Beyond Which Lies the Wind

6: Moth to a Flame

"Oi," Wagner growled, elbowing you hard enough in the rib that you were sure it'd bruise. "You're not filching on my watch, under my employment."

You reluctantly passed the small packet of mora back to the bewildered customer you'd just managed to pickpocket from without anyone noticing (or so you thought). "I wasn't planning on doing anything with this," you grumbled, the easy lie falling from your lips because it conveniently became the truth just now. "Just wanted to know if I've still got it."

"You'd better lose it, if you want to keep those hands of yours."

"Yikes," you said, but you were unfazed. Wagner liked to talk big, but he was softer than he looked. The customer seemed only slightly alarmed at that exchange, as if it were an expected, everyday occurrence at Wagner's smithy. Pickpocketing included, you hoped it would be – you didn't want to get rusty, after all. You grinned at the man you'd just attempted to rob, who smiled good-naturedly back. He was such a good sport.

"If I catch you doing that again," Wagner said, with a threatening side glance at you as the customer left the smithy with his repaired sword. "It's bellows duty for you for a month."

"You won't catch me," you promised fervently, to which he just grunted and returned to casting the next weapon.

The forge was awful in the summertime, as heat poured from the fire in waves and you could feel sweat beading on your forehead just by standing next to it. The heavy smoke and charcoal in the air clung to your clothes and hair. Wagner looked like he rolled out of a chimney on a good day, and undoubtedly so must you. You weren't even working within the vicinity half the time. You only helped with grabbing tools from the back or quenching steel if he needed the assistance here, but mostly going out to collect ores because he didn't trust you to make a blade that worked that he could sell in the shop.

"Don't take it personally," Schulz had said to you once, a little sheepishly. "I've been his apprentice for a long time now, and he says the same about my craft. You'll get there, in a few hundred years."

A few hundred! So why did he keep you around?

It was still hard to take Wagner's charity, nearly an entire year later, but there was a begrudging sort of mutual respect between you and the enigmatic blacksmith that made you tolerate life in the city you resented. As long as you put in the hours and the backbreaking labour, you had a place to stay and the freedom to do whatever you wanted.

Except stealing.

This arrangement wasn't going to last forever, so you weren't about to toss out the skills that had kept your ass alive for years. If you had to, then you'd thieve quietly from the unsuspecting Schulz for practice, low-stakes, virtually no gain, and the worst was getting caught and getting a thorough scolding from a man who would not mean it. But would you be able to live with the guilt?

The hiss of rapidly cooling steel hitting water made you look up sharply, waving away the rising steam that curled toward your face. Quenching was one of the few jobs Wagner let you do when you were around, and for him to ignore you completely meant that he was on a tight deadline.

"Let me do that," you said, putting out your bare hand as if your Pyro Vision made you resistant to molten metal. "Least I can do when you're so busy and you won't let me touch the ores once they're melted down."

"You can touch 'em, but I'll just melt it down again if you produce unsatisfactory work."

What was "satisfactory work" if he wouldn't even let Schulz sell his craft here? You eyed him hard as he was already hammering down the next blade, his efficiency unmatched. "Your standards are too high. Do you need my help or not?"

"What I'm wondering is why the Knights are ordering so many damn weapons when they're understaffed," Wagner grunted without really answering your question. He placed the blade in the fire, spinning it idly as it softened. "They have enough personnel to wield all these?"

It was common knowledge that every organization here in Mondstadt except for the Church was short on people, because there weren't a lot of people here in the first place. The Adventurer's Guild and the Knights of Favonius especially, because fighters were noticeably scarce and Vision wielders even more so.

"Maybe they just want some shiny new toys and they have the coin to spare," you suggested. "Mora is mora. Don't question it."

The look of mild disbelief on his face told you exactly what he was thinking of – your earlier exchange. If he'd caught you stealing just this once, how many times had you gotten away with it under his very nose? You looked away, ashamed.

This was the first time you'd pickpocketed from a customer at least. You knew better than to ruin your benefactor's business with your bad habits. Or you had known better...at least before today. With Schulz visiting his hometown for the week and orders trickling in steadily like molten steel, the smithy was even more shortstaffed than the infamous Knights. You were going to go mad with so much to do but nothing that you could do.

"I've got no work for you here, so keep your nose out of the forge and keep yourself out of trouble," Wagner said finally. "Go fetch me some ores if you're really that bored."

"How many did they order? The Knights, I mean."

He scowled. "Enough to replenish their entire armory. And to be done in a fortnight, as if they think it's that easy."

It sounded like they were preparing for war, but that was none of your business. Seeing as they were the ones putting up wanted posters of you up till half a year ago, it was best for you to steer clear of them altogether. But you couldn't deny that you were more than a little curious as to what was happening in the city. If something big was happening, then you'd best be prepared as well.

If you make your way to Stormbearer Mountains to mine some ores to bring back to Wagner, go to Chapter 10.

If you head into the city to see if you can catch some gossip on the wind, go to Chapter 11.