The strange criminals had left him here, in the care of one of their contacts. Ashaad did not think the old man could stop him from running, if he chose to.
He could not make that choice. The criminals had his weapon. Something between his honor and his soul, he felt bereft without it. Ungrounded. Whether they knew that or not, Ashaad couldn’t say. It probably made the most sense to deprive your prisoner of all weapons, no matter the meaning attached to them.
With nothing else to do, he’d begun taking up the old man’s work. It was better than sitting idle, his mind wandering endlessly. Not that nails and horseshoes could truly occupy his thoughts – only that the labor quieted them. Made the time disappear, infinitely preferable to the alternative. Thus occupied, he didn’t notice the woman when she came in.
Only when she cleared her throat to draw attention did he turn around, frowning at the interruption. Customers were the old man’s business – literally. Not his. Besides, she was rude, making that chopping motion at him. Had some order run overdue?
No. Ashaad looked more carefully, taking in the state of her clothes. The iron bands on her wrists. It … Didn’t seem like a game gone awry. And slavery was only legal in Tevinter, though that didn’t stop people from selling other people.
Was that part of their enterprise, the criminals who had brought him here? They hadn’t chained him, but that they had his glaive was as good as.
“Okay. Stay quiet.” He could do this, as long as the real smith stayed dozing on the porch. Rummaging around for tools, Ash produced a fine handsaw from the rack.
“Put your hand on the bench.” Most likely, they wouldn’t have wasted good steel on shackles. He’d ruin a blade or two, but get through them eventually.
@Primrose Clery
He could not make that choice. The criminals had his weapon. Something between his honor and his soul, he felt bereft without it. Ungrounded. Whether they knew that or not, Ashaad couldn’t say. It probably made the most sense to deprive your prisoner of all weapons, no matter the meaning attached to them.
With nothing else to do, he’d begun taking up the old man’s work. It was better than sitting idle, his mind wandering endlessly. Not that nails and horseshoes could truly occupy his thoughts – only that the labor quieted them. Made the time disappear, infinitely preferable to the alternative. Thus occupied, he didn’t notice the woman when she came in.
Only when she cleared her throat to draw attention did he turn around, frowning at the interruption. Customers were the old man’s business – literally. Not his. Besides, she was rude, making that chopping motion at him. Had some order run overdue?
No. Ashaad looked more carefully, taking in the state of her clothes. The iron bands on her wrists. It … Didn’t seem like a game gone awry. And slavery was only legal in Tevinter, though that didn’t stop people from selling other people.
Was that part of their enterprise, the criminals who had brought him here? They hadn’t chained him, but that they had his glaive was as good as.
“Okay. Stay quiet.” He could do this, as long as the real smith stayed dozing on the porch. Rummaging around for tools, Ash produced a fine handsaw from the rack.
“Put your hand on the bench.” Most likely, they wouldn’t have wasted good steel on shackles. He’d ruin a blade or two, but get through them eventually.
@Primrose Clery
07-21-2024, 05:55 PM
