A short little chapter on Giselle’s first day. With a bit of Skyla. Our final deuteragonist is introduced.
Chapter Three: The Forge
The smell of charcoal in the morning. Looks like that’s going to be what I’ll be experiencing every morning from now on.
“Remember, be here by eight in the morning latest,” Farrier told for the hundredth time we walked towards his forge. “You can’t have your senior pupil doing all the work for you.”
My head turned to face him. “Older pupil?”
“Of course,” said Farrier. “Training on your own without collaboration isn’t very useful. This was also the reason you didn’t have a team.” I redirected my gaze to the fires in the room and the large anvil sitting in the middle.
“So, where is he?” I asked. Farrier chuckled as he gestured for me to enter the forge. “He’ll be out here in a minute.”
A boy stepped out from behind the curtains. His hair was messy and he had a dirty apron died around him. It was that I realized that he looked familiar. “You!” I said. “Skyla and I passed you this morning when we walked past the forge.”
“You see me everyday,” said the boy. “My father’s getting old, so I need to help him out sometimes.”
Farrier walked up to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Giselle, I’d like you to meet my only son, Trade.”
Trade grinned as he held out his hand. “Trade Dexter, only son of the legendary blacksmith. Pleasure to meet you.” For a moment, I took his hand and shook it. Farrier then slid his way in between us. “Now that the boring part’s over, Trade, give Giselle the basic rundown, will you?”
“What? What about you?” Trade groaned in response.
“Your old man has to go get some itch cream from the pharmacy.” As he spoke, Farrier already turned, his back towards us as he walked towards the exit. “Have fun, Trade!”
“Dad!” Trade groaned from behind me.
“Relax!” Farrier answered. “You don’t offer handshakes to everyone, so I’m guessing you two are going to enjoy this quality time together. Besides,” Farrier turned to give us, or more likely Trade, a smirk. “I know you think she’s cute.”
Heat rushed up to my face as I tripped on one of the bricks on the floor. I fell backwards, my hands catching my fall. Farrier laughed boisterously as he left the forge. “See you two in the afternoon!”
Looking up, I noticed that Trade’s face was red. Though I wasn’t sure was it from embarrassment or the heat of the fire. He held out his hand. I reached out and took it as he pulled me back up to my feet. “Sorry about dad,” he muttered, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “He always teases me about these things.”
I pushed the thoughts of what just happened out of my mind. “Enough about that. Farrier told me I had to know about the importance of Blacksmith Gear users. Anything about that?”
“You mean the lecture Dad gives everyone who doubts our significance? I think I can repeat that word for word. But I won’t.” Trade thought for a moment, putting a hand on his chin. “I know. I’ll show you.” Trade stepped behind the curtains. Avoiding random chunks of metal spread out on the ground, I followed him.
Inside was a small backpack. It was silver and blue in color. Trade gestured to it proudly. “This is a Pegasus Gear I’ve been repairing.” He poked it a few times with his fingers. “See, what a Gear gets broken, especially Battle Gears, it’s the Blacksmiths’ job to fix it. All devices aren’t perfect after all.” Trade turned and pointed to me. “Activate your Gear.
“What?” I blurted out. “How?”
“Just imagine your Gear giving you the skills of a Blacksmith,” said Trade. “At least, that’s how dad tells me to do it.” I paused for a moment, thinking of hammering metal and screwing in bolts. It felt like there was a warm fire flickering in the distance, it’s soft heat engulfing my body, most of it concentrated on the center of my back. The next thing I knew, I had a brand new apron tied onto me. I faced Trade. “Like that?”
“More or less,” he said. “Blacksmith Gears are the most simple ones. The apron has limited fire protection, though sometimes you might get protective arm, hand or leg equipment if you’re lucky. There’s a pocket in your apron. Specially developed tools for the users are usually in it.”
I reached into the pouch, I brought out a hammer. It was a little heavy, so I played with it in my hands. “It feels comfortable,” I say, gripping the hammer. Trade smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. Dad had me build that Gear for you especially.”
“You cannot be serious,” I muttered. “You made this? How old are you, fifteen?”
“Sixteen,” Trade corrected me. “But close enough. It wasn’t that hard. It was actually the first Blacksmith Gear I’ve made. But Blacksmith Gears are designed to be incredibly simple. If our own Gear breaks, we’d have a hard time fixing others.”
I dumped the hammer back in the apron. For some reason, it almost felt like there wasn’t any weight to it. “Why does my pocket feel empty?” I asked.
“Because tools only come out when you, one, reach. Two, have enough Torque to materialize it.”
“Torque?” I repeated, confused. Trade sighed. “You didn’t study anything on how a Gear works earlier?”
“Well, I was kind of thinking that I wouldn’t get a Gear in the first place,” I admitted. Trade waved it off. “Torque is the energy we use from humans to activate Gears. It’s strength and amount varies from person to person, so I had the average Torque usage level be used for your Gear. Though all Battle Gears take up a lot of Torque. It’s very exhausting, which is why I should consider myself lucky for having an easy Gear.”
“That sounds fascinating,” I mumbled, trying not to give the impression that I am utterly very bored. “Do I get hands on experience?”
“Diving in already? Dad didn’t let me do that until two months in. Don’t worry, I’ll skip his lectures so it’s time you get started. First off, start pumping air into that fire.” I sighed, stepping out of the curtains. “This really is going to be manual labor, isn’t it?”
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“So how was your first day?” Skyla was as cheerful as usual when she slid into the chair in front of me. Groaning, I buried my face in my arms, ignoring the warm soup in front of me. “Don’t get me started. Farrier thinks his son’s hitting on me.”
“His son?” Skyla asked.
“Trade,” I answered nonchalantly, bothering to look up.
“And is he hitting on you?”
“Would a big no suffice as a proper answer?” I sighed. “First off, he’s two years older than me. Second, he’s way out of my league to begin with.”
Skyla looked at me with a devious grin on her face. “You said he was ‘out of your league’, so you’re implying that you like him?”
“Absolutely not,” I muttered. I hoped that Skyla wouldn’t notice how red my face was.
“You’re blushing,” she teased, poking my cheeks. I grabbed her hand abruptly. “I told you, that’s not it. It’s just that he was the first guy that was nice to me, that’s all.” Skyla pulled back, resting her chin on her hands as she took a sip from a watermelon smoothie next to her. There was a moment of silence between us.
“What about you?” I suddenly say. “How were your teammates?”
Skyla’s expression darkened. “There is no way I can compete with them,” she said. “Riley’s the son of the Chief of Police. He’s a born fighter. On top of that, Magus is a noble. I’m just an orphan. I don’t think I’ll be able to catch up with them.”
“Since when does heritage have anything to do with this,” was what I told her. “It’s the heart that matters, isn’t it? Skill comes from practice. If the boys are lazy coach potatoes, you’ll soar past them in weeks.”
“Maybe,” I heard Skyla answer. I looked down at my soup. Dipping my spoon into it, I ate a few mouthfuls before putting it down. I didn’t even bother sighing anymore. My Gear was slung over my back. “All I got to do today was listen to lectures and build fires.”
“At least you had fire,” said Skyla. “All I had was lectures.” The both of us laughed for a while. It was nice getting girl to girl time with Skyla. We don’t usually do this, since we barely have any money to do anything else. But today’s a special occasion, first day of us using Gears and all. A decent cafe is as fancy as it gets for us.
“You’re not giving up, are you?” Skyla suddenly said. Her question caught me off surprise. “What?”
“Before, you were being teased about how the Blacksmith Gear is useless,” she explained. “They’re just trying to drag you down.”
“I know,” I say. “Trade told me all about the importance of Gears. Knowing that, there’s no way I’ll give up. I’ll show those seniors a thing or two about what it takes to be a Gear Worker.” Skyla flashed me a small grin.
Smiling, I got out of my seat. “I’ll head back to my apartment. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Skyla waved back at me as I walked out of the cafe.
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Keep in mind that Giselle and Skyla are teenage girls. So yes, they do gossip. Occasionally.
Por J.'s Digital Log 