eternities:gretch_the_noble [One Last Fire]

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====== Gretch the Noble ======

===== Not a Noble Nor a Saint =====


===== Making Amends =====
Before you leave the Library, Angelo appears to present you with a truly enormous blue gift box. Its neon colours render you dizzy, and the dense floral smell is thicker than any field in the natural world. It seems to contain a mass of pink and green paper and, at its core, an old handheld mirror. The handle is mildly rusted and there is a crack through its centre. As you look through it, your reflection appears distorted. 

As you swivel yourself around to see your reflection in different lights, mesmerised at how the mirror bends and breaks your features, you notice Pascale and Adamo sharing a rather, ahem, intimate moment behind you, through the mirror. Though they are far away, you notice through the reflection that Pascale has passed her glorious leeches to the man through their oral interactions. 

Intriguing...

With the mirror, there is a note written in illustrious cursive from Angelo. They wish to bestow upon you the gift of insight. May you always see what is true and aligned to your ideals, even if others can not. He thinks it will suit you on your journey beyond the Library.

With that, you jump through a portal, leaving this fever dream behind.

After leaving the barn, crossing the fields of Flanders, and arriving in the city of Bruges, you seek out, for the first time in your life, a place of learning.

You seek out... a library. Or, as you quickly find yourself dizzy from being ensconced in the general chaos of Bruges, a book seller will suffice.

The quaint shop in the alleyways of the inner city is more of a stall than anything, the amount of space to manoeuvre within the four walls equivalent to the square meterage of an outhouse. Nothing more, nothing less.

Good thing you're no stranger to tiny, cramped, and frankly smelly locales. You swivel around the outside piles of books for a short time, searching... searching... They're trashy romance novels for the most part. Old you would have grabbed a couple, probably without paying, but you're a changed Gretch. A Gretch who is feeling oddly naked and a bit chilled to the bone without your old, mushroom-covered coat.

You lick your lips. //Ohhh, you're going to miss those homegrown mushrooms!//

Instinctually, you reach to tear a page from one of the awfully-descriptive and lewd novels, but stop yourself.

//No. This isn't me anymore. I can do better.//

So you do. You strut into the interior of the booksellers, hail the shopkeep and ask for some parchment, ink, and a quill made with what looks like a peacock feather. //Perfect.//

You toss the necessary gold to the shopkeep and begin to draft a letter to your long-lost mother and brother...

===== A Goldsmithy's Apprentice =====

**Report on the State of Blacksmithing in 12th Century Flanders, specifically Bruges:**

  * The arms and armour in Bruges has always been exceptional, but of late the quality has increased exponentially. At this rate, it may even negate the need for Italian and German imports.

  * It has been suggested the reason is the influx of new smithing apprentices in the city of Bruges. The youth are increasingly encouraged to pursue trade crafts -- especially ones which will raise their hometown's prestige. This is undeniably part of it.

  * However, may I, a humble merchant and smithing afficionado, also introduce a rising star on the scene: a so-called 'Gretch', who seems capable of not just crafting arms and armour befitting a knight... but inventions the like of which I, nor //anyone//, has ever seen! Have you ever heard of an 'ornithopter', a 'parachute', or a strange, ranged, crossbow-like weapon called 'Gretchinator the Second'? (I have nary a clue what happened to the first!)

  * Apologies, as you can tell, I am at wit's end, and the professionalism of this report is nearly lost... but I hope the import of the smithy and inventor, Gretch, is not lost as well.

  * If you are in Bruges and wish to witness such extraordinary machinery for yourself, ask for Tahleen's Goldsmithy.

  * I, personally, am expecting great things from Gretch in the years to come.


{{ :flying-machine-leonardo-da-vinci-plans-ornithopter.jpg?400 |}}

//**Note:** I have included a sketch of Gretch's ornithopter with his permission. Did you know it could flap its wings like those of a bird?//


===== Repaying Filial Debts =====

Eventually, as you are gaining recognition in Bruges with your innovativeness even more so than your ability to fix up some Italian armour into something five times as sturdy (and fashionable-looking, reminding you of Angelo), you receive a response to your initial letter.

A more junior smithy apprentice drops it off with Tahleen, who tosses it to you with hardly a grunt. Even though you bring in a lot of business for the man, he has only seemed to grow more resentful of your company -- and your achievements.

You shake your head and sigh, while breaking the simple wax seal on the folded over parchment. Perhaps it is nearly time for you to move on... to set up your own shop and build to your heart's desire...

Your thoughts come to a jarring halt as you read the letter:

//To Gretch,//

//Mother and I have received your letter, but had hardly the time to respond what with the harvest requiring all of our effort. To be honest, hearing from you shocked both of us.//

//Mother cried and screamed. And cried some more. You know how she gets. Somehow both possessed by fury and sorrow. She missed you. I can tell.//

//Her health is better by the way. A physician came by and tended to her infection, though it cost us a small fortune. Though weakness still plagues her, and I keep having to insist she sit and rest.//

//Me? I've wished you to stay gone and come back more times than I can count. But now that you wrote first... I can't help but be glad you did.//

//If you wish to come home, back to the family farm, back to *us*, it would be a welcome change. But you have to really want this homecoming.//

{{:emile_signature.png?200|}}

You read the letter again. And again. And again. Then a fourth and final time. Would it really be okay? For you to go back and check on them?

Sure, you would likely have to go to and fro from Bruges and the farm, but that would be alright if it was to support your family... right?

You nod. Decision made. The letter folded and pressed against your breast inside your new woollen coat.

You call out: "Oi, Tahleen! I quit!"

"You WHAT?!"

And, with that, you are on your way, feeling better than ever.
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