Chapter 131 Gauge

Harlon stood with his arms crossed in front of the rattling sawblade, wearing an expression Lucien couldn't help but find unusual. It was rare to see the carpenter look like anything more than annoyed, even with Talia's antics or Joren's blunt words.

Beside him, the smith Lucien had briefly met during the first settling of the second wave of refugees gave a slow shake of his head.

"You must be losing your touch, staying in a farming village like this for so long, Harlon. Even your old place had a sawmill. I can't believe you would make a mistake like this."

"...The frame was built for the millrace, not the river itself," Harlon gritted out. "I told Joren exactly what measurements to use. It isn't my fault the man forged the bracket as though the whole Easthollow was meant to run through it."

The master smith guffawed, slapping one meaty palm against the frame. "Hah! That's your first mistake right there, trusting that oaf not to make it stronger just because he could."

Harlon only looked more irritated at the motion. He seemed ready to retort, only for his eyes to meet Lucien's where he stood by the threshold of the sawmill.

A deliberate cough left his throat as he dipped his head. "Lord."

Beside him, the smith turned quickly, his eyes widening for a brief moment before he bowed. "My Lord."

Lucien returned the gesture, walking over to them. "Harlon and..." His words trailed off as he cast a questioning look toward the smith.

"Gavin, My Lord. I apologize for not greeting you sooner. I have been making sure the men I brought over are settling into your new houses properly." The smith bowed once more, deeper this time.

Lucien shook his head. "No need for that, Gavin. I have been busy myself these last few days."

The mention of the last few days drew Gavin's eyes toward the window overlooking the northern treeline.

"I heard about that. Orcs, eh...they're a headache to deal with when a band decides to hunt a settlement like this."

For a brief moment, the conversation thinned beneath the rattle of the saw.

Lucien didn't let it linger, gesturing toward the blade instead. "I heard your conversation just now, Harlon. It seems Gavin here may have found how to solve your problem with the blade?"

"...Aye. I will have to let Joren know to..." Harlon's words broke off as the blade screeched beside them.

His expression tightened before he turned toward a man passing near the watergate. "Close the watergate and pull the log back."

At Harlon's barked order, the man set his load down and hurried over.

A moment later, the wheel outside began to slow. The saw dragged through the timber once more, then again, each stroke weaker than the last until the frame gave a final wooden shudder and settled into stillness.

Letting out a faint breath as the sound subsided, Harlon turned back to Lucien. "As I was saying, I'll let Joren know later...maybe he can finally find time to come take a look."

Looking back at the sawblade, the carpenter exhaled through his nose. "Now that we know where the issue lies, at least his apprentice can handle the forging of the brackets with his instruction. The man's busy enough as it is..."

He caught Lucien's eye before glancing at Gavin, who had walked a short distance away to examine another part of the sawmill's mechanism.

Lucien understood the implication beneath it. Part of the reason they had held their discussions regarding the crossbows at Harlon's workshop these days was because the forge was no longer occupied only by Joren and his apprentices.

As though to further reinforce their caution, the master smith spoke without looking away from the mechanism.

"Joren's apprentice might be able to shave the weight from the bracket himself, provided that oaf taught him the basics properly."

Gavin gave a small nod to himself before walking back to them. Turning to the sawblade, he let out a hum. "The man's been distracted by something as of late. A distracted smith makes poor tools, My Lord."

"It can't be helped, Gavin. Both Joren and Harlon have been busy with things other than the sawmill," Lucien replied, glancing at the brackets that held the sawblade.

With so many different projects being handled at once, it wasn't surprising that something like this had slipped through. Ashridge had an abundance of labor now, but the lack of skilled workers and craftsmen was starting to cause problems.

Lucien let out a breath as he continued. "Harlon built the frame for the pull of the millrace, while Joren forged the bracket as though it had to endure the river itself."

"Neither of them did poor work, but they were solving different problems without enough time to stand here together and notice it."

The smith's eyes widened slightly as he turned to look at Lucien more closely. "...You know of forging and woodwork, My Lord?"

At those words, Lucien shook his head. "I understand the concepts just enough, but I depend on Joren and Harlon to give shape to them. They have been a great help to me since my appointment in Ashridge."

Gavin looked like he was about to speak, only for Harlon to give a deliberate cough.

The smith's mouth closed a moment later, his expression shifting as though he had nearly stepped onto ground better left untouched.

"It is fine, Gavin. My family's fall from grace is not a secret. Your guild has likely heard something of it by now, with merchants carrying gossip between Helvarn and the inner regions."

Despite his assurance, the smith still looked uncertain, his behavior a far cry from how he had been while poking at Harlon earlier.

The carpenter remained silent, though a huff of amusement left his mouth. If they were not inside a sawmill, Lucien had the distinct feeling the man would be puffing away at his pipe while watching.

Deciding to spare Gavin from the awkward situation, Lucien turned fully to face him. "How have you been settling in? I understand that a master smith like yourself deserves better, but your current quarters are only temporary until we finish handling the refugees' housing."

To Lucien's mild surprise, his words only made the smith look even more uncertain as the older man raised both hands lightly, palms up. "Ah, My Lord, I am afraid there's been a...misunderstanding."

Lucien's brow rose as he regarded the man. "Oh? What kind of misunderstanding?"

"The two smiths I brought are the ones moving here, My Lord," Gavin replied, his hand coming up to scratch at his beard. "I am only here temporarily...I was curious about those crossbows Lord Rathenfell showed us and wanted to come see Joren about them."

"That oa-Joren, I mean, didn't even show me what he's been working on when I asked."

Lucien's eyes sharpened. "That was under my orders, Gavin."

His words caused Gavin to look at him, though it was Harlon who spoke next.

"Don't misunderstand his words, Lord. He's not spying for Lord Rathenfell. The man's just curious about it as a craftsman."

Gavin looked almost offended at the insinuation, even as he tried to keep it from his expression. "Aye, Lord. I know the value of a craftsman's trade, and by the Goddess, I wouldn't do such a thing to Joren of all people...even if that oaf's a pain in my arse."

Lucien watched the smith closely before he finally spoke. "...Even so, you should understand my caution, Gavin. If you aren't planning to stay in Ashridge for long, then I cannot let a man of your skill examine our other crossbow variants."

"Any weapon under development in Ashridge is House Varentis business until I decide otherwise."

Gavin looked resigned at his words, though he didn't seem inclined to protest as his eyes lowered. "I understand, My Lord. I caught a glimpse of the windlass crossbow that woman was carrying near the tower...if someone without a soldier's build could wield such a weapon..."

He glanced at Harlon, who gave the smith a slow nod.

Turning back to Lucien, Gavin dipped his head slightly. "My Lord...perhaps I could at least see one of them tested? Preferably with the woman who carried it, if possible?"

That wouldn't be too much of a problem. Though Lucien noted how the man didn't seem to bat an eye at a woman wielding it, much like how no one cared about Sera's skill with a bow.

It was another point on how this world's culture had evolved differently compared to his own.

While Lucien was considering the matter, Gavin's next words nearly made him freeze.

"I am curious about which apprentice drew the stirrup crossbow designs as well. They were done remarkably well...caused quite a stir among some of the masters at the guild."

Beside the smith, Harlon looked like he was about to reply when Lucien cleared his throat before speaking.

"Harlon, we are about to test the lever crossbow soon. Perhaps we can also show Gavin a small demonstration of the windlass crossbow at the same time."

The carpenter's brow lifted as he turned to Lucien, studying him briefly.

"Aye. Joren and I already checked to see that it works properly at the back of my shop." He gave a nod to Gavin. "I will let you know when we are testing it."

Lucien inclined his head. "Consider it my thanks for helping Harlon with his sawblade, Gavin. Now, if you two will excuse me, I need to see my captain regarding matters of defense."

"I need to get back to work too. Gavin, since you're getting something out of this, help me take measurements while the blade is being used," Harlon muttered, the corner of his beard twitching when Gavin seemed annoyed at being ordered around.

As Lucien made to leave, both men dipped their heads before continuing to bicker even as he walked away.

His thoughts trailed back to Gavin's words.

'I sent the designs of the stirrup crossbow to Lord Rathenfell and Lord Vaelric...the same ones Alicia drew.'

When he had decided to send copies to both lords, Alicia had recreated the drawings herself, using her blessing to repeat every stroke so precisely that the two copies would look no different from one another if placed side by side.

It was such a small thing, but the risk only grew if someone were to see both copies at the same time, however unlikely that was.

The sound of the sawmill starting again masked the sigh that escaped him as he set the thought aside.

Only as he drew closer to Dorian did the sound fade into the background, replaced by the dull thuds of boots striking packed earth and the occasional barked command from the captain.

Lucien adjusted his cloak, his eyes moving across the rows of men wearing the improved equipment he had procured from Helvarn over the months since winter.

The difference compared to back then was clear, from the armor they now wore to the improvement in their movements as they drilled beneath the summer sun. It was a sight Lucien couldn't help but take in as he remained a short distance away.

He could see Tomas among them, sweat running down his face as he thrust a spear forward. His movements had grown steadier compared to the eager swiftness he had displayed back when he was in the militia.

Even with a sword and all that armor strapped to the younger man, it barely seemed to affect him at all.

It was the same with the rest of the guards, though there were a few among them, likely having joined with the recent increase in numbers, who were not as well trained.

Looking closer, the entire group appeared to be composed mostly of those who had joined as guards this year.

As though sensing his gaze, Dorian turned his head. The captain spoke a quick word to Henric beside him before approaching, while the zealous guard was already barking the next set of commands.

The captain came to a stop beside Lucien, his eyes remaining on the drilling men. "My Lord. We need to speak about the latest scouting reports."