Within the dimly-lit building where Master had set up his shop, Mateo was in one of his moods again. The consistent sound of the hammer falling on metal was his hypnotic lull, and for him, nothing else existed but his work as he moved back and forth from the anvil to the blazing forge, working the curve on a round copper shield like he was bid. Though it was merely practice for controlling his hammer strikes, Mateo rose to its challenge like all the rest, forming a plan for it as he went. When the metal was worked till its curve was perfect, he treated it so that he could work long into the night, bending over his work to hammer and chisel a curling scrawl along the rim of the shield, delicate and fine.

He worked through the night until the morning dawned through the curtains blocking the windows, till the fire was nearly banked in the forge. Hours of sanding and polishing later, after having finished the rivets that would allow for the leather grip on the inside, he was done. Mateo stretched his aching back and took off his heavy leather gloves, letting the finished shield cool properly before moving over near the door and plunking himself down on its rickety wooden bench, lazily eyeing the empty forge with heavy eyelids. With his arms crossed and his back to the wall, he let his eyes close, and he quickly fell asleep.

It wasn't until later when the front door opened next to him that he shot up, scrambling to his feet. "Master!" He said, rubbing his eyes and standing up straight. "Back from yer errand? I finished th' shield like y' asked. Would y' take a look at it?"

Miruin showed no surprise at the dark bags beneath his apprentice's eyes; it was a common enough sight, and the boy was yet young, it would do him no harm to miss sleep in pursuit of a project. However, his interest was piqued by the glistening shield resting on the forge anvil. "Of course." He said, moving towards it and picking it up. He tested it's weight, tilted it against the light to see the polished shine of it's metal glisten, he rapped his knuckles against it, and lastly; he took his forge hammer and laid it upon the anvil, before bringing his hammer down in a light blow.

The shield held true, and one more examination revealed no cracks nor delaminations in that brilliant shine, and with a nod he set it down, looking to Mateo. "Well made, for an apprentice." He pointed to the rivets holding the straps in place. "But these are misaligned, an aesthetic error, but this," he fingered the leather straps themselves, "is a critical error. You used goatskin, which while it is good for padding armor, is less so for the high-stress environment a shield strap undergoes. Give it three months in the weather and it will tear." He said firmly, looking to Mateo. "But, overall, excellent work, and no doubt had you not vanished yesterday morning, I could have shown you the correct leather for shield-making."

His eyes were sharp, knowing full well his apprentice's tendency to vanish, and to him it was sheer laziness, a fault he was swiftly tiring of.

Mateo waited on pins and needles while Master inspected his work, biting the inside of his cheek when the hammer lifted to test it. He knew its strength and knew it wouldn't shatter like some of his first projects, but still - this was Master, and he was ever critical of the slightest mistakes. Mateo came closer when the rivets were pointed out to look at them, and that was an easy enough fix if he reworked the shield, and so was the choice of leather, though it meant all the detail work he put into that would turn into scrap leather. He crossed his arms (a habit he'd picked up recently to try and accentuate his broadening muscles so he'd be taken more seriously) and he looked up at Master and his sharp, blaming eyes. "I'll keep tha' in mind, Master." He said easily. Mateo was used to his surly blaming by now. "So…what was y' errand, if y' don' mind my askin'. Ye were gone for a while, 'n I had ta turn down a few customers who were askin' for y'."

Miruin simply nodded to Mateo's acceptance of his criticism, and gestured to the shield. "Fix your mistakes, and I'll set it out for sale today." He eyed the shield, expression thoughtful. "You did beautiful work on the filigree… you may have forty percent of the sale." He said, moving past Mateo though he beckoned for the apprentice to follow. "They will return if their need is great, besides, work is constant presently. Increase in banditry will generally do that." He mused, moving to the rough counter made out of several large, long boxes. "My errand involved this," on the counter was a clothed item, and with a pull he removed the cloth to reveal a glistening metal ingot, not enough for a sword, but enough, perhaps, for a few pieces of jewelry.

"A remnant from my world, a metal foreign to this land, metal that fell from my skies long ago." He held up the ingot, turning it this way and that, watching the light from the windows reflect in it's silver surface. "Difficult to come across in my world, and moreso I think in this one." He looked to Mateo, setting the ingot down and pushing it towards him. "I have a test for you. Take a small piece of this, and craft me a ring inlay with any precious stone of your choice. The style is at your discretion, and you have until tonight."

He smiled, then, an ill sight to see. "I also expect the shield's flaws to be mended as well." 

Forty percent was a good price, and it was more generous than he usually got on his work. He moved towards the counter to look upon the glistening ingot, lustrous and gorgeous in the low light of the early morning. He just recently got an amethyst that would make a fine jewel for a ring, and he felt the siren song of work, tempting him to give himself to the forge once again. And then his stomach rumbled, jostling him out of it. Gods above and below, how many hours had he been working on that shield?

And at the new orders, Mateo gave out a weary, half-smiling sigh. "Can I at least take a nap first?" He said, scratching the back of his head. "An' after makin' the shield, I don't feel like workin'. 'm sure 's a fine day outside, 'n I rather wanted t' head out to th' market square to see……somethin'." He pursed his lips and looked askance to the front door. After the all-nighter, he was starting to feel restless, and he wanted to see if someone in the city could teach him swordfighting. They'd arrived in the city over a month ago and set up shop, but Master had kept a tight rein on him and he was only able to see Adeluna City when he could sneak out. It was suffocating, really. "Can this wait till tomorra', when I'm well rested? Don't want t' make any more mistakes, right?"

If it was hard for Miruin to show softness in his fierce expression, his irritation was certainly not hard to miss. Brows drew down, lashes fell to slits at the boy's choice of words, and he withdrew the ingot, long fingers drumming lightly on it's surface. "To see… something." He repeated, a brow arching in calm mockery, though he turned his head away at the boy's question. "……….." Sharp eyes regarded Mateo. "Take a rest, but by morning I want to see work done." He said sharply, firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument as he picked up the ingot and moved the heavy curtain separating the forge from the store.

"And Mateo," he called from inside the forge, backlit by the dim glow of it's coals, his expression hard to read in the poor light, "I expect one of your skill to be exemplary in your execution of tasks, just as I expect one of your talent to have his priorities in order."

He swore a lick of sweat ran down his soot-coated neck at Master's piercing gaze, staring right back at him. Just one afternoon, why was one afternoon too much to ask? Once, in the beginning of his apprenticeship, he'd called Master a slave-driver in a thoughtless half-jest, and Master had wrought a swift justice against it, never letting him forget the slip of the tongue. "Aye, Master." He replied to his back, staring at the store front with a set jaw. So, all he had to do was eat, wash up, go search for a swordfighting teacher, and get two works done by morning. And maybe sleep.

…..Easy.

Wasting no time, he went through to the back where the well was located, stripping and washing himself of the grime that accumulated naturally in the stifling forge, then he ran down to the city, passing by the Winking Mermaid on his way to the various market stalls that were rising with the morning sun. Children ran by him to the great fountain sporting a god he didn't recognize, and once he cajoled a gruff woman into selling him a pasty before her stall was set up, he walked through the waking crowd and letting it take him where it would.

Hours later, when the sun was high in the sky, Mateo awkwardly made his way back to the shop with a multitude of things: a huge training dummy stuffed full of straw in his arms, a large broadsword that was much too big for him strapped to his back, a big grin on his face, and all of his carefully squirreled away silver spent. He was mindful to go around the back, to keep Master from seeing his purchases - he was sure Master was dead set against him being a master at swordfighting, constantly sabotaging his efforts into finding a good teacher, and bah to him! Mateo wasn't going to become a boring smith stuck to his forge, he was going to be great! His name was going to be world known! He was going to travel across all the continents and fight dragons and whatever else it was that heroes did, and if he had to fund his adventuring process with being an apprentice, then that was what he would do. Plus, it didn't hurt to gain some arm strength while he was at it. He was absolutely sure he was even growing some thick arm hair, even if the cinders from the forge burned some off every now and again.

He tucked the dummy and the broadsword away under some oil-slick cloth behind the well, and prayed to whichever god who'd listen that Master wouldn't find it. That done, he opened the back door of the forge, letting the heat of it wash over him as he mentally prepared himself to get back to work.

Miruin heard the boy leave and heaved a weary sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. The boy was brilliant, but only in fickle, fickle moods that came and went like the summer rains. He could be great, perhaps (as much as Miruin's pride rankled at such an appalling suggestion) even surpass Miruin himself. But such lofty heights were only achieved with dedication, with a drive to perfection, and Mateo…. sometimes Miruin swore up and down the boy hardly wanted to even be in the forge, a silly thing given with what focus he had seen the apprentice work on a craft to the point where Miruin had to physically pull him away and force food and drink down his throat.

Eyes cast down to the foreign metal so familiar in his hand, and he laid it upon his anvil and reached out to grab his apron, tying it about his waist. He may as well get some work done, if the boy wasn't going to make use of the forge.

When Mateo would return, Miruin was beside the forge, a knee braced to the stone as his arms flexed and heaved, gloved hands gripping a white-hot bar of metal, and with a low groan it began to bend. His eyes were unseeing, all his strength focused to bending that piece of steel into the desired shape, before he spat a black curse and flung it away, watching it skitter across the floor and burst into brief, beautiful flame that illuminated his fell, wrathful face as he stared balefully at the offending failure. Then his eyes lifted, focusing on Mateo with that dark fury before he ripped off a glove and ran a hand down his face, wiping away sweat with the cloth at his waist. "I trust you are rested." He said, grabbing tongs and striding over to the failed, half-bent piece of metal, picking it up and examining it for flaws.

Evidently, he found something as he cursed again and tossed it onto the scrap-pile, despite the piece looking perfectly suitable. "There's dinner by the forge, still hot from the tavern next door, and a mug of mead." He said, turning to pick up another ingot of steel to forge whatever it was he was making anew.

He entered the forge, his gaze alighting on Master's back, and he stood off to the side, closing the door behind him to not let in the strong noon sunlight. He watched Master work the metal with his hands, slipping his own apron and gloves on and tying his hair back while he watched. He flinched when Master threw it away onto the stone floor, swallowing roughly to see such an expression on the otherwise handsome elven face. "Er….sure." He hesitated to get close to Master when he was in that bad of a temper, but he did skirt around to take up the bowl of rabbit stew and the warm mug of mead. It wasn't out of the ordinary for Master's temper to flare up, and Mateo did what he always did: he distracted Master with questions, eating while he listened to a lecture on the appropriate uses of leather types while Master worked. He even threw in some flattering gratitude for the food - the mead especially. It had some fruit added to it that made it even sweeter, and he had to ask to find out that it was pomegranate. Pomegranate. He had no idea if it was an intentional kindness or simply what the inn had in stock, but he thanked him anyway.

Once his meal was finished and his muscles were relaxed from the mead, he rolled his shoulders and got to work fixing his shield, falling into the rhythm of working, allowing its song to swallow him up and dampen everything else outside of the smithy. The decorated and stamped leather grip went into the scrap pile following Master's trashed ingot, and he carefully reheated the shield and fixed the rivets so that they were aligned properly, which was quick work. The leather grip took a bit longer, and he poured more of his attention into its working, for this type of leather was tougher and more callous than the goatskin he'd worked with earlier, but for his efforts, it looked much more impressive than it did before, sporting the same delicate scrollwork that mirrored the front of the shield.

He eyes it critically, seeing if there was anything else he could rework before it went up for sale, and even passed it along to Master again for his approval. Shield set aside, Mateo wiped his brow with his forearm and eyed the special, luminous ingot that he was supposed to make a ring out of. He asked about it's qualities and temperaments, holding the hefty ingot in his hand, weighing it thoughtfully.

Those distractions, as always, worked to redirect his temper, to distract his mind from it's fury over a failure with lectures and rhetoric over something he had spoken of before and Mateo had heard before. He knew what the boy was doing, but since it was effective and worked out his temper far better than beating an ingot until it shattered… He spoke over the types of leather used in their trade as he heated the new ingot of steel to whiteness; his eyes and attention wholly focused on his work even as he continued his lecture, as if his mind was split into two halves, each dedicated to a new task. Finally he finished speaking, and glanced up only to see Mateo at work on his shield, and simply returned to his own work.

Once more he drew the steel from the fire, hammering it out into a long strip, and once more heated it in the forge. With naught to do but wait for the steel to heat, he wiped his brow and watched his apprentice work on the delicate filigree of the leather. It was flawless this time around, even to his sharp and critical eyes, and when Mateo finished, he simply nodded in approval and gestured to the front. "We'll set it out in the morn." His gaze moved to the ingot at those questions, his lips curling. "One moment." There was no humor in his smile as he pulled the steel from the forge and once more braced his knee to the brick, body straining and steel screaming as he gripped the steel and began to bend. "Boy, hammer this at the peak." He grunted, and with Mateo's hammer blows the metal finally gave way, and with much less effort than before Miruin began to coil the steel, until the ends connected in a perfect circle. Quickly he set it aside, for even in his grip the metal had begun to get just a hair too hot, and he wiped his soot and metal flaked hands on his apron, leaving the circle aside and walking towards the brilliant ingot. He spoke of it's quirks and difficulties as he used a wedge and hammer to sever a chunk for Mateo's use. "You are only allowed this much, and there is not room for error." He warned, and at hearing the bell to the shop door ring, he began moving to the water barrel and quickly washing his face. "This metal is precious, and I'll not part with more than what I gave you."

Then he was gone, out the curtain to greet the customer and to leave Mateo to his devices.