Fernando stopped mid-motion but quickly tried to compose himself and reached back for his cup of tea. He hesitated, unsure what to do with it, and ended up just stirring the contents with a spoon.
"My mistake—I thought you moved together, as one." Licerio looked at the floor and murmured, "It seems I was wrong." He raised his head and smiled at Fernando. "Well, it seems we've finished our conversation. I'll take my leave, Lord Fernando."
Licerio stood, gave Fernando one last look, and turned. Fernando's gaze drifted to the floor, watching the retreating footsteps grow quieter, his heartbeat filling the space they left behind. Licerio controlled his pace, trusting the man would break.
Licerio took the door handle; his palm covered it entirely. He turned it in one motion and opened the door slowly, letting the creak it released fill the room.
"Wait…" came a whisper. "Wait — there are still things we could discuss."
Licerio smiled, his body stopping for just a moment, but then shook his head and—without turning—spoke through barely contained mockery.
"I don't think we have anything to discuss. I came here about a specific matter, and you know nothing about it. What would we discuss?"
He pushed the door further, letting it clatter loudly. The silence in the room shattered. Fernando was trapped staring at Licerio's back, lost and dizzy. In one last attempt, he steadied his trembling lips and pleaded.
"Wait, please. There is something quite crucial I need to discuss with you—I'm certain you won't regret hearing it."
The smile on Licerio's face deepened, his cheeks giving away what he felt. With composure, he closed the door and let go of the handle. He hid the smile and turned to face Fernando.
His unhurried steps carried him back to the armchair. His right hand touched the backrest, and he dropped himself into it.
López took Licerio's teacup and brought it over. Licerio looked at it and decided to take it, finishing what remained as he spoke with Fernando.
Licerio watched Fernando, turning the cup in his hand, a half-smile on his face. Fernando tried to steady the trembling in his hands by pressing them flat against his thighs.
Licerio finished the tea in one last sip and handed the cup back to López. He adjusted his posture and fixed his eyes on Fernando.
"I'd like to hear this crucial matter you claim to know."
Beads of sweat ran down Fernando's forehead; he took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped them away. Then he drew in some air and let it out slowly.
"Several days ago was my first personal meeting with Lucano—the leader of the blacksmith guild of Rosea. He came to seek me out and form an alliance to oppose you directly." Fernando paused, some inner conflict crossing his face before he went on. "He offered me a substantial arrangement, and I agreed—to sharply raise the price of our work and workers if you tried to hire them and to pressure the smaller guilds into following suit."
Is that all? Licerio wondered inwardly. It's not as dangerous a response from the guilds as I thought it would be. Am I being too cautious? No—I don't think so.
"I imagine Lucano didn't only meet with you."
"I don't know—though it's the safe assumption. Honestly, I don't much care about the others."
Licerio raised an eyebrow, understanding this man a little better. His gaze was steady, and Licerio could tell he was not lying.
"Since you've told me all this—what is it you want?"
"Two requests, if you'll allow it. The first—that one of my blacksmiths be permitted to teach at your school. I can promise he will teach honestly and fully, whatever you ask of him." Fernando studied Licerio's expression and, seeing him remain calm, continued. "The second—that some portion of the iron extracted from the baron's new mine be contracted to our workshop."
When he finished, Fernando relaxed all at once, as though a great weight had lifted. He looked at Licerio now with somewhat less tension, his fingers still pinching at the fabric of his trousers.
Licerio looked back at the man, weighing the proposal in his mind. He seemed fairly satisfied—a half-smile had even appeared on his face. He straightened his back, and the smile retreated.
"Your ambitions are considerable. I can accept both requests—but in exchange, you will help me. You will be my hands, my ears, and my feet inside this alliance. Do you accept?" Licerio extended his hand toward Fernando, wanting to seal the arrangement with a handshake.
Fernando studied the hand carefully. He extended his own—slowly. His arm trembled, advancing with hesitation, as though unwilling to reach Licerio's hand. When it arrived, their hands met, the grip was completed, and they shook up and down.
"You've chosen wisely, Fernando. I'm glad."
Licerio loosened his grip. With an easy motion he rose from the armchair and left the room, leaving Fernando with a final word: "Let us enjoy our cooperation."
Licerio and López left the room, leaving Fernando in his armchair—deflated, his gaze drifting around the room, lost in thought. Yet his face did not match the mood; there was a smile on it. He did not move from the spot until his assistant came to find him and get the rest of his day back on track.
Before leaving the workshop, they put on their cloaks and stepped outside. After wandering through a few streets, they took off the cloaks and decided to walk through the market.
With the sun past its peak, the place was livelier than ever. Many farmers and workers were taking a break from their labor, relaxing before heading back.
The space was a mix of smells and figures—people with skin darkened from long hours under the sun, others with traces of soot on their clothes and hands from hard work at the forge, and women with wrapped fingers and palms from needlework or gathering wild herbs.
As they made their way through, Licerio had already bought a few things that had caught his eye, and López was also picking up items of his own—a small cloth doll and a wooden bird carved for his younger sister.
They went from stall to stall, looking over the various goods on offer. Many merchants tried to sell them something, praising their appearance at length and insisting on the deep personal connection between buyer and item.
None of it slowed them down, and they moved on each time. At one stall, both of them stopped and looked down. This vendor had not held back in setting up his spot—his goods were laid out on nothing more than a few pieces of woven cloth on the ground.
He had quite various items, but only one drew the attention of both men. Not for its quality, nor its ingenuity, nor its appearance.
"What is this?" Licerio asked, pointing to the object.
The vendor had already sensed his interest and picked it up at once, bringing it closer to both of them.