[Zeltivan Street] Recognition (Montaine)

[Echelon]

5th, Summer 512 The day was warm, by no means hot compared to mid summer, and nearly cold compared to the shop Montaine Redsun slowly worked his way away from. His arms felt tired, and head cluttered, not my ideas but untold anxiety. By the end of the day he would know well the meaning of his symptoms. In that moment, however, all he thought of was food, in hopes it would cure the slowly mounting migraine descending upon him. Only four or five steps from his exit from the shop change came, in the form of a quite well put together package, indeed. A handsome women, with brunette hair, strained to perfection, were it not for the disrupting winds, and soft round features, clad in a simple blue dress, which looked warmer than necessary for the day walked down his ally, a rare enough sight indeed. However, the truth shock came when instead of walking straight by, she b-lines for the unsuspecting Montaine. Had hallucinations set in? She gave a truthful, and well proper curtsy, hem lift and all, before looking him in the eye. "Champion Monatine, good day." She gave a shy smile, and to check asked, "It is you, correct? Montaine Redsun?" Taking lack of objection for response she continued without prompting. "I'm sorry to see you are heading out. No doubt for lunch. I'm lucky to have caught you. I was hoping to have a vase made, and I heard among considerable charity you also are quite adept as crafting glass. Could you find the time to craft something personal for me? I would need it by tomorrow, for my mother's birthday."

oocGratz, Montaine has reached Trident Champion. At this stage he doesn't have his title appointed in person, but everywhere he goes more and more people will begin to recognize him as Trident Champion Montaine, and be recognized as an active member of society, who loves to donate. This will attract some genuine attention, as well as those wishing for charity, those that just want to be seen being nice to the Trident Champion!

In addition most evetrybody that knows the title will also know of your health issues, and that you grew up in solitude within Zeltiva. As well as be fully aware of your profession. Any notable public behavior or habits will not go unnoticed, and will not reflect upon the Lady. Your character is fully aware of that, or will be once he wraps his head around this.

There is no way he could have seen this honor coming.

[Montaine]

Montaine gawped. The workshop was not two ticks away, where the rest of the crew would be obliviously working and tidying and sorting the pieces, or attempting to avoid working and tidying and sorting the pieces as the case may be. He eyed the woman up and down, half hoping that she was just a mirage caused by some combination of the heat of the nearby ovens and the gnawing pangs of hunger eating away at his gut. It had to be a joke, one of the crew, Mory or Banden or both conspiring together, had hired a prostitute from the docks to dress up as-as- ‘Boss!’ he yelled, not taking his eyes from her in case she vanished into the ether, ‘Boss! We-we got a customer out here!’ He had seen the woman often enough around town, though usually surrounded by an entourage of her father's employees, and he had seen her at the memorial ceremony amongst the wealthiest families, but never so close. It was perfectly reasonable to think she might just be some cheap East Street whore paid for a practical joke by his immature colleagues. Monty decided he would not ask her, in case she was truly who she appeared to be. It would be terribly awkward were that the case and he accused her of being some simple streetwalker. In any case Calbert would be able to identify her, having moved in higher circles. His circles weren’t quite as high as hers, of course, but he would have gotten an awful lot closer. ‘What is it Monty? What’re you calling me-’ the glassworker’s plump and red faced employer appeared round the corner and stopped dead as he saw the woman standing so calmly in the street, ‘Petch me…’ he muttered, then his eyes widened as he realised what he had said and to whom he had said it, ‘Ah! Madam, do please, come in, come in, whatever do you need from our humble workshop? Monty! Escort the young lady inside, you can go for lunch in a bit, don’t be rude!’ Monty made a face as his stomach grumbled. He had made the stupid mistake of skipping breakfast that morning and the effects on his gut were mounting. But the boss wasn’t one to take no for an answer, and the glassworker wasn’t going to set off a shouting match in front of their revered guest so he begrudgingly gestured with his hands for the woman to enter the workshop. He could always eat later.

[Echelon]

The crude man, feigning culture as he lorded over the up and coming artist knew without mistake who this young women was, having poured over social events, and trained by word to memorize the small number of wealthy potential clients in Zeltiva. Second daughter of an accomplished seaman and women of similar prestige, Sharleze Gannivo represented a family of great, and ever growing wealth. Third generation of resident Sailor money. Calbert could compare his sensation as he set his eyes upon her coin purse as love at first sight. If she spoke well of the shop to her friends and family, possibilities could be endless. And all do to his rising start. Perhaps he would think later upon the fact that little Miss Gannivo had little to no recognition of who he himself was, but had eyes only for Montaine, and his craftsman's hands. She was shown in and offered water, and Calbert apologized with his most courtly and ostentatious manner, for the lack of fine refreshments, and of course the shops intense heat. An ill of the trade, but the girl just looked upon him calmly as she pulled a fan from his belt, and moved the heated air against her painted and melting cheeks, with little effect. Montaine was, of course, not allowed to leave. When the idea was suggested pleas, and discrete fauns of the young women halted any chances of Montaine getting lunch. Calbert assured her that he didn't mind, and that "Monty" would gladly postpone his lunch for a chance to listen to ever detail of her request, and work it up himself. His delighted her, and she dove into her description with haste, and excitement. She had a very particular piece in mind, with little understanding of what glassblowing entailed. "A fish, one of those big pretty ones from the bay. My father would always catch them and bring them home for mother to cook, still alive in a bucket. Oh, but mother was so kind hearted when I was younger. And of course being a girl I was as well." She gave her story unabashed, and Calbert glowered a silent demand for Montaine to at least feign some interest over her gushing. Not that she would notice Monty's reception in any case. "Secretly," she smiled as if this were the naughtiest act in the world, "mother and I would sneak the bucket of fish back to the bay, and release them!" Her smile was over brimming in the heat, and she seemed utterly unabashed by her genuine and withheld nature. As if the whole world should care of her childhood memories. "Then of course we would go and buy the ugliest fish we could find in the market and cook them up. And papa never knew the difference!" She finished her story with a short concerto of a laugh, smothered under the room's heat. "So, yes, the work." She said, and looked a little more seriously to Montaine. "A fish this big." She showed a rather large, bigger than to hand span. "Painted blue on the inside, as you do. Pretty scaled if you can? Oh and it really must be perfect!" He looked to Montaine with confidence, not even wondering a moment if he could deliver or not. She had confidence in Maria's confidence in him.

[Montaine]

Monty lazily gazed into the middle distance. The woman was wittering on about something or other but he simply couldn’t find the wherewithal to concentrate on anything but stopping his stomach rumbling so loudly as to interrupt her speech. She was wealthy, and notable too. Gannivo was a recognised name all across the city. She had the ears of powerful people, the most powerful people. Calbert had confirmed her identity, she wasn’t a well dressed hooker or some pauper playing princess. Yet despite this, despite her, all that passed through the young glassworker’s mind was just how petching hungry he was. He could swear that there was subtle aroma of charring meats wafting in the air. It was his mind, undoubtedly. The workshop smelt of filth and sweat and the fires of the furnaces. Unless Fogle had somehow managed to trip and fall right into the batch it was unlikely he could smell food. His boss lightly nudged him in the side, and jerked him from whatever meaty imaginings had briefly captured him. ‘What do you think, my boy?’ They were both staring at him, one doe eyed and the other anxiously twitching. ‘Huh?’ ‘The vase, Montaine, a fish, blue and scaly and yea big,’ he gestured with his hands and Miss Gannivo nodded and mimicked the movement, ‘Think you can handle this?’ Monty stared blankly for another tick before realising his part to play, ‘Oh yes!’ he said, nodding emphatically, ‘Shouldn’t be a problem, not at all. The fish’ll be easy enough, we do quite a number o’ them for people. The scales’ll need etchin’, but it ain’t anything too complicated. The blue’ll be trickier, but I’m sure we can work it out, it is our job after all, right boss?’ Calbert looked visibly relieved, ‘Oh yes, it’s not often that we do coloured pieces here, generally you would have to look abroad, but I’m sure for such an esteemed client we can figure something out. The necessary costs would, of course, be a mite more expensive mind you, shall we discuss price?’ Montaine smiled at Miss Gannivo and as graciously as possible made an apologetic exit, leaving them to haggle over finances. A vase in the shape of a fish was as garish a piece as they come, but the prospect of working with colour excited him for the project. Calbert hadn’t been speaking hyperbolically in an attempt to raise the price when he had said that colour was expensive. It required special materials be added to the glass, materials that were tricky to get a hold of and trickier to process correctly. It would probably warrant a trip up to the university and just the right schmoozy gift to the just the right person. But again, that was far more the boss’ area if expertise.

OOCFeel free to add a post if you like dear, else I'll just continue with the glassworking process in a bit, when I get round to it.

[Echelon]

An almost palatable wave of satisfaction came from the office only a few chimes later. Calbert never had been a man of subtly and all knew when he found a price agreeable. This price hen found more than. The closest employee tot he office was swept up by swift and hurried commands moments after and sent with a hastily scrawled letter. With grumbled over their sudden carrier change from glassblower to courier the young man trudged off with the letter, seal with deep red wax, and pressed with Calbert's own family seal. A family seal he no doubt created himself. Calbert spoke unsympathetically loud as he and the Gannivo girl exited the office. "You must be famished, and parched in this horrible heat. Allow me to buy you come food and drink while your mother's present is crafted!" What seemed to be generous to the women set a silent groan through the rest of the members of the shop. None would be surprised to see the price of said meal deducted from their pay. Still, none were foolish enough to toy with Calbert's supposed charm as he schmoozed to the highest extent of his capabilities. So much so that beads of sweat had begun over his brow, and a blush do doubt from the piece's bid that touched his cheeks. The client seemed shocked, earnestly so, unaccustomed to such blatant service even being of her station. She elegantly accepted with a distinct lack of humility, however, and allowed Calbert to lead her off as he gushed on about the superior capabilities of Montaine, his apprentice who he taught all he knows to. It would be nearly a bell before the the specific dyes came, a gorgeous blue, bordering on green, all tucked carefully into a smartly crafted crate, carried by a sweaty and astonished employee. "She still here?" he asked as he entered, looking around and answering his own question before exclaiming. "Eighty! Eighty Nilos. I ain't jokin. She better be paying a fortune for this piece. And I better get a bonus for neatly breaking my back for this! Those sailor types are damn intimidating. How do you suppose Calbert meets these people?" With a wipe of his brow and a deep breath he let the let of the crate open, and a velvet bag, more than three large handfuls of content pass from his possession to Montains. "Here you go hero. Or whatever you are now." The bag was surprisingly light, but the contents spoke to the glassworker in true. It was the real deal, and of quality which more than warranted the markup in price. This was a unique opportunity for Montaine, and had he been better fed he could no doubt take full advantage of it.

[Montaine]

Montaine was about to respond when he was rudely interrupted by his stomach loudly making itself and its complaints known. The furnaces were all working, yet the sheer angry rumbling of the glassworker’s empty digestive system seemed to overpower and consume the roar of the burning coals to the point where the two seemed almost indistinguishable. He was no stranger to hunger but starving in a time of famine, due to food shortage and the like, was a whole different kettle of fish in comparison to starving simply because your boss didn’t want you getting off for lunch. His stomach grumbled again. He turned to Banden, still panting from his work couriering for Calbert and dug his hand into his pocket, rootling out a few silver rimmed coins, ‘Here, go fetch us some grub, wontchya?’ ‘What? No! Get it yerself, I ain’t runnin’ errands fer you just ‘cause you’re the boss’ favourite,’ Monty’s colleague snapped and moved over to the chair propped up near the annealer, slouching in it and catching his breath. Montaine scowled at him and threw the coins towards the workshop’s youngest apprentice, Fogle, ‘Sommat good, can’t work none if I’m starvin’, an’ if I don’ work on this none of us’ll get paid,’ Fogle nodded obligingly and ran off into the street. The boy had only met Monty for the first time a few years prior, and had never seen him as the inexperienced, incompetent apprentice that the others had. Though his respect might have been undeserving, and occasionally taken for granted, at times like these it never went unappreciated. Coloured glass was a difficult thing to make. If you were unpractised, or didn’t have the optimum facilities readily available, or had no more experienced master watching over your work you were unlikely to succeed. As it was, Montaine Redsun had none of these things to hand. He might have been disheartened if he could concentrate on anything beyond the gnawing emptiness in his stomach. He carefully pulled the drawstring on the bag and looked at the powder inside. There were a number of ways one could colour glass, though Monty had really only considered them theoretically. The simplest way would have been to form the basic shape of the piece, then lay out coloured pellets onto the marver, prepared earlier by a philterer, and then roll the glass over it. This often led to a more opaque colour, and as such was not an appropriate method for Miss Gannivo’s glass. ‘Mory! Cook us up a batch of blue,’ he said, dropping the bag of fine, cobalt powder into the hands of his third colleague. It would require some time for the new consignment of glass to be complete, but before that the oven had to be made ready which meant cooling the coals and removing the internal crucible so as to empty out the previous batch. It would have been fruitless to contaminate both the clear and blue batches by mixing them in together. Monty beckoned Banden over to help him in the task and glanced towards the door of the workshop. Hopefully, Fogle would return with food before he had to do any real work.