Chapter Text
You had mostly finished making your rounds in town to introduce yourself per Adeline’s request and were making a last stop at the blacksmith before heading to The Narrows to meet up with Eiland and Errol for a tour of the museum.
The spring air was crisp as you passed the bubbling fountain in the town square, spotting the forge down the street and hearing the unmistakable clang of metal against metal. As you came closer, you spotted Olric who you had bumped into at the Inn earlier in the morning and another figure bent over an anvil, taking turns hammering into what appeared to be an ingot of some kind taking shape. With your arrival both men set their hammers aside – Olric smiled warmly at you, but the other man appeared annoyed at the disturbance.
“Hi! I’m the new farmer.” You smiled hesitantly, unsure of yourself as the blacksmith looked down on you, assessing. You took in his dark eyes, reflecting the light of the forge, his firey hair, cheeks red from exertion, and the sheen of sweat along his bare arms glistening.
“The name’s March.” His gaze left yours and wandered to the fire blazing in the forge. “What do you want?” he exhaled in an exasperated huff and reached for his hammer, seemingly through with the conversation already.
“I was just exploring Mistria and introducing myself to everyone. I’m looking forward to getting to work on the farm and helping out the town. I hope we can work together!” March scoffed at your response, lifting his hammer to rest over his shoulder. You found yourself tracking the motion and the flex of his bicep as he hefted the weight of the hammer.
“I don’t see what that has to do with me. Regardless of what Adeline told you, we don’t need an outsider to come in and solve our problems for us.”
“They say many hands make light work. I’m more than happy to contribute seeing as Mistria is my home too now,” you say determinedly.
“I – We have everything under control, farmer.” He said with scorn and a sneer painting his mouth. “Just don’t get in the way.” You flushed, flustered by the intensity of him right off the bat and looked to Olric for help.
“Don’t mind March. He lets his pride stand in the way of good things.” Olric stated pointedly with a passing glance at his younger brother before slinging an arm around your shoulders and guiding you towards the door of the smithery. “Come on farmer. I’ll show you around the shop!”
You glanced back at March, squeaking as butterflies erupted in your stomach and whipping your head back around when his dark eyes met yours once more, scrutinizing.
You vowed to yourself to work hard and prove to March and the rest of the townspeople that you were capable of helping Mistria get back on its feet; even more so determined to break past March’s prickly exterior, miffed at his response to your presence, especially given the excitement of the rest of the town at your arrival.