Chapter Text
It was a cold morning, though Shaw stood before her forge in a sleeveless tunic. The strong fires required by her craft ensured she never felt the bone deep chill of winter’s onset while at work. With one last tap of her hammer she used the tongs in her other hand to dip the blade she was crafting into a trough of water to cool it. Her lips quirked up in satisfaction at the hiss of the hot steel meeting the water. There was something to be said about creating things with one’s own hands.
She looked up as the back entrance to her work space was opened. A tall woman stepped in and pulled back the hood of her heavy cloak revealing a mass of fine reddish blonde hair. Shaw’s grip on her hammer tightened. There was no good reason for the woman to be here.
“I have a job offer for you,” The woman called out forgoing any introduction.
“See Cole up front,” Shaw grunted in an attempt to treat this like any other transaction.
The noblewoman shook her head, “I don’t need to see him.”
“Then I guess you don’t need me for any job.” She knew who the woman was of course. She also knew that she had access to far better shops than this one. It had been a long shot to think that she was here to ask Shaw for a new blade or to shoe her horse.
“Let me rephrase,” She said as she stepped closer. The bottom of her fur lined cloak trailed through some stray ashes from the forge and streaked the edge of the expensive fabric with black. The woman would begin to sweat soon wearing that thing so close to the fire. “I need a woman of your particular skills with a blade, not making one.”
Shaw attempted to brush her off one last time, “You have me confused with someone else.”
“No, I don’t think I do, Catalyst Indigo.”
There was no sense in trying to deny the name. Zoe Morgan was the King’s Spymaster; she wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t completely certain of Shaw’s former life. Shaw set down her hammer, “I don’t do that anymore.”
Lady Morgan crossed her arms over her chest. “The job is not for an assassination, if that’s why you’re being coy.”
Shaw snorted, “Coy is really not my thing.” She picked up a rag and wiped the sweat from her neck. “I left that life and that name behind for a reason.” She may have kept the armor when she had paid off her debt and left the guild but that was merely common sense. You don’t throw quality gear away. Didn’t mean she ever wanted to go back to that life.
“I’m sure you did. All I am here to do is present an invitation. What you choose to do after that is your business.” Lady Morgan fingered the filigreed handle on a dagger resting on the workbench beside where she stood. “You’ve kept your nose clean while you’ve been in the capitol. The tradesmen around here applaud your work. You’ve made a good life. I’m not here to tip your apple cart.”
“Aren’t you?” That felt exactly like what the noblewoman was doing with her mysterious invitation.
Lady Morgan set a scroll on an empty place on the workbench. “No. We believe in second chances in this kingdom. It’s just that many people will lose theirs if we don’t find the right person for this job. A woman of your skills cannot be overlooked.”
“Playing to my better nature?” Shaw snorted, “If you know anything about me, you know that that sort of talk won’t exactly work.”
“Read the scroll. I think you’ll find plenty of incentive to hear us out.” She turned towards the door. After a handful of steps, she glanced over her shoulder with a smirk, “You should tell your friend to oil the latches on that door if he honestly expects to sneak up on anyone.” With that she strode from the room.
Shaw turned her head to see Cole standing in the doorway between the shop and her forge, crossbow in hand. She rolled her eyes at him, “She’s not wrong.”
He lowered the weapon and moved to stand at Shaw’s side. “What did she want?” He tilted his chin towards the place where Lady Morgan had stood.
“To offer us a job apparently.” Shaw stepped over to the workbench and picked up the scroll. She had managed to lay low in the capitol of Thornhill for three years before she was discovered. Taking over the little, abandoned smithy near the harbor with Cole had appeared to be a good cover for her knowledge of weapons, her scars, and her strong physique. She had thought that she and Cole had managed to blend in here. Apparently she had been very, very wrong.
Cole swallowed nervously having recognized Shaw’s visitor as well, “I’m guessing her ladyship is not in the market for a new boning knife.”
“Oh she needs a knife alright.” She broke the wax seal on the scroll. Shaw simply wondered whose back it would end up in by the end of this.