Naldiq & Vymelli's Smithy
Upper Limsa Lominsa
Early Morning
Papataru gave the cuirass a critical look through his spectacles, bottle-brush mustache twitching back and forth. Mikalaos looked on in poorly contained amusement, arms crossed as she watched the lalafell examine her work.
Some dragoon needed fancy armor, and of course he came to N&V for the work. Nevermind they were backed up. Nevermind they normally would not have taken the order on at all, with all the rest of the work the smithy had on its plate. But when Ishgardian nobility insisted, it was hard to turn away the gil.
H'naanza, the beleaguered armor guildmaster had asked the lalafell and the elezen to personally oversee the construction of this armor, with the help of a few of the newer smiths. Mikalaos had worked with Papataru before, and they got along fairly well. His engravings and decorative work were second to none.
"It'll do," Papataru huffed, standing up straight with his hands on his hips. For him, such words were high praise, and Mika took the compliment with a nod.
He hopped down from the stool to look up at the dark-skinned elezen. "I'll have the boy take measurements and get a rough piece mocked up. This is the last piece so it should all be done in two days' time." A smile broke through under the mustache, and Mika nodded again.
She moved to pick up the steel cuirass, brushing off a bit of moisture on it that had dropped from Papataru's sweaty brow. The wasn't even midday and it was sweltering out; a day at the forge would be torture.
"I'll make sure Elsaa and Y'ana have the greaves done. I think they said it was just the leather straps that had to be finished." Mika brushed her fringe away from her eyes, and turned to squint at the La Noscean horizon. "Two days sounds about right for the rest of everything. Finishing touches, that sort of thing."
"Excellent!" Papataru stated, clapping his little hands together. "Lunch at midday?"
"Of course," she replied, giving him a smile. The lalafell nodded once, then bustled off to start work on the decorative bronze that would highlight the cuirass.Â
Mikalaos turned and passed the cuirass off to another lalafell, fresh-faced Momotaga, who was apprenticed under Papataru. He thanked her and scurried off in the wake of his master, words lost to the rhythmic hammering on anvils outside of the shop.
She pulled a strip of parchment from her pocket and read the words over again; now that the dragoon's armor was nigh-completed, she could get to work on some of the guild's many backorders.
Mikalaos took hammer to anvil and steadily turned an ingot of iron into the base of a sword, the morning disappearing under the clangs and ringing. The day only got hotter, and the sweaty work of smithing gave way to the even-more-sweaty work of trying not to overexert yourself.
Taking a moment to quaff some water and wipe her face, Mikalaos saw Papataru in the guild, exchanging words with a hyur woman wearing resplendent attire. She couldn't hear what they were saying to one another, but Mika could see the woman's face, and it was contorted in anger. She was gesticulating with every other word, resistant to the calming motions the lalafell was making. When the woman made to push the little smith, Mika broke away from her station to come to her friend's aid.
"-- supposed to be done three days ago, three days ago!" The woman was shouting. "This shop was touted highly, but I think it was all blather. You people cannot seem to complete a simple order in the appropriate time!"
"Madam I assure you --" Papataru started, but stopped when the elezen's shadow fell across them both. The hyur turned her fury towards Mikalaos and gave her a disdainful sniff.
"Unless you're a master here, go away." She said. Mika didn't budge.
"My good woman, let me assure you that we've been working on your husband's armor non-stop. We're terribly busy here and with the rush order he placed, we had to find the hands to complete it. It took longer than we expected." Papataru said; Mikalaos got the impression from his exhausted tone he had said some iteration of this before.
"At this rate, we shouldn't even pay." The woman spat, nose turned high to the air. "An exorbitant fee, might I add."
"You'll pay," Mika said flatly, arms crossing over her chest.
"I will not!" the woman responded, clearly agitated that she was being countermanded.Â
"You'll pay, or we'll melt it all down to a lump and present that to your husband." Mikalaos ground out in a low tone. "And we'll tell him why he doesn't have his new armor."
The hyur took a moment, clearly scandalized but unsure of what to say. Mika merely loomed over her, face set in a cold look. Years of metalcrafting had grown the elezen's musculature, and she was already very tall, even for her species. With her hair in her eyes and her voice slightly this shade of menacing, she was a much different opponent from a middle-aged lalafell.
"Fine," she huffed. Delicate pale hands dipped into her purse to pull out the rest of the gil necessary for the payment. "Two days, he'll come back and he'd better have his armor!"
Papataru took the gil in his hands and made several soothing statements to reassure the woman of their work. He escorted her out the door, taking a moment to deposit the money with the clerk. Once the hyur woman was gone, he came bustling back to Mikalaos, muttering angrily to himself.
"The sheer nerve of her, the very cheek!" He expounded, fist smacking into his hip. "I thought the husband was bad, but his wife was worse!"
"I could always go after her, pitch her over the rails." Mika commented helpfully.
Papataru laughed and shook his head, removing his spectacles to wipe them on the hem of his shirt. "Now, now, it's not worth you getting into trouble. No, we'll just finish the work and say goodbye and hopefully never see either of those two again."
"The Twelve willing," Mikalaos added. Calm restored, she knelt to put an arm around the diminutive smith, hoisting him onto her shoulder. "Come, Master Papataru, the Bismarck awaits!"
"What? Why, you can't possibly be able to afford --" the lalafell sputtered.
"I can and I will," she smiled. "I think after that woman, we both need a stiff drink."
"Amen to that," he replied fervently.
Upper Limsa Lominsa
Early Morning
Papataru gave the cuirass a critical look through his spectacles, bottle-brush mustache twitching back and forth. Mikalaos looked on in poorly contained amusement, arms crossed as she watched the lalafell examine her work.
Some dragoon needed fancy armor, and of course he came to N&V for the work. Nevermind they were backed up. Nevermind they normally would not have taken the order on at all, with all the rest of the work the smithy had on its plate. But when Ishgardian nobility insisted, it was hard to turn away the gil.
H'naanza, the beleaguered armor guildmaster had asked the lalafell and the elezen to personally oversee the construction of this armor, with the help of a few of the newer smiths. Mikalaos had worked with Papataru before, and they got along fairly well. His engravings and decorative work were second to none.
"It'll do," Papataru huffed, standing up straight with his hands on his hips. For him, such words were high praise, and Mika took the compliment with a nod.
He hopped down from the stool to look up at the dark-skinned elezen. "I'll have the boy take measurements and get a rough piece mocked up. This is the last piece so it should all be done in two days' time." A smile broke through under the mustache, and Mika nodded again.
She moved to pick up the steel cuirass, brushing off a bit of moisture on it that had dropped from Papataru's sweaty brow. The wasn't even midday and it was sweltering out; a day at the forge would be torture.
"I'll make sure Elsaa and Y'ana have the greaves done. I think they said it was just the leather straps that had to be finished." Mika brushed her fringe away from her eyes, and turned to squint at the La Noscean horizon. "Two days sounds about right for the rest of everything. Finishing touches, that sort of thing."
"Excellent!" Papataru stated, clapping his little hands together. "Lunch at midday?"
"Of course," she replied, giving him a smile. The lalafell nodded once, then bustled off to start work on the decorative bronze that would highlight the cuirass.Â
Mikalaos turned and passed the cuirass off to another lalafell, fresh-faced Momotaga, who was apprenticed under Papataru. He thanked her and scurried off in the wake of his master, words lost to the rhythmic hammering on anvils outside of the shop.
She pulled a strip of parchment from her pocket and read the words over again; now that the dragoon's armor was nigh-completed, she could get to work on some of the guild's many backorders.
Mikalaos took hammer to anvil and steadily turned an ingot of iron into the base of a sword, the morning disappearing under the clangs and ringing. The day only got hotter, and the sweaty work of smithing gave way to the even-more-sweaty work of trying not to overexert yourself.
Taking a moment to quaff some water and wipe her face, Mikalaos saw Papataru in the guild, exchanging words with a hyur woman wearing resplendent attire. She couldn't hear what they were saying to one another, but Mika could see the woman's face, and it was contorted in anger. She was gesticulating with every other word, resistant to the calming motions the lalafell was making. When the woman made to push the little smith, Mika broke away from her station to come to her friend's aid.
"-- supposed to be done three days ago, three days ago!" The woman was shouting. "This shop was touted highly, but I think it was all blather. You people cannot seem to complete a simple order in the appropriate time!"
"Madam I assure you --" Papataru started, but stopped when the elezen's shadow fell across them both. The hyur turned her fury towards Mikalaos and gave her a disdainful sniff.
"Unless you're a master here, go away." She said. Mika didn't budge.
"My good woman, let me assure you that we've been working on your husband's armor non-stop. We're terribly busy here and with the rush order he placed, we had to find the hands to complete it. It took longer than we expected." Papataru said; Mikalaos got the impression from his exhausted tone he had said some iteration of this before.
"At this rate, we shouldn't even pay." The woman spat, nose turned high to the air. "An exorbitant fee, might I add."
"You'll pay," Mika said flatly, arms crossing over her chest.
"I will not!" the woman responded, clearly agitated that she was being countermanded.Â
"You'll pay, or we'll melt it all down to a lump and present that to your husband." Mikalaos ground out in a low tone. "And we'll tell him why he doesn't have his new armor."
The hyur took a moment, clearly scandalized but unsure of what to say. Mika merely loomed over her, face set in a cold look. Years of metalcrafting had grown the elezen's musculature, and she was already very tall, even for her species. With her hair in her eyes and her voice slightly this shade of menacing, she was a much different opponent from a middle-aged lalafell.
"Fine," she huffed. Delicate pale hands dipped into her purse to pull out the rest of the gil necessary for the payment. "Two days, he'll come back and he'd better have his armor!"
Papataru took the gil in his hands and made several soothing statements to reassure the woman of their work. He escorted her out the door, taking a moment to deposit the money with the clerk. Once the hyur woman was gone, he came bustling back to Mikalaos, muttering angrily to himself.
"The sheer nerve of her, the very cheek!" He expounded, fist smacking into his hip. "I thought the husband was bad, but his wife was worse!"
"I could always go after her, pitch her over the rails." Mika commented helpfully.
Papataru laughed and shook his head, removing his spectacles to wipe them on the hem of his shirt. "Now, now, it's not worth you getting into trouble. No, we'll just finish the work and say goodbye and hopefully never see either of those two again."
"The Twelve willing," Mikalaos added. Calm restored, she knelt to put an arm around the diminutive smith, hoisting him onto her shoulder. "Come, Master Papataru, the Bismarck awaits!"
"What? Why, you can't possibly be able to afford --" the lalafell sputtered.
"I can and I will," she smiled. "I think after that woman, we both need a stiff drink."
"Amen to that," he replied fervently.
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