Private Tales Pending Amends

[Oliver]

The trees were shaking in the sturdy wind, the pattern of sunlight on the narrow path tossing and turning, disrupted. Above, great old branches whipped against one another in a loud crackle and pop, drowning out voices and footsteps. They’d taken this way, straying from the paved paths of the monastery, in the interest of time.

Or rather, one of them had. The other had just tagged along.

“ To give a crossbow to a kid. “ Kaarle grumbled in sustained disagreement, just a couple steps behind.

“ Happens. And can you blame them, when they’ve that arrogant bastard of a hearth knight to look forward to.“ Oliver gave a shrug of the shoulder, the incomplete plate upon him clicking with movement. The suit was missing the left pauldron and gauntlet, which he’d taken for repairs as for the damage they’d suffered in a recent misunderstanding.

One in which an overly enthusiastic peasant had shot him in the shoulder, the impact and sudden commotion spooking his horse and knocking him off the saddle. While he’d not suffered great injury, same couldn’t be said of the armour.

The bolt had pierced plate and the fall had bent one gauntlet out of shape, making it unwieldy. Nothing catastrophic, he’d been told, right after which he’d been shooed off from the smithy and told to come back in a week.

That was today. He exited the brief copse into the pale afternoon, soles rising dust as he marched at a pace nearing comedic. Like he was purposefully trying to lose his company and failing miserably, for Kaarle kept step at his side effortlessly.

“ You regret what we did? “

“ No. Just that I didn’t have the means to catch our good Reynald Chambron — Threaten him out of his oath, maybe. He’ll be a thorn in our side yet. “

“ Him. Syr Ortinn. The Baron— “

“ Damn them all. We’ll figure something out. “ Oliver tossed a hand dismissively. Like being haunted by a dark cloud — I swear to—

“ And if we don’t?”

“ Then we don’t. “ His head whipped around to see the man in the eye for the first time since they’d begun this way, weariness meeting doubt. Or was it disappointment? With Kaarle it was nigh impossible to tell.

“ That’s not an answer that’ll satisfy anyone to whom it matters. “ Belated, the man continued as they crossed the last archway, the smell of smoke announcing the smithy. In a sharp turn, determined to gain their destination within the next twenty paces, Oliver shook his head.

“ Kaarle — Your lack of confidence saddens me. “

 

[Agatha]

'Someone's coming.' Standing with her back to the counter, arms folded, muscles bulging, Agatha grunted in response to Mender's observation. 'Here?' she asked, watching the dust motes drift and dance together through sunlight and shadow. Rulgak was a perfectionist when it came to her craft. Whoever was in charge of keeping the shopfront clean and tidy clearly wasn't. 'Knights or villagers?'

'One knight and a villager. Or maybe two knights? Hard to tell.'

Shrugging, Mender studied the two strange men walking their way. Her brows knitted together thoughtfully as she stared at them through the dirty window panes. 'Biggun?' Agatha probed the other woman. Mender nodded, looked her way. 'An orc,' she said, as if such a thing was unheard of around these parts. Perhaps it was. 'A knight, then.' Stifling a yawn with the back of her hand, Agatha pushed off of the counter, went to stand beside her friend.

'Wonder who he is?'

'Rulgak will know.' Probably. Glancing over her shoulder, Agatha refolded her arms. Her beloved sister -she used the term unironically- had been quite some time out back in the smithy. Muffled voices. The clangour and clash of tools and bodies in motion. The familiar, heart-warming bark of her sister giving instruction. Yeah... I've missed this.

Stepping away from the window, the two she-orcs slipped away into the background as the door banged open. The enchanted doorbell, one that had been given the shape and song of a bird, whistled its tune as the men entered. Again, the bigger of them led the way. Agatha felt her sword hand start to tingle as her eyes met his. She nodded. 'Morning.'

Beside her, Mender smiled. 'Smooth.'

'Shut up!'

Oliver Rulgak

 

[Rulgak]

The smithy was bustling with activity. All about, newly accepted apprentices hurried this way and that,

It wasn't in good shape by any means, but it was nowhere near bad enough to warrant scrapping either of the two pieces. The metal the pauldron was forged of had been pierced through, enough so to compromise the metal. Still, it was shallow enough that it could be hammered back in and be mostly back to the condition it had been in. A perfect repair was impossible, it would always remain weaker where it had been broken. But the odds of such a precise strike were low, and even were the pauldron to be struck in the same spot twice it would take some power to break through the mended tear in the steel.

Rulgak did have reservations about the repair. It would be more ideal to simply replace it with a new pauldron, and cut the old one into scraps for segmented armour. But their stores of armour were low, and there wasn't any to spare, so repairing the piece would have to do. Especially considering the manner in which it had been damaged – outside of battle as a result of an accident on horseback. Though displeased, Rulgak didn't admonish him for it, figuring it was better not to discourage the knights from turning in compromised armour. If it was broken, it needed replacement.

The gauntlet on the other hand was easier to repair. It had merely been dented, and even then not enough to cause harm to the wearer. But it was still damaged and needed repairs, and Rulgak had assigned one of the journeymen to hammer the dent back in place. It was ready days before the pauldron was, and by now both items were ready to be returned to their wearer who was scheduled to arrive and pick them up today.

The bird-song chimed through the smithy, alerting Rulgak to the presence of someone in the shop. The apprentice tasked to the counter ought to handle it, and Rulgak continued in her work for a few moments more before she heard the song ring out again. The apprentice, Rulgak assumed, had her hands full with the prior customers, so she decided it was a prime time to venture out into the shop and check in on things herself.

A pair of men walked in, and Rulgak walked towards them before spotting her sister and Oliver within the shop as well. What she didn't see was the apprentice who had been explicitly tasked to handle patrons and knights who had arrived. Yet again. Rulgak wondered where she might have run off to this time, turning to her sister with a nod that told her she'd be there in a moment.


“Need anything?” Rulgak asked the two men.

“Just looking for some additional armour, really.” They responded, to which Rulgak gave another nod.

“Any specific pieces you need?”

“Yeah, I need a pair of pauldrons if you have any.” He answered.

“We're out of stock. Should have more in another couple of weeks.” Rulgak replied with a shake of her head. Well, now that made two pairs the smithy would have to make.

“Anything else?”

“Ah, we'll just have a look around.” The first man replied, and Rulgak was content to let them browse. They'd arrived ready to purchase something, and it would be nice if they purchased something else. Rulgak was looking forward to the next shipment of steel that would be made once they'd raised enough gold. Which they would, soon.

With that matter out of the way, Rulgak approached her sister and Oliver.

“Sister, hail! Always good to see you.” She warmly greeted Agatha, and the words were true. She was her sister, and one of only two others who survived the ordeal that claimed their clan. Tragic as it was, Rulgak was glad her sister had made it out with her. She'd have missed her dearly had she not.

“Here for your armour?” Rulgak asked, turning to Oliver.

Oliver Agatha

 

[Oliver]

Helm under one arm and positively marching, he entered to familiar birdsong. What wasn’t as usual, was whom welcomed him — a stranger come revealed in the swing of a door.

“ Morning. “ He responded without significant delay, some lingering irritation in his tone as he proceeded in an idle shuffle to uncrowd the doorway. Kaarle kept a modest distance of a couple steps, like they’d not meant to arrive at the same time, his attention aflight as he eyed the indoors with lazy curiosity. Unable to match any such silence, Oliver arranged a sociable smile and cocked his head, watching the she-orc who’d spoken the greeting.

There was conflict in his look that measured. They lacked the air of an apprentice, nor could he recognize either as one of Rulgak’s subordinates or other helpers at the smithy. And yet, this seemed somewhat contradictory to the direct way he’d been addressed upon entry. To the peculiar uncharted, then.

“ Tending shop — or merely of a mind to wish mornings? “ He asked, only halfly rhetorical, stare bouncing betwixt the pair. “ Now — Might you know where — “

The opening of the door interjected, forcing him to a pause as the bell chirped in two more people. He glanced at them in passing, shifting on his footing with the strange feeling he remained in the way somehow. The plate clicked as he drew in air like he meant to spin a thought out of it, look tracing the newcomers. Thankfully, he was promptly released from his effort of trying to fabricate further chitchat — if only for what he had meant to ask for manifested by itself.

“ And there she is, of a sudden. “ He gave a relieved shrug of he shoulders, exhaling, smile apologetic as it landed from Rulgak to the stranger anew. “ And not a moment too soon — I was of the mind to bother you about her whereabouts just now. “

And then, came the call that announced their relation. He watched the reunion, but a raise of the brows betraying his surprise. Suppose it did explain a thing or two, like the — casual presence. Something that to the uneducated looked like loitering.

The threatening kind. His look attached to Rulgak in turn as she addressed him, business as usual, for which he could be grateful for.

“ Quite. “ The response was instant, if unhurried in tone. “ I was hoping you might’ve been done with the mending, as we were on our way — “ He glanced at Kaarle, who’d settled to hover at the edge of their collective vicinity, merely listening and nodding confirmation. “ — Were looking to do some sparring today. Test the parts out, mobility, the like. “

Rulgak Agatha

 

[Agatha]

He was a funny sort, the orc. Charming in a "I really want to punch this guy's lights out" sort of way. Agatha was starting to like him already. She got the feeling Mender did too. 'Like the tash,' she said in a quiet aside to her friend. 'Guy's confident. I like confident.' Digging a subtle elbow into Mender's ribs, Agatha smiled through her teeth. The orc -a knight, sure as sure- looked like he was about to ask them something.

Whatever it was, he got his answer shortly before they could share any words.

I can live with that, the mercenary thought, turning to direct her smile towards Rulgak. It had been months since last they had met during the Festival of Lights. Agatha had missed her terribly. From the way Rulgak greeted her, one might be tricked into thinking the feeling was not mutual. But it was. Oh, it most certainly was.

'Hail to you too, sister,' replied Agatha, stepping up to the counter before the bloke with the moustache could get his proverbial foot in the proverbial door. Reaching across, Aggs drew her taciturn sister into a hug. As a captain, she had become somewhat used to not taking no for an answer. If Rulgak resisted, well, she would just have to beat her into submission.

Wouldn't be a first time.

'How have you been?' she asked, stepping back with a smile. The orc spoke up, and suddenly Agatha found herself falling to the wayside. Business always came first, after all. Maybe the guy had more merc blood in him than she first thought.

Content to wait until her sister was done discussing work, Agatha settled one arm on the countertop whilst the other went about tapping a steady drumbeat against her thigh. 'She never changes, does she?' Mender whispered, shimmying up behind Agatha to speak in her ear. 'Is that such a bad thing?' The she-orc replied. Mender shook her head, no. 'It's good to see her again,' she whispered instead. Agatha nodded.

'Yep.'

Rulgak Oliver

 

[Rulgak]

'Hail to you too, sister,' Agatha greeted her in turn, her expression much warmer than Rulgak who wore an ever stoic expression. Blunt and to the point, she was nonetheless enthralled at the appearance of her sister. Those who knew her well understood that the slight warmth to her expression was about as elated as Rulgak ever appeared to be. Indeed, it was well known to the smiths that if she wasn't shouting or frowning, Rulgak was in a good mood.

'How have you been?' She followed up.

“I've been faring well. The smithy has been busy, and there's been much to tend to.” Rulgak replied earnestly yet stoically. The times had kept her busy, but that wasn't considered all bad. She quite enjoyed the structure in her day. “Nowhere nearly too busy for a visit from my sister.” She added, her lips ever so slightly curling into the closest shape of a smile that she ever wore. To see Agatha well always filled her with mirth. Truly, that they could see one another grow old remained a treasured benefit of their shared escape from the horror that claimed their former home. Having fought so hard from it, Rulgak long relished that she at least still had her sister here with her.

Upon turning to Oliver, his response was instant, if unhurried in tone. “ Quite. “ The response was instant, if unhurried in tone. “ I was hoping you might’ve been done with the mending, as we were on our way — “ Oliver spoke. but paused to glance at another as a gesture of reference before he continued. “We're looking to do some sparring today. Test the parts out, mobility, the like.

“Sparring? You'll find they hold up, I wouldn't have them leave this shop if they wouldn't.” Rulgak replied, and the statement was sorely true. Inspection of work was frequent, and discipline stringent within the smithy she ran. The other smiths were well aware of the standards they were held to — it was the first thing new apprentices learned of on joining. Diligence was paramount. Flawed equipment saw neither issue to knights, nor sale to patrons. Rulgak had inspected the work herself and found it fitting to the standards she'd imparted.

“Your armour is ready. I'll go fetch it.” Rulgak added, leaving him with a nod before stepping back through the double doors connecting the smithy to the shop. In a few moment's time she returned, with both items in hand.

Oliver Agatha

 

[Oliver]

There was a bit of confused surprise on his face at Rulgak’s response, brows raising a little. Naturally, none of it was for the actual content of the statement, all known to be true ten times over, but rather the fact that she’d felt it necessary to speak such a thing at all.

He hadn’t needed assurance on the quality, but suppose it had been unwittingly implied in his overt babbling. So to not embarrass himself further, he kept from saying anything more, giving but a nod and a smile that bordered on apologetic. She turned to leave for the parts, wherein his attention drifted to the sister, sidelong.

“ Suppose she took offense? “ It wasn’t entirely serious, his tone lighter, if remaining self-aware. “ One doth speak too much at times, it seems. “

“ Correct. “ Kaarle confirmed from somewhere behind his shoulder, inspecting the passing air like he meant to read some revelation from the motes of dust. Oliver hummed to it as he turned halfly on his place, look inspecting the floor.

“ I lament this be the time you choose to not disagree. My heart bleeds, I tell you. “ A toss of the hand, enhancing the feigned disappointment. It pried a snort from his companion, who inclined his head in a challenging frown.

“ Ridiculous. We’ve plenty agreement. “

“ Not in front of all these strangers, Kaarle. You’ll damage your reputation. “

“ I’m waiting outside. “

“ Oh? “ Oliver’s tone climbed, face a caricature of astonishment as he watched the man make good on his word, door opening and closing in quick succession. The unceremoniously abandoned remained standing on his place, blinking.

“ He never compliments me. The coward. “ He explained in a shrug, face reverted back to formal cordiality and wholly unfazed. The expression brightened a touch more as he spied Rulgak’s return, the lot of him straightening like a soldier at the sight of an officer. Inquisitive, his look bounced betwixt the items and the smith, concluding on the latter.

“ What do I owe you? “


Agatha Rulgak

 

[Agatha]

Her sister was doing well, and that was all she needed to know. For now. We can catch up later, Agatha promised herself, in a more private locale. Though she wanted to, the mercenary possessed enough self-control to keep from talking Rulgak's ear off. Besides, the he-orc seemed to be doing enough talking for the both of them.

'I shouldn't worry too much about it,' she reassured him, breaking out in a smile. 'If my sweet sister grows tired of listening to your prattle, rest assured, you'll know about it.' Just as she had a knack for creating arms and armour, Rulgak was also proficient in the art of reducing men to simpering messes. True, the knight looked like he was built sturdy, and for what it was worth, he seemed to be quite the amicable fellow.

Still, if it came down to it...

There was a commotion out back, and before long Rulgak reappeared, items in hand. Eyeing the pair of them, Agatha left her place by the counter to stand by the window. Mender milled about, inspecting the bits and pieces on offer. She picked up a battle-axe, tested its heft. 'Not my usual style,' she said, gazing over at Agatha.

She struck a pose.

'How do I look?'

'Like an idiot with an axe.' Agatha smiled as she went to join her by the weapon racks. 'What about this one? Single-edged, with a slight curve to the blade. And runes! You like runic script, don't you?' Her tone was teasing, but Agatha knew when she had struck pay dirt. 'Know what it reads?'

Mender took the sword from her, slipping it from its scabbard. 'It reads...' Mender paused, her brows furrowing like they always did when she got to concentrating. 'Stone Mountain. Huh.' There was a moment of quiet. Then, 'Must be dwarven. They do so love their mountains.' Grinning, the chief physician slid the weapon home. Sometimes, it was easy to forget she was a soldier.

'There's no price,' she pointed out. 'Should we ask Rulgak?'

The two women turned back to the counter. The orc was still there.

'Give it a second. Syr Tash has yet to finish chewing my sister's ear off.'

Rulgak Oliver

 

[Rulgak]

She was hardly slighted by such implications, such scrutiny was an accepted part of craft. Reasonably so, for those who received her equipment had to entrust it with their lives. Professionalism aside, she was still thick skinned, to a point. Abrasive at times but nonetheless direct, it was easy to tell where one stood with Rulgak, if they knew her. She was not a woman who minced words, and Agatha was more than correct that her sister would have made it known if she felt slighted.

Oliver seemed to straighten up as she approached him, and the sight caused Rulgak's lips to curl into the slightest of smirks. She'd expended effort in ensuring the apprentices carried such discipline but it tickled her to see a customer do so. Though whether out of tact or her own stoic nature, she didn't speak of it. She simply displayed the pieces, one in each gloved hand, along with her account of the work done.

“No cost. Not gonna have a knight in busted armour. Pauldron got salvaged, the gauntlet just needed reshaping. Near good as new.” Rulgak explained, to be honest about the conditon of Oliver's equipment. Necessary repairs were exactly that, and she wasn't about to resign the knights to the use of insufficient gear. Though free, the repairs came with a minor but unavoidable catch catch she made clear. By her judgment, it simply wasn't worthwhile to replace the gear, and the work done had been solid – Rulgak made sure of that.

“Brand new would cost thirty, with exchange.” An honest woman, she had led with the more economical and reasonable option. Battle worn but still battle ready, the armour was fit for it's protective purpose. She wasn't made of spare armour, after all. If she deemed the armour unfit for repair, then it would be replaced for free. If somene of less smithing authority than than her (which happened to include everybody) deemed repairs unfit, they had to pay.

Still, the ultimate choice was up to Oliver. She would always replace items, but that cost gold. She didn't sense that was the deal he sought though, and so simply handed the pieces of armour back to their owner.

“Go ahead and inspect if you want.” She gruffly added.

Agatha Oliver

 

[Oliver]

No cost. And near good as new to top it all off.

His stare ricocheted from the armour, fixing upon the smith with not so much surprise as earnest gratitude. He understood the lot as she explained, emphasizing with the occasional nod of his head. For the approach taken with the repair, he had objections a grand total of naught.

It was sensible. And not half as large of a compromise on cohesive appearance as it could’ve been. So, he would yet owe Rulgak in behalf of his vanity as well, which he wasn’t above admitting.

Remaining silent, he carefully put the helm aside on the counter next to him and did as requested — the items were accepted and glanced over. The view and trying of mobility was cursory, none too meticulous as to be seen as distrust, but neither overly brief lest it seem like he didn’t care. He appreciated what he saw and it was clear in his smile, despite his great attempt at subduing it to some professional pleasantness. Another nod, conclusive, as he watched the finger joints move without friction.

“ Immaculate, be my verdict. I’ve no criticism for the route you took nor the result we’ve to behold. “ He flashed a wider smile for effect, bettering his posture in a click of plate. “ So, in the interest of not taking up any more of your time — “

With my prattle. Hand swirling a vague gesture, he slung an errand glance at the two women that appeared to be hovering in wait, presences nothing short of pressuring. There was no denying they had cause.

“ ’ll leave you with just my earnest thanks. “

An open grip was extended towards the smith, in parting and casual camaraderie.

Agatha Rulgak