An Affordance

The cart ride to Hearth wasn't that bad if you weren't expecting a smooth ride, Rokas decided. He was sitting at the back of the covered wagon which was carrying everything he owned, and some of what he had been loaned, to his new home. He considered that in this trip he might have seen more of the world than in his entire life prior to that point.

It was a long ride, starting at the great city of Comfort and tracing a sometimes winding path through the northern half of the continent. Even before the stone towers and wall of Comfort had receded over the horizon the terrain had begun to change, leaving the well-settled coastal plateau on which the city had been founded and ascending into the wooded foothills of the great mountain range which traced an arcing path starting in the north east and ending in the south west of the landmass.

It was early in spring, but in a matter of days the caravan had reached sufficient altitude that snow was still clinging to the passes which were most frequented. Many of these strategic roadways had small forts situated upon them to check travelers upon the road. Tensions were still high after the end of the last war and more than once in the journey Rokas had been called upon to provide paperwork documenting the contents of his cart and the nature of his travel.

While his supplies and tools were not contraband, it was true that a forge could supply weapons of war as readily as it did the implements that enabled civilization and some concern was paid to for whom he intended to ply his trade. He was not intending to enable some foreign invader or well-organized bandits, was he? Rokas became accustomed to opening the envelope containing his Grant of Settlement and explaining his intent to these officials. He often heard the guards grunt in a conciliatory fashion to him upon seeing where he was bound. They were no less obligated to their charge, having enlisted in the boarder patrol, than he would be having taken on his grant.

Rokas signed a contract when he accepted the grant. He had been given land, a minimum of the equipment that he would require, a small stipend, and an assistant. The expectation was that he would use what he was given to establish a workshop in the town of Hearth and operate it for a period of time no less than five years to the benefit of the town and, by proxy, the city.

He had tired of the city. He spent his entire youth fighting for his apprenticeship and subsequently fighting to complete said apprenticeship. He grew weary of vying against the competition of the established Smiths and had little interest in working under a master for less pay while doing more work. The deal he made seemed an easy one.

Doubt began to set in around the time he noticed the pattern of consolation in those he spoke with, however briefly, about his posting. It was also true that he was unprepared for the weather in this region, even in spring. Comfort was no stranger to snow, but it came in its appointed season and left just as promptly- like a worker who enjoyed their employment just enough to retain it. In the region surrounding Hearth it was an entirely different matter. The snow here was downright enthusiastic.

Four times on the journey the snow had become so profuse that they had to delay travel. Once, they spent almost a week at one of the wayforts guarding the mountain roads. The wooden palisades there offered little respite from the cold, but a bonfire was kept in the center of the fort which Rokas depended upon greatly for warmth.

Much of what he had was new, but in selecting the clothes he would take with him, his heavy, woolen coat was barely sufficient on its own. He had to his name three sets of clothes, befitting his status as a skilled craftsman, but none of the rest of it was sufficient for this. Under his coat he wore a light red linen tunic and dark slacks. His boots, though leather, were well-suited for a warm smithy, or for travel down a city street, but not sufficient for even the last remnants of cold weather here. That left another outfit like what he was wearing and a more fine ensemble, usually reserved for important meetings, to his name. He resigned himself to spending much of his early income on remedying his lack of planning.

The rest of his possessions were the tools of his trade. Primarily, the anvil, hammers and other assorted tools he would require. He traveled relatively light. A minimum would be required, but with time he could make what he lacked. In fact, that was more or less the plan. He couldn't exactly take a forge, fully constructed, with him. Not of the scale with which he would prefer work. Instead, it was intended that the required materials for his workshop would be available upon arrival. His entire workshop would need to be constructed before his labors could begin in earnest.

The only thing that would be waiting for him when he arrived was a small cottage. Hopefully sufficient to weather the winter to come without any major adjustments. And there was the matter of his assistant.

He knew nothing about who his assistant would be. Were it not for his status as a craftsman, he would be working entirely alone. Since he had some standing in his trade he was to be provided an extra set of hands.

Rokas had never really been in the position to tell many people what to do. He had tried, when he was a journeyman, to not inflict the same difficulties upon the apprentices he worked with that he had faced. In the end, he rarely interacted with them directly or oversaw their labors. He was unsure of how this would go, but it was undeniable that an extra set of hands could be a huge boon. Provided those hands were willing.

Winter, even at this elevation, eventually got the message that it was time for it to depart. It was some time coming and there were higher peaks from which it would never stray. A late spring had at last asserted itself, presumably having gotten lost for some time while on the way. The morning was still crisp there was a promise in the air of warmth to come. It was shortly thereafter that he arrived at Hearth.

Rokas made it into town just before dark. He had enough time to procure a room at the local Inn and to unload his equipment before night had fallen. Everything but the heavy anvil, that is. He would need to figure that out before the crew left town, but he was assured that the teamsters wouldn't rush off before he had retreived it The sign above the door showed this establishment to be The Hungry Beast.

He determined it was better that he spend a little out of pocket than wander around after dark trying to find the land which he had been bestowed. He wasn't sure to what extent his cabin was furnished, if it was at all.

That might have to be his first order of business in the morning. He had introduced himself to the Innkeeper, a short man with a long graying beard who went by Finn. Rokas could not place his accent, but found him agreeable. That the room and food were priced reasonably helped brighten Rokas's mood, but it occurred to him that this far out his sense of the value of things might need to be re-calibrated. In Comfort, the accommodations would have been good for the price paid, but here in the middle of nowhere it didn't seem that demand was particularly high. He opted to not press the matter tonight, it wasn't as though this would become routine for him.

The common room of the inn was not full. He counted, besides himself, the Innkeeper and three others. No, that was wrong. There was another figure at a table in a corner well away from the over-sized hearth that dominated the room. Whoever it is, they painted the picture of the opposite of someone who was successfully keeping a low profile. They had about them a baggy robe of a dark material. Its hems were worked with red embroidery, Rokas marked it as being more intricate that what you would find among the merchant class in Comfort. It seemed very out of place here.

That this figure had also seen fit to draw the dark hood about their head and face in such a way as to obscure every bit of their head did nothing to make it less curious. It was virtually impossible that this presence was unknown to everyone in the room. It was for this reason Rokas resolved to stop staring like one trying to figure out a puzzle. Also, he was being addressed by one of the bar patrons.

"Ey, you are to be our new smith, ain't you?" A large man at the bar addressed him.

The man had a heavy stubble and wore on his head a large, furred cap that despite its lack of fashionably, Rokas found himself being jealous of the warmth it must provide.

"You guess true." Admitted Rokas, almost having to look up to address the man despite one of them was sitting on a stool and the other was not. "How could you tell?"

"We have long had word you were on your way." The man said and then went on, "Also you have the look of a man who does little else than swing hammers." He grinned, gesturing at Rokas.

It was true that Rokas looked the part of a smith. His hands were strong and he had the baring of a man who was accustomed to labor. While Rokas was not notably tall, he also was not considered by most to be short. He had a stable frame which did not immediately project strength until you looked closer and noticed his callused hands and the width of his shoulders.

"You wouldn't happen to know where my lodgings are then, would you?" Rokas asked, allowing himself a grin.

"It is a bit late to be traipsing about on the path and if I have it right you have secured lodgings here for the night, have you not?"

Rokas only nodded.

"I'll meet you here in the morning, the boys and I can show you the way. It isn't far, but there is no sense in wandering around in the dark outside of town when it can be avoided. We would hate to lose another smith so soon after you having arrived." The man said to the laughter of his peers.

Rokas forced a smile through his immediate concern and thanked the man for the offer, sitting down at the bar some distance away and alone. The innkeeper who was also tending the bar followed along and Rokas took the opportunity to order himself a beer. After having received his drink he met eyes with the innkeeper and tilted his head towards the large man who had just offered to show him the way in the morning. The unvoiced question of, "Will this man lead me into the woods and bash me over the head?" in his expression.

The innkeeper waved dismissively and nodded that he should be fine. "Not good business to waylay someone you publicly invited to help, after all." He elaborated quietly. "Justice is slow, but it can reach out this far if it has cause."

"Is that what happened to my predecessor?" Rokas asked the innkeeper.

"Tragic accident, I'm afraid. He was found burnt along with his own workshop. It has set the entire town back months."

"I wasn't told anything about this." Rokas said.

"If you were offering contracts would you elaborate on the untimely end of the last person who accepted the position?"

Rokas could only take a long sip of beer. More like a chug, really. "You make a point."

"So, Rokas- I think it was you signed in the logbook, you aren't already getting cold feet are you?"

The innkeeper seemed to find the situation at least a little amusing. For his part, Rokas couldn't entirely blame him.

"I think most of me is at least a little cold right now, but I won't be so easily dismayed." He tried to sound confidant of this.

"Good man." The innkeeper offered with a slap to Rokas's shoulder. "There is a lot of work ahead of us but I am inclined to think that this town has a great future ahead of it with time. The hills around here are rich with iron and good stone and there are navigable waters from here to the Great Sea. No lack of woods or game either. It is wild to be sure, but what would bring you all this way but a bit of ambition?"

"I suppose you could consider it that." Rokas said and then, "You've been here some time I take it, what can you tell me about town?"

The innkeeper turned to look down the length of the bar and, not finding anyone seeking more alcohol immediately, returned his attention to Rokas. "There isn't much to it. There are about two hundred of us as of the last census- we do one every Summer Solstice. There is a small temple, the mining camp less than a mile north of here, the store across the street." He gestured towards the front of the inn. "There is an apothecary, for all that is worth. A teamster office. That's about it."

"I think I will have enough time to get pretty familiar with the place."

"Wouldn't take most more than a day." The innkeeper said.

"What do you go by other than barman, or 'hey you!'? I fear I have forgotten my manners."

"The name is Botond. Now if you don't mind, duty calls." He moved on to tend to a new arrival.

A couple had just arrived, seemingly locals. After a short exchange of money and words the two found a table in the common room. They must have been locals, because it did not look as though they had traveled far.

Rokas became aware he was being stared at. He didn't see from where yet, but he got the definite impression that he was being regarded intensely. In an effort to not seem overly paranoid he changed the manner in which he was sitting to grant him a better view of the room around him. It didn't take long for him to notice that the robed figure from the back of the room was now standing nearer the middle. In the relatively dim light of the Inn it was still impossible to make out any of this person's features, but it was apparent that they were looking intently at Rokas. It was also clear that they were much taller than anyone at the bar. In fact, they were taller than anyone he could recall having ever seen.

In a moment the robed figure had proceeded out of the inn without a word to anyone. The patrons nearby moved out of the way without any persuasion required. Rokas was not sure what to make of the situation, but also didn't want to establish himself as nosy on his first night in town. It was sufficient that nobody seemed alarmed at the presence of the figure and went on about their business without much protest when it had moved through the common room. It was also comforting that it wasn't somehow the case that he was the only person who was seeing it. He was pretty certain he wasn't seeing things, which he considered fortunate.

He didn't linger in the common room long before he proceeded down the long hall to the guest rooms with his gear. His room was simple, but it looked like it was either well kept or seldom used. Perhaps both were true. Sleep found him quickly.

Rokas awoke early and broke his fast in the common room. A simple porridge suited him as well as anything might have. It wasn't long before the man who had offered to show him to his cabin turned up and they were on their way.

The forest around Hearth was, for the most part, untouched. The local temple revered nature and the felling of trees was controlled, but not prohibited. Up until very recently these woods had never known human habitation of any sort.

It was only a few minutes before they arrived. There was not much to see. The cabin was a squat structure made of logs and it had a thatched roof. There was a single small window which granted almost no insight of what was inside, though its shutters were open. Evident from the outside was a metal chimney, presumably for a wood-fired stove inside. There was a small quantity of chopped wood piled up on the side of the house, sheltered from the weather by an extended eave of the roof.

Some distance away was the burnt wreckage of the previous smith's workshop. Not much of an effort was made to clean what remained, but in truth there was not much left to tidy up. The primary remaining features were the fallen beams of the rafters which had once supported a roof and the large posts that were the primary supports of the structure. Of the roof and walls nothing remained but ash and ruined wood. All the wood was blackened and scaled from the heat.

Fires were not unheard of in a smithy. On reflection, fire was somewhat mandatory, but most agreed that it was best to contain it somewhat. What struck Rokas was how intense the flame must had been to entirely consume a structure like this. His preference was to have his work area be primarily of stone, but it was not uncommon for small or primitive forges to be in wooden structures.

He approached the wreck more closely. He could see a section of the debris which was suspicious in that it had been cleared away. Rokas wondered if this was where the remains of his predecessor had been recovered. Had the townsfolk buried him someplace nearby?

Also evident, now that he got a better look, was the remains of the forge. It was a small brick arrangement. Such a forge would be sufficient for the needs of a small town. It was dirty, but it appeared undamaged. Rokas was not certain if he would try to make use of it himself. There was something appealing about taking advantage of what was already here, but also some reluctance to use it if it were responsible, at least partly, for a death. He saw no sign of the prior smith's anvil or tools, the metal of which was unlikely to have been meaningfully harmed in the fire. There was no evidence of the billow, it had probably been consumed entirely in the blaze.

He needed to begin work quickly, he decided. The quickest way to begin work would be an open-air shop using what he could from the remains of this one. He could deconstruct the existing forge, build a stone foundation and roof the structure. Such a construction might be a bad idea come winter, but he reckoned it would do until the weather turned cold again. Rokas was not certain how many months that would end up being.

He regarded the scene about him. The small cabin, the ruined workshop, and the small path which led to town, the mining camp, and into a great wilderness. Only the most opportunistic of plants had begun to show green in the forest undergrowth. Above him towered the skeletal grasp of the old forest, still dormant from the winter. The only sound was that of an alarmed squirrel in a nearby tree. It had spotted Rokas and was now dedicating its morning to making sure everything in a couple hundred feet radius was aware of him as well. It was doing an excellent job.

Had Rokas made a mistake in coming here? Doubt had visited him a few times on his travel, but he was committed to this course of action. He thought he was in any case. He had given up a laborious but more certain lifestyle for a life no less laborious and much less stable. The security of the city was different than the life he would need to make here. While muggings were ever a concern, being eaten by bears or wolves never were previously factored into his considerations regarding safety. Trading one sort of predation for another, he mused.

He noticed something which stirred him from his reflection. A single print in a damp place between his cabin and the ruined workshop. Was it a wolf or some immense dog? Rokas was not knowledgeable where the outdoors were concerned. He was educated, in a way, but the scope of his knowledge was specific. It wasn't that he was incurious, but just that his life up to this point had not offered much in the way of opportunity for idle or wide-ranging study. He had learned his letters, but it was to the end of the business and craft he undertook. He had no reckoning of if it should concern him to see such a print here, nor what he should do if it did represent danger.

Initially, Rokas had planned that some of the first things he would make upon the establishment of his workshop would be some of the tools he had omitted from his baggage. Now he considered that he might want to add a spear head to that list.

He produced a small notebook from a pouch at his belt and looked at the list he had made there. It was the most recent note he had taken. He needed a few things to run the business of a smithy in the long term. He had with him a small quantity of lime, but would need ore and coal both to make steel. For most of what a town like this would require simple iron would suffice, but he wanted to eventually build the capacity for steel as well. It all would depend on the availability of the lime in this region. It was likely it would only come at great expense here. The local stone was not correct for it, he had been informed, but he knew both coal and iron ore were present in the region.