Paragon - C2

The

_________’s (castle) armorer was a shorter than some, and heavier, both in belly and in strength. He worked long and hard, crafting all manner of swords, shields, breastplates, and other weapons and armors, each with remarkable skill. Within a week the middle aged man could arm a dozen men and still have the time to pursue the various pet projects with which he occupied his idle time. He was both an honest, and a kind man. he charged far below what would be considered fair for a man of his talent and reputation, and for his more loyal customers he kept nestled within his scruffy mess of a coal black beard a smile that radiated more  comforting warmth than his forge fire during a ;;;;;;winter;;;; night.

a forge fire.  

Most of his time working was spent caring for the equipment kept by the local army-guardsmen. For this he was very well payed, kept in close friendship by the King, and in many ways more respected than most nobles in the area. But it was not in silver, nor was it in court esteem, from which he drew upon his passion. His truest pride was found in the faith and admiration of that seventeen year old boy, Aerias, Blade of Dawn, Prince of ________, Son of the King, and the nephew he had never had.

The young heir was only nine years of age when his father had trusted him to begin training with a sword of real iron, and by the end of the month the child was asking to condition in mail and fine steel. As a young man of fifteen Aerias was given a place as a Lightray in  _________s army, and quickly he climbed through the ranks. With every advancement the princeling was issued a new outfit of armor, and each time he came to receive them he praised the old smith's clever craftsmanship.  

Oftentimes when Aerias wasn't off fighting in some border dispute, escorting caravans, or out training in his swordplay, Aerias would come down the armory to visit with the smithy. There he would watch carefully as the man did his work, absorbing everything he saw. He learned from some amount of experience too, as the armorer coached him in making things like daggers, bracers, and arrowheads. The boy had some talent for the trade, but it was also clear that his hands were much better suited for a sword than a hammer.

"Aerias! You couldn't have come at a better time. I could use an extra pair of hands over on the table; I've got about a hundred arrowheads that need to be put on shafts and I need them ready by the third quarter's sun at the latest."  Aerias stood still underneath the doorframe, struggling to contain his amazement. It was already well past midday light. He had never seen Winden so frantic. The armorer was always busy, constantly moving about between various stations in the large workroom, but until this very moment the man had always walked with a certain briskness and purpose in his step. For any less bulky a man Aerias would call it grace, but whatever it was, it was gone now. It was the first time the man's large belly had a noticeable bounce to it as he trampled through the room, shuffling his hands through piles of papers; those had always been so much more orderly.

"I know! You might as well say it! I'm pitiful!" Aerias was shocked further out of his stupor by Winden's voice. It was the cry of a man who all his life had lived in complete control of himself, only to have suddenly seen it slip through his fingers like fine powder. He tried to say something, do something, but his jaw and hands just opened and closed dumbly. Finally he managed a fumbling handful of words, "_________[gods above], Winden, you're behind." How much more stupid could he sound?

While Aerias was busy stating the obvious Winden took a seat at his drafting table, each of his elbows finding a position on the messy stacks of paper that covered the desk. Slowly he lifted his right hand and stroked one of his bushy eyebrows to the temple. His eyes were half shut, watching the dumbfounded prince with the ashamed expression that is reserved for a child waiting to be punished with a sharp strike on the cheek.

Aerias tried again to conjure a sensible response. "Winden." He opened his mouth to continue, almost letting curiosity overtake consideration, about to ask the man how this had all happened. He stopped himself. Winden would explain as soon as he was ready. "I'll be happy to help. The _______ ______[ceremony/festival] isn't until late tomorrow, and I'll have all day to prepare for my duel with Lightray Evinon." Aerias entered the rest of the way through the doorway and began binding the arrowheads to their shafts. He lent a comforting smile and continued, "I imagine if you're this behind on arrowheads there must be a couple other things you could use a hand with. Cleaning, for one."

That got a laugh out of the man. Winden's eyes regained their typical spark as he started to reorder the various designs and sketches. "I guess I do. Quite a mess I've gotten myself into. Can't imagine where I'd be without you young man." He paused to look at the sketch in front of him. Aerias couldn't make out the design from his place at a nearby workbench, but he noticed it was extremely detailed.  In fact, all the papers on Winden's drafting table were unusually intricate. Winden placed it alongside some other designs. "I suppose I owe you an explanation, it's the least I can do for the help