Embers in the Dust

Mr. Muffins found himself in a state of shock for a moment, before hiding his surprise in his room at Lyrical Lute. He looked at the letter in his hand again while taking glances at the hammer in his left. His tail moved left to right, mimicking his eyes as he read a third time.

Earlier yesterday, he had used his bag to send some copies of his blueprints to the students over at Berkton Academy that he had met earlier. With them wanting to take on a more practical application to study, rather than just theories, they had offered to help Mr. Muffins with a variety of tools, contraptions, and devices that he had been slowly working on. As the academy didn’t market the items in any way past letting the Runesmith sell the wares, he felt more comfortable with them seeing his work, and the students were able to use the school’s wares to help with any financial needs.

The catch was that they never received them. Normally Candice was the one to answer first, but he heard nothing as the morning went on. It wasn’t until a late breakfast that he received a letter back. Opening it, he was surprised to see new copies of his work, with revisions, but no name, and it was not of a handwriting he knew. Sending a letter back quickly, he had asked who it was that forwarded these copies, only to receive a message back in the afternoon, stating that they were an “interested party”, and that they meant no disrespect. Mr. Muffins sent another letter back speaking of patent laws, just to be safe.

What Mr. Muffins didn’t expect to have a letter back, saying that his work was protected, with a hammer. Firstly, he didn’t even know the bag could send items other than just letters. The bright lettering engraved into the hammer in a metal he didn’t know was the second part. The name of Hephaestus shone in the evening candlelight, and he laughed at the irony that a god would want to talk to him, since he had no reason to believe they were good or useful to the world.

This one though, he respected. Quiet, normally not involved in the affairs of the people, and loved hard work and labor. He didn’t know much about Hephaestus, besides that, but it was enough to not immediately toss the hammer in the trash and burn the letter. He read it again.

I know that you have done excellent work. This hammer can speed up your process for your next inventions.

Mr. Muffins immediately went to his desk and pulled out the lockpick piece that had broken back in Zidingris’ lair. With a small tap, the metal fused back together, good as new. He picked it up and stared at it carefully, trying to find some mistake or imperfection, but couldn’t find one. Happy with it, he placed it back in his kit and tossed the hammer in the air, catching it again in his hand. He set it down and went to sleep, knowing he had a lot to do the next day.

In the morning, he woke as if he had blinked and became rested. He had breakfast, spent some time going over Myla’s homework, then they stopped in with Leaf, who had some questions about rituals. Though he felt that he was in the middle of a conversation, he listened in and tried to help where he could.

The evening passed by quickly as well, where he found himself looking over his blueprints again, checking the students’ work that they sent back, and making revisions before sending it back out again. It wasn’t the same as creating new work constantly, but he enjoyed the feeling of being a mentor. He daydreamed some about the idea of what it would look like to be a teacher. He laughed to himself at the thought and went to bed.