- Chapter 3 -

"To die and part is a less evil; but to part and live, there, there is the torment."
~ George Lansdowne

Continuous banging of a hammer against a blade was heard inside the shop, and then later, the sound of hissing of a burning blade being dipped into water. Then the banging would come up again. It was like any ordinary day for the blacksmith, Carlyle Pippery, although it wasn't as it used to be. Because he used to have a dark haired boy to help him around in the shop, but for nearly a week, he had none. Said dark-haired boy was away and training to become a sorcerer. The shop and the house as a bit lonely without the boy.

On the other hand, Ulla was rather taking it well, or at least, that was what Carlyle thought. She'd always worry about the boy, it could not be helped. She's the mother. Yet still, as both of them kept in mind that the boy was alright under Merlin's care, there was nothing much to worry about.

A sweat appeared on Carlyle's forehead and trickled its way down his brow. He wiped it away with the back of his hand as he took a deep breath, having a little short rest from his handiwork. Meanwhile his assistant was busy forging another sword, a handy lad and at least seven years Maxim's senior. Yes, handy, but would not be there all the time to help him. The twenty-year-old lad had other responsibilities such as having to work in a tavern. Life wasn't that easy and so was money. Out from being an assistant to a blacksmith, a bar keep at a tavern, he was also a young husband to a wife of eighteen, and was also a very young father to a six-months-old babe.

The blacksmith shook his head, out of being sorry for his young assistant. Ah, yes, the tragedy and sacrifices of young love. Sometimes love can also be the reason why friendship crumbles...No matter how strong the bond that it was founded on.

Just at the same moment that Carlyle was about to continue with his work, Ulla came in the shop with a round wooden tray of two mugs of wine and a bowl of assorted kinds of fruits.

"Shouldn't you two at least take a rest, even just for a moment?" asked the woman.

The blacksmith smiled and acknowledged Ulla's presence, then called for the attention of his assistant, saying that it was about time for them to rest. Even for just a few moments.

The two men then gathered around the table where Ulla had placed the fruits and the wines. For a moment, they talked about anything they could think of, eating and sharing a few laughs. It was until Ulla was startled by the flapping wings of doves that flew by the window that the casual conversation was seized for a short while. But it wasn't entirely because of the birds, it was partly because Carlyle noticed the look on Ulla's face wasn't just a normal expression of being startled. There was a touch of something else, one that Carlyle could not get to think what.

"Everything alright?" the blacksmith though best to ask. "It was just a few birds."

"No," said Ulla, shaking her head. "It just, made me think of Maxim." She faced the blacksmith, meeting his eyes that was fixed on her. "As though he is hurt...wherever he is now."

"A mother's intuition?" chimed in the assistant. "My wife is like that sometimes over our little angel."

"Oh, he'll be alright," reassured Carlyle, clicking his tongue between his teeth once before he spoke. "Don't you forget, he's with Merlin."

Managing to smile out of being successfully reassured, Ulla nodded, having in mind that what the blacksmith said could simply be true. Merlin wouldn't allow her boy to be harmed.

It was a split second decision, and was completely out of sudden impulse. Or rather, it was more like a usual reaction for Merlin. After years of doing battle with other sorcerers, or with Morgana in particular, that was just how he would react each time he finds himself cornered. How does he react? He would focus his energy between his hands, and after having gathered up a good amount of energy, he would thrust his arms and hands towards his opponent, where an invisible force would send the said opponent flying.

Unfortunately at the moment, he seemed to have forgotten that he wasn't locked up in a battle with an enemy sorcerer, he was just training his apprentice with the basic offensive and defensive battle spells.

The boy flew through the air until he hit the wall hard on his back. The thud was strong and loudly heard. Merlin stood wide-eyed but for a moment.

"Oh, dear me, what have I done?" he said to himself, as he ran to the boy's aid.

"Horvath!" he shouted. "Are you alright, lad?"

"I-I'm alright," the boy replied. But as he tried to get up once again to his feet, his master had to grab him by the arm to steady him.

"Here, sit down," commanded Merlin, beckoning a stool with a few jerks of his extended index and middle finger. The wooden stool dragged itself forward, as the sorcerer made his apprentice to sit down on it. Clasping his hands and rubbing it together, Merlin cast a spell he would often use for first-aids. His dragon ring glowed with pure light of green, while both his palms were glowing as well with energy in a purest of blue-colored light.

Placing his glowing hands on the boy's back, Merlin carefully tended to his apprentice, making certain that there were no serious bone fractures done, or even just a light throbbing pain of a scratch. There was none.

Sighing a sigh of relief and thankfulness, while silently cursing himself in his thoughts for casting a spell without thinking, Merlin then stood up and placed his ringed hand on the boy's head, his dragon ring still glowing. He thought best that he give aid to the lad's throbbing pain on the head, with which he was quite aware of.

"Dear me, I was too hard on you, wasn't I?" said Merlin, pulling out a chair for himself to sit across his apprentice, his concern still showed on his face.

"It wasn't your fault, Merlin," Maxim said, disappointment clearly shown on his face.

"How is that?" asked the sorcerer, a little surprised from what his apprentice said. "I was the one who attacked, boy. I could have hurt you badly with that spell."

"No, I saw it coming," said Maxim rather quickly, and almost shouting. But he was able to control his voice by not forgetting whom he was addressing to. "I just...wasn't fast enough."

It was then that Merlin realized what the disappointed look on his apprentice's face meant.

"Now, now, you need not take it too hard on yourself," said Merlin, shaking his head to the boy sitting across him. "We have only been training for a week, and within that small amount time I don't expect you to perfectly cast spells that I teach you all at once."

Although Maxim was having thoughts of opposing what his master was telling him, the lad knew better that his master was right, and so he only nodded his head. He had his eyes set on his feet when he felt warm hands cupping his face, making him look up to his master once more.

"You are doing very, very well," Merlin assured the lad, emphasizing the second 'very'. "No need to rush, you still have a long way to go. Just trust in me and most importantly in yourself, alright?"

The apprentice only nodded once more...

Moments later, Maxim was busy in studying his Latin. He had a list of random English words written on a piece of paper which he would translate into Latin. Then he would come up of a sentence in Latin, write it down into another piece of parchment, while he made certain that he was using each word and structure of the sentences correctly.

It went on from twenty words till he reached about a hundred, that he then encountered the word 'mother' form the list. And underneath that word, as though by chance, was the word 'blacksmith'. Maxim wasn't the one who made the list, he just found it in the library, so he was surprised about the coincidence in finding these two words actually came together.

It made him think of home.

Home was where his mother would be, along with Carlyle. Home was where there are two people awaiting him for his first home-visit, and would ask him all about his first month's training in becoming a sorcerer. Home, was what his father had always told him to be, 'as a place where you'd always leave your heart, which is why you tend to miss it.'

Maxim smiled sadly to himself at the remembrance of such a memory concerning his father. He then took up the quill, dipped its pointed tip into the ink bottle, and wrote down the Latin translation of the sentence: 'The mother, along with the blacksmith, shall wait for the boy to come back, in another time...by the first strike of morning, at the doorstep.'

Dinner that night started awfully quiet, but Merlin was able to break the tension by humoring his apprentice until they found themselves at ease, talking about anything...Well, almost anything...

"Tell me then, Horvath," said Merlin, once again catching the boy's attention where Maxim was currently eating. "What responsibility does Carlyle stands for to you and your mother?"

"Oh, he promised my father once," answered the boy, "that he'd look after mother and me."

The sorcerer nodded. "Speaking of your father, how old were you when he died?"

Maxim drank the water from his cup in swallowing the food in his mouth to answer. "I was about eleven that time."

Mouthing an 'ah', Merlin nodded once more. "Was he sick for too long?"

Neither Maxim nor Merlin had any idea of the true nature behind the sudden questions, but it only became apparent to Merlin that he still knew few things concerning that of his apprentice. To Maxim, he thought that perhaps sharing a few from his past to his master wasn't entirely bad.

The boy shook his head. "No, I never saw my father sick. He's as strong as a horse."

But then that question just had to come...

"Then, what happened?"

Maxim was about to raise a spoonful of food to his mouth, but he was halted with the question that his master had just asked.

While Merlin took note of the look on his apprentice's face, Maxim cleared his throat and straightened himself to sit up more properly on his chair.

"He was in a tavern one night," the boy said, his gaze down, but his eyes were blank, giving the impression that he wasn't looking at anything on the table in particular. "Two men suddenly argued about something on a nearby table and it ended up in a tavern brawl."

The boy paused for a moment, images of that memory came flooding in to his mind. Merlin on the other hand only remained silent.

So it was to be one of those stories.

"He didn't joined in the brawl, of course," Maxim continued, "father wasn't like that."

The boy took in a deep breath, and closed his dark eyes.

Here was that sad part of the story...

Maxim opened his eyes once more, his gaze was set on the wall. "Until some fool had this idea of killing him."

Taking note of how the boy mentioned the word 'fool' as though with disgust, Merlin was in the middle of regretting ever asking.

"Stabbed," said Maxim with hurt suddenly showing in his eyes. "In the chest. With a knife."

Merlin looked down on his food, playing with it using his spoon. It was as if he just lost his appetite, that he may not even be too inclined anymore to finish the few remains on his plate. But if he thought Maxim was done, he was wrong.

...And this was the tragic part...

"I was there in the tavern with him."

The sorcerer once again looked up to his apprentice. There was even more pain in the boy's brown eyes.

"I saw everything. I held his hand when he died."

Not really certain of what to say, Merlin felt as though he was the biggest fool in the world when he said, "I see."

The sorcerer cursed himself in his mind. He had to say something better.

"Forgive me if I asked," said Merlin. His apprentice then was able to look at him. "Must be very painful just by saying it."

Seeing the sympathetic look on his master's face, Maxim shook his head, managing to make out a smile.

"It's alright," the boy said. "I am already over it."

Merlin was impressed to see Maxim was actually able to smile, but the sorcerer didn't show it.

"Besides, my father's dead," the boy spoke again. "Mother said that what hurts more about being apart from someone dear to you, is that when said someone is still alive."

Also managing to smile, Merlin replied, "You are missing home more at the moment, aren't you?"

Maxim's smile broadened.

"Actually, I was missing my mother's cooking more," the apprentice said jokingly. "You don't pass for a good cook, Merlin. When you don't use magic, that is."

Raising a brow, Merlin made up of giving his apprentice a half-hearted glare. "I am merely setting an example for you that magic shouldn't be used for such unnecessary things. Such as cooking in particular, which is why I ban you from using magic in doing your chores."

The boy was already chuckling when he replied, again, jokingly, "And you call this 'unnecessary'? It's a miracle I lasted a week with you torturing me with your cooking."

Ah, so the sad atmosphere of a tension moments ago had passed. Merlin was continuously being impressed by this dark haired boy he calls for an apprentice. So he took the bait, a smile threatening to appear across his face.

"Well, if you could cook better, young man," said Merlin, he had one elbow on the table, "I suggest you start in the morning. See if you can save yourself from this torture you are referring to as my cooking."

Also placing one elbow on his side of the table, Maxim replied, "If I can prove that, I want something in return."

This was the part where Merlin quirked a rather skeptical brow. "Something in return?" he repeated.

"Money!" the boy said.

Both of Merlin's brows shut high on his forehead. "I beg your pardon?"

"Fifteen gold coins," said Maxim firmly.

"Fifteen g...what in the world..."

Merlin couldn't even make up of a good sentence to reply. This boy, sitting with him at the table, had only become his apprentice for a mere one week, and said boy actually have the nerve to ask money from him? Having a little gamble with him? And him being the master!

Sitting back on his chair's high headrest, Merlin was at least able to ask, "And for what would you use the money for?"

"Anything I could think of buying in the market tomorrow," answered Maxim.

"Anything? In the market? Tomorrow?" said Merlin, repeating what the boy said in his version, his thoughts was of how the matter was so absurd. "Horvath what is this?"

"Merlin please, it isn't like you don't know," the boy spoke once more, placing his arms across his chest. "It has been a week since I last saw the outside world. I am not a prisoner here, I'm your apprentice. Besides, what's wrong about a little gamble with me? It's just a few money."

"Gambling is not..." Merlin tried to say, but he halted himself from ever going further.

He considered the lad for a while, with a skeptical look on his face. Well, on one hand, nothing would be wrong if he take the the boy's offer. On the other hand, gambling with money wasn't like him. He doesn't tolerate such a thing, most especially with his very own apprentice. But...the boy had a point. A week's training, a little break would do. And it was just a few money. So why not just take it, and have fun with it as well?

"Alright, fine, I'll bite," the sorcerer finally said. "But only because I agreed in giving you even just for a few moments of rest from our week's training. Also, this is the last time I am ever to gamble with you, or the last time you ask money from me, am I understood?"

The young apprentice nodded.

"That is, if you can cook better," Merlin said holding out a finger to the lad, smirking.

"Yes, of course," said Maxim, nodding his head a few times. "I do have your word, don't I?"

"You have a sorcerer's word."

Next morning...

The second spoonful of breakfast that Maxim made was then put into Merlin's mouth. Partly because he wanted to be certain that whether he tasted it right or not. But a big part of it was because, even at the first taste, he already fell for it.

As Maxim looked up expectantly to his master, Merlin could feel the boy's eyes on him. The sorcerer couldn't help but look down on his apprentice.

"Well?" asked Maxim, clearly wanting to know what his master thought of his cooking. "Does it taste good to you?"

Shrugging, Merlin chewed on the few contents of the food in his mouth, then swallowed. "Well, it is, uh. Well, it..." He paused, feeling a bit sheepish. Then he blurted out, "Oh for heaven's sake! You know I can't lie! I'm a bad liar. I'm not good in lying. Of course it taste good. It-it-it..."

When Maxim held out an open hand to his master, Merlin sighed heavily, rolling his eyes, and reached for his small pouch containing the money he promised to the lad. He was murmuring something along the process until the moment he gave the pouch to the apprentice.

"Are you certain this is exactly fifteen gold coins?" asked the boy, pulling a string from the pouch to open it and inspect the contents inside.

"I gave you my word," said Merlin, glaring slightly at the boy's dark-haired head. "An honorable. Sorcerer's. Word. Was it not enough for you?"

Closing the pouch again with the strings, Maxim smiled up to his master. "Can I go to the market then?"

"Only after you wash the dishes," Merlin said over his shoulders, where he was then seated at the table, eating his breakfast, some part of him being happy that he actually had an apprentice who could cook somehow. "Where on earth did you learn to cook?"

Maxim shrugged. "My mother. She would ask me to help her in the kitchen. We don't have servants, you know. I'm not from a family of nobility."

And speaking of noble, Maxim wasn't aware that moment, that when he goes to town that day, he was to meet a certain boy of blond hair, born to a family of nobles, who would become his colleague, a co-apprentice, soon after a year.