14, Winter 521 AV
Baelin stared numbly at the sky, watching as sparse, wispy clouds lazily drifted, their belies hued pink and orange as Syna rose.
It was beautiful. Whatever else he might feel at this moment, there was no denying that they sky was wonderous to behold. It was a sight that he could never have even imagined, back when he'd only known Dira's isle. With the thick, ever-present mist that cloaked Black Rock, Syna's light had only ever been obscured. It hadn't really been until he'd left, all those years ago, that Baelin really saw both she and Leth in all their brilliance.
It wasn't terrible, he had to think. Baelin inhaled shallowly and tried to let himself soak in the gradual, early morning rise of Syna's calming warmth, slowly steeling himself for the day.
As was his new norm, however, the moment was hampered by an ever-present, dull ache. His body evidently still had a long way to go until it was fully recovered from his foray with bad luck. Lifting things hurt. Just bending down or turning his body hurt. Breathing hurt. Gods, did deep breaths hurt.
Sometimes sudden and sharp, but always dull and aching. There was no escaping the constant distraction emanating from his his ribs. It was starting to feel like he'd always be like this. A broken thing with a painful torso.
Baelin grit his teeth and reminded himself for the umpteenth time that he just needed time. Heal or die, one or the other. His body would decide for him. For now, however, he didn't think he was actively dying. Baelin was increasingly sure that the injury was improving—it was now more of a persistent discomfort than the mind-numbing agony it'd been.
It was fine. Baelin pulled in a deep breath, immediately regretted it, grit his teeth against the stab of pain, and resumed his trek to the Knight's Armory.
He walked with purpose, refusing to allow even the slightest hint of limp or favoring of a side into his gait. It wouldn't do to goad a Sunberther with a show of weakness. Gritting his teeth so hard that his teeth started to feel numb, Baelin weaved his way through the Castle Commons.
His steps remained unwavering all the way to the Knight's Armory. Only when he first stepped inside did he let himself slow.
It may have felt early, but both Karos and Lawrence had beaten him to the shop. The pair were busy setting up, going through their pre-opening routine. Baelin watched Lawrence arrange coal into a structure that hinted that there'd be a good bit of forge welding intended for the day. Following the hunch, Baelin glanced over to where they usually lumped assorted scrap.
Indeed, the collected remains of what had once been weapons and other assorted iron-made items was heaped high. Baelin frowned. He hadn't recalled there being so much yesterday.
Someone must have outdone themselves. This was no doubt a lot of loot. Baelin stepped over to the pile and gingerly crouched down, peering more closely at the medley. From a cursory look, it did appear that most of the blades he could see were too far gone to grind into anything workable.
"Baelin!"
Baelin looked up to see Lawrence gesturing him over to the forge. Standing back up with just as much care as he had used to crouch, Baelin inhaled, grit his teeth against the flare in his ribs, and obeyed.
Lawrence's beady eyes watched him, flicking down to Baelin's side for a moment before evidently losing interest. "Got a lot of iron in," he said in lieu of a greeting, "You'll be welding it down."
Baelin gave a short nod and accepted a coal rake from Lawrence. With a slightly more shallow breath, Baelin got to work finishing up the forge's prep.
Baelin stared numbly at the sky, watching as sparse, wispy clouds lazily drifted, their belies hued pink and orange as Syna rose.
It was beautiful. Whatever else he might feel at this moment, there was no denying that they sky was wonderous to behold. It was a sight that he could never have even imagined, back when he'd only known Dira's isle. With the thick, ever-present mist that cloaked Black Rock, Syna's light had only ever been obscured. It hadn't really been until he'd left, all those years ago, that Baelin really saw both she and Leth in all their brilliance.
It wasn't terrible, he had to think. Baelin inhaled shallowly and tried to let himself soak in the gradual, early morning rise of Syna's calming warmth, slowly steeling himself for the day.
As was his new norm, however, the moment was hampered by an ever-present, dull ache. His body evidently still had a long way to go until it was fully recovered from his foray with bad luck. Lifting things hurt. Just bending down or turning his body hurt. Breathing hurt. Gods, did deep breaths hurt.
Sometimes sudden and sharp, but always dull and aching. There was no escaping the constant distraction emanating from his his ribs. It was starting to feel like he'd always be like this. A broken thing with a painful torso.
Baelin grit his teeth and reminded himself for the umpteenth time that he just needed time. Heal or die, one or the other. His body would decide for him. For now, however, he didn't think he was actively dying. Baelin was increasingly sure that the injury was improving—it was now more of a persistent discomfort than the mind-numbing agony it'd been.
It was fine. Baelin pulled in a deep breath, immediately regretted it, grit his teeth against the stab of pain, and resumed his trek to the Knight's Armory.
He walked with purpose, refusing to allow even the slightest hint of limp or favoring of a side into his gait. It wouldn't do to goad a Sunberther with a show of weakness. Gritting his teeth so hard that his teeth started to feel numb, Baelin weaved his way through the Castle Commons.
His steps remained unwavering all the way to the Knight's Armory. Only when he first stepped inside did he let himself slow.
It may have felt early, but both Karos and Lawrence had beaten him to the shop. The pair were busy setting up, going through their pre-opening routine. Baelin watched Lawrence arrange coal into a structure that hinted that there'd be a good bit of forge welding intended for the day. Following the hunch, Baelin glanced over to where they usually lumped assorted scrap.
Indeed, the collected remains of what had once been weapons and other assorted iron-made items was heaped high. Baelin frowned. He hadn't recalled there being so much yesterday.
Someone must have outdone themselves. This was no doubt a lot of loot. Baelin stepped over to the pile and gingerly crouched down, peering more closely at the medley. From a cursory look, it did appear that most of the blades he could see were too far gone to grind into anything workable.
"Baelin!"
Baelin looked up to see Lawrence gesturing him over to the forge. Standing back up with just as much care as he had used to crouch, Baelin inhaled, grit his teeth against the flare in his ribs, and obeyed.
Lawrence's beady eyes watched him, flicking down to Baelin's side for a moment before evidently losing interest. "Got a lot of iron in," he said in lieu of a greeting, "You'll be welding it down."
Baelin gave a short nod and accepted a coal rake from Lawrence. With a slightly more shallow breath, Baelin got to work finishing up the forge's prep.
