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The Smith (me and Temara)

Raziel99

Raziel99

Pulsar
Joined
Jan 15, 2009
Today was a important day for the lowly knight that was dismounting his horse in front of the blacksmith's shop. This was his first assignment as a Knight, and from the sound of it, it was important. His lord's son needed a new set of armor made for him, and there were several Blacksmiths that had a order made, looking for the best quality smithing. Needless to say, he was hopeful that he was sent to the right place instead of the others. It would be a boost to him for when he became more well known, even getting his own fiefdom.

He slowly walked into the place, seeing the Blacksmith hard at work. At first glance, he confused the person for a male, but after calling them over and getting a better glance, he saw it was a female, and he was instantly shamed mentally. It was a honor to be given the job, and angering the person that was to do the work would not help him at all.

"Excuse me." He said, pulling out a scroll of parchment that had everything written on it in terms of size for the prince. "The King is looking for a suit of armor for his son, these are the sizes for him. His majesty would like it to be done promptly, and can pay anything for it. But he needs to know when and how much immediately."
 
It took a few times for Devon to hear the man as the forge was rather loud, but it was more his presence that was sensed. Devon knew when people entered 'her' space. "Just a second!" she called out, as she lifted the flaming out metal from atop her anvil and thrust it into the cooling bath of water beside the forge, leaving it to cool as she headed to see who it was. Lifting up a well muscled arm, she wiped the sweat and loose silvered curls from her face with the back of her forearm.

"Can I help you?" It was strange of course to see any woman, let alone a decently shapely woman wearing tight fitting pants and no shirt, only a dirty binding to hide the fact she was indeed a female beneath the blacksmith's apron. Piercing crystal blue eyes took in the man in front of her with barely a glance.

"Armor? For a princeling, eh? Hmm..." Her mind was quick, and she calculated the load of work she had yet to do; after all, even if it would please the lord to have his son's armor, the fact was that plowshares and the like were more important to the continuation of the land. At the same time, it would be a way to show off her more detailed work. Eh, she could sacrifice some time to it instead of sleep.

"Two weeks. Two pounds sterling." A bit steep of a price, but with the detail work she intended it would be well worth it.
 
The Knight was shocked to see her attire, yes. Few women would be so blatant as to wear the pants of men, and no top to cover up. But he was able to push that thought out of his head as he remember the irregularity of a female being a Blacksmith, anyway. The price for the ordered armor nearly made him jump out of his own armor. Two pounds of sterling!? Such a price would only be afforded by a King.

"Yes, I will tell him your price, and I will be back to pick it up in two weeks." He said, bowing before leaving. He had to get back fast, such a expensive offer was to be good, he was sure. It was a short ride back to the castle for him, and the King wasn't in the hall where he met his people. So he had to leave a message, written out with the time frame and price for the armor. He was sure that the King wouldn't pass on this offer. Either he would enjoy the armor, or he will get his money back for it, for that was the way the King worked.

-------

A fortnight passed uneventfully for the knight, until he was called in by the King, with the two pounds of sterling in bags at the foot of the throne. No words were exchanged, they both knew what this was for. The knight was quick with grabbing the bags, knowing that the armor was important for the prince to have. He rode faster than he ever had that day, just to see what the armor that cost so much would look like. He walked in, carrying both bags of sterling with him. "I'm here for the King's armor."
 
It had been a long two weeks for Devon, the delicate work of the past week alone had given her nights of little rest. Thankfully, due to her uncle she was quite used to that by now. You did your allotted work in the time you promised or you went without sleep. That discipline had shown her true and for two nights, she'd gotten no sleep she'd finished the armor the previous night and had finally gone to bed. So when the knight arrived, she came out from her sleeping quarters cleaned up, yet in a sleeping gown, it was quite easy this time to tell that she was a woman, an attractive woman at that.

"Ah, I didn't expect you till this evening. You'll have to pardon the dress." She grabbed a cord, and wrapped it around her waist, using it to hitch up the gown a bit higher so that her ankles showed and that she wouldn't trip over it. Going over to the counter, she lifted up the helmet of the armor, the nose plate lifted over the brow and up past the crown to end in the delicate turning of three feathers, the sign of the phoenix; a charm against death. Each feather was delicately laced with gold lining so that it would catch in the son. This was no helmet for a coward, only the bravest or the stupidest of men would wear a helmet that drew attention to themselves.

Setting that on the counter, Devon continued silently bringing over the breastplate that had the crest of the royal family upon it etched in fine detail to where even the untutored could see each individual hair on the lion's mane. Setting the breast plate down, she lifted out of a drawer a fine coat of mail that's rings were so minute it almost seemed a silvered coat of skin, each ring again coated with a lining of gold around the outer edges for style. The gauntlets were also produced as well as the boots, the details as fine as the pieces before them.

"I chose mail instead of plate for the majority of the armor because I've heard tale that the prince leads his men and while plate is sturdy, it is also heavy and in the front of a battle, you need endurance more than strength. Mail offers both as well as protection. The breastplate will protect his vital organs and the mail his appendages. The helmet will guard against blunt weapon as well as a charm against death. I'm sure the king and prince will be well pleased with the armor I have created." She smiled, a disarming confident smile. "Although I do hope you realize I wish my gender not to be advertised. No one takes a female blacksmith seriously until they've seen her work."
 
The knight was fairly shocked when she came out of her private quarters in only a nightgown. Had it been lighter in the shop, he would have been able to see more of what made her a woman, although it was painfully obvious to him already. But what was even more surprising to him was the armor that she laid out in front of him. It was so intricately done that the gold shone from the faint light that was from the boiler and from the door. He slowly traced his fingers over a few lines of it, thinking for half a moment of taking the armor and leaving the kingdom with it. But he knew he would be found and executed for that. He grabbed the bags of Sterling off the ground, lifting them onto the counter before taking the armor. "The King and Prince will enjoy this armor." Before leaving.

-----

"Chain Mail?" The King looked over the armor for only a few seconds, but the Prince longer, holding the Chain Mail up and peering at it. It was more intricate and thicker than normal Chain Mail, no holes at all see. "Chain Mail won't protect my son from anything!"

"This will." The Prince spoke up, putting the armor down. "This was made specialty. It took a lot of time. I doubt the Blacksmith slept at all the last two weeks." He put on the helmet, testing the weight of it. "This is much better than normal plate mail. This will keep me alive on the Battlefield, Father, I know it."

The King still wasn't in mind for it, but his son seemed to be happy about the work, and he was right: it was a lot of work to have been done in two weeks. Some Master Blacksmiths would have taken three to make a similar set of armor. "Go fetch me this Blacksmith..."

-----

The knight was back at the shop only 5 hours after he had left the last time, this time with two other Knight-Errants. He was the only one to dismount his horse. He had a very simple message this time, and he walked in with confidence. "The King has sent orders for you to come to the castle to meet with him, Immediately." He said, in a stronger voice than the last two times he was there. "You are to ride with us."
 
By this time at least, Devon had dressed for the day. Still wearing her breeches, but she also had a shirt over her normal bindings. That way if she wanted to play at the forge later it would not be a problem. But today was a day for celebration. After all, she'd just come into two pounds of Sterling. She could afford some finer--

She'd been about to leave for the local pub when the knight came back and this time her appearance would seem to be that of a very pretty male, her natural curls plastered wet against her face,and even her ample bust was tightly constrained, her features chiseled with the weariness of her work for the last several days.

"What say you? Was the king not pleased?" That was utterly ridiculous. That armor was the finest in three kingdoms, she would swear her life by it. And it seemed that indeed she would. Sighing in defeat, she threw up her hands.

"Alright, but I still say that there was nothing to be displeased with." But she walked over to the stable, and gathered her own animal, saddling him for the ride and would quickly be back to join the soldiers.
 
The woman in front of him - and he head to remind himself that she was a woman - was freaking out slightly, as if he came in with a order for her head on a platter. But it was slightly comical, and he decided to be slightly sadistic and not give her the news that she wasn't wanted for bad or shoddy work. It would be entertaining to watch, at least, her pleading for her life before the King told her his news.

She went off to get her own ride, and the Knight straddled his horse, issuing the orders to trail slightly behind to make sure she didn't run off. It was a easy enough order. She finally came around the corner, and he could see that she was leaving behind most of her possessions. He pulled one of the knights aside and gave a new order, the knight-errant breaking away and heading to the Smithy. "He will watch your place while you are away."

They started on their way to the castle, and it was quite a ride, about a hours length at their pace. The Knight led her to the stable first, getting her horse and the other two in before leading her through the main part of the castle. The King was still sitting on his throne, waiting for the Blacksmith. When they came forward, the King thought that the Blacksmith looked a little... well, looked like a younger man than what he expected.

"So you are the one that I paid for the Armor." The King stated, in a low voice. The door at the far left of the hall was opened, and out came a man wearing the full suit of armor that she made. The low light from the torches in the hall made the armor sparkle with the gold, and the interwoven chains of the Chain Mail hid most of the body. All that was seen was a face somewhat shrouded in shadows. He walked forward, looking over the Blacksmith.

Alexander knew that this person was a woman from his close glance, could see it in the face even though the body looked that of a man's. The helmet came off, and he shook out his hair. His face was sharp, somewhat thin behind the smooth lines of youth along his cheeks and forehead. Blue eyes peered into hers as his face was slightly framed with medium length brown hair. He held the helmet under his arm, turning to the King. "This is some of the best armor I have worn, father. I'm sure you have a suitable reward for the Blacksmith."

"Indeed I do." The King slowly stood, taking a few steps forward. "You have the hands of a craftsman, and for such artwork, along with the use of the equipment, I offer you a place to work as the Castle Blacksmith. You will be paid, of course."
 
She'd been about to tell the King that, yes, it was her that had created the armor and that he was a fool who couldn't see quality if it'd bit him on the nose if he didn't see it in her armor. Thankfully, she was spared the beheading that would have followed that sentence as the prince in armor approached. After all, even if it had not been fit for the prince, no one but him would have been allowed to wear it.

Her critical eye watched him approach, looking for any flaw in her work that could have meant her summons. But she saw no flaw. It perturbed her that she'd been called away from her duty when the prince lifted the helmet off and looked at her. His blue eyes were met with hers; a crystal blue that was rarely seen outside of the Russian Silver fox. And then his pronouncement. She tore her gaze away from the prince long enough to look at the king. It was a great honor to be asked to work in the palace. It was a dream that she would have never dreamed. But...

She knelt on her knee, like a man, her voice as low as she could make it. "I am sorry, your majesty. You do me great honor, but my place is in my village. My uncle has passed away, if I am not there, the town will not have a blacksmith to mend their horses shoes, to create plows for their fields. I love creating beautiful works that you and others love, but I love my kingdom..."she looked up at him then, boldly, "And my king enough that I know I need to do my duty for my king and kingdom." Devon was a practical sort, and knew that the village she'd come to call home would not survive until another blacksmith came unless it was so assigned by the king himself. Blacksmiths did not grow on trees after all.
 
The king did not hear the tone of the voice, he just heard the words that came towards him. And what he heard was somewhat disturbing for him to hear. But it wasn't completely unexpected, and definitely able to fix. "While normally I would allow such a request, I cannot take no for a answer this time. War is on the horizon for us, and we need quality weapons and armors for the knights and rank-and-files. I will find a replacement for you in the village."

Alexander looked between the two of them, and soon bowed to the Blacksmith. "If you do not mind, I can show you where you will be working inside the castle, and where your rooms will be. It will be a lucrative working in here, and you can still make things for the townsfolk. But the greatest boon you can do for the villages is make sure that they are not taken by another warlord."

The sound of a wolf outside could be heard, signing the end of the day and start of the night. "And I would recommend you staying here either way, at least for the night. It can be dangerous out at night. I am sure you are aware of that, though."
 
The king's words seemed at conflict. He wanted her here because of the beautiful things she created, but he wanted her to create mass armor as well. It was confusing to be sure, although she was glad not to part with her head, that was to be sure. But at the princeling's words, she let herself rise and follow him, her brow troubled. But again, she wasn't really in a position to argue if she wanted to keep her head. It had a way of making a girl agree to pretty much anything. Even if one didn't realize she was a girl.

"Thank you, your highness." She smiled up at the man, and couldn't help the slight softening of her features as she did so. He was quite handsome. Giving herself a mental headshake, she thought to clear her mind. "Truly I have no wish to offend, but I do not understand my duty. Am I here to make rank and file armor that any blacksmith could do with ease? Why the singular honor?" He was much more approachable than his father, and this made her tongue looser; she had need of answers, after all.
 
Alexander left the Great Hall with her in tow. He was grateful that she held her tongue until they were out in the hallway, but her questions were legitimate, even if she was questioning the orders from the King. "You make intricate, beautiful armor." He started, turning his head to face her as he walked down the hallway, leading her. "But your armor is also strong and durable, while being light. Those that have been sent for armor sent shoddy work that broke or was too heavy to be effective for the soldiers.

"You are to make stronger armor than what we have seen in many years." He stopped at a door after going down a flight of stairs, opening it to reveal a large room, with two forges, two anvils, and a lot of tools so she could work as much as she wanted to, even enough for her own personal projects and the town. "You will be working in here." He closed the door and led her a few more doors down, and opened it. "And these will be your living quarters."

The rooms that he opened to were rather large, the first room holding several wardrobes, a chest, and a Canopy bed, with beddings and drapes in a nearby open dresser. The adjoining rooms were a bathroom with a empty tub for when she was to wash, and a fireplace to warm up the water that could be gotten from the nearby spring. The other room was empty, but it could become whatever she needed.
 
The forge was nice, although it would take her time to situate things to her liking. The idea of war was not a pleasant one, but it was one that she took seriously. "I would need an apprentice to use this much forge", she laughed, but was pleased nonetheless. The air would allow for the coolness needed, but would make it more difficult to heat things when she needed. But again, everything could be situated to work.

But when they reached the private quarters Devon couldn't help but let out an unladylike whistle. Even in her parent's home, it'd not been this nice. "I can't sleep on that. I'd just ruin it!", she protested, lifting up her soiled and burned fingers, which in her line of work was often the cleanest part of her. She loved a good bath more than most people, but that was to avoid the impurities that dirt could bring to a forged item.
 
"You won't ruin the bed." He said simply, leading her towards the bathroom. "The beddings will be changed daily, so you don't have to worry about it. Just pick which ones you want to be using, the rest will be taken care of by the servants. Otherwise, what is your name? I have not heard it yet. I am Prince Alexander, if it wasn't obvious. I don't like to announce myself."

He moved forward, his chest lightly pressing against her back after he heard her name, moving slightly closer than would normally be proper. He was maybe a head taller than her, and he shortened that distance, his lips near her ear. "I know you're a woman. I can see it in your face. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to. But I was more surprised to see that a woman made me such quality armor. Maybe later I can request something else to be made?"
 
"Devon, your highness." She'd have been a fool not to know who the man wearing the armor had been. After all, only a king or prince was fit to wear that armor. However, he got her temper up with his tone. As if she was somehow ashamed to be a woman. The only reason she hid her gender was due to the male prejudice until she could show her skill. They then shut up quickly after that.

"Why is that, your highness? Is a woman not capable of creativity and beauty? I thought a woman was the epitime of beauty and god's gift to mankind. Or is it just that it was armor and a woman's hands should not be soiled with the labor of war?" Devon had a temper, and one of these days it was going to get her into trouble. Likely soon, if she kept this up. "I am proud to be a woman, your highness. Even if it is not a traditional role that I fill."

"If I remain, your highness, of course you can request a special item. I will be here at my King and prince's command after all." Before now, she'd always had at least the pretense of freedom. She owned her own house, her own horse, and her own forge was debt free. But now she would simply be a servant in a long line of other servants.
 
He was slightly taken aback by the venomous tone in her voice, taking a step back and bowing. "I was not surprised that a woman made my armor or such a thing of beauty, it is just a unusual field that you will with your expertise." He said it sincerely enough, and he moved back closer to her.

"No, I was relieved that it was a woman making my armor, at least." He whispered once more. "It was a shock, but only a woman could have adorned my helm and crest with such precision to detail. You have my thanks." He stood up and once again took a step back. "I can let you get situated here, and I will come back in the morning with my request. After the last two weeks, I am sure that you need your rest."
 
She lifted her hands to her neck to make sure it was still attached. That had been a bit far, even for her. Reassuring herself that it was indeed intact, she smiled at the prince as he left. "Thank you, your highness." Like most peasants, she could sleep in her clothing, and often did so. For comfort's sake, she shed the breeches and sat on the end of the bed. While another bath was tempting, there was still the village suspicion that bathing too often could make one sick and she'd already bathed today.

So instead, she sat upon the bed, and undid the lacing that bound her generous breasts to her chest. Really, for the work she did they were too large and cumbersome. But for the moment, she could relax, and attempted to do so by lying back on the bed once she had replaced her shirt.Everything that would happen, would happen. She was but a tiny cog in the hands of fate. With a deep sigh she looked up at the canopy. It really was far too fine for a simple blacksmith. And that was her last thought as she let herself drift off to sleep.
 
Alexander slowly left the room, but he left before any of her clothes were shed. Her door was closed behind him, and he slowly headed back upstairs, his mind going into overdrive with his thoughts. She was stronger than most women he had seen, especially the princesses. They were all made for the niceties instead, a figurehead for the men to use. But Devon wasn't one to be used. In all fairness, she was 'hired' by his father to help outfit the knights and ranks for battle. A honorable job, to be sure.

He reached the Great Hall, his father already gone to his rooms. So Alexander followed suit, traveling the winding hallways to reach his own. He was slow with pulling off the armor, relaxing when the weight of it was removed, setting it in a wardrobe of its own, stretched out and hung up so there were no small scratches or dents in any of the pieces. It was a precious piece of armor.

Yet even as he did that, his mind was on the maker. So reclusive and denying, it made her intriguing to him. If just for that, to be shallow and prove himself, he had to have her. But even his own mind, as he slowly laid down and fell asleep, doubted that getting that end of what he wanted would be the last of it. He knew that if he got that little piece, he wouldn't walk away from it.
 
Old habits are hard to break, and no matter how comfortable of a bed she was lying in, when the dawn broke over the sky, Devon was up and wide awake. And though her stomach was ravenous, she knew that she couldn't justify eating until at least she'd had a better look at her 'new' forge. For make no mistake of it, she knew that she was trapped into working here no matter her desires. After all, the king had made his intentions known.

With a weary sigh, she stripped off her shirt and began wrapping the tight bindings back around her breasts until only a male figure emerged. Slipping on the pants and shirt, she thought for a moment about the prince and his request. She wondered what it would be, and she thought about an idea for a sword that would match his armor, perhaps. But whatever the case, she made her way to the forge, and began sorting things how she would like them, covering a west window so that in the cool of the morning, the fires could blaze hot, and in the evenings they would keep the heat in, and a million other small things to do so that she lost track of time.
 
Alexander woke early, stretching and getting dressed, thinking of adorning the armor given to him the day before, but thinking against it. It was functional, that was for sure, but he didn't want it to be damaged. That would be bad for the field. So he simply put on his normal dark pants and shirt, buttoning up the latter before he took a brush to his hair, getting it out of his face before leaving his room.

He made a beeline to the Dining Room, needing food and hoping to see Devon at the table. He would find himself saddened, though, because the whole time he was eating his sausage and eggs, she didn't come up. He knew that she would have to eat, so he made a plate for her, and decided to take it to her. He made a detour, though, getting a cloak from his room, as well as a few sizable chunks of Obsidian in the pockets.

The walk to the downstairs where her room was went quickly, but he was stopped with sounds from the forge. He slipped in, making sure that nothing got into the food. "Breakfast." He said, moving to a unused table and setting it down.
 
"Huh?"

Her hair was plastered to her face, her bright, crystal eyes almost glimmering out of the shrouded corner in which she'd found herself. Lifting an arm, she wiped away the sweat from her face and peered at the princeling. Her entire body was plastered with sweat, which is why she normally only wore the forger's apron when near the fires. The sweat caused it to slick to her body, even the binding serving little purpose in hiding her gender. In fact, even if she had been male, the amount of detail that could be told from her clothing against her skin was positively indecent.

"Is the prince bringing food to the commoner?" She teased. Again, she thought of how easy he was to approach, and how easy it would be to forget her place and his. But the scent of the food wafted over, and Devon felt the deep rumbles of desire in the pit of her stomach. Desire for food, that is. The room itself had been straightened out, and the fire was bellowing it's wrath at having been so long abused. Sitting down at a bench, she gave the prince a crooked little smirking smile.

"Thank you, your highness." And sat about eating. Not one to stand on ceremony, she was very tidy in her eating habits. She knew how to use a knife and fork and did not eat with her hands. She felt like she could eat the entire plate without complaint but knew she had to watch what she ate so she would not go to fat, or so her uncle had told her. Even though his reasoning was more to hide her gender better. But there was only so much that could be done against mother nature.
 
Alexander had to stop himself from averting his eyes from her, her body rather open to him, surprisingly. He could see most of her curves down to her hips, her breasts wrapped up tightly, so tight that if it was anything but cloth holding them back, he was sure that the amount of sweat from Blacksmithing would make them tear and burst open. She sat down before he did, a soft chuckle escaping his lips at her remarks. He was much softer with servants than his father was. He again thanked that she held her tongue around the older one.

He watched her for a long moment, seeing that not all things feminine were lost to her. She might have what is mostly known as a man's job, but she ate like a woman would: slowly, small bits at a time, though the food was soon gone from the plate. Her body was definitely feminine, though well hidden with clothes when she wished it. And if his father wasn't tone deaf, he was sure that the King would have known that their new Blacksmith was a female by her voice.

A few minutes of silence passed, and Alexander finally remembered the other reason why he came down here. He pulled out the large chunks of obsidian ore and put them on the table. "I have a request for a sword," he started, "With the use of obsidian through the blade, hilt, and guard."
 
She looked up at the request for a sword, but frowned at the details. But she would be upfront with him. "It would be a lovely looking, but a sword that would be useless in battle, your grace. Obsidian is a rock that flakes. Infused throughout the blade, once stricken by the blow of another sword, pike or shield would shatter its structure and most likely the next blow would break the sword. It would be possible for it to be placed in the hilt as a bauble at best, and I would not want to put it in the guard for the same reason as the blade. It would leave you defenseless after one strike." Her eyes fluttered closed.

"I am sorry, your highness. But I do not wish to bring you harm by my creations, no matter how lovely they may look."
 
He wasn't disappointed by her words, but intrigued. She was well versed in what works best for weapons, it seemed. It was something that he would remember next time. "Yes, very true." He said, taking one of the larger stones and putting it back in his cloak. "Make the hilt look fine, then. I am sure that such a work or art will be magnificent from you." A smile crossed his face, though he didn't stand up. Maybe he had one more idea...

"The King will be having a ball tonight." He said simply, the smile playing at the corner of his lips. "I was thinking we add one more guest to the list?" The smile was slightly broader as he offered her his hand, a obvious gesture to what he was planning.
 
She looked up at the prince, her face priceless. Of course, any girl dreams of being invited to a ball and while her occupation made her seem less of one, her gender was no less in fact. But she looked down to her hands and sighed. "Your highness seeks to make a fool of me?" She looked up at him. "I am but a peasant, my Lord. Were I to even produce clothing that I do not have that were good enough, my hands are too rough, and my manners are none too fine. Surely, you jest." It hurt just a little that he would think that someone like her could just be able to be on the level with so many lords and ladies.

She braced her arms against the table and stood. "I'm sorry your highness, I must get back to work." And picking up the obsidian, she turned away before he saw just how much it had indeed hurt to, just for a moment, think it possible only to be ripped away by reality.
 
He could see that there was a wave of pain that went through her, but he did not understand why until he heard her words and saw her get up. He followed suit, but instead of leaving he got close to her, grabbing her by the shoulder and wheeling her around. He was possibly one of two people in the world that could do that and get away with it.

"Indeed, I do not jest." He said, his voice low and somber. "I meant every word, to bring you to the ball. Give me an hour and a color, and by tonight, few will be able to recognize you. It will shock them, and please me. Now please, a hour and a color. That is all that is needed to start off the day and to work to sundown. You can forget about the forge and have fun for a single night."
 
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