Duke Braster sat in a lounge with his wife. It was still evening after Bellavarn returned. Oslo had come to him after speaking with Trisha and mentioned that they had a problem. They both cleared their schedule for this.
"Sir, I am not sure where I should begin."
Braster ran a hand through his hair.
"Start at the beginning."
"Right. I suppose the first thing I should mention is that every smithy we visited refused us. They denied us service on account of the rumor about Bellavarn."
Trisha was halfway into throwing her teacup when she stopped. It was a gift, so throwing it would upset someone else unnecessarily. Instead, she settled for using her other hand to squeeze Braster's arm.
"That poisonous bitch. It's all her fault. Bellavarn had gone completely unnoticed until now."
Oslo winced. Trisha rolled her head back and massaged her temple, trying to prevent creases from forming.
"I shouldn't have invited Lady Wyre so soon. I made excuses, but it is clear that her mind is already set in a direction. Her daughter is a delight, but Lady Wyre can be so petty. She is stubbornly selective for her daughter despite being a Baroness."
Olso steeled himself and continued.
"It was unsettling for Bellavarn to be turned away at every occasion, but he quickly bounced back. He handled himself well, and wasn't afraid to scrap his original idea, deciding to work with clay instead of metal."
"Clay?"
"Ceramics is mainly used for pottery, but it holds many other options as well. It was a genuinely good idea. That's why I brought him to visit Turner."
"Turner's a good man. He has a daughter around Bellavarn's age, doesn't he?"
It took Oslo a moment to keep his expression neutral.
"He does. We visited him, but Astor had gotten there before us and made him an offer he couldn't refuse."
Oslo shook his head.
"It is my fault. I neglected to check in with Turner and let things deteriorate to this point. The worse news is that I did some quick digging, and I have already uncovered evidence that at least three of the smithies we visited have been in contact with Duke Astor. He's been creeping in on our crafters for almost two months. I will need to complete more thorough investigations to uncover more, but I suspect that there are even more hidden damages we are unaware of."
The Duke's silence was more dangerous than any outburst. This was still the edge of his land, and these were his people. Astor controlled nearly all business in and around the capital, but it seems he's looking to expand that influence.
Trisha's consistent meetings with the other noble Ladies didn't reveal anything. There was no chatter about Duke Astor's moves at all. It could only mean that his subterfuge skills are more advanced than either of them thought. There's a high probability that several other nobles have already defected to his camp.
They must have enjoyed pulling one over a Duchess.
"It is unsettling that we've both overlooked the young Duke Astor. I suppose his parents letting him succeed the Duchy so early wasn't a warm-hearted move after all. This is good, though. Bellavarn managed to uncover the plot before it grew into something unmanageable."
"I will need to plan our counterattack. This insult can't go unpaid. Trisha, you should figure out who has been lying to our faces while they still believe we are ignorant."
Trisha's eyes were filled with ice.
"You needn't tell me, dear. I'll make those wenches regret their actions."
The Duke felt a chuckle in his chest and smirked. That was his wife. A boon for friends and a disaster to her enemies. Oslo interrupted once again.
"Duke Astor is the one who's been spreading the rumor."
The temperature in the room dropped. Braster's eyes became chilly and deadly. Trisha was murderous. The combined aura was strangling all the air in the room.
"I'm sorry. I think I misheard. That twerp has been spouting nonsense about my son?"
"Surely, you've confirmed this. Right, Oslo?"
Adjusting his collar so he could inhale, Oslo held up a hand and explained.
"Not only did the smithies in contact with Astor know about the rumor, but the last smith that I conversed with blew the rumor out of proportion. He wasn't smart enough to invent the rumor himself, so I concluded he heard it directly from someone else."
Remembering the oaf that called himself a blacksmith, Oslo clenched his fist. The lunatic was hollering about some sort of lecherous demon. The absurd words caused Oslo to lose his temper. Luckily, he removed his gloves before doing any real damage, and Bellavarn was too distracted to notice.
"I confirmed it. He admitted to it. High society, including the royal family, is aware of the rumor, despite our efforts to keep it tightly in-house, and it's now spreading among the common folk. There's no stopping it now."
Sighing, he remembered his old friend.
"The real reason Turner defected was because of his daughter, Kelly. I spoke with him after Bellavarn egressed, and it appears Duke Astor presented the offer in person. He did his research. Knowing what happened to Turner's wife, he manipulated his pitch so that Kelly would take the bait. Once he had her on the hook, Turner didn't have any choice in the matter."
It was a well-crafted plan that hit many birds with one stone. It slandered the young Duke and the Sallow house, bought Astor an experienced crafter, deprived the Sallows of business, and coincidentally interrupted Bellavarn's plans for his inventions.
And now Astor had Turner and his daughter wrapped around his finger.
Oslo rubbed his eyes.
He wasn't present for whatever occurred between Bellavarn and Kelly, but Kerv looked nearly as murderous as the Duke and Duchess were looking at him right now. Unfortunately, he wasn't done.
"Kelly and Bellavarn had some sort of interaction outside while I was busy. Kerv described it as Kelly's prejudice greatly insulting Bellavarn. Combined with the constant setbacks and unending judgment from the rumors, it hit him hard. Bellavarn broke down on the ride home."
Trisha was breathing hard through her nose. She wanted to punch someone. Like Duke Astor. Or Melody. Or this Kelly person. Everyone was so quick to judge her son without ever getting to know him.
She cooled when she remembered her own actions.
The panic she felt. The horror at what she had seen. Her deepest regret was that she had been fooled as well. It would make sense if Bellavarn blamed her. Trisha was a hypocrite of the highest standard.
A comforting hand squeezed her own. Looking up, she saw Braster's assurance. She could see the understanding and absolution she was looking for. Behind it all, Trisha could see the unfathomable wrath he wanted to bring down. He just needed a valid target.
The Duchess grinned as she realized who the most likely candidate was. Deciding it was time to ask, she spoke in a measured tone.
"Will you tell us what Bellavarn said in the coach?"
Oslo was adamant to keep certain things secret, but he gave them as much as he could.
"Bellavarn is an amazing young man. He handled each situation to his utmost ability and always kept the benefit of the family in mind. He was furious, yet fair-minded. He adapted quickly under pressure. Though I believe he is trying a bit too hard."
His smile turned sad.
"He is afraid you two will abandon him if he doesn't do well. I believe that is the reason he has been studying so hard. He is trying to gain your approval. I suspect that the reason behind his accepting the Duchess's option of setting him up, even though his wounds haven't healed, is that he knew it would make the Duchess happy."
Trisha wanted to cry. Her son! Her little boy. So kind and gentle. So smart and talented. He was her pride and joy, doesn't he know? She would be happy to keep him all to herself. He didn't need to find a lady! He was hers!
Braster felt similar emotions of a more manly variety. He was proud of his son. When Bellavarn locked himself away, he was worried enough to forget about his curse and even neglected important duties. It was a pleasant surprise when he learned that Bellavarn had been studying magic. His son showed off to the King and put the royal heirs in their place. And then Bellavarn went on to create something spectacular—an invention so simple yet so impactful and extraordinary that it could change the world! His son was not only the most thoughtful person he knew but was more innovative than the past three generations of Sallows.
Braster didn't know how to be prouder.
Every member of House Sallow cared for Bellavarn. They'd been living each day in monotony before he opened them up. Laughing and learning, playing games, sharing treats, and spreading joy. He brought them all together and made them one huge family.
Bellavarn was loved even if he didn't see it. Even if he felt alone. Everyone in the mansion was here for him now. Bellavarn was destined for great things.
That was why it was so important to nurture him and keep him safe.
"I wish it were his birthday again so that we could throw him a party."
"There is the spring festival next month. Perhaps we can have plans for everyone to go out together?"
Braster folded his arms in contemplation at Oslo's suggestion.
"I'm trying to get us out of the capital by then. It might be a good way for everyone to celebrate the occasion. I can set it up so that everyone is free that day."
Trisha had a thought.
"What is Bellavarn going to do now that there is no one to work on his invention?"
Oslo shifted his feet.
"Well. He plans on doing it himself. He seems confident enough. Turner will be receiving a hefty severance pay in exchange for the majority of his tools. Bellavarn even had Nem go back for some supplies, including a bucket of clay. If he is still awake, he is likely shaping it as we speak."
Oslo noticed Bellavarn seemed to be developing a habit of throwing himself into work when he's stressed. It wasn't the worst habit to have, but it wasn't entirely healthy either. Bellavarn was very much like his father in that regard.
"Before you make assumptions, maybe you should visit him."
*Splat*
"No! Kerv. I told you. Stop! Put that down."
"Hah. You got to catch me first."
*Splat*
"Kerv. This isn't funny. Stop this. You are getting it everywhere."
*Plop*
"Whoah!"
Kerv slipped and fell back, the wind knocked out of him. Bellavarn pounced, wrestling the small bucket of clay away. Half of its contents were painted across the room from an impromptu mud fight.
"I told you not to do this in the library. Do you realize how long it will take to clean this up? Ah! The water is probably in the books."
Bellavarn set down the bucket and left a wheezing Kerv stranded on the floor. Running over to the bookshelves, he double-checked that they were all okay.
"It is my fault for bringing it in here anyway. I just wanted to get started early."
Oslo cleared his throat. Kerv extricated himself from the floor with a wince as Bellavarn leaned out from the bookshelf, finally noticing everyone standing in the doorway.
Trisha covered her mouth while staring at her husband's face, a thick glob of gray paste slipped down wetly.
"Pfft."
Trisha wiped the smirk off her face as Braster wiped his.
Stupid Witch's curse.
"You didn't see all that, did you? I told Kerv to stop."
"It's Bellavarn's fault for doing nothing but work."
Trisha noted that he spoke more formally now that there was an audience.
Braster firmly ignored what just happened to his face and thought about the situation as a whole. For the first time ever, Braster thought that Kerv deserved a raise.
"Did you come to check up on me? I managed a few basic forms, but they need to dry before I can work with them. They are over there."
Bellavarn directed the eyes to a cordoned-off corner. Trisha raised a delicate eyebrow. Braster wrapped a protective arm around her as he led the way. She tiptoed slightly behind him, hemming up her dress.
How did all this come from only half a bucket?
Outside, Oslo excused himself to address Lannie and Ester, who were loitering outside. They were in the midst of playing rock-paper-scissors.
Inside, Braster examined nine wet shapes sitting on a small wooden board. A tarp covered the area to prevent disasters, but it was too small to protect the entire room.
Braster recognized the pieces that looked almost vaguely like the diagrams he'd seen—six circular disks with smaller rounded prongs arranged in a triangle formation. Holes were cut out of the center.
"What are those little snakes for?"
Trisha pointed to a few thick coils set aside.
Bellavarn called over from where he was airing out a book.
"Those will be the trigger mechanisms later. Place the cylinders in the center, click, and the piece will turn."
Trisha turned her head, trying to imagine it. Bellavarn could sense the confusion and walked over, pointing.
"Each disk has a partner that will be connected through a center rod. I kept everything separate so it's easier to carve the magical symbols. Trying to get a needle into such a small space would be maddening."
It clicked in both their minds. It was like a sandwich.
"Getting the shape correct is harder than I thought. Turner uses really wet clay. Since he specializes in thrown pottery and not hand-built works, it makes sense."
Bellavarn stated it as if the information were evident to everyone.
Trisha exchanged a look with her husband, having the same thought.
Our son is a genius.
Bellavarn took their silence as understanding and walked off to greet a despondent Ester and a satisfied Lannie. Lannie won rock-paper-scissors.
Father and Mother watched their son greet the two maids with a sorry expression. Lannie and Ester exchanged barbs with each other, but neither of them seemed unduly annoyed or upset. Kerv joined in, rubbing the back of his head. He aimed his palms outward as he got chewed out by both Bellavarn and Ester. Lannie laughed.
Was this a product of Bellavarn's efforts? Kerv had already managed to break Bellavarn out of his funk, and now others were joining in as well. When Misses Vale burst in with a tray of cookies, Braster had to reorganize his thoughts.
Maybe they didn't have so much to worry about after all.