats nearest Aithne are empty.

“Good morning, Clyde and Meri,” she says, greeting them warmly as they take their seats. “Eat up- we have much to talk about.”

Meri blesses her food before eating, while Clyde digs right in. Aithine drinks down a bite as she watches him.

“Clyde, I’m going to make you a page, after you undergo your baptism.”

That was a belt line rank in the LARP. It was a way for more experienced players to mentor those with less experience, though, the ultimate goal of belt lines was to reach knighthood. I’m not sure if the goal here is the same… But prestige associated with beltings was insane.

“What exactly is a page?” Clyde asks, wiping his mouth of some bread crumbs.

“It’s a title and status that indicate you are in my belt-line. You will wear a yellow belt to denote your status as a page, and serve under me. Hayden will be your squire,” Aithne explains.

He mulls things over a moment as he chews his food, thinking back to his conversation with Catherine about the drudges. “But, I’m a slave. Why are you granting me such an honor?”

“Clyde, I have seen your skill with a sword, and you are better than most squires. I value a person's ability, and for me to pass on this simply because you’re a slave would be senseless. Plus,” she continues in a whisper, “the other knights treat belt-lines like politics, damned fools.”

“I understand,” Clyde replies “I hope I can meet your expectations.”

Aithine finishes her drink and sets it off to the side to view Clyde unobstructed.

“As of now, I have two goals for you: First, recruit three man-at-arms. You may choose in-service men, if you wish, just ensure they are worthy to serve under me and Hayden. Second, you are to learn the town’s fortification- know its weaknesses and strengths. The protection of this town will fall to you in the absence of myself, Hayden, and Alistair.”

Clyde felt his chest weigh down, as a huge burden was placed upon him. He drinks down some sweet wine.

“Your baptism will take place tonight,” Aithne continues. “Normally, it would be done through the temple to the god you dedicate yourself to. However, with your excommunication, the bath will be suitable enough for it, seeing as how we only have a temple of Amare here.”

“Does not doing it in the temple affect anything?” Clyde asks.

“Probably not. Some people are blessed with unique mundane magic or gifts from their gods, but that’s very few. If you would like, we could go to the capital and you could choose from any of the temples there.”

“No, I'm fine,” Clyde says. “I would rather unlock my class sooner than later.”

Aithne stands up from her seat. “Good! That’s what I wanted to hear.” She smiles as she takes her leave.

Meri, sitting next to Clyde, puts her hand on his back. “Your face says it all; don’t worry, though, you’re going to do great.”

“The butterflies in my stomach say otherwise,” Clyde mumbles, resting a hand on his tum.

“It’s the truth, though. The Lady wouldn’t give you a belt if she didn’t think you were worthy.”

“I guess...” Clyde finishes his food after falling silent, drowning himself in anxiety.

I have never had any type of real responsibility before, and I could potentially be in charge of the whole town at some point. God, I just hope not everyone leaves, putting me in charge.

As Clyde took his last bite of food, he felt a hard slap on his back. Looking behind him revealed a joyful Hayden looking down at him.

“I heard you are getting promoted- congratulations!” he says through a smile. “Many men spend their entire lives as men-at-arms and never progress.”

Clyde looks at Hayden’s waist lined in red by his belt. “How did you become a squire?” he asks.

Hayden sits down and begins filling his plate with heaps of food. “I was paged by Lord Raine, then squired by Lady Raine. I’ve sworn my loyalty to them, and have fought many battles with them.”

“I’m worried,” Clyde says quietly.

“About what?” Hayden asks with a mouth full of bread and cheese.

“Messing up.”

Hayden laughs loud and deep. “Clyde, you are being brought into a belt-line- not even as a man-at-arms but a page! You should be filled with joy right now! There’s a saying for this that floats around… What was it?” Hayden puts his hand on his chin, thinking to himself, before slapping his knee. “That’s right! Leather is tougher than cloth.”

“Isn’t that a play on ‘blood is thicker than water’...?”

Hayden ignores him. “Clyde, in a belt-line, you become like family. No, closer than family. You share goals, experiences, and oaths. Lady Raine is just and strong- there is no other knight I would serve under. Take heart in that, and don’t let the worry get you down.”

Hayden stands up, still holding his plate of food. “Come now. By the lady’s command, I must show you around.” He walks away quickly and takes large strides, eating as he goes. Clyde follows behind him as they head toward town.