Long ago, prior to the old war even, Techno had learned how to use a knife before he learned how to wield a hammer.

Techno was not unique in this regard. Many people knew how to survive far before they knew how to live. In Techno's case, poaching was the only way he could fill his belly when hunger gnawed a hole through his insides during the harsher winters. Techno was an orphan, back when that was still considered a somewhat rare occurrence. After the war, a child without parents was a dime a dozen, especially in the countryside. But when Techno was ten years old, he was a tragedy that drew in other people's pity.

Until somebody took him in and showed him the ropes.

These days, Techno blamed his own softheartedness towards Tommy's boyish ambitions and Ranboo's desperate pleas on his mentor, who cared for him and taught Techno how to make a living for himself through blacksmith work. Regardless of how seriously Techno decided to take the craft afterward, and how renowned he became for his skill, at the end of the day, Techno was most grateful to the man who had taken him in. Maybe, in his own way, he was trying to pay it forward.

And there were no lengths he wouldn't go to if it could prevent Tommy and Ranboo from gaining the same sharp edges that Techno had gotten from the war.

The crown's order as it was eventually relayed to him was modest. Smaller than what they cited in their original letter, which felt almost like a peace offering though Techno knew it for the snare it was. A meager shipment of weaponry, just a few swords and an abundance of arrow tips. He wasn't fooled for a second that this would be the last of it. Clearly they simply wanted to test his cooperation. If Techno obliged, more orders would follow. Larger ones, more complicated and abundant, testing the boundaries of his skills.

If he didn't oblige, they would draft Tommy and Ranboo as soldiers for the war.

He was caught between a rock and a hard place. Real 'damned if you do, damned if you don't' stuff. What Philza Craft should know if he had a lick of sense to him and age hadn't torn holes into the old man's memory, was that Techno Blade could be stubborn enough to weather mountains.

Steve whined and nudged his nose into Techno's fingers. Techno blinked, lifting his arm up from the anvil slowly. His shoulder ached in short bursts of fiery pain, bad enough that he barely knew if he'd be able to use it properly for the foreseeable future. But that would be a problem for tomorrow Techno to deal with. He sat back, taking a piece of cloth from his workstation to wipe his brow with.

How long had he been at work? He couldn't remember.

The forge was dark. So dark that he could barely make out what was in front of him if he squinted. Nightfall has slipped by him unnoticed. Good thing Techno had learned how to work on steel and navigate his home by muscle memory alone. He sighed and finally put his tools down where they belonged, the simple action earning him another, higher-pitched whine from Steve. Techno would almost think it sounded like relief. He patted the wolf's rump twice in reassurance.

"Yeah, I know. It's time to head to bed."

Steve darted in a small circle to express his agreement. Aside from doing an excellent job as a guard dog, Steve was intelligent enough to pick up on Techno's discomfort or when his old war wounds were acting up. He could fetch things or help in other ways. Even if it was something as straightforward as reminding Techno to go to sleep when he had been working late into the night.

Techno got up, ignoring the intense burn in one of his knees. He got that particular injury from falling off a horse during the war. Right, stirrups. He needed to finish that order too. Tommy wasn't skilled enough yet to work on something so advanced, and Techno didn't want to burden Ranboo with too much additional work. The kid was still learning.

Straightening his spine made his head pound for some reason. Wincing, he rubbed his eyes again. Tomorrow. He could worry about it tomorrow.

After giving the forge one last glance and making certain all fires had been doused properly, Techno shambled his way into the house itself. He used a hand to steady himself on the wall and keep his balance. In the kitchen, somebody had left a plate of food out for him. Probably Ranboo, if he were to guess. Techno told them to eat without him since he was working on the weaponry. Not that he had shared with them exactly what he was doing, simply telling them not to disturb him. Techno would rather they didn't find out what the royals had asked from him.

Knowing them, they'd want to help. Techno wouldn't allow it.

The food didn't look too appealing to him, not only because it had been going stale on the table for what was presumably several hours. His stomach tied itself into knots at the sight of a thin layer of fat building up on the stew as it cooled. Techno took it and put it on the floor for Steve to have. The wolf had much lower standards for his meals.

He cracked open the door to his apprentices room in passing, but was met only with snores from both young men. The candle was burning, a low, flickering flame. Techno went in to blow it out. Tommy was lying on his stomach as usual, face pushed into the pillow. Ranboo was lying on his back, one arm curled over his chest and slackly holding onto an open book. He must have fallen asleep while reading. That would explain the lit candle.

Techno snuffed out the flame with a quick exhale, then picked up Ranboo's book to fold it closed and put it on the bedside table. He adjusted the blanket over Ranboo more properly, not wanting him to get cold in the morning. Techno did the same for Tommy before leaving the room and finally heading for his own bed.

Steve was already waiting, tail wagging slowly, whining low in his throat again when Techno hissed in pain at trying to take off his shoes. Maybe he shouldn't call Phil old if his own muscles were this stiff. Techno felt ancient.

"Don't look at me like that," Techno said lowly, deciding that he could sleep with the rest of his clothes on. Struggling with the drawstrings of his shirt didn't seem wise when he could already feel his fingers cramping up. And he had to be in good enough shape to return to the forge in the morning.

Steve tilted his snout, big wet eyes full of judgment. Techno laughed, crawling under the sheets. Steve laid down along his side rather than across his chest, something Techno was vaguely grateful for considering his ribcage seemed to be hurting too.

Carefully, he stroked the wolf's fur as he drifted off into a restless sleep plagued with memories from the battlefield.

Techno finished the order in two days.

Phil insisted on personally inspecting the blades he had forged. Honestly, Techno wanted to make some sort of joke about Phil not trusting his craftsmanship, watching the other man balance the steel in a loose grip. But he didn't. It was already bad enough how Phil constantly invited himself into small talk whenever they had an encounter. No need for Techno to encourage him.

"You've changed your tactics," Phil said.

Techno blinked at him for several seconds before he managed to muster up a confused "Heh?" as a response. In his defense, he hadn't slept very well lately. Or at all, really.

"Your style of smithing," Phil said. "It is different than it used to be.

"I suppose," Techno replied. He'd already been at work for several years when the old war motivated the queen to employ him. But almost two more decades had passed since. While Techno didn't make weapons during that time, other small changes in his technique could have developed.

The way he held his hammer while working, the current tools he used. The pain that repeated strain had caused in his arms and fingers. Even the origin of the steel he bought as raw material these days could make a difference. The end product would surely be affected.

But if Phil was about to tell him they didn't want the weapons after all, Techno would have no problem with throttling him.

"They're good blades," he said after a moment, while Phil was still eyeing the weapon. "As good as my old ones."

Phil tilted the sword, allowing sunlight to ripple along an edge so sharp it could slit any throat. "No," he said softly, plummeting Techno's heart into fear for one scarce second before Phil grinned widely. "They're better."

"Thanks," Techno said flatly, the word feeling empty in his chest.

"Marvelous, really," Phil insisted. "If you truly haven't been making any weapons since the war, I'd have expected you to get rusty at it. No offense, mate."

"None taken." Anything to get Phil out of his hair quicker.

He waited for Phil to be done with the inspection. His work approved, Phil's other business in town should take precedence in consuming his time. And soon he'd go back to the capital, Techno could make their weapons until the war ended with Tommy and Ranboo none the wiser, things could go back to normal.

His head could stop hurting as badly.

"Your work certainly doesn't disappoint," Phil said eventually, sliding the sword back into the wooden block Techno had made to hold it. Something to make transportation easier. "You'll find a new order already on its way. Her Majesty wants to accelerate our efforts at the borders. She hopes for a large shipment of falchions, at least fifty by the end of the month."

"Absolutely not," Techno said.

Phil's face fell. Techno would find the annoyance there amusing if he wasn't so wrung out, exhausted to the very edges of his soul. He had no time to deal with the tantrums of a grown adult who had never been told no.

"Fifty blades in less than a fortnight is ridiculous for just me to produce. I said I'd work for you, not that I'm quitting every other job to do so," Techno added on to explain himself.

"Then get your apprentices to help," Phil said simply. "Falchions are a simple style blade, even if you just get one of them to pitch in you should be able to manage."

"They don't make weapons," Techno said.

"Then teach them."

Putting down the box he was holding rather harshly made an iron bowl fall from the desk and clatter onto the ground. Phil flinched at the noise.

"I don't want them making weapons," Techno said firmly. "Will that be an issue?"

Phil stared at him, the expression on his face calm despite Techno's little outburst. Not his finest moment, but Techno knew subtlety wouldn't do the trick in this situation. If having Ranboo and Tommy working on weaponry alongside him was somehow part of the queen's requirements, Techno would like to know. He'd come up with some other plan.

He'd trick the crown into thinking his apprentices were doing the job without them actually getting their hands dirty. He'd sign them up for healer classes at the capital's alchemy center so they could be exempt from the draft some other way. He'd flee the country with them.

If need be, Techno would let himself be enlisted in the army alongside Tommy and Ranboo, go with them to the front, and keep them safe there. Whatever it would take.

But Phil nodded, brow furrowing a bit not in anger but with sheer curiosity. He gestured at the door, half open. Both of Techno's apprentices were out and they were alone in the house, but there was no telling how long that would remain the case. "Why don't we talk somewhere more private."

"Will you answer my question?" Techno asked gruffly. "I don't want them to make weapons."

"I will," Phil said. Then, a smile soft enough it almost turned Techno's stomach. He hadn't often had people look at him with such a measure of compassion. "Please, Techno. For an old friend."

They were never friends. Techno had spoken to Phil a grand total of maybe eight times before this week. Phil had rarely been around on the frontlines, and as a general, he kept busy and wasn't dealing with a random blacksmith. Sometimes, Techno had caught the noble looking at him, though he had chalked it up to Phil surveying the troops as any leader should do. Or perhaps just interest in Techno's craft specifically since his reputation did often precede him. He didn't grasp why Phil was getting all sentimental with him.

Anything for Ranboo and Tommy. Techno would do anything.

"Fine," he said. He whistled at Steve and the wolf got up from where he was lying by the fire, hurrying to rub against Techno's legs. He headed for the door, opening it and stopping when he saw Phil hadn't moved. "Are you coming?"

Phil barely managed to cover up a sour expression. Not a dog person, probably. Techno smirked slightly, but then Phil did nod and started to follow him. "Where are we going?"

"A walk. You said you didn't want to be overheard."

"I didn't say that exactly," Phil responded with a chuckle. "You've been inside all day, I merely thought some fresh air would do you well."

Techno followed the familiar path out of town, walking alongside Phil in what could be almost comfortable silence. The weather was nice enough, a little cold but in a way that made his flushed skin feel less feverish. Phil stretched his wings, twitching them up. Techno supposed it must be a pain for the other man to keep them tucked in all the time.

Before long, they came to the river. The water ran in a cradle around the village, a curve that started at the north then came east and almost entirely locked in that side. While many spots were popular for fishing, swimming, or to draw water when people didn't fancy using the well on the town square, Techno knew this little shore was tucked away. He'd often come there since he moved into this settlement whenever he needed a brief respite from civilization.

"So, tell me honestly, were you lying about striking a deal?" Techno asked, letting Steve have his fun wading into the river as he usually did when he came to this spot. Steve loved to swim.

"No," Phil said. "You were correct. If your forge is making the weapons, the queen doesn't care who works on them."

Techno crossed his arms, turning towards Phil fully. "Then why do you care?"

Phil faltered, caught off guard perhaps. Or acting at it. Techno had a hard time reading him. He wasn't familiar enough with the other man's habits to know when he was lying, and he assumed a noble was schooled at playing a certain part. Techno had lived in the capital when he was very young. Among all the hustle and the rich folks playing pretend. Worst years of his life.

"I am worried," Phil said after a few more moments of consideration. "You will run yourself ragged trying to keep up with the crown's orders on your own."

"And I'm supposed to believe that you're just a real empathic guy so you don't want me to overexert myself?" Techno asked skeptically.

An easy smile slipped onto Phil's face. "You'll believe that it is in the war's best interest that you do not cave under the pressure of our demands less than a week after accepting them," he said.

Techno opened his mouth, then closed it, feeling a bit foolish. He'd become so focused on Phil seemingly taking a personal interest in him, it had slipped his mind that a more mundane answer was far more sensical. Of course Phil wouldn't want him to mess up the orders. Of course Phil would have an investment in making certain they were filled as promptly as could be managed. That was quite literally his job.

Truth be told, Techno hadn't felt like himself since Phil showed up at his doorstep.

He thought the war was behind him. But all at once the nightmares and pains and fears had come slipping back alongside Phil when he walked through the door. Techno was proud of the life he had built for himself. Being reminded of everything that came before had thrown him off-kilter. And working himself into exhaustion clearly wasn't making things better.

He turned away, watching Steve digging in the water, maybe unearthing stuff people had dropped in the shallow years ago.

"You know my terms," Techno said. "If you want me to work on the queen's weapons, then bring me the orders. But don't expect tight deadlines. You will treat this employment as you did before when I had no apprentices to help me."

"Even if it means the Queen gets impatient and employs somebody else?" Phil asked.

Techno didn't know if it was a bluff. His work was valued more than any other blacksmith, the quality of his weaponry had no match. But if he couldn't work fast enough, his contract could be extended to somebody else. Was he good enough at his skill to make the Queen's patience worth it?

Techno was fairly sure of it.

"That won't happen," he said.

He could practically feel Phil's gaze burning into his back. "Hm, you're probably right about that, mate. Can I ask a question, though?"

"What?" Techno asked, glancing over his shoulder. Phil had approached silently, so he was much closer than Techno expected him to be, wings still spread out since he finally had the room to do so. He hadn't stopped grinning.

"Why are you so insistent on not letting your students make weapons? It's not the worst skill to have, given the times." Phil laughed at the end there, as if it was a joke.

Techno looked down again, uncrossing his arms. His palms were chaffed from the work lately. He might need to start wearing gloves again.

"When you make a cast iron frying pan," he said, "as a blacksmith, you don't concern yourself with what happens to it after you sell it. You don't think about the meals folks might make with it. The same can't be said for weapons."

Phil had nothing to say to that. Techno was grateful, not really looking for a response. Steve shook himself dry, shedding the mud and the dirt easier than one could shed memories, before they walked back to town.

Techno finished fifty falchions in less than a fortnight.

Once he got back into the rhythm, making weapons again was not hard labor. Time-consuming, yes. And especially since Techno was trying to keep what he was doing a secret from Tommy and Ranboo. During the day, they'd often be in the forge too and Techno could only work on the orders they knew about. Only at night - or on the rare occasions where Techno could give them both an errand to run so they'd leave - could Techno work on the queen's supplies. That meant he hadn't slept more than two or three hours a night in some time.

And he wasn't exactly surprised when that caught up with him.

"Techno?" A gentle hand shaking his shoulder roused Techno from the depths of slumber. Dreamless for once. An endless pit of darkness. Honestly, kind of nice. Better than the nightmares at least.

"Hm?" Techno grunted, jolting upright before realizing it was only Ranboo. His lips felt dry and cracked, and he had drooled on his pillow.

"Sorry," Ranboo said quickly, wincing apologetically at something. Maybe the confused expression on Techno's face, since the man was having a harder than average time pulling himself into the present. "I uh, I wanted to wake you since it's almost noon."

"Noon?" Techno repeated with some disbelief. He was a morning person. Waking up late was unusual for him.

But a simple glance around showed it to be true. Slanted sunlight was falling into the room through Techno's shuddered windows, making dust particles dance in lazy circles. With some effort, Techno could pick up on the noises of the town outside, something that would usually wake him but this time he'd slept straight through it.

"You should have woken me earlier," he said while quickly trying to get up. Then instantly felt guilty for it when Ranboo sheepishly nodded, looking uncomfortable.

"I didn't want to bother you, I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Techno said, awkwardly patting Ranboo's elbow. And maybe kind of using it as an excuse to pull himself up into a standing position. His knee practically screamed with pain in protest. "I just have a lot of work. Can't afford to be sleepin' the day away."

"Really? I thought we handled most of our orders?" Ranboo asked, then seemed to think better of it. Maybe he didn't want to come across as if he was lecturing Techno on how to run the forge. "Tommy made lunch, if you want. It's not very good because- well, because it's Tommy. But you know."

Techno chuckled. "Oh, I know."

When they walked into the kitchen, Tommy was indeed standing at the stove, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as if he was engaged in a most taxing activity. He seemed to just be stirring soup though.

Tommy kind of did a double-take when Techno walked in. "Wow, you look like shit."

"Thanks," Techno said, falling down into his chair.

"What time did you go to sleep last night?" Ranboo asked carefully.

"Doesn't matter." They both looked rather dubious at that. Techno shook his head. "What's on the menu anyway?"

Predictably, it was enough to instantly distract Tommy. "Oh, I'm making this stew Phil recommended. He said it's all the rage in the capital."

"Phil?" Techno asked wearily. "Did he come by again?" There shouldn't be another order already. Techno was barely scraping by on the current shipment of halberds he was making.

"What? No, I ran into him when you sent me to get coal," Tommy said, waving his hand. "Now shut up and eat, tell me how you like it."

In his defense, Techno did give it a fair shot. The stew was fine, if a bit too watery and overly salted. He just couldn't stomach it. He couldn't stomach anything, his entire abdomen contracted with pain the moment he got more than three spoonfuls down. Techno ran for the door and puked onto the ground, aiming for the sand in the gutter beside the house. Easier to clean up later.

"Are you okay?" Ranboo asked from the doorway.

"Yeah, yeah." Techno wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His head was pounding again. "Maybe Tommy's cooking wasn't the best idea on an empty stomach."

"Oh, fuck off! It can't have been that bad," Tommy said. He did eat his own food without complaining, but Techno supposed his taste must be shot from living on the streets alone for a while. Tommy probably was eating out of garbage cans during that time.

"I'm going to work on some stuff," Techno said, pushing away so he could walk around the house and towards the back. "You two should take the day off."

"R-really? Are you sure?" Ranboo asked, clearly surprised. Techno didn't think he'd ever told them to not work for a day. Heh.

"Yeah, you've both been pitching in a lot lately. You've earned it," he said offhandedly. "If you want to stop by Niki's you can do that too, gold should be on the desk."

"For real?!" Now Tommy's voice was rising in surprise. You'd believe Techno never gave them anything nice - the thought pulling his lips up into a smirk.

"Keep asking questions if you want me to change my mind," he said.

They didn't need to be told twice, and Techno could retreat to the quiet of the forge to continue working. Halberds were a little more strenuous than swords. The amount of curves meant he needed to heat and reheat the metal numerous times. The fire was burning low. By the look of it, Ranboo did some work in the morning. Techno was vaguely grateful this meant he wouldn't have to shovel any coal and he could get straight to work, using the billows to stoke the flames back into a proper burning.

He could craft like that for a few hours. Techno would almost call it nice. Aside from how much his body was hurting, smithing was a passion for Techno as much as a job. He enjoyed doing it. He wouldn't have become this good at it if he didn't. After a while, sweat started building on his skin again. Techno didn't feel very good, but he'd forgotten to bring a full flask of water. He usually would try to take breaks more often too. But he didn't know how long Tommy and Ranboo would stay occupied so he had to-

"Techno!"

Speak of the devil. Techno picked up a tarp from the ground and threw it over the workbench hastily, covering up his work. "What?"

"We brought gingerbread from the bakery, do you want some?" Tommy asked, walking into the forge. Techno scowled at him.

"Don't come in here without your apron," Techno snapped. Tommy frowned, but did back up a step.

"Geez, why the bad mood? I'm being careful," Tommy said testily.

"Careful doesn't prevent third-degree burns," Techno told him, getting up. And then instantly regretted that. Going from a sitting position to standing so suddenly made the blood rush down from his head and his vision grew blurry. He would have fallen if he hadn't grabbed the table.

"Techno!" Tommy was at his side in an instant, Techno almost chided him from getting too close without his protective gear again. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Techno said. He didn't stop Tommy from bracing against him. Embarrassing as it was, he could really use the support right now.

"Are you sick?" Tommy asked. "You're looking even worse than earlier, I didn't think that was possible."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Techno managed to get out through the painful throat. He was definitely dehydrated too, which couldn't be helping matters any.

Tommy was starting to lead him back to the house itself and Techno didn't even have the energy to put up a fight. He honestly hadn't felt this bad since… he couldn't remember. Maybe ever. Zoning out had allowed him to forget but drawn from his work, Techno's body seemed intent on making his limits known to him with a vengeance.

"Oh shit," Ranboo said when he watched Tommy half-drag Techno into the kitchen.

"He's sick," Tommy said. Techno couldn't deny it a second time.

"A fever?" Ranboo asked.

Techno drew back at the feeling of Tommy's palm against his forehead, but couldn't escape the prodding. He was outnumbered. "Maybe?"

"I've been sitting in front of a forge for several hours," Techno said. He probably also had a fever, but the temperature of his skin wouldn't exactly be a good measurement to compare at the moment.

"That's probably why you slept in this morning too," Ranboo added, undeterred by Techno's half-hearted glaring.

"I'm fine," Techno said once more. As if this time they'd believe him.

"You've been working a lot lately, you probably overdid it," Tommy said. "Pot, kettle. Kettle, pot."

"What does that mean?" Techno asked, not helped by Tommy refusing to elaborate.

"He's right, you've been in the forge a lot. Was it a new order? I can finish it for you," Ranboo said.

"It's…" Techno faltered. He could not deny he was working on something. The lie was too easy to see through, and would make them suspicious. But he also didn't want to tell them the truth. "It's a private order. They don't want apprentices working on it."

"What is it for?" Tommy asked.

"Private means I can't tell you," Techno insisted. Tommy's entire face pinched together. When he was little, he'd make that face whenever Techno told him to do his chores. Oh, the irony.

"Well, whatever it is, maybe you can just… tell them it'll take a bit longer. You need to rest." Ranboo wrung his hands in concern. "They can't be in that much of a hurry."

Not at all, Techno thought to himself. It's just that if I don't do this, you'll get to be drafted into a war. You'll go to the frontline and get given a sword - one I made probably - and asked to kill people. Unless they kill you first. A non-zero possibility.

"It's pretty urgent," he said instead.

"It's going to have to wait until tomorrow," Tommy said. "You're going to bed. And eating soup." At Techno raising a brow, he scowled. "I'll have Ranboo make it this time."

Knowing when to give up a losing battle, Techno allowed himself to be herded to his bedroom. Tommy got him water, Ranboo helped him with his clothes. Techno felt small, vulnerable in a way he didn't usually. Not in a long while.

"You know, it's supposed to be the other way around," he said softly, Ranboo adjusting the curtain so the light wouldn't wake him up. "This whole mentor and apprentice thing."

Ranboo smiled, that way he sometimes did where it was more sad than anything. "You've been taking care of us for a long time, Techno. It won't kill you to have us return the favor this once."

Techno laughed at that. It was really such a stupid thing.

But he'd rest. And tomorrow he'd get back to the queen's orders, hoping that in time, the war - and all of this - would pass.