Oren was startled from the sudden noise to his right. Out of instinct he readied himself to face the intruder, having been ambushed one too many times before. He bore his eyes over the aimed arrow into whomever had been spying on him. The intruder was toppled over a thick thorn bush with his ass sticking up in the air and his face smashed against the ground. Dirt rubbed against his cheek as he looked up at Oren, eyes wider than the Misty Elk he just shot. One of many leaves that were atop his moonlight curls fell when he shifted.

Oren studied him cautiously for a moment.

“...Pfft” he stifled a laugh while he lowered his weapon. 

‘This guy looks ridiculous.’  he thought. Shifting his weight, Oren stood to approach him.

Was this guy laughing at him?

 The laugh shook Rhys from his shocked stupor and he was finally made aware of a faint calling of his name far behind him. His ‘almost attacker’ approached him and out of panic the prince shuffled back on the bush, ripping his clothes once more, and got to his feet. Then made a beeline back the way he came.

“Ah! Wait!” Oren called after him.

 Little shreds of white and blue cloth were left in the bush.

‘That must've hurt. Why was he watching me from there in the first place?’ 

His boot kicked something when he tried to continue forward. An open notebook slid on the ground until it got caught on a rock. Perplexed, Oren picked it up to examine the open pages. A warmth spread upon his cheeks when he realized what that guy had been doing behind that bush.

The drawing of him was good, really good. Had that guy followed him all the way out here just to draw him? 

When he tried to search for the man he came up short and opted to take the notebook with him; a little part of him hoping he would be able to give it back at some point. The sun was reaching higher into the sky and Oren realized he needed to get back if he was going to finish the modifications in time for the order to be picked up. Quickly he returned to where he had tied up his horse, stashed the stranger’s notebook in the same satchel that held his own, and made his way back.

Rhys stumbled out of the thicket, back into the familiarity of the orchard. Why did he run? It wasn’t like he had done anything wrong, the man pointed a weapon at him, he should’ve retaliated. Now it just looks like he meant to be creeping behind those bushes. He shook the leaves and twigs from his hair as argued with himself internally. Tityra almost missed him had he not looked Rhys’ way for a split second.

“Ah! Lady Gala, I found him!”

The blonde approached him with two baskets full of fruit in hand and his mother in tow.

“What happened to you?” Tityra’s voice took a serious tone and he furrowed his thick eyebrows.

“Dear, your clothes...and your face. Are you ok?”

“I..um… tripped over a thorn bush…”

It wasn’t a total lie. He didn’t want to say he was almost attacked. It wasn’t worth worrying his mother over; after all he was fine. For the most part.

Titrya relaxed a bit at Rhys’s answer.

“Well hopefully that thorn bush looks worse than you do. We are running behind schedule; Lady Gala we should head out.” 

She nodded her head in agreement and she and her son followed him towards the exit.

Once back in the carriage, Gala pulled out a handkerchief and gestured her son closer so she could wipe his face. Silently he obeyed, letting her wipe away the dirt on his face. She set the dirty cloth next to her when she finished.

“Try to be more careful next time. I know how you can get when you have your nose stuck in that notebook of yours. It wouldn’t hurt for you to watch where you’re going.” a chuckle escaped while she poked fun at him.

“So can I see what was so interesting that you stopped watching where you were going?”

It was then Rhys realised he didn’t have his notebook.

Sweat rolled down Oren’s brow while he hammered away at the hot steel laid out on the anvil. The heat of it stinging at his hands even while protected by his gloves. He pressed on hitting it over and over, not even stopping when he heard the door to the shop open. Once he had meticulously gotten it the way he wanted he put down his tools and headed towards the counter. The customer that had come in was a large middle aged man. His eyes were a sharp crimson and his black hair came to the back of his thighs. He looked intimidating but he spoke in a friendly voice.

“Ah Oren Sylfir, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you around.”

“It has been sometime hasn’t it Mr. Polatré?” Oren chuckled seeing the familiar face.

 He took off his gloves, wiping a hand on the apron that hung from his bare chest, and then shook his hand.

“So after all these years you’re finally getting a bow from us. How’d my father convince you? You were so dead set on using the one you already owned.” 

Mr. Polatré heaved a sigh.

“All good things come to an end I suppose. It broke not a few days ago. She was a family heirloom, but I took such good care of her. Had to close up shop until your father whipped me up a new one. He promised me it would be unlike any bow I’ve ever had.”

“Well I’m sorry to hear that, but trust me this new one is a major improvement. I even modified it myself.”

 Oren grinned from ear to ear, then turned to grab it from where it hung on the wall. With a tiny clunk he set the bow on the counter. Mr. Polatré grabbed it and looked it over, his face a little skeptical. It didn’t look all that fantastic, but it did sit well in his grasp. When Oren saw that he wasn’t all that impressed he explained himself.

“After taking it for a test run this morning I made some adjustments to my father’s work. He gave me an..idea of what you wanted, and what he originally made was fine. It was able to score this at least.” 

Oren fumbled behind the counter for his bag, and then set the opalescent antlers on the table. The older man's eyes widened.

“Misty Elk antlers?! Son I’ve been game hunting since before you were born and I’ve only ever shot a Misty Elk once.How’d you get these? You can only get their antlers if they die a painless death.” 

Oren tried to hide his amusement and continued.

“Using this bow in conjunction with these arrows, I was able to hit it right between the eyes. The bow has an element imbued in it that will make every shot you fire silent. And when pierced by these arrow heads the target is instantaneously taken into a slumbering state. So in one hit it can die and not even realise it. If it were regular livestock it's meat would be the tenderest you could get it. Which would help out your business tremendously seeing as your the best butcher in town.” 

“My boy certainly is something else isn’t he, Khid.”

Both men turned to see Oren’s father standing in the doorway leading to the stairs.

“Like father like son I suppose.” said Mr.Polatré still taken aback by the amazing bow in his hands.

“Er..uh honestly all I did was make it more accurate.” Oren scratched at his head, embarrassed at how carried away he had gotten and how his father had seen it.

“Well he certainly knows how to sell his product, Crysteffor. If you don’t need him here I could definitely use that kind of attitude over at my shop.” 

He set his payment on the counter and collected his bow and arrows.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Crysteffor chuckles as he waves goodbye. He playfully patted Oren’s shoulder. Oren looks up at him, taking in his appearance, it has been months since he last saw his father. He looked just as sickly as his mother described. His cheeks were sunken in and his eyes carried dark bags under them. Did he also look thinner?

Oren leaned into his touch, then spoke up.

“Shouldn’t you stay in bed? You’re going to make Mom worry…” ‘And me too.’

“I’ll be fine, my boy. Besides it’s been a while since you worked down here, it’d be unfair of me not to check up on you.” 

Crysteffor removed his hand to cough into it.

Oren begins to collect the money and put it away when his father speaks up again.

“I really am impressed. You were born to be a blacksmith, Oren. I can see the fire inside of you.” 

When his son didn’t answer he continued, pressing further.

“You need to hone your craft. Stay at home. Settle down…”

“Dad…”

“Have you let Celeste know that you returned home?”

“Dad, I’m not talking about this right now.”

“Then when,Oren? I've let you go. Let you sow some of your wild oats out there in the world like you wanted. You have responsibilities here,son. To the family and to Celeste.”

“A responsibility I didn't ask for!” 

Oren didn’t mean to raise his voice but his aggravation just came out of him;he couldn’t bring himself to look at his father. This is the last thing he wanted. To fight with him, especially with how sick he was. But he knew it was going to happen at some point. He loved his father dearly, but he just wished he could see his side of things. He hated to be tied down here. There was a whole world out there just begging to be seen and that's all his heart truly yearned for. But when it concerned his father this was an argument he would always lose. 

Without another word Oren snatched his gloves from the counter and went back to work at the anvil; pounding away even harder at the metal there. Sighing, Crysteffor resigned himself to filing away the orders instead of pursuing the issue further for the time being.