Chương 4: Enemy of my Enemy

The slanted stitch is a favorite of mine. It takes time to master, each stitch must be carefully made, the needle must go in the exact same places, the thread pulled in the same direction. With a little extra effort, you are left with a beautiful stitch that screams quality. —Lessons from The Artificer's Guide to the Apocalypse A cold night and uncomfortable bedding made for a fitful sleep. My dreams were plagued by a porcupine with human legs wearing the duke's crown.

It chased me through broken and abandoned buildings, yelling obscenities I couldn't understand. Every time I stopped for a breath, it would launch its needles at me, stabbing me in the sides. It made sense when I awoke: several bits of hay had made their way into my shirt among my tossing and turning in the night. I yawned and stretched, massaging my aching muscles. Despite the restless nature of my sleep, I wasn't very tired. Darby was still asleep, softly snoring, and Gene's bed was empty.

The sun had risen, and with it the warmth of the day had slowly begun to arrive. Outside, I was met with a bustling camp. It was really the best way to describe the quarters. A line had formed, leading to a wooden table someone had set up outside one of the larger houses. Gene was ladling something into a bowl, along with another woman I recognized from an HOA meeting. Tabitha, or something? I think she led the community bake sale. The line moved quickly, and Gene perked up when I reached the front.

"Logan! I see you decided to join the living. I had a hankering for some breakfast and went to check out the food situation with Tabitha. They sent us back with some porridge. Kind of them, you'd think, but I reckon they didn't want any commotion between the city folk and us." He turned the ladle, dropping a soupy mixture of water and oats into a crudely carved wooden bowl.

"We don't have utensils yet, but…well, we have food anyhow."

"Thanks, Gene. I appreciate it. Any word on the plans for today?"

"HOA is meeting at noon." He must have noticed my cocked eyebrow and added, "We need as much regularity as we can get. A little bit of home can go a long way. Even if it is Ernie leading the damn thing."

"That's fair." I nodded.

"I'm going to check out the city for a bit and see if I can find some work."

"Oh, that reminds me!" He tugged off his belt and handed it to me.

"I've only used it once, and you did good work with it. I've seen the way they dress here, and I figure that could bring something in."

"Hate it that much, huh?" I chuckled.

"But you're right. If your pants aren't falling down, it might fetch us something. At the least, it could show my work." He didn't bother to respond, simply waving me off.

"I don't care if you can work iron! There's not enough business to take on a complete novice, least of all someone like you!" The gruff, bearded owner slammed the door to his smithy before I could ask if he knew someone who did need help. He locked the door with a click, and the window rattled as he slammed a 'Closed' sign against it. The people here were rude, bordering on hateful, it felt. This was the third shop I had been turned away from. Two smithies and a carpenter's shop.

Each one turned me away just as vehemently as the last. Feeling dejected but still hopeful, I made my way down the road, having spotted a leather shop. The door jingled a little bell as it opened. It was filled with racks of tanned leather rolls, jerkins, bags, boots, and gloves, all manner of materials and equipment. I took a deep breath, appreciating the smell of fresh leather. I cast [Inspect] on a pair of expertly crafted leather gloves locked inside a display case.

> Debolgen Leather Gloves > Crafted from the hide of a Debolgen Rattler, these gloves have innate protection from caustic elements. > Concept of??? > Concept of??? > Quality: Rare > Grade:??? > Value:??? I briefly thought of the concept I had gained before entering the city and wondered if it was the same thing. If I could combine concepts to items, granting enhanced properties, the possibilities… I blinked away the thought and examined the remarkable craftsmanship. The item itself was beautiful.

I couldn't even see a stitch line; the skill of its creator was apparent. Picking something less exotic, I cast the skill again on some leather belts that somewhat resembled the one I had brought, though they didn't have any engraving. > Bovine Leather Belt > This simple belt was crafted from the hide of a cow. > Quality: Common > Grade: Low > Value: 40c I inspected my own belt and was surprised by the difference in value. > Bovine Leather Belt > This engraved belt was crafted from the hide of a cow.

> Quality: Common > Grade: Medium > Value: 80c > Inspect Leveled Up! Oh, hell yes! I was going to have to start inspecting everything. Before I had a chance to go crazy, sifting through all the merchandise and flatlining my mana pool, footsteps approached from the room behind the counter.

"One moment! Sorry, I was working in the back, bringing up some—" The speaker, a short man in his fifties wearing a blue-and-white striped apron, stopped mid-sentence. The box he was carrying dropped with a crash.

"Oh my. Erm. Can I help you?" He didn't pick up the box and just stared at me.

"Yes! Or at least I hope you can. I'm looking for work, and I have experience in leatherworking. And I'm a Craftsman!" He just looked at me blankly.

"I can make things with leather? You do have classes too, right?" He seemed confused by the question.

"What? Of course we do, everyone does. And it doesn't matter; we aren't looking for help. As you can see, we are very well stocked and—""Look, here's some of my work. Please take a look." I placed the belt I'd made for Gene on the counter and pushed it toward him. He moved to send me out the door, but hesitated when the belt caught his eye. Frowning, he picked it up and inspected it closely. He moved up and down its length, whispering under his breath.

"It's a fine enough piece of work—mundane, no magical functionality. You have a good attention to detail. I have no idea how you got the stitching like that. It is very consistent and pleasing to the eye. Your engraving lacks definition. The buckle was forged flawlessly—was this cast?" He looked up from the piece, eyeing me critically.

"Yes, I think? I didn't make the buckle, I did everything else. I used a French pricking iron, not that that means anything to you. But you like it then? I could do similar quality work for you." I subconsciously held my breath, hoping to finally hit on some good luck today. He shook his head.

"No. Don't get me wrong, it is a decent piece, but suitable for the work of a journeyman, and we have plenty of those. What level is your Craftsman class?" I wasn't sure if I should divulge too much, but most people probably knew we were new to this world and didn't have classes where we came from. I informed him as such. This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"You… you did this? This belt with NO class? What, you expect me to believe you just did this with your bare hands?" He laughed mockingly.

"If that were true, you'd outclass just about any artisan in just a few years, if not months!" He wiped a tear from his cheek, shook his head, still chuckling.

"No, I don't think so. Besides, the guilds wouldn't allow for a refugee like yourself to step in and start taking business." I felt the heat rising in my cheeks, and my anger took over before I could stop myself.

"Listen here, you little shit. My world was destroyed. We didn't have magic, we didn't have classes, and our only skill came from what we could make with our own hands." I ripped the belt back and pointed at the short little fucker.

"I'm not asking for a goddamn handout. I'm looking for honest work, but it seems like that's in short order around here." I spun on my heel and headed for the door.

"Wait! Wait, we could come to some small arrangement. Perhaps you could show me how you managed that stitch, and I could pay you a whole half-silver?" I opened the door.

"I could at least buy the belt off of y—" I just shook my head and slammed the door on my way out. If he had approached differently, I might have agreed, but it was becoming clear that he had no intention of being any true help. Knowing the real value of the belt, I might have negotiated higher, but I figured that bridge was burned. The real value was likely in the knowledge of how I had made it. Deflated, I sat across the street on a short cobblestone wall and watched people mill to-and-fro.

It might have been a good idea just to take the coin. I almost surely could have negotiated at least a silver. I felt guilty. I didn't know how much that could buy, but it would have been a big help. A good fifteen minutes went by when some shouts brought me out of my spiraling mood.

"You're a right bastard, and you can go stick THAT in your arse!" A flustered woman in a knee-length dress slammed the same door I had a short while earlier. It seemed their customer service skills weren't only lacking in my regard. She stalked past me, muttering to herself, something about highway robbery. And that's when it hit me. I had been a fool; I was looking at it all wrong. I was going straight to the shops, the guilds, or whatever group controlled this area.

They'd obviously prevented the businesses from working with us, though for what reason I couldn't fathom. I should be going to the source of potential income. With that realization, I jumped up and hurried after the woman.

"Ma'am!" I put on the friendliest smile I could when she turned.

"I couldn't help but overhear; it sounds like you had a run-in with the same jackass I did."

"Hah! You can say that again! That self-absorbed prick of a man thought he'd swindle me out of eighty copper for a simple repair. Eighty copper! The nerve of the smug sonofabitch." Her forceful indignation was amusing, and I had to laugh. I played up my part, hoping to endear myself a bit.

"Too right you are. He's so inflated with his own ego, I'm not sure how he got to work on time with his own head up his ass!" When she laughed, I took the opportunity.

"So, what were you needing repaired? I'm fairly handy myself, and I might be able to help." She eyed me suspiciously.

"You're one of those survivors, ain'tcha? My husband has some bellows for his forge. It's older, and the stitching tore out. He got kicked out of the smithing guild, and now they all refuse to work with us. Well, fairly, anyhow."

"I'd love to help. I might need some materials, but I can fix it, no problem."

The forge was old and in need of repair, much like everything else on this side of town. The woman, Wilhelmina, as I learned her name, introduced me to her husband, a burly man named August. He looked every part the smith. They weren't from this area originally. They had immigrated here from a country called the 'Grenidad Republic', refugees themselves, fleeing a great war. It was no surprise that the welcome they received was little better than my own.

"There she is." August pointed to a pair of bellows beside his forge. Time had worn them down. Embers pulled in by a faulty design choice had burned small holes into the leather, further exacerbating the loss of air.

"When it ripped, it just couldn't push enough air to fire up the forge. I'm falling behind on work. I'd try to patch it, but I'm afraid I would just ruin it beyond repair, and I can't afford a new one. You think you can fix it?"

"Definitely." I nodded confidently.

"I just need to get a hold of some material though, and some tools. You got some nails you could file down into an awl? And I'll need some soft but strong leather."

"Aye, I could do that." He scratched his chin, thinking.

"I have an old apron I think we could use." He went inside his small shop to gather the materials, and I got to work. The frame on the bellows was solid. Years of heat and use had kept the dense wood from rotting, as had August's care toward his tools. The leather was not as fortunate. I pulled the old, rotted material away and pried out the small nails with care, intending to reuse them. The old leather fell off in one large sheet, stiff and dusty.

August had filed down a five-inch nail for me, resulting in a small, sharp spike. I laid the old apron over the frame and marked out the side dimensions. Opening the bellows fully, I marked the extended dimensions with my makeshift awl. Only then did I cut an area slightly larger than my markings to ensure I had enough material. I considered the current design, and a small memory flickered to life. I grasped at it and consciously activated [Recall].

My mana ticked downward, but it was slow enough that I could leave the skill active while I worked. I focused back on the memory. I was at an old ironworks festival. A blacksmith hammered away at small trinkets and keepsakes that he would sell. Instead of the hammer, I looked to the wind. Bits of coal would toss up into the air when he pumped at… The bellows top was a flat wooden panel with a round hole… Falling from the memory, I realized that I was just sitting there, staring blankly at the frame in my hands.

"You sure you know what yer doing, lad? It be too late to back out now…" I nodded.

"Yeah, I just remembered something was all. I'll get you taken care of." The original design had one flaw. The hole on the top was too small and would pull air from the forge itself if opened too quickly. The lack of a one-way valve would cause issues down the road. It was the main reason it had failed over time. Using a file, I was able to increase the hole's diameter, allowing for more airflow. The apron was well broken in.

It was almost a shame to cut into it, but the leather was perfect for its new intended use. Fortunately, the smith's knives were well maintained and kept sharp. I was able to cut out the marked section easily. Placing it over the frame, I ensured it was a good fit before I repeated the pattern for the opposite side of the bellows. I cut out a wide strip to go around the nozzle portion and set about assembling it.

I opened the bellows wide and began tacking the small stud nails in at the corners, pulling the leather tight to ensure a good, snug fit. With it already stretched tight, adding nails in between would only further seal it. Once I had both sides done, I wrapped the strip around the nozzle and nailed it in a circular fashion, sealing the piece. For one final modification of my own, I added a small flap of leather on the inside of the bellows.

I put a small bridge across the air intake hole to keep the leather from falling in too far. Now, when opened, the leather would fall, allowing air to flow inside. Then, when closed, it would flap shut, forcing air to only exit through the nozzle. With the project finally complete, I stood back to admire it with an [Inspect]. > Forge Bellows > Allows for focused airflow to increase the heat of a forge. > Quality: Common > Grade: Low > Value: 18s It closely resembled the original.

The makeshift material I was limited to didn't make it look the fanciest, but it would operate far better than it ever had, and that was what was important. Several flashing notifications caught my attention, now that I was no longer absorbed in the work. > Craftsman Leveled Up! > General skill unlocked: Salvage > You gain proficiency in the recovery of used materials. Higher levels may result in more materials in better condition being salvaged.

> General skill unlocked: Leatherworking > You gain proficiency in the art of leathercraft. Higher levels may result in higher quality products, a reduction of used materials, or other benefits. > Leatherworking Leveled Up! > Recall Leveled Up! I was positively beaming when I called August over to test the new bellows. He must have figured out what had happened because I caught a small smile when he found me grinning like an idiot.

He sparked up some tinder that he placed under the kindling in a small pit to the side of the forge. It caught easily, and within minutes a small blaze was going, heating up the coals. Once the coals had begun to glow, he pumped at the bellows. Huge gusts rushed in one direction, blasting the hot coals with oxygen-loaded air. They glowed fiercely, billowing heat into the furnace. He kept fiercely pumping away, nearly getting carried away with the heat.

He pulled back, and when he turned, he was grinning nearly as wide as I was.

"Logan, dear lad, it's wonderful!" He laughed and grabbed a small iron ingot with some tongs.

"It's been years since the forge has run this hot! No, I don't think it's ever worked this well!" He placed the ingot into the entrance of the furnace and stepped away again, then clasped my arm in an embrace.

"Wilhelmina! Pay the lad, please." Looking back at me, he continued.

"You've made a friend today. I won't soon forget this." I stepped back and allowed him to get to work. He was clearly excited to be back in action and catching up on lost work. Wilhelmina returned and placed two matching coins in my palm. > Silver Coin > Currency used for goods and services in the realms of Emperor Ambrosius. > Value: 100c"Wilhelmina! No, this is too much. I truly appreciate the offer, but that swindler was only going to charge eighty coppers."

I tried to push the coin back at her, but she refused, shaking her head emphatically.

"No. That man would have done the bare minimum and left us with a barely working tool that would break down again in a couple months. That is the third repair those bellows have seen. You went so far above, dear. You deserve every penny. Besides, us refugees have to stick together, yeah?" She smiled, her dimpling cheeks rosy in the heat of the shop.

"Thank you, truly. And if you need help—with anything—please don't hesitate to ask. And feel free to send anyone else my way too. I could use the work!" I gave one wave and trekked my way back home, eager to report my success at our inaugural Fairfield City HOA meeting.