The Abandoned Duchess Seems to Want a Peaceful Life - Chapter 50

Chapter 50: Brazier and Blacksmith

The days had grown noticeably shorter, and thick coats were now necessary even during the day.

With every step, there was a sensation as if his left leg were cramping, and each time he put weight on it, it throbbed with pain. As long as he walked cautiously, it was bearable, but if he exerted too much pressure once, a sharp pain shot through, and then for the rest of the day, it would ache at the slightest provocation.

Winter made it particularly bad. Since injuring his foot two years ago, Carl had come to hate winters.

… Let’s finish quickly and get back to the workshop.

The distance from the workshop to the assembly hall in Melto Village, his destination, was about ten minutes’ walk. In the basket hanging from his hand was a custom-sized trivet. It was large and sturdy, and incredibly heavy.

He had been asked to make it urgently when he recently crafted a large brazier that required a larger trivet than usual.

Carl was a blacksmith. He had become an apprentice at the age of ten, spent seven years doing odd jobs while honing his skills, and finally earned the title of craftsman at seventeen.

Since then, he had spent five years working and polishing his craft at the workshop as a token of gratitude.

Originally adept at silently focusing on a single task and diligent in his work, he believed he had become a reasonably skilled craftsman at the workshop. However, he wasn’t blessed with social finesse for dealing with others, and he wasn’t particularly good at praising his master.

Both his master and his seniors often said to him, “If only you were more sociable”, and he noticed that the allowance he received from his master during his apprenticeship was slightly less than that of a cheerful and sociable peer. But he couldn’t bring himself to sulk or pout.

Being a good craftsman wasn’t solely about skill. He had seen only the world of blacksmithing since he was young. He knew that to become a master, he needed social skills to get along with other workshops, and diplomatic skills to be entrusted with work by the lord.

However, being too sociable could lead to dependence, and dependence could affect his work. Carl avoided that.

Perhaps he had been stubborn himself. Even if there were people in the workshop who were annoyed by Carl’s reluctance to open up to others, he didn’t try to resolve it himself.

Thinking about the past, his left leg suddenly throbbed sharply again.

One day, a senior who viewed him as an adversary had slashed deeply into his left leg with a sword that had been ordered. It had already cooled and hadn’t even had its burrs removed—a blunt sword meant as a slight annoyance to a cheeky junior had unexpectedly cut deep.

Clearly, it was the result of a foolish prank, but outwardly, it was dismissed as an accident during work. It wasn’t uncommon for craftsmen to get injured. Blacksmiths, in particular. He knew of those who had lost fingers or been left with arms that couldn’t bend due to severe burns.

As long as the injury didn’t interfere with forging iron or casting metal, one could count themselves lucky amidst misfortune.

However, traveling had become difficult.

Regardless of where it occurred, in towns or villages managed by guilds where craftsmen were evaluated, those who didn’t travel to hone their skills weren’t considered full-fledged, couldn’t attempt the master craftsman exam, and weren’t allowed to own their own workshop.

The man who had injured Carl was the master’s son-in-law. Despite causing an injury with his foolishness, he was quick to accuse Carl of dragging his leg as a reproach. As long as the master was active, Carl might still get work, but his future looked uncertain.

It was around the end of summer this year when Ricardo, an acquaintance who was a carpenter’s master, invited Carl to come and look for work as a craftsman in a new village.

They said the new lord was an interesting person experimenting with various things. Despite being a collection of small villages and settlements with just over three hundred residents combined, not including the guild, it was said that even wandering craftsmen had work there, prompting Carl to accept the invitation.

Soarasonne, the largest city in the northern part of the Duchy of Oldrand, ensured no shortage of work as long as he remained attached to a workshop. But eventually, he would likely find himself expelled for some reason or another.

If he were to start over in life, sooner would be better. If smithing work became unavailable, there were other options like tilling fields, assisting merchants, or doing odd jobs.

Despite having lived most of his life to become a craftsman, Carl was tired of being one. He couldn’t actively give up his hammer, but having the excuse of making ends meet in a remote land would allow him to let go of everything and start anew.

Although they belonged to different workshops, the fact that Roy, an old friend, also intended to go, gave Carl the push he needed.

Despite thinking such things, since coming to Enkar Village, Carl had been busier than he had ever been in the capital city, no, many times more busy, spending hectic days with Roy.

The Enkar region was experiencing a building boom. From construction materials like nails and hinges to cooking utensils like pots, pans, and knives, and even unusual items like lids for stone ovens. With a demand for many tools and amid the chaos of potato blight across the country, the prosperous Enkar region never experienced a lull in work.

When hammering iron, Carl couldn’t help but think that this was the only path for him.

Whether it was a single pot or a solitary nail, he never cut corners in his work.

Each time he thought he had made something good, he wanted to create something even better next. Whenever he saw his work being used as part of new buildings that were rapidly springing up, and when his creations were appreciated, that feeling couldn’t be stopped.

“Oh, here he is, Carl-san! Welcome back!”

Waiting at the entrance of the assembly hall was a girl named Rena. Originally a serf, she now looked like a healthy young town girl since Carl had arrived.

Hiding behind her was a girl named Lily (Rii), who had recently moved here. She seemed reserved, a demeanor she often showed to most adult men.

Lily had been painfully thin when she first started living here, but now, having been able to eat properly every day, she was gradually regaining a more childlike figure.

“My apologies for being late. You should have waited inside. Despite being near home, it’s getting dark outside, so come on in.”

“I’m wearing fur and we have the brazier, so I’m not cold!”

Next to Rena and Lily was the smallest brazier Carl had made in various sizes. Both the trivet inside it and the copper kettle resting on top were his creations.

“Alright, just be careful not to burn yourself.”

“Yeah! Dad’s inside, so let’s go!”

Rena took Carl’s hand with one of hers and Lily’s with the other, leading them inside. With both hands occupied, Carl found it a bit difficult to open the assembly hall’s door, so he took care of it himself.

“Dad! Carl-san’s here!”

“Oh, he’s here, he’s here. Sorry for bothering you when you’re busy.”

Nid was seated with other men, leaning over wooden tankards. There was foam on his beard, so it was likely ale.

“No, the large brazier is still in the prototype stage, so I wanted to come occasionally to check on it.”

The assembly hall was spacious, with the fresh scent of new wood still lingering. Many residents had moved into the newly constructed “row houses”, and nearly thirty people were still sleeping and living here.

“The charcoal is already in. So, shall we use the trivet and frying pan to whip something up quickly?”

“I’ve got dough ready for flatbread.”

“Then let’s give that a try.”

The oversized brazier, crafted by the pottery artisan Lewis for large gatherings, was so large that it took two grown men just to carry it. At this size, it was too heavy to move alone, requiring the strength of three to four men accustomed to farm work to set up, almost becoming a fixed installation.

Carl inserted the longer-than-usual trivet and checked to ensure it was securely in place before placing the cast iron frying pan on top. He visually confirmed it was sufficiently heated, then placed the thinly rolled flatbread dough on it.

With a crackling sound, he waited for one side to brown and then flipped it over. Since the bread was as thin as parchment, it didn’t take long to cook.

“It seems to be working fine. With this brazier, we can use three trivets at once, so we could bake bread on two and cook toppings on the other.”

Sitting beside the brazier, Carl could feel its gentle warmth seeping into him. Although he also had one at his home adjacent to the workshop, there hadn’t been a day when he hadn’t lit a fire.

When he first heard about the concept of a brazier, he wondered if such a thing would really help with cold weather. He had some prejudice because it was conceived by a sixteen-year-old noble girl, not a craftsman, probably just a child’s whim.

Even in the prototype stage, he had wondered if such a simple thing could really provide so much warmth. But after using it, he found it incredibly useful, wondering why such a thing hadn’t spread until now.

Lady Melfina, the lord, had instructed him to install a kettle filled with water. When the water inside the kettle ran low, he was to add more water and ventilate it for about five minutes.

Not only did it provide warmth, but it also allowed for simple cooking. Hanging a kettle filled with water helped alleviate the dry winter air that could crack the skin. Additionally, the heated water acted as a barrier against cold drafts.

As he used the items he had made himself, he began to see areas where improvements could be made.

“In wealthy families with many members within the village, it seems they use two or three braziers, but what if I made the brazier itself larger?”

“If I shape it flatter with reduced height, I could use both a pot and a frying pan simultaneously. And if we can harvest yams again, I could bury them in ash for steaming.”

“What if we dig a pit in the floor and embed the brazier there? With a huge brazier in the middle of the room, we could cook meals around it and boil water anytime. Unlike conventional hearths, it wouldn’t scatter ashes.”

“Producing a standardized item in bulk is a craftsman’s job, but continually striving to satisfy customers with even better products is equally important. After all, a craftsman’s journey is about traveling and experiencing various styles.”

Such thoughts were so overwhelming that when he was hired here, he felt he was already finished as a craftsman.

“It’s warm.”

“Yeah, still doing great work. Carl, how about a drink before you head home? It’s ale from the lord’s estate. Just brought out from the cellar, and it’s incredibly good!”

In the past, he might have declined, not wanting to get too familiar with clients, fearing it might lead to half-hearted work.

“Lady Melfina is amazing, isn’t she? Constantly coming up with new ideas, and they’re all fantastic. I wish I could be like her.”

“May I have a drink? Keep it coming.”

Nid cheerfully poured ale from the barrel. It must have been chilled outside, and the cold, undiluted ale went down smoothly, its slight bitterness and wonderful aroma making him catch his breath.

“It’s really delicious. It’s completely different from the herbal ale I used to drink in the capital.”

“I said one, but sorry, could I have another?”

“Sure thing!”

The friendly village chief poured more ale enthusiastically, while the men around laughed merrily.

The braziers had brought warmth to everyone in the village. Even now, it felt like he was dreaming that something he made was warming so many people and being appreciated.

Now, he wanted to keep creating newer and more useful things.

Like that mysterious Lady Melfina who continued to warm people’s hearts.

He realized once again that he was a craftsman.

And he would never forget it again.