Chương 156: Chapter 17: Ruin to Create

Immediately, a slight creak was heard from one of the side rooms, and a petite figure appeared in the doorway. It was a girl yes, a girl of no more than fourteen years, with a vivacity in her gaze that belied her youth. She wore a single piece of clothing that Selena recognized, with a pang of nostalgia, as the closest thing to overalls she had seen in this world: a garment of durable canvas, of a faded indigo color, which covered her torso and legs but left her arms completely bare.

Her arms, slender but muscular, were marked with small white scars and faint smudges of rust and wax. Her face possessed delicate yet defined features: slanted, almond-shaped eyes of a brown so deep it seemed almost black, slightly dark skin with a healthy glow, and straight black hair gathered into a high, perfect bun, secured with two thin sticks of dark wood that looked more like tools than ornaments.

—Master Corvus, I am sorry —said the girl, her voice clear and melodious, though with a hint of playful exasperation. Corvus crossed his arms at the child's delay, but she continued speaking. —You know that when I work, I can only do one thing at a time. She stuck out her tongue in a carefree gesture while tilting her head. —Do you want me to create another piece of jewelry for your wife? This time I will charge you with money.

My family was very upset last time when I told them I had exchanged a silver necklace for traditional painting lessons from Erabergh. A blush rose to Master Corvus's cheeks; the hasty shake of his head spoke louder than anything else, he was embarrassed. —No, Meilan, do not worry —he said quickly— I am bringing you a student. One who must learn to create a piece of jewelry, and I thought the best possible teacher would be my best student.

He pointed to Selena with a wide gesture, and then, turning back toward her, added in a tone of genuine pride: —She is Meilan, from Jingdao, the kingdom beyond the waves. As you can see, she is barely a child, though already almost of adult age. She is an exchange student, and she is incredibly good. She says her parents taught her goldsmithing from the moment she left the womb, and in my opinion, it is true. Furthermore, she has more talent and refinement than men who have been creating jewelry for decades.

Selena did not wait a second and bowed slightly, but surprise was reflected on the girl's face. The countess merely added: —A pleasure, Miss Meilan. I trust you will be a patient... and demanding teacher. It was Corvus, however, who intervened halfway through, with a pride that was reflected in his posture. —She is Countess Isabella Elizabeth Selena of Solendra. Furthermore, Lady of the Circle of Wisdom. Be respectful, little one. Teach her the magic of jewelry creation.

I know firsthand that she will have talent for that... magic. —A warm, complicit laugh escaped his lips— If you will permit me, I will leave you two alone. With one last complicit gesture toward Selena, he withdrew and closed the door behind him, leaving both women in the orderly, bright sanctuary of Meilan's workshop. Selena looked at her more closely now. She was small, notably smaller than herself. An involuntary smile appeared on her lips as she made a quick mental calculation: She must be about 1.

45 meters tall, perhaps less. It's strange to be the tallest one here, she thought, and choked back a soft, almost ungraceful laugh into the palm of her hand. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Meilan, for her part, observed her with meticulous, professional attention. Her gaze was not judgmental, but analytical: it swept across her posture, the shape of her hands, the length of her fingers, and the musculature of her forearms.

It was then that Selena, noticing this silent inspection, could not help but bring a hand to her mouth to stifle another laugh. Meilan noticed instantly. Her eyebrows furrowed and her face adopted an expression of genuine annoyance, though tinged with a childlike dignity. —I know you are a noble —she said, her clear voice steady— but do not laugh at my height. I am still growing. I will be taller than you. She turned her face slightly to one side, closing her eyes with a theatrical gesture.

—Then I will look at you like this, from above. She stood on her tiptoes to appear taller, but Selena added a counterpoint. —Not if your parents are small too. A laugh escaped her openly this time, enjoying the game. Meilan's reaction was instantaneous. Her face filled with comical worry, her eyes grew as wide as saucers, and her cheeks flushed slightly. —Th... th... they are tall —she stammered, but her tone completely lacked certainty.

The girl tapped her fingers with an insecurity she could not quite manage to hide. —Of course —Selena said, holding back another laugh— They are both from Khelganor, aren't they? She let the question float for an instant, then changed her tone, adopting a serious, almost solemn expression. —You know something, I stayed small from lying. My uncle used to say it was the weight of guilt that compressed the bones. Meilan stared at her, her dark eyes searching for the truth of her words.

Then, an exasperated sigh escaped her lips. —You do know I am not a child, right? I'm not buying that one. —She crossed her arms with determination, an incredibly strong one for someone her age— I am your teacher now, and you must learn about the craft. If you make a mistake, I will make you recite the Mantra of Steel a hundred times. She raised an eyebrow, measuring her with feigned severity.

—I'm not swallowing that one either —Selena replied with a playful smile— Remember that I am a noble, and with the king's favor. Besides, who invents a "Mantra of Steel"? For an instant, the air was filled with comical tension. Then, both burst into simultaneous laughter, a clear, light sound that echoed among the worktables and gleaming tools. It was a moment of mutual recognition, two people who, despite differences in age and status, shared a spark of irreverent humor.

—So, —Meilan said, regaining her composure but with her eyes still shining with amusement— do you want to learn about gold, silver, platinum, or copper first? That day, Selena spent hours immersed in the secrets of working with metals. Meilan proved to be a methodical and passionate teacher, with a patience that belied her age.

She taught her the principles of casting: how to control the temperature of the portable burner with air torches, and how to pour liquid metal into sand or lost-wax molds without creating bubbles or imperfections. She showed her the basic techniques of shaping and forging: the use of the hammer and anvil to give form, the art of stretching and bending metal without breaking it, and the importance of tempering and tempering to confer hardness or flexibility. Then came the designs.

Meilan unrolled scrolls of parchment with intricate sketches: filigree necklaces that imitated vines, rings with settings that seemed to capture the light, and earrings with geometric or organic shapes that told silent stories. Selena, accustomed to the precision of medical notes and anatomical diagrams, found a new language in those strokes. She noted down every question, every observation, with the swift, confident pen that characterized her. But Meilan would not allow it.

—Do not write it down —she told her with surprising firmness— Practice. Theory stays in the head; skill stays in the hands. She forced her to take a bar of copper, the most docile and economical metal, and attempt to reproduce a simple curve, a basic assembly. Selena ruined the metal time and time again: she bent it at the wrong angles, she hit it too hard and flattened it, or she overheated it and accidentally melted it.

But every time she furrowed her brow at a new failure, Meilan repeated her personal mantra with a calm that was almost Zen: —Ruin to create. Fail to learn. Every mistake is a lesson the metal teaches you. Now, again. By late afternoon, Selena's hands were covered in small bruises, her fingers sore and stained with rust, but in her eyes shone a glint of earthly, primitive satisfaction. She had given shape to her first recognizable piece: a simple copper ring, coarse and uneven, but a ring, nonetheless.