-- Her spell connects with Fifth Eye, who's struggling with the hint of Lantry's sepia in his system, in the moment his cone of twisting colors is about to reach out, forcing frenetic adjustment, adjustment that sweeps a fourth body that Fifth Eye wants anywhere but where he's going into the cone --
An Archon's servant's magic fights the unspoken corollary of an Edict. Both of them win, from a certain point of view.
She doesn't actually expect it to be malicious; the House is hers. She's just keeping on guard.
Anyway. The Sweet Bones.
"Afternoon. The manor's gotten rather overgrown over the last while; if I had the funds I'd want to hire a groundskeeper for it, being as I am not well-suited for such labors myself, but at the moment I've ten shillings and precisely no expectations of income per se. What's for lunch?"
The barkeep greets her "Good day. I hear you've been named Librarian, right? Right out of a storm and into the House. Congratulations, I guess.
Well, in autumn, some farmers and orchard-keepers usually come to sell their wares, you might try asking one of them to stay. As for income, there's always someone around here who needs help and is willing to pay. We're a small village, and there isn't really a school, so not everyone knows their letters and numbers. And something always needs mending or just an extra pair of hands for something.
Good morning catch today, so we're making a starygazy pie!"
"I have, despite my doubts that I can trust the current benefactors of the position - or anyone interested in the Library, really - farther than I can throw them, decided that I shall tend the House, at least. Someone must, and I can."
"...I can certainly teach reading, writing, and arithmetic; they are very useful skills. Perhaps I'll set the Keeper's house to it, for this first while. There's much in the manor that needs careful tending yet, lest someone get hurt; it's rather not a place for children."
"Folks are wary of the House, yeah, especially after the fire. Though I hear it was less so befure the Bureau came in. Good luck to you with tending it. Not sure if people'll be willing to treck the bridge, it is, in addition to being imposing, in rather poor condition."
"I'll get it fixed up somehow. Can't be worse than the cliffs, really. Do put the word out, though; I'm willing to come to town, it's just I haven't a clue where to put a class."
"Might ask Denzil for help. He's the village smith, doesn't talk much, but does good work. Until then, you can also just help some people with whatever problem they have at hand, there's bound to be some here.
What about that pie?"
"Please."
"How much for?"
Denzil the smith. She is already reminded of the Forge-Bound who lasted, instead of burning out, by the notable traits of his description. Perhaps she'll have something to teach him, for all that she's no master of forgebinding.
"Ah, thank you. I'll start with the one piece, then."
Paper money. What an interesting concept.
"Here you go." he hands her back change - coins, of various sizes (3 half-crowns, a florin and two tuppences), and gets a piece of a pie - with a fish head sticking out of it.
Her impromptu staring contest doesn't last, though; she has business to attend to, and therefore pie to eat. "My thanks for the recommendation of the Rector, yesterday, for an informative discussion, and Denzil now. You know this village's people quite well, and I cannot hope to replicate such knowledge on my own. Which way's the smithy?"
"You're welcome. It's on the outskirts of the village, here" and he explains directions.
And, her pie finished and her plate sent back, she heads there.
She can hear sounds of a forge from within the building, but if she knock, she doesn't get an answer.
She's not in a hurry. She'll wait til she hears quenching, or the fire being put out. Then she'll knock again.
Door opens, and a scarred, bald man in apron looks at her. Doesn't say anything.
"Afternoon. Tavern-keep pointed me your way. I've taken up the House. I'm thinking about setting up the manor's groundskeep's house as a classroom, teaching reading, writing, and mathematics, at least for now - but the bridge is fucked, and I probably ought to get it fixed up anyway. ...I've also got some refined metal on me that isn't doing me any more good in my pockets. Copper, bronze, weapon iron."
She didn't flinch.
"Mhm."
In the form of strings of rings, produced from a pocket like a conjurer's trick.
"Not sure you'd know what just came out of my mouth if I told you what the people who smelted this told me about it, since they hardly did - but it's the good stuff. Not too much coal, like the usual way gets you."
He takes the rings, inspects them, nods.
"Steel and two shillings for the bridge."
"Sure."
A fair trade.
"...blood and fire, what sort of money..."
A half-crown? A florin? Not two tuppence; that's only a third of a shilling.
"Didn't know you had a name for that. It's good to be able to differentiate."
"I know a few tricks the Forge-Bound smiths back home used to elevate their works' quality, if that's something you're interested in learning. Dangerous to mess up, but effective."
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