Back with her father, Sera offered the small pouch of gold. He inspected the contents. 

Eyes wide he asked, “Where did you get this?”

“I sold the obsidian bowl.” Sera said excitedly.

“Sold?” Horace could not hide his frustration, “I told you no!”

“Well we need the money, and I have plenty of designs that I think would sell perfectly well.” Sera said. Her face settled in a pout, “And clearly they can sell.”

“When you sell, you take on the responsibility of putting work out to the world. You are putting our already tattered name on the line. If your design reaches the masses and they deem it vulgar, or poor quality, then our business sinks with it! If you cannot think beyond clay and glaze, then you cannot sell!”

Sera shrank with every point her father made. She really had thought that just being able to sell a piece would enough, but if that merchant woman sold it and people responded to her work how he described…he was right. She laughed awkwardly to hide her fear.

Tucking a loose strand back she said,“I-I guess I’ll have to see if I can get it back.”

“Then you’d best hurry, there’s no time to waste.”

***

Of course when she went back for the bowl, the merchant told her it had sold immediately. When does anything go exactly as you intended? The sale wasn’t the worst part, but rather, that it was in the hands of a noble. In the hands of someone whose words held weight.

When she told her father, he simply shook his head in disappointment and told her to push the cart. Sera trudged behind the cart pushing with all her might. Maybe her extra effort would spare her the shame of her error.

At home they unloaded their goods without a word between them. When they finally settled in, the house dark with only candles to see from, Sera decided to wash the day’s grime off. She scrubbed at her skin less to get it clean and more to erase her mistake. She dropped the sponge with a splash and soapy water went straight for her eye. Annoyed she finished her bath and prepared for bed. She was in no mood for her usual nighttime research.

A knock came at her door while she was in the middle of brushing her hair. The vanity mirror barely reflected anything with the weak candle light. In fact most of what it did reflect was her white nightgown that looked more like a ghost pretending it was still alive. Sera threw on her shawl and told her father to enter.

“Sera, I need to show you something.” He pulled out the letter he’d hid earlier that day.

Confused by his serious face, Sera hesitantly took the letter. She read the contents each line knotting her brows together ever more tightly. She looked around not sure she had read the contents right. She read it again.

“You’re marrying me off?” Sera pushed her hair back, “When did you plan all this?”

He tiredly sat on the edge of her bed.“The Carding company came to me with an offer a couple of months ago. I made sure we would benefit from this offer. If they would pay our debt and have their elder son marry you, then I would provide designs and recipes.”

“But Papa!” Sera said. She paced around her room, “They’re nobles.”

“That’s exactly why I arranged this. You and I will never need to worry for money if this goes through. You will marry into money, and I will have constant source of business.”

“I wouldn’t be able to be a potter anymore! I couldn’t stay here if I married nobility… Nobles don’t do this kind of work.”

“We have no means to pay the debts of this studio. When the due date comes in a month, we will be out on the streets or worse. If we keep our lives then you still wouldn’t be able to continue as a potter. You’d be begging for even a meager handout in the slums.”

Sera’s shoulders slumped. She had enough common sense to know marriage was the better of the two options, but both realities were hard to digest. Swallowing her frustration she said, “Okay. If it means survival, I’ll get married.”

The day after agreeing to the arrangement, Sera tried to convince her father to give her work a chance one more time. She made sure to promise that she would sell following the rules her father laid down. 

In truth, Sera had high hopes to revive their dying pottery business with her designs and recipes since the first year business had gone under. She’d spent the past three years toiling away to develop truly unique designs and clay bodies. Innumerable glaze and clay tests failed for her to achieve successful results. All done with the hopes that her father would take the leap of faith, but he never took the leap of faith. It had all be for nothing.

With the upcoming marriage Horace decided they should make a batch of vases as wedding favors. To Sera, this was a ridiculous waste of time and material, but she knew it was all meant to ensure nobility looked upon them favorably. The due date of their debt waited only a week away. Coincidently the same day the families were meant to meet.

Although this arrangement ensured their livelihood, she couldn’t shake her unease. Why would a noble family associate themselves with the lower class, and not only that, a family whose reputation had been slandered? 

Sera still did not know why their name had lost repute, and for the good of all those involved it was for the best that she remained ignorant at this time. Don’t be mistaken, Sera was not violent, but her emotions could worsen the situation.

When she asked her father to consider their reason for agreeing, he merely waved away the concerns. He decided their reasons were of no concern to them, so long as the Cardings fulfilled their end of the agreement.

What did noble women even do? She knew most men took care of businesses and trade, but aside from the few outliers, women of that world remained a mystery. She could do basic cooking, but nobles had servants for that. Her practical skills were of no use in that upper class world. Did the Carding family intend to make her work because she was of lowly blood?

Sera sighed, knowing she had to leave her beloved work behind. She’d have to make the most of her last days in the studio.

Sera heaved a sack of silica onto a wood pallet, a small dust cloud rising. She held her kerchief snuggly against her face, to avoid breathing it in. Their white glaze needed to be mixed in a hurry for the wedding favors but this was their last bag of silica. What a waste… She adjusted her kerchief once more. 

For the purpose of mixing glazes the girl would double up on her kerchiefs to protect herself from the powders. She poured water into a bucket full of glaze materials just outside the studio. Grabbing a whisk, her tool of choice, she stirred the materials and water together. It looked like soup. Now stirred she lugged it into the studio

Her father worked inside the studio building where the sun illuminated bits of dust floating through the air. The wedding vases had interwoven designs carved into the surface. The deeper carved areas were meant to glow under light and contrast the thicker walls of raised designs. Not only that, because of the nature of this design, they had to make twice as many pots to ensure they had enough at the end of firing, should a few break during any stage of the firing. Their studio always had the smell of nature and the town since they lived at the edge of the Porter kingdom near clay deposits. They kept the windows wide open as well, even in winter. The kilns put out enough heat to reach the studio when it was cold anyway.

While she was watching her father work from a distance he looked at her with a smile, “All finished?”

“Just about. I’m going to store the glaze for tomorrow.” 

“Good.” He grunted as he stood. A sign of his age, “Can you prepare dinner for tonight?”

“Of course.” Sera smiled, withholding the rest of her sentence. She did not want to remind her father how few dinners they had left to share. Thought she was sure he silently counted the days too.

The day she was to meet Tristan Carding and his family arrived. Sera looked around her home. After this meeting she would officially be counting her remaining days. After marriage her hands would never again touch clay. 

Sighing she returned to her room to put on her best dress and wear a her air in a crown of braids pinned all over with decorative flowers. Just like the wedding favors were meant to put on a good show, her appearance was equally part of the act. Tristan could surely reject her if he didn’t like her appearance. She finished her crown of braids with a flower cluster near her right ear, and pinched her lips and cheeks to redden them, before heading out to the sitting room.

This man would be a fool to reject our mud child. One looks at her all dressed up and anyone might think she was a princess come out of a fairytale; but fools will be fools if they so choose.

The smell of sugar cookies, and rose tea greeted her. Horace had already prepared the room to receive guests with not just tea and cookies, but new cushions for the chairs, a new carpet, a newly shined chandelier, and windows open to let in the scent of the garden flowers…all work Sera would have done but her fathers had refused. She would be nobility soon and shouldn’t do what they considered menial tasks anymore.

A sudden banging at the door startled Sera. Horace came from the kitchen drying his hands with a cloth. They exchanged nervous glances and nodded. Horace tossed the cloth onto a kitchen counter and shut the door behind him. Sera seated herself on the loveseat facing the front door.

When her father opened the door two men pushed their way into the house before the door could fully open. Sera abruptly stood when she recognized them. 

Barrow, a tall man with a round belly and mustache wearing a Long tail coat, and Roth, short in stature with a disproportionately long curling beard wearing a frock coat. Both beady eyed thieves. Her father had loaned a year’s worth of supplies from each of them which made up the sum of their debt.

“You know why we’re here?” Barrow asked.

“We’ll have your money shortly, please join us for tea” Her father said bowing excessively and inviting them to sit. Despite Horace’s strong character, he knew his place and had no trouble lowering himself to the place he should be. At times this served as a flaw, and at time it was his greatest strength that kept his family alive.

The collectors each sat looking around with their noses scrunched and eyebrows drawn. You might think they were sitting in a pit of refuse from such faces. 

A glance at Sera and Roth sneered, “And what are you all dolled up for, it doesn’t help your looks at all. You look like a clown.”

Sera tilted her head, the only time in her life that she’d had to think about others opinion of her had been for this marriage. She thought her appearance looked like that of any other girl all dressed up, but if Tristan thought she looked like a clown, then their lives were over. She took a deep breath and bowed her head instead of responding.

“My daughter is soon to be married you see,” Her father’s voice trembled as he stepped in front of her.

Sera stepped forward with a hand on his shoulder. In her most buttery voice she said, “Gentlemen, allow me to serve you tea.”

Sometimes in life its far better to keep you mouth closed if you don’t know the type of person you are dealing with. In fact if you have a judgement of anyone, its best to keep quiet altogether. In this case, Roth thought he was entitled to share his unwelcome opinions of Sera. The waiting teacups were filled to the brim with scalding tea. As Sera handed Roth his cup she let go before his hand could grab it. A pained yelp came from his mouth as the scaling hot water burned his legs.

Sera gasped exaggeratedly, “Oh no! I’m so sorry, let me get you a cool cloth.” 

“Just for that your interest has just gone up to thirty percent!” Roth snarled to her back.

Inside her stomach twisted, but on the surface she merely waved his anger away. While she fetched a cloth, she heard the incessant apologies of her father. She wished he would stop.

If she were noblewoman, then everyone would say Roth deserved it; but Sera knew she should’ve held the lid on her temper a bit firmer if only for her father’s sake. She was not a noblewoman. Marriage could only give her the status, but not the favorable opinion of others. She could tolerate food opinions like that, but what of her father? At least her future husband could afford to silence people…if he he chose to care for her in such an endearing way.

She returned from the kitchen with a cloth, but before she could properly offer it, Roth snatched it away. 

They sat in silence watching the windows for Tristan. He should have arrived within the hour, but soon the hour passed. Sera had been told he was a man with dusty blonde hair, brown eyes, and said he always wore an earring with the symbol of his family upon it. No passerby fit the description. Every minute Sera’s father pleaded for patience. The tick of the clock echoed like a dripping faucet. Barrow and Roth’s growing annoyance unconcealed.

  At the second hour Barrow lurched forward and grabbed her father’s tunic, “Where is our money!?”

Her father feebly repeated his promise that the money was coming.

“I think you’re wasting our time!” Barrow shoved her father away, knocking him into the tea table, sending everything toppling. 

Her father let out a bellow of pain as a broken cup sliced into his arm. Sera wanted to rush to him, but Barrow rounded on her, grabbing her by the jaw. Sera clawed at his unforgiving grip.

Sera looked out the window for Tristan. All eyes turned at the sound of the front door bell chiming. Barrow released Sera.

“You’re here!” Sera said coughing a little. She offered a genuine smile to the man who walked in—Tristan, just as he’d described himself.

He looked at everyone in the room with a furrowed brow, “What is going on here?”