The next morning dawned clear and cold, with a crispness to the air that hinted at the changing seasons. Seth woke early again, his mind already cataloging everything they would need to accomplish today. He dressed in his most practical clothes, garments that could withstand dirt and ash and hard labor.
When he made his way to the dining hall, he found Eris already there, similarly dressed in a simple work dress that Lyra must have found for her. Her silver white hair was pulled back in a tight braid, and there was a determined set to her jaw that made her look older than her seventeen years.
"Ready?" Seth asked.
"Ready," Eris confirmed.
They ate a quick breakfast, both of them too focused on what lay ahead to make much conversation. Then they gathered supplies: water skins, some bread and cheese wrapped in cloth for later, tools that Seth hoped might be useful for the repairs they needed to make.
The walk through town was less hostile this morning, though no friendlier. People still avoided them, still stared, but there was less active aggression. Perhaps word had spread about Seth's confrontation with the merchant yesterday. Perhaps they were simply getting used to the sight of the prince and the witch walking together.
Or perhaps they were waiting to see what would happen next, reserving judgment until events played out further.
The smithy looked even more dilapidated in the morning light than it had yesterday. The charred wood from Eris's loss of control stood out starkly against the weathered stone, a reminder of how close they had come to disaster. But Seth refused to let that discourage him.
"Alright," he said, setting down their supplies and looking around the space with a critical eye. "First things first. We need to stabilize the structure and patch the worst of the damage. The forge basin's cracks need to be sealed. The chimney needs to be cleared of debris. And we need to salvage whatever tools we can."
Eris nodded, rolling up her sleeves. "Tell me what to do."
They worked through the morning in focused silence, broken only by occasional questions or directions. Seth discovered that he actually knew more about basic construction and repair than he would have expected, knowledge bleeding through from the original Seth's memories of maintaining his manor on a limited budget. Eris proved to be a quick learner and a tireless worker, never complaining even when the tasks were dirty or difficult.
By midday, they had made significant progress. The chimney was cleared, the worst of the structural damage was patched with whatever materials they could scavenge, and the forge basin's cracks were filled with a mixture of clay and sand that would need to dry before they could test it.
They were taking a break, sitting on the floor with their backs against the wall and sharing the bread and cheese they had brought, when they heard footsteps outside.
Seth tensed, his hand moving instinctively toward the knife he had thought to bring with him. But the figure that appeared in the doorway was not threatening. It was a man, young, perhaps in his early twenties, with the thick arms and calloused hands of someone who worked with his body for a living. He had brown hair and a cautious expression, and he stopped in the doorway as if unsure whether he should enter.
"Your Highness," the man said, his voice respectful but uncertain. "I heard you were working on the old smithy. I... I wanted to see if it was true."
Seth stood slowly, brushing dust from his trousers. "And you are?"
"Edmund, Your Highness. I was apprenticed to Master Godfrey before he passed. I've been working as a laborer since then, hauling and lifting for whoever would pay me. But smithing... that's what I was trained for."
Seth felt his heart rate pick up. 'Godfrey's apprentice. He's still here. He didn't leave.'
"How much of your training did you complete?" Seth asked, keeping his voice carefully neutral.
Edmund shifted uncomfortably. "Three years, Your Highness. I know the basics. How to heat metal, how to shape it, how to temper it. Master Godfrey said I had potential, that I could be a proper smith in time. But then he died, and without a forge, without anyone to continue teaching me..." He trailed off, shrugging helplessly.
"Can you work iron?" Seth pressed. "If you had a functioning forge, could you make tools? Nails? Horseshoes?"
"Yes, Your Highness. Those are basic works. I could manage them, though my technique might be rough. I haven't worked metal in two years."
Seth exchanged a glance with Eris, who had stood as well and was watching Edmund with interest. He could see the same thought in her eyes that was running through his mind.
'This could work. This could actually work.'
"Edmund," Seth said carefully, "how would you like to be Fort Renly's blacksmith?"
Edmund's eyes widened. "Your Highness, I... I'm honored, but there's no forge. No coal. No apprentices to work the bellows. It would take a fortune to set up a proper smithy, money that Fort Renly doesn't have."
"What if I told you we could solve the coal problem?" Seth asked. "What if we had a heat source that was consistent, controllable, and didn't require fuel?"
Edmund looked confused. "Your Highness, I don't understand. There's no such thing."
Seth looked at Eris, raising an eyebrow in question. She hesitated for just a moment, then stepped forward and held out her hand. With a soft whoosh, a flame appeared above her palm, burning steady and bright.
Edmund stumbled backward, his face going pale. "Witch!" The word came out as barely more than a whisper.
"Yes," Seth said calmly. "A witch. And also Fort Renly's solution to its economic problems. Eris can provide the heat for the forge. You can work the metal. Together, we can restart metalworking in this territory and begin generating actual income."
Edmund's eyes were fixed on the flame in Eris's hand, and Seth could see the war being fought behind them. Fear battling against hope. Superstition fighting with pragmatism.
"She'll kill me," Edmund said weakly. "Witches are monsters. Everyone knows that."
"I'm not going to kill anyone," Eris said quietly, and there was hurt in her voice. "I just want to help. I want to be useful instead of hunted."
She closed her hand, extinguishing the flame, and looked at Edmund with an expression that was equal parts plea and defiance. "I know you're scared. Everyone is scared of me. But His Highness is giving me a chance to prove that I'm not a monster. And if you help us, if you work with us, you could be a real blacksmith again instead of just a laborer. Isn't that worth taking a risk?"
Edmund stood frozen, his eyes moving between Seth and Eris, clearly torn. Seth could see the moment the decision was made, could see something shift in the young man's posture.
"If I do this," Edmund said slowly, "if I agree to work with... with her... and word gets out, I'll be an outcast. People will think I've been corrupted or enchanted."
"People will think whatever they want to think," Seth said. "But when Fort Renly is prosperous, when there's work and trade and money flowing through this territory again, they'll care a lot less about how it happened. Success has a way of making people forget their principles."
It was a cynical view, but also an honest one. And Edmund seemed to recognize the truth in it.
"Alright," he said finally, the word coming out like a sigh. "Alright, I'll do it. I'll be your blacksmith, Your Highness. And I'll work with the w— with her. But if she sets me on fire, I'm haunting you both."
Despite the tension of the moment, Seth found himself smiling. "Deal."
Eris laughed, a surprised, delighted sound that transformed her whole face. "I promise I'll try very hard not to set you on fire."
"Try very hard," Edmund repeated with dark humor. "That's reassuring."
But despite his words, he stepped fully into the smithy and began looking around with the critical eye of someone who knew what he was seeing. He examined the forge basin, ran his hands over the anvil, picked up tools and tested their weight and balance.
"This can work," he said finally, and there was wonder in his voice. "It's rough, and we'll need to make some modifications, but this can actually work. If she can really provide steady heat..." He trailed off, looking at Eris with something that was no longer quite fear. Maybe wariness, maybe lingering doubt, but also possibility.
"I can," Eris said firmly. "I will."
Edmund nodded slowly. "Then we'd better get to work. The clay mixture you used on the forge basin needs at least another day to fully dry and cure. But we can start cleaning and repairing tools, reorganizing the space, making a list of what materials we'll need for actual production."
He had slipped into a professional mode, his fear temporarily set aside in favor of practical concerns. Seth recognized the pattern, the way focusing on concrete tasks could override emotional turmoil. It was something he had done himself many times.
The three of them spent the rest of the afternoon working together, and slowly, almost imperceptibly, the dynamic between them began to shift. Edmund's initial terror of Eris gradually faded as he watched her work, saw her struggle with heavy tools just like any normal person, heard her laugh when she accidentally dropped something on her foot. She was not a monster performing monstrous deeds. She was just a girl trying to help, and that reality was hard to reconcile with years of ingrained fear.
By the time the sun began to set, the smithy looked almost functional. Not finished, not ready for actual production, but close. So close that Seth could almost see it, could almost imagine the forge burning bright with Eris's flames while Edmund hammered iron into useful shapes.
They were exhausted, filthy, and covered in dust and ash. But there was also satisfaction in the air, the kind that came from tangible progress toward a meaningful goal.
"Tomorrow," Edmund said as they prepared to leave for the night, "we test the forge. If the clay has cured properly, if she can maintain the heat like she says she can, then we try a simple project. Maybe some nails. Nothing complicated, just something to prove the concept works."
"Tomorrow," Seth agreed.
As they walked back toward the manor, Eris close beside him and Edmund heading off toward his own home in another part of town, Seth felt something he had not felt since waking up in this world.
Optimism.
They had a blacksmith. They had a plan. They had time, not much, but enough to at least attempt what they were trying to do.
And most importantly, they had each other. Three people that the world had dismissed or feared, coming together to build something new.
'Let my father send his judgment,' Seth thought as the manor came into view. 'Let the town council send their petition. By the time anyone arrives to condemn us, we'll have already proven them wrong.'
At least, that was the hope.
That evening, after cleaning up and eating a simple dinner, Seth was back in his study reviewing Godfrey's notes when Lyra knocked on the door.
"Your Highness, forgive the interruption, but there's been talk among the servants."
Seth looked up. "What kind of talk?"
Lyra twisted her hands together nervously. "About the young lady. About Eris. Some of the staff were frightened at first, when they learned what she was. But today, watching her work at the smithy, seeing how tired she was when she came back... people are starting to question whether she's really the monster they've been taught to fear."
She paused, then added quietly, "I think you're changing minds, Your Highness. Slowly, but it's happening."
Seth felt warmth spread through his chest. "Thank you for telling me, Lyra."
After she left, he sat alone in his study, Liora's letter before him once more. His sister had asked what game he was playing. But this was not a game. This was revolution, quiet and small, but revolution nonetheless.
He was going to change Fort Renly. And through Fort Renly, perhaps he could begin to change the world's view of witches. One person at a time. One successful project at a time.
'Let them see,' he thought. 'Let them all see what we can build together.'
Tomorrow they would test the forge. They would be taking the next step, and that would bring them one day closer to proving that the trash prince and hunted witch were worth something after all.