Chapter 4

The two children held hands as they followed Has-Many-Horns to the Ve shop. Both did their best not to look upset but it was a difficult mask to wear. Sigtrygg glanced over at M'Krinna. She still looked positively angry, her bright eyes blinking and narrowing. Her nostrils flared and she made little growls and huffs every so often. Occasionally, her lips would quiver and expose her fangs. Even now, she wanted to sink her teeth into the bullying guardsman's leg.

Sigtrygg was glad she didn't. It was hard enough growing up in Leyawiin between poverty, abrasive older children, and a detached city guard. Biting a guard, let alone an Imperial, would have seen M'Krinna either tossed in the 'small cells,' the meaner Imperials boasted about or her parents would have to pay the fine. None of the children and many of the adults did not know if there were such cells for child criminals. But no one was willing to find out, least of all Sigtrygg.

Eventually, they weaved through the streets and stepped up to the open double-doors to the smithy. Inside, both Askel and Kaja were working hard. There was something more energetic and bouncy about their movements. Each of them flowed throughout the workshop. Kaja's hammer blows on metal plating were intense but precise. Askel's hand was a blur as he quickly etched details and markings into metalled rings, his smaller hammer and chisel singing together. Both children and Has-Many-Horns were very surprised to see them working so fiercely. It was not until a few minutes passed did they finally notice them.

Kaja wiped her hands on her apron and approached. Her face was covered with soot and her smile seemed more white than ever before.

"Come to place an order?" she asked, hands on her hips. Has-Many-Horns cocked his head to the side and smiled kindly.

"Not today, hmmm. But I have brought the hatchlings for they have had a bad time of it this day."

Sigtrygg and M'Krinna began to walk in but Kaja stopped them. Dropping to her knee, she held up her hands in front of the latter.

"Oh darling, you'll get your dress all dirty!"

"It's already pretty grubby," M'Krinna said, picking up her skirt with her left hand. She did a slow spin, looking down as she did. Having trekked through some muddy puddles on the way over to the shop there were a number of wet, brown stains on the ends of the skirt. And having been rooting around in the docks earlier, a naturally filthy place, her paws had become very dirty. Many times, she wiped them on her dress and left many long, faded smears on it.

Kaja wasn't having it through. Straightening up, she placed her hands back on her hips and offered a playful smile.

"We don't want it to get anymore grubby, do we? What would your parents say?"

M'Krinna giggled and bounced on her feet for a moment.

"They'd say, 'put on another dress!' They would yell it!"

Her bubbly attitude was enough to make even Askel, sweating by the fires, laugh. Kaja smiled fondly at the Khajiit cub. The two families were very close, often sharing meals when there was enough money to pool between them. Sometimes, Sigtrygg wondered if his mother and father ever wanted a daughter. Both of them were very fond of M'Krinna and treated her like one of the family. Kaja was especially warm and outgoing towards her, always ready with little Nordic sayings and lessons. Askel was more reserved but everyone knew he liked to slip her a red apple from the grocer every so often as the little Khajiit was very fond of them.

Sigtrygg was fond of her too, more so now than ever. She was like a younger sister even if they looked like they came from two different worlds. Sometimes, he wished he was in the company of his kinsmen or had brothers and sisters of his own. But M'Krinna was much better than either. If he ever gained the opportunity to visit his homeland, then he would ask her to come with him. The adventures he planned to go on would be so much better with the company of such a good friend.

"Well, it is good you're back," Kaja said. "I have some exciting news for you, Sig!" She handed him a long scroll of fine parchment. He held it by one side while M'Krinna took it by the other. Both leaned in so close their cheeks were pressed together. As they read, their eyes began to widen.

To all smiths and armorers of County Leyawiin! The honorable Count Massimo Caro II calls upon you to lend your hammers to the cause. The alliance between Leyawiin and Bravil calls upon stalwart warriors to do their part in the suppression of banditry and traffickers. But these warriors cannot do so without plate and mail. Count Massimo hereby tenders an armoring contract for the quick supply of quality half-plate and mail armor. The smith who forges and presents the strongest and most reliable suit shall be awarded the contract. Upon awarding of the contract, the winner shall be paid 10,000 Septims, 1/3 of the total payment. Upon completion of the contract, the smith shall be rewarded with the remaining 2/3 of the total payment: 20,000 Septims. As well, Count Massimo will award the smith with a badge of favor, giving precedence to the business in future contracts requiring multiple smiths. If the service has been deemed erstwhile and beyond the efficiency expected and required, Count Massimo may tender a bonus up to 5,000 Septims.

Participation in the contract contest is mandatory. Contests have one week to forge and transport their armor to Castle Leyawiin. If the smith and their example are not present by Morndas, 8th day of Mid Year, 4E 187, they will be disqualified. Reviews of the armor will be on Tirdas, 9th day of Mid Year, 4E 187.

Note: the Count of Leyawiin and his court are not responsible for any traveling or lodging expenses on the part of the smith. Only in extreme cases which are reviewed by the Count's steward will the smith be reimbursed.

It was like being struck by lightning! Even at his young age, he knew about supply contracts. Local guilds and mercenary outfits to private citizens and contest holders, the most lucrative way for a smith to fill up the coffers was by contracts. Many of the most prosperous and noteworthy smiths across Cyrodiil made their fortunes and names through big contracts. Although there were many wealthy individuals and organizations spread out through the country, it was the city aristocracies that offered the very best.

Immediately, he understood why his parents were working so hard and he was seized with energy. Kaja realized this and squinted with determination. "I'll need your help, Sig. Da will try to finish his orders quickly so he can lend us aid as well. M'Krinna darling, would you like to help too?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" M'Krinna squealed, bouncing on her feet.

"Could you man the counter for us? I know you've got a good head for figures and numbers."
The Khajiit cub clapped her hands together, raced to the stool by the counter, and hopped onto it. Already, he long tail was sweeping back and forth in a quick, excited fashion. Sigtrygg immediately donned an apron and ran to assist his mother. While she began making the plate to the dimensions of an old wooden practice dummy she dragged out of the shop's storage, the young Nord took more measurements. Once he was finished, jotting the notes down on a slip of parchment, he began to fetch iron. These ingots were then heated and transformed into soft metal sheets.

As he worked, Askel took time for a break and spoke to Has-Many-Horns. Between the roar of the forge fire, bubbling furnaces, and Kaja's hammering, Sigtrygg couldn't make out much of the conversation. But whenever he darted away to fetch more materials or tools, he caught some hushed words between the two men.

"It was the same one, Dorianno..."

"...that lout..."

"...the Count only ever sends the good ones..."

"...the corrupt, the lazy, the brutes don't do well in combat..."

"Will you take it up...?"

"...we won't be heard."

Has-Many-Horns maintained a serious demeanor while Askel looked more fatigued. The Nord paced a little bit, rubbing his brow in frustration. Eventually, the pair punctuated the conversation and the Argonian left. For a time, Askel remained by the doors and looked out onto the street. Nobody was passing by but he still stared. For a few moments, Sigtrygg thought there was something happening outside although he was too busy to look for himself.

Eventually, his father turned around and marched straight over to him. His eyes seemed to be blazing and his hands were clenched into fists. For a moment, Sigtrygg thought he was going to be subjected to another lecture. Crouching down, Askel held him by the shoulders and looked him right in the eyes. "Once, we were respected. One day, we shall be again, whether or not we ever return home."

He said nothing more and resumed his work. Sigtrygg didn't quite understand but an urging look from his mother made him press on. When he finished with the metal sheets, he took them over to one of the work benches. On it were several dowels which he wrapped the iron sheets around. He tightened them as hard as he could and fastened them to the dowel. It was time consuming and it used a lot of material. Yet the iron was fastening tightly and was becoming very hard. When he ran out of iron sheets, he fetched more ingots, heated them, spread them out, and hammered them into sheets. From the supply caches he began to fetch more dowels. Soon, the closets and boxes were empty of them.

"Ma, how many rings will there be for the mail?" he asked over the roar of the forge fire. Sparks flew up as he stoked the embers with a long, black iron rod. Kaja was stooped over her anvil, shaping steel. Each hammer blow was so fierce her whole body reverberated with the impact. Sweat ran down her mother's face, cutting trails through the black soot which coated her cheeks.

When she struck the final blow she took a long drink from a flask of water she placed on a nearby bench. After a long sigh, she looked at Sigtrygg. "Think, Sig. Look at the dimensions of the dummy. Look at your measurements once more."

Sigtrygg dug into his apron pocket and yanked out the sheet of parchment he scribbled on. The dummy was the size of an average Imperial; taller than a normal Breton but far shorter than a short Nord male. Even in the chest and abdomen, broad in the back, and strong arms for swinging, thrust, and hacking with a blade. This wooden figure was a soldier who needed the mail to fall far but not so much to get caught up in his legs. It was not a skirt or a flowing dress, after all! Circling it, taking measurements again, taking little notes, Sigtrygg added up the numbers.

"You would want thirty-thousand rings, ma."

"Correct," she said. "If we...when we get the contract, we shall have to sculpt the mail and plate for the guardsmen individually. But, this is but a test and thus we can go by standards. Hop to it, lad!"

Sigtrygg began checking every nook and shelf in the shop for more materials. It was not a question of iron but of dowels. He wanted to prepare the iron tubes so he cut rings from then in one shot. It was how he preferred to work; completing one task fully before proceeding to the next. One who indulged in finishing a task part way to begin the next would find themselves eventually falling behind. Getting things done in a methodical, deliberate fashion was the best way to make progress.

As he crawled all around, getting old dowels that had fallen out of sight or kicked out of the way. He procured as many as he could, stopping only to stoke the flames and shape more iron ingots into sheets. Soon enough, the workbench was covered with upright dowels wrapped in metal. While he raced back and forth between the forge and the bench, M'Krinna would dart by him to collect orders off the shelf. She would scamper by, holding up her skirt with a paw while her extended nails clicked, clicked, clicked on the floor. With an agile jump, she would land upright on the counter below the shelves. Swiping whatever bag, parcel, or tool on hold for a patron, she would hop back down and scamper back to the counter, her nails click, click, clicking as she ran.

"Thank you for your business!" she would chime happily before dropping the Septims into the lock box.

The forge became very hot, made all the worse by the muggy summer heat. Before long, Sigtrygg stripped down only to his shoes, trousers, and leather apron. More than once, M'Krinna gathered up all the skins and flasks spread out through the shop and ran to the nearest well to draw water. Scurrying back, she handed each member of the Ve family their drink who gratefully accepted. Whenever she came up to Sigtrygg she also flashed a toothy smile and encouraged him. 'You're doing so well!' 'Keep it up, Sig!' 'Way to go!'

Sigtrygg did his best despite his flagging, fleeting strength over the course of the day. But he was continually inspired, or more accurately awed by his parents. Never before had he seen either one work so fast, so hard, and so deftly. Askel was a blur as he progressed through his orders, forging copper rings with such rapidity that he seemed like some kind of machine rather than a Nord. And Kaja was working with a particular zeal and strength Sigtrygg did not think she had. When her hammer struck metal, the dramatic and ear-piercing bang made it seem as though she broke it into pieces. As concentrated as his mother was, he could see an excited glow in her eyes. She was smiling the entire time and he understood. Her mother and father were smiths too, noteworthy ones too by her account. They forged weapons and armor for many comers all over Skyrim. When she joined the Legion she made more of both than ever before. Yet ever since she came to Leyawiin orders for either were scarce. Armor was especially devoid from their orders; occasionally a hunt would ask for new iron bracers or one of the guards needed a new helmet after a particularly heavy outlaw raid. There were more orders placed for daggers, axes, and other very practical weapons and tools.

Now, after so many years, she was able to practice a craft she loved so much. Kaja regaled Sigtrygg with stories about incredible suits of armor she forged for years. Often, these were accompanied with colorful characters and interesting stories associated with them. Hardin of Morthal was one of his favorite stories. He was a huge man even for a Nord and required a massive suit of full-plate armor. At the time, she was a poor smith and couldn't afford all the metals required to make his desired suit; steel bonded with Dwemer metal. To mitigate some of the cost, he volunteered to help her retrieve enough of the metals from one of the famous underground cities. Together, they ventured in and were beset by traps and vile machines. By the time they escaped with armfuls of dwarven metal objects their skin was red and scalded. But it made forging all the more rewarding and feel much easier than fending off menacing contraptions.

All knew of the Dwemer, and as much as he liked the story, he doubted that most of what his mother described did not happen. Still, it was a good little story. Perhaps she was thinking of forging that enormous full-plate suit as she bashed and beat the steel plating before her.

After expending all the dowels he could find, Sigtrygg set to work making the first rings. He removed the first iron tube from a dowel and retrieved a quill and measuring rod. Placing the rod beside the tube and dipping the quill in ink, he began leaving little dark notches down the entire length of the tube. When he finished, he took a hammer and chisel and began to carefully cut off pieces of the tube at each notch. When he removed a piece, the iron tubing was left in the shape of a ring. In this manner he was able to create dozens upon dozens of rings from the iron tube.

This task occupied him until the sun went down. By that time, he was very tired from concentrating so hard. Having pulled up a stool, he was leaning against the bench as he tapped and cut with the chisel. Beside him was a very large pile of rings which did not so much shimmer but glow in the candlelight and forge fire glow. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Askel and Kaja both bent over their own work stations. M'Krinna was still on her stool at the counter but she slumped over it, her head resting on her folded arms. Eventually, Askel put down his tools and wiped his brow on the back of his arm.

"Enough, dear, if we push ourselves we'll not have any left for tomorrow," he said to Kaja.

"Aye. I'll put out the fires if you pack the tools."

Kaja went over to M'Krinna, smiled, and bent over. She whispered something in the Khajiit cub's ear which twitched. Then, she pulled out the lock box and opened it. From one of the slots she took out fifteen copper pieces which she then dropped in M'Krinna's hand. The cub seemed to shrink a little bit and bowed her head. She murmured something but Kaja shook her head, closing the cub's paw around the coins. Shyly, the Khajiit put them into the pocket of her skirt.

Giving the young girl a big hug, Kaja lifted her off the stool and placed her on the ground. "Sig, walk M'krinna home. We shall clean up."

Sigtrygg doffed his apron and slid his shirt back on. Taking his friend by the hand, he walked out onto the plaza. Now that night was upon them, the air was somewhat clearer than it was during the height of the day. Although still humid, the air was easier to breathe and compared to the stifling heat of the forge it was practically cool in the night air. Already, the sweat clinging to his skin began to make him feel cold and made his shirt stick uncomfortably to his skin.

M'Krinna fared worse even with such fine fur. Tugging at her collar, she let the cool air in. Soot settled on her face so that were a slight black hue to her golden coat. Her skirt was positively dirty from so many dusty smears and smudges as was her blouse. She huffed a little every so often but tried to refrain from doing so. Although she was proud of her heritage and loved her culture, Sigtrygg knew she was nervous about appearing too animalistic. He found this silly as he thought she was a perfect young lady. Intelligent, good-natured, and hard working, she possessed no faults in his eyes save for the subtle temper she held towards meaner folks.

Hand in hand, they trundled sleepily down Leyawiin's streets. That night, it was not so busy. Few people and even guards were out. He was grateful for that as he just wanted to enjoy this quiet time with his friend. Even now, his ears were still ringing from so many hammer blows. Nightbirds hooted and clouds of insects swarming at the ponds buzzed and chirped. Toads and frogs croaked and groaned. It was so quiet the sound of the Niben's running water trickled pleasantly. Music drifted out from some of the inns and taverns. Bouts of laughter occasionally bounded through the sable streets. Candles flickered and trembled in the lamp posts lining the roads.

At times like these, Leyawiin didn't seem like such a bad place to live in. Sigtrygg glanced at M'Krinna who walked sleepily. With glazed eyes, she glanced at him and smiled again.

"I like working with you," she said. Sigtrygg blushed, looked forward, and unsure of what to say, simply nodded. Finally, they arrived at her family's house and he knocked on the door. Moments later, the latch was thrown and Krraesh appeared. He blinked and looked down at the children.

"Good evening Mr. Krraesh," Sigtrygg said pleasantly. "I've brought M'Krinna. I hope we did not worry you."

"I helped in the forge today!"

Krraesh smiled.

"This one knew she was with you, young man of Ve. If you are together, Khajiit never has to worry."

Karro poked her head out the door as well.

"Oh, you're both very filthy. This one has half a mind to toss you both in the wash basin."

It wouldn't have been the first time Sigtrygg and M'Krinna bathed together. Although he was clean he had to take some extra time to wipe wet fur off himself.

"Ah, but the Ve boy must certainly be away for his family might worry," Krraesh offered. "Thank you. This one hopes our families can dine together soon."

M'Krinna hugged Sigtrygg, said goodnight, and disappeared into the house. The door closed and the young Nord went straight back. He would have liked to sit for a time on the docks but it was patrolled at night and his parents would worry anyway. Hands jammed into his pockets, he trundled back home. But when he was halfway there, he heard someone walking behind him. A little unnerved, he slowed down and considered running. Yet, something compelled him to turn around.

Standing before him was Has-Many-Horns. The Argonian knelt in front of him.

"Hmmm," he smiled. "Hold out your hand." Sigtrygg liked Has-Many-Horns but to chance upon him at night like this was a little scary. All the same, he tentatively held out his hand. The Argonian dropped a single silver Septim into his palm.

"Is this the one the knight gave me?" he murmured. "Thank you but how did you come by it?"

For a few moments, Has-Many-Horns stared at him blankly. Eventually, he sighed and stood up.

"Once, life was very hard for myself and my kin. Sometimes, we needed to take in order to survive."

"Do you mean..." Sigtrygg looked around quickly, then leaned forward, and spoke in a whisper, "...stealing?" Has-Many-Horns nodded. "But stealing is bad."

"Is it theft if it means one will live? Or is it a crime when one steals from a criminal? Is it justice when crime repays a crime? I know not, Ve boy. That is up to you."

Without waiting for a reply, Has-Many-Horns turned around and disappeared into the night. Sigtrygg stood there for a time, his hand still out and clutching the silver Septim, staring into darkness. Unable to come to an answer, he turned around as well and journeyed home.

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