Completed Production Like Clockwork [Minerva|Montaine]

[Montaine]

Production Like Clockwork Spring 61 512 AV ‘I really don’t know what I was thinking putting up that offer!’ The glassworks crew watched the closed office door warily. Calbert and Montaine were arguing. That never boded well for anyone else. In light of the ever evolving political situation, the boss had, in a show of good faith to any of those of higher status within the city that might happen to be watching, offered up glass and coals for free use to any of his workers who wished to volunteer in the reconstruction of the city. He had been fairly self assured that none of his crew were so generously minded, and while normally true a mood had taken Montaine to be altruistic. Though, just because someone had taken him up on the offer didn’t mean that the boss would give up without a fight. It was this that the crew found themselves so engrossed in listening to. Of course, whatever the outcome they would find themselves on the shorter end of the stick. If Montaine got his way, they would suffer Calbert’s foul mood for the rest of the day, if not the week, whilst Monty got off scot free, whereas if Calbert emerged from that door victorious, they would become victim to Montaine’s foul mood. It was a lose lose situation to them, so they decided to do what they always did at times like this. Bet on it. ‘You were thinking you’d be generous! Because you love this petching city!’ The yells were muted, but the words rang out clear as glass. ‘That doesn’t sound like something I’d do, Monty!’ ‘Sir, you wanted to show your appreciation for all this city has done for us, by fulfilling your promises! Mory said it was ‘cause you were a tight-fisted old vagik who just wanted her shyking ladyship to think you cared, but that’s not it at all right, sir?’ The faces of the crew turned as one to look at old Mory, who had paled significantly. He looked back and shrugged, shaking his head. ‘Well n-no, that’s not it, of course!’ Calbert had quietened, the match was lost, ‘It was because we owe this city, like you said, and anything we can do for the cause is…is…’ Monty smirked, ‘Worth a little free glass?’ His boss flinched at the word ‘free’, but nodded. Montaine thanked him, keeping his victorious satisfaction inside and away from his face, and opened the door. The glassworks crew jumped at the first creak of the old wood and scurried to their posts. They’d settle up the bet later. Monty inhaled deeply of the salt sea air and smiled. It was going to be a good day. He grabbed his bag and set off uphill towards the wealthier part of the city, yes, a very good day. Calbert then left his office. He was not having a good day. Free glass? Whoever heard of such a thing. He scowled at his crew, none of whom met his gaze. He turned and walked back inside, yelling over his shoulder, ‘Mory! Get in here, now!’

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

While the glassworkers were having their argument across the city, Jacques's crew of workers was arriving on site at their newest job. Jacques had hired his crew out to work on the home of one of Zeltiva's somewhat more prosperous and well-to-do citizens. It was a far cry from working on a noble's manor or something truly grand like that, but still, it was a step up from rebuilding simple houses. Jacques was probably getting paid quite a nice sum from the house's owner, though the crew had doubts as to whether any of that extra money would make it into THEIR pay.

While Jacques was talking to the owner, Eavin was leading the crew to get set up. Which is to say, he shouted, "Go on, get to work!" and left them to their own devices. Minerva sighed, scowling at the man, but keeping her mouth shut. She didn't want to get into another fight with the filthy, drunken lout (even though she HAD enjoyed busting his nose the other day).

"Come on boys, let's set 'er up over 'ere," she told her coworkers. She led them to the front of the house, amd started directing them where to set the tools and supplies. A wagon was backed up to the house, and from it they unloaded tables and workbenches. Minerva noticed Jacques looking at her while she was directing the men where to set up, and hoped she wasn't in trouble for something again. But he just gave her an approving nod, and went about his business.

The lead woodcarver, Phillip, was already examining the windows. Most of the damage to the building was superficial; the owner had been lucky not to suffer any structural damage. The front face of the building was a mess, though, with broken windows, bent frames, and splintered wood along the decorative columns. The door was chipped up from the storm, and while the wood was still solid, the face of the door was scarred and ugly. There was a lot of work to be done.

Since Eavin wasn't giving any orders, Minerva gathered a few of her coworkers and told them, "Get some buckets and tongs. See 'ese 'ere broken parts?" she indicated the shards of glass that were still stuck in the frames. "Start pullin' 'em out, real careful like, aye? And save 'em. I dunno what 'ey want done, but maybe the glass guy can melt 'em and reuse 'em or somethin'." Minerva never threw ANYTHING out.

She directed the men where to start, and where to put the buckets of broken glass shards when they were done. She had others set up the tools the way she liked them, which was the way her Granddad used to like them in his shop. She'd inherited his tastes in organization. She got her own work table set up, with the heavier tools like saws and hammers lined across the table, the lighter ones in the loops on her vest and belt.

Once everything was set up, and she had made sure no one was standing around like a lazy oaf instead of working, she went up to Phillip and asked him, "Oy, what we got?"

Under his direction, she pried off one of the busted window frames. There were eight windows across the front of the building, four on each floor. They all had the same identical decorative carvings, which was a bit fancier of a design than Minerva was used to doing. The first task was measurements and blueprints. While the other workers were stripping out the broken pieces, Phillip guided her in taking measurements of the frames, and drawing up plans to build replacements.

The frame had a sweeping decorative curve on each side. Matching that required some careful measurements, and precise sketches so they could duplicate the design. The face of the wood also had artistic carvings of fish etched into it. The skill level of the carvings was competent, but not masterful. Still, it was more than Minerva was used to doing. Phillip guided her through the measurements, and offered corrections on the drawings as she worked, until he was satisfied with the designs.

[Montaine]

Montaine whistled to himself as he strolled through the streets, arms stretched up behind his head. He had forgone his usual jacket in light of the warmth of the day and was glad of it. He thought of his poor co-workers, sweltering in the heat of the ovens and was thankful for this temporary respite. Mory’d probably get a lot of stick for what he’d said, or what Monty had claimed he’d said, but the glassworker would make up for it. Petch it, if he knew Mory the grubby old lecher had bet on Monty’s victory. As the craftsman moved further west, away from the docks, there was a visible change in the architecture. It was still the same stone that had been laid down centuries before but there was a certain grandiose quality to the construction. The buildings were bigger, the facades were fancier and the windows weren’t wooden. It had struck him as humorous over the years that despite working the glass, despite making the panes, despite living not five steps from the workshop itself, Monty’s apartment still had shutters. Glass was expensive. Too expensive for him, certainly. But it was more than affordable for the select few, the University, the Guild, Her Ladyship, and a few of the classier residences of this part of town. Monty hadn’t particularly wanted to waste the opportunity on the wealthier citizens, but it had been a condition of Calbert’s offer. What was the point, after all, of helping those with no political influence? Montaine’s rebuttal fell on deaf ears. He sighed, well the windows needed to be repaired sometime or another, he was still helping Zeltiva, even if just a select part of it. He’d scoped out the area the day before and arranged for his services to be used by a Mister Jacques. He had appeared to be a generally likeable fellow by any regard, if somewhat professional. There was nothing wrong with someone who was engaged in their work, but the young glassworker was a firm believer in the importance relaxation for a healthy mind. Although admittedly, his idea of relaxation certainly didn’t help for a healthy stomach, Gadger over at the Head had said that one of his neighbours was complaining about the odd smelling puddle outside his door. The worksite came into view and Monty ceased his whistling. It looked like a big job. The windows were fair large and immediately he worried about fitting the pieces into the annealer. Well, he had to get the measurements for the panes regardless, any problems would reveal themselves relatively soon into the work. He spied Jacques in deep conversation with a man adorned in such vestimentary finery that he could only be the building’s owner. Presumably he had been sleeping elsewhere, either that or he had one petching thick skin. He waved and was directed to a group of workers with a swift jerk of the head. He looked at them. They were construction workers alright, not one of them didn’t look vastly superior in strength. Well, this’d be petching fun. ‘Hey!’ he yelled, waving, ‘I’m Monty, from the glassworks!’

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Under Phillip's direction, Minerva had completed the drawings for the new window frames. Now he had her measuring the fittings themselves, where the glass would be placed before the frame was secured over top to hold the pane in. There was damage to the grooves themselves, so some adjustments were going to have to be made. Rather than cutting out the entire section, they were going to cut out the damaged parts and carve out new grooves. The result would be that the windows were half an inch wider than the old ones. Invisible to the naked eye, but crucial for making the repair work.

Of course, that meant that every single measurement had to be retaken and the plans adjusted accordingly. First she had to check every window to see where the worst damage was, and measure how much would need to be carved out to remove the damaged sections. This involved a few trips up a rickety ladder to measure the second floor. She had to get one of her coworkers to hold the ladder steady while she worked atop it. She kept focused on her work, trying not to think of all the sharp tools below she could fall on. Taking measurements while perched atop the ladder wasn't easy, and she had to recheck her work four times.

Once she was sure it was right, she climbed down and adjusted her sketches for the new specs. She had a column of numbers added up down the side of the blueprints, accounting for the wider specs for the frames and the panes that would fit in them.

When Monty showed up, Phillip was off taking care of something or another, and Eavin was halfway through his bottle of hooch, so Minerva waved him over to her work table. "Oy, 'ere ya go, mate," she said, showing him the sketches. "Ya can check the measurements if'n ya want, but I done 'em four times, I did. 'Alf inch wider, fer the adjustments, aye? Aye."

She led him over to the buckets of broken glass, and paused to yell at a couple of her coworkers that were loafing on the job. "Oy, dodgers!" she shouted. "It ain't break time yet! If'n ya ain't got nothin' ta do, I got timbers what need cuttin'! Chop chop!" She clapped her hands and gave them her 'don't give me any lip' look. They quickly got to their feet and set back to work. "An' get those nails sorted out while yer at it!" she barked at them as they moved off. "I need the one inchers separate from 'ose big'uns, aye?"

She shook her head after they left, muttering curses about Eavin under her breath. When they got to the buckets of glass, she told Monty, "Oy, I didn't know if'n ya could use 'ese, but I figured she's worth a try, aye? Always better to salvage what ya can, my Granddad always said."

[Montaine]

Montaine eyed the buckets for a second before picking one up. The shards within scraped together as they moved. The pieces were grubby and there were more than a few wood shavings littered about, and the bucket wasn’t all that clean either. Any impurities that found their way into the batch oven would result in bad glass. No great loss though, he would just set one of the novices to go over them painstakingly across the course of an afternoon. Now, who had irritated enough recently to warrant such a punishment? ‘Alright, we should be able to do something with them,’ he nodded and put the container back down. He turned back to his host. Now, she was a peculiar lass by all accounts, roughly his height or there or thereabouts yet she held herself with a boldness and strength that was fairly imposing. Calbert did it too. It was a tactic he used when supervising the entire workshop at once, intimidate your workers and no one will question you. Particularly important in projects involving a large number of people, where any dissent is likely to cause issues down the line. As he watched her peons scurry about he couldn’t help but be struck by their resemblance to the glassworks crew, ‘They remind me of our lot,’ Monty looked up at the house. He had nothing against houses like this, really he didn’t, but he wondered if the corpulent old owner had earned the place, or inherited it. His Da hadn’t a coin to his name asides from the meagre income he got from the stables, and that was barely enough to keep him eating. All Monty had gotten from his mother was her sickness. It didn’t seem right to him that some people got what they didn’t deserve and others deserved what they would never get. His poor old Da deserved this house. Monty resolved, someday, he’d buy it for him. ‘So, let’s see the measurements and I’ll get the glass going down at the shop, they’ll need to cool off overnight but they’ll be ready tomorrow morning,’ the glassworker said, ‘I’ll head up back here when they’re annealing, help you carve, if you like?’ Calbert had taught the boy to carve years ago, but not to any great proficiency. At the time, Monty had been convinced it was simply a way to keep the young boy, fourteen at the time, away from the ovens and resting pieces, but the ability to craft glass moulds out of wood had indeed proven useful over the years. Besides, there was no sense in sitting around once the glass was cooling, was there?

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Minerva nodded to the man's suggestions. "Always glad fer an extra 'and 'round 'ere," she said. "We'll be 'ere when ya get back from... from whatever it is ya do ta make the glass." She shrugged. She'd never made glass before. All she knew was it had something to do with melting sand. "I'll 'ave the frames cut by then, an' I sure could use a 'and wit' the carvin'." She carefully copied a set of the measurements for Monty to take with him, then set about getting the frames cut. Eight windows, four sides a piece meant thirty-two boards to be cut. The top and bottom pieces were a bit narrower, the sides taller, so she started off with two piles of boards. She made the measurements and etched the basic design onto each board, then set to cutting. Phillip stopped by to check her measurements, but he didn't really need to oversee this stage. "Oy, gimme a 'and," she said to a couple of her coworkers who looked like they needed something to do with their hands. She insisted on doing all the cuts herself, but she could use some assistants, and that was what the unskilled laborers were for, after all. Unlike Phillip, Minerva, James, and the other novice or skilled craftsmen, the laborers were just here to haul stuff and handle simple tasks. She directed one of the men to hand her the boards, and clear away the pieces she cut off. She also showed him where she wanted the cut boards piled, so he didn't mix up the long and short ones. Even the cut off pieces of scrap wood had a place; Minerva never threw ANYTHING out, and she could find uses for those little blocks she was trimming. She had them sorted by size and shape. Some were just little rectangles of wood she was cutting off the ends, but the others were triangular chunks she was cutting off the sides. The triangular cuts formed the basic design of the sweeping curves of the frames, which would later be chiselled down and smoothed to rounded shapes. The second man, she set to work hauling scrap from the damaged building. The lead carpenter had his apprentices prying off the old window frames and other damaged pieces of the main wall. That didn't really relate to Minerva's work; the carpenters were doing simple repairs to the wall itself, nailing down loose boards or replacing them with new ones. She wasn't involved in the basic carpentry (beyond cutting her own boards for the frames), since her job, under Phillip's direction, was the detail work of the carvings. But the apprentice carpenters were just dropping broken boards and other scrap down off the ladders, scattering them over the front of the house. She didn't like that; a work area should be kept organized, not messy. Maybe the others were okay with a 'clean it up at the end' mindset, but she thought that was inefficient. So she had one of the laborers gather up all the scrap, and sort it out by size according to her directions. Throughout her cutting work, she gave a few others directions whenever Eavin wasn't around to do it (which was most of the time). By the time Monty returned from setting his glass, she would not only have her boards cut and ready to carve, but also have a well-organized workspace. There were a dozen separate piles of scrap, sorted by size. The general work area was clear of any debris someone might otherwise have tripped on. And her boards were cut and sorted in two piles, ready for the carving to start.

[Montaine]

It was an easier walk back to the workshop and the young glassworker was thankful that it was downhill. His bag was light, slung over his shoulder, but the jangling bucket of glass in his right hand left him a little unbalanced. He’d mulled over the idea of bringing two of them back, but, despite the uncomfortably mismatched tug on his right arm he knew he’d made the right choice. He wasn’t a strong man, never had been. Leave that to other people, more able people. When he got back to the glassworks he discovered most of his co-workers sitting around doing petch all whilst Mory hurriedly and glumly organised the tools. Calbert was nowhere to be found. The workshop hadn’t received an official requisition in a few days and lull in business that had fallen in the days following the storm had returned once more. The boss was probably off drinking away his troubles, or trying to insinuate himself into the company of the city officials. Maybe both. Yes, both, Montaine liked the idea of Calbert drunkenly slurring profane praises at her ladyship Satterthwite. Monty like the old man though, as much as they disagreed on certain ethical issues. Besides his father and the sailor the curmudgeonly trader was arguably the longest relationship he’d had, and though he wouldn’t necessarily consider them friends exactly, their bond was of great importance to the young craftsman. Of course, what Monty was about to do was going to be much easier without the old man around. ‘Look lively, fellas! Commission coming in and the last person to volunteer has to dredge out glass!’ he shook the bucket at them and they jumped to their feet. Well, all but Mory. ‘Petch off Monty! You’re as bad as the boss!’ Monty scowled and handed the bucket off to his nearest colleague, ‘There are a couple more like that up at the site on the poncy road, the one with all those fancy-arsed columned houses, you know the ones, bring ‘em back and recycle,’ Montaine clicked his fingers at the youngest novice and directed him to the marver. He dumped his bag down and fetched out the measurements. It would be a tight fit, but the panes would slot in to the oven when it came time. However, only half would at any one time. It was the way of life, Monty supposed, they’d just have to do half now, half later and they’d all be ready by the following day. He rubbed his hands and took up his pipe, indicating for Fogle, the novice, to do the same. The both in turn inserted their tools into the batch oven and claimed their glass. Fogle was just in his early days of actually manipulating the glass, so Monty had no doubt that his panes would be of a lower standard, and normally more than one person would operate on any particular pane at a time, but you got what you paid for and they were doing this for free. They propped the pipes on the bench and blew the glowing glass into cylinders, then rolled them on the stone marver to take the heat off. Montaine looked to his junior who seemed to be having trouble with his piece. He made a face at Mory who sighed and went to help. No matter what disagreements might have arisen, the workshop was a team, and the glass came first. The ends of the cylinders were sheared off, and the resulting wide glass tubes were cut down one side and placed into the drum oven, where they split along the seam. Fogle watched with glee as his window pane slowly unfolded like a flower into a flat piece of glass. Finally, these were slotted into the annealer and the process repeated. Once the first four were completed, and the annealer full, Monty stretched his arms and nodded, satisfied. He looked at the sky to see how much time had passed. Time to get back to the building site.

OOCFeel free to have Monty arrive and start work in your next post.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

"Oy! Glassman!" Tock called out, waving Monty over when she saw him return. "'Ere, we saved some fer ya!" Her and Phillip were sitting on stools by one of the work tables, starting on the carving work. There was a spare set of chisels for Monty to use, though Tock had her own that she never let anyone touch. They were working on the curve of the frame first, and the decorative parts would come later. The lines of the curves had to be carefully measured and etched on with gouges, and then Phillip held each one up to a completed piece he had done himself, for comparison. If the etchings were good, the carving could start, with the larger chisels first to take off the biggest chunks of unneeded material. Then they would move on to the more precise tools to finely shape the curves, and finally sand and smooth them down to their final form. A thin groove also needed to be cut down the back, for where the glass pane would be fit. While she was carving the wood of the frame, she asked Monty, "Oy, so, why's you a glass man, aye? I mean, glass is great 'n all, sure, but there 'had ta be a reason ya went wit' glass, 'stead o' metal o' wood o' what 'ave ya. Me, I's doin' 'is 'ere fer practice, y'see. Gotta get real good an' be real careful-like, if'n I's gonna be able ta carve a face what can move like the real thing, aye? Ya know 'ow many muscles 'ere are in a face, mate? Like fitty o' somethin'. 'At's a right lot o' fine detail, it is." She paused to look over at a couple of men that were leaning against the wall with their hands in their pockets. "Oy! Dodgers!" she shouted. "Jus' cause Eavin's a worthless bum an' gets paid what fer ta sit 'round drinkin' all day, don't mean ya can too! I got a dozen piles o' scrap what can get 'auled back ta th' warehouse, aye? An' don't mix 'em up when ya get 'ere!" she shook her chisel at them threateningly. "Took me all day yesterday ta get 'ose bins sorted through all proper like, an if'n ya lazy bludgers mess 'er up again, I's gonna rip ya a new arsehole, aye?" The men hurried to obey, mumbling their assent and tipping their hats as they passed her. Tock then turned back to Monty and shook her head. "Worthless layabouts, aye?"

[Montaine]

Montaine took a seat and cracked his knuckles. He made no move to take the chisels, opting instead to watch, and wait. There was no sense in getting hasty and wasting not just materials but time as well on a failed first run. There was a reason that it took four petching years before the boss let his hands on a glassblowing pipe. Although the others only had to wait one, or maybe two if they were particularly clumsy. Being a weak child, Calbert had been nervous to permit him to work the glass and it was only after a number of heated discussions, not precisely arguments, more like very vocal debates, that he was allowed to even aid the other workers. The glassworker smirked at his colleague, ‘They ain’t doing nothing I wouldn’t be trying to do,’ he let the silence hang. The eccentric worker with the wild way with words was still looking expectantly. The reason he had chosen glass, well, that was a tale and a half. He shuffled uncomfortably on the stool. This woman, this boisterous, ballsy woman asked a question to which the answer was his life. When you were raised in a loving home yet didn’t have the freedom to leave it, when the slightest cold was the deadliest threat, how could you explain that to someone? He had given it some thought over the years and a few times come to the conclusion that he saw what he desired for himself in the glass. It was fragile, and broke with the tiniest of accidents, yet was useful, needed. On the occasions that he had contemplated this he was usually drunk. In the morning he would, under the cold, pounding influence of his hangover, amend his conclusion that he was just petching good at it, and it was the first thing in his life he truly had control over. Maybe it was both. He’d give her the short version, he decided, ‘When I was twelve I saw this horse figurine in the market, most beautiful little thing you’ve ever seen. I was admiring it, the way it glinted in the sun, but then some shyke on his way dockside knocked me an’ I broke the petching thing,’ he watched Phillip etch the shape and mimicked it with his hands, ‘Had to pay off the debt, found I had a knack for the stuff,’ Monty turned back to look at her, brushing a loose hair from his face, ‘So, how did you get into all the-‘ he looked around at her work crew and waved a hand, ‘all this? How’d you get to deciding to make moving faces? That sounds like University talk, to me, Miss-’ he didn’t even know her name, ‘Miss?’

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

"Petchin?" she repeated with a slight frown, scrunching her face up and scratching her head. It must have been a local swear. "Oy, guess I ain't 'angin' 'round 'nough sailors, aye? Gotta pick up 'em good local swears, I do," she winked and nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. "Tock," she replied to his question about her name. "Ain't no 'Miss,' I ain't no frilly lady. Jus' Tock." She almost never told anyone her real name, Minerva. Because she petching hated it. "I's at the Uni," she told him as she set one completed frame piece aside and grabbed another. Phillip checked her completed work and nodded in approval. After a dozen or so of these, it was pretty easy to get it right. "I's jus' workin' what fer ta pay fer classes 'n all, aye? An' savin' up fer some nice tools, an' a lab o' my own. Can't build a golem in my wee lil ol' cottage, aye? Ain't 'nough space. Plus, where'd 'e sleep? Ha!" She laughed and nudged Monty again, then set back to work on the carving. Wood chips were piled all around her as she scraped off the excess wood. She switched to the finer chisel to handle the more detailed work, then after that to the files and sanding to smooth out the curves. It was pleasant work. Simple, repetitive, productive. She liked keeping her hands busy. "My Granddad were a woodworker," she said in a softer tone. "Taught me since I were this big," she held her hand out at a low height, indicating a very young age. She grew quiet for a moment after that. She missed her Granddad. A lot.