Hope

Phase I: Gentleman, Jacob.

Chapter Two

The smithy in which Jacob worked was disorganized and constantly hot; the heat of the fires that forged the steel was contained in a small space. This made all the men working there flustered and drenched in sweat. While it was warm for the customers, it was a hellish heat to the workers, as in contrast to the visitors – who stayed for a maximum of twenty minutes – the men worked long hours in the warmth of the forge. They would work in shifts; the morning shift began at five o'clock in the morning, when it was sometimes the coldest, and end at eleven later that day. That was the shift that all the workers desired, as by that time the men could go home to their wife and child, or they could go spend their recreational time out in the country. That is what Jacob's dear friend Marcus would do. He headed home to pick up his wife and sister, and together – in the carriage he hired – they would go visit Stonehenge, or go for tea at their cousin's farm. He only did this monthly, he told Jacob, for the only reason was because he couldn't afford a carriage too often.

Jacob had the afternoon shift, which began at midday and ended at six in the evening. Between those times is when the most customers came; nobles, mercenaries, all kinds of men came to retrieve their finely crafted weapons there. The workers would only receive a fifteen-minute break, where they had to quickly eat and do what they needed to do. It was a difficult and laborious occupation, and Jacob felt it was all for null and void. The pay was not as great as one would expect. While the weapons the blacksmiths made were beyond gorgeous, they only received five percent of the overall pay. Most of the money Jacob received would go toward his grandmother. He would buy her medicine, and food, and all he would treat himself to was a cheap drink in the evening.

Jacob was one of the men that would hit the blade into shape; it is where he gained most of his muscle over the years. He would usually step out of his workplace with black under his nails, blisters between his fingers, and sweat dripping off his brow. When walking down the streets of London, the noblemen riding or walking by would grimace at the sight of how dirty he appeared. They never looked at him with thanks, oh no. They were to never acknowledge the fact that he shaped the fine weapon that hung on their belt.

Mostly men bought swords for decoration, or simply to compliment their outfits. Combat consisted of a bullet fired from a gun now. Swords were for leisurely use, mainly. One always knew that if a man were to point a gun at another, it was not for sparring, but for blood to be spilled. Jacob was one of those people, to follow the main stream. While it was not of a desirable make, he kept a small pistol with him, and swore to only use it when necessary. Without his glasses on, Jacob was an accurate shot. He never missed a target, for he was born with the extraordinary gift of precision. It was a pity that it was restrained to such defective eyesight. While from afar he could see everything clearly and beautifully, but when it came to seeing something right in front of him, it was as if he was looking through steamed glass. The need for good eyesight within his job had brought up a habit of constantly wearing his spectacles.

When his work was close to ending for the day, his glasses had fallen off his head, causing them to fall in the hot coals nearby. He felt absolutely foolish after trying to nab his glasses from the heat, as nothing happened other than his hand burning. So he ambled home with a wet, cold cloth wrapped around his hand, his eyes squinting. He had gotten home safely, and followed the usual routine of preparing tea and delivering it to the fragile, aged Jade, after finding another pair of glasses. He had managed to buy himself a spare; they had a very narrow frame, and the glasses just covered his eyes.
He sat on the edge of the bed, helping her with her tea as usual. Finally he had built up enough courage to question Jade's 'dear friend', and his offer.
"Why, Jacob, he is just an old friend. We worked together, and created a lot of inventions together. Most importantly, he taught me how to hide you from the farm," She explained, her voice going bubbly before it turned into a cough. Jacob kept quiet.
"And he is just so stubborn, that boy. He will not rest until I accept his offer." She added.
"Offer?" Jacob questioned again.
"Yes. He has offered to make me immortal, and young again."
"Will you accept it, grandmother?" He turned to her fully, seemingly interested all of a sudden, his brows raised.
"I will not."
"But why? This could help you with your jolly awful sickness. Do you not want it to go?"
"Of course I want it to go, but what is out there for me in this modern and awful world? I have played my part, and I must move on."
Jacob frowned, not wanting to hear those words slip from Jade's old lips.
"But you cannot leave just yet. I need you here." He took her hand, and squeezed it just a little too tightly.
"Oh my dear, why do you need me here? You have work, a home. All you do with your coin is spend it on a dying woman. Do not. My days are almost done, and that will give you time to find a woman, and together you can have a child." She smiled ever so sweetly. Jacob did not look at her smile, as he did not want a woman, or a child just yet. He wanted to ease his grandmother's pain. All he did in reply was nod, and with a forced smile he moved downstairs to prepare dinner. He did so quickly, and admittedly, it was most likely the most unsatisfying dish he had ever made. This was so, because he had another thing that clouded his mind. He needed to find a way to help her, and he knew that the only way was to confront the devilish monster himself. The one who offered Jade a healthier life. It was that, or simply ending her life now, but Jacob would never be able to muster up the bravery to do so, and god forbid he ask another's assistance. He did not want her to leave just yet. He thought blindly. He thought foolishly. He had too much hope in his heart, and it was beginning to glaze over his eyes, making him naïve and childish. Yet, no word of compromise or difference was going to change Jacob's decision. Therefore, after dinner, he left the house, and made his way to the Sweet Rose Inn.