Chương 74: Chapter 75: Weak, Copper Human

Halden was already arguing with the guard when I reached the front of the queue. The outer licence yard sat below Eisenfeld proper on a shelf of cut stone broad enough for roads, rails, weigh platforms, ore bins, and low offices to share the same dust. Loaded carts moved through in marked lanes. Empty carts returned along the inner rail.

Bells rang from black posts at the bends, mule teams stamped against their traces, and weights were shouted between platforms without anyone pausing long enough to admire the town above us. Halden stood beside the entry rail with one hand on his staff and the other pointing at a chalkboard.

"A rule does not become clearer because you have written it larger." The guard facing him had a square build, a forked brown beard clipped below the chin, and a dented helm tucked beneath one arm. He carried the settled pressure I associated with experienced Iron, perhaps late, though without Appraisal I could only judge from the way he held the rail while carts, workers, and complaints moved around him. His eyes passed over Halden, stopped on Talia, and reached me last.

He checked the scorched blue peace-bind around my axe, the fresh green cord around the Copper-Bound Mining Pick, the sealed Strathford record in my hand, and the newer leather at my grip.

"No unsponsored weak Copper humans on working approaches," he said.

"I object to three parts of that sentence," Halden replied.

"You would."

"He is provisionally recognised, equipped, trained enough to avoid immediate burial, and accompanied by me."

"The last condition makes the others less reassuring." Talia made a quiet sound behind us. Halden glanced towards her, decided the sound did not deserve encouragement, and faced the guard again.

"Kord Wessel," he said, "your yard permits supervised trial access for ranked travellers with a technical sponsor."

"Permits, yes. Welcomes, no." Kord looked at the pick again.

"Especially when the sponsor is Halden Strath, and the traveller looks as though he bought his first ranked tool yesterday because somebody described mining after three ales."

"I did buy it yesterday," I said. Kord's gaze returned to me.

"That was not a defence."

"No," Talia said.

"It was merely accurate, which officials often find more disruptive." Kord ignored her with the concentration of a man who had decided curiosity would slow the queue.

"Recognition paper." I handed it over. He broke neither seal, checked both against a brass guide fixed beside the chalkboard, then read Lever Dalton's classification twice.

"Copper early in body. Iron late for civic recognition. No guild warranty, Copper credit, restricted-goods access, or recognised sponsorship."

"Halden is sponsoring the work," I said.

"Halden has announced that he intends to. Eisenfeld records liabilities before allowing them to become anecdotes." Kord held out his other hand.

"Tool receipt." I took Deane Brock's folded receipt from Merris's pack. Kord checked the purchase date, the item description, Halden's co-payment, and the first-use warranty note. His thumb paused over Deane's warning against Ember Blade and Ironwood Strike.

"You asked whether you could heat the pick."

"I asked before doing it."

"A promising distinction." He examined the green peace-bind next. The knot had been replaced after the quarry lesson, and Halden had marked the cord with Deane's receipt number before we returned to the road. Kord compared the mark, tugged the binding, and checked the pick head for fresh damage without unwrapping it. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

"The bind is sound. The axe bind is scorched."

"The axe was present during a disagreement in Strathford," Talia said.

"Did the disagreement survive?"

"The counter did." Kord looked at the darkened strand, then at my hand.

"Do not repeat the disagreement inside my yard."

"I am trying not to repeat several things."

"Try with your hand away from the haft." I let it fall to my side. The queue continued through the next rail while Kord dealt with us. Ore tallies were checked, axle widths measured, and licence tokens struck against the brass plate beside the gate. Nobody stopped working because a frontier Copper had arrived with mismatched papers. Eisenfeld could leave me beside the rail until someone decided whether my presence justified the space.

"Local work witness?" Kord asked. I drew out Brecht Valdais's flat iron haul tag. The fresh scratch still crossed the stamped cart wheel, weight mark, and Valdais name. I held it towards him.

"Brecht said the weak Copper human had one complaint available." Kord took the tag and turned it between his fingers.

"Brecht said that?"

"He also said not to spend it twice."

"That sounds more like him." Beside the entry rail, a narrow board held rows of stamped witness marks beneath sliding metal covers. Kord found Valdais, pressed the haul tag against the matching stamp, and checked the angle of the fresh scratch against a grease-pencil notation beneath it.

"Mark is current," he said.

"What did you do?"

"Helped return his loaded cart to the rail."

"How?"

"Unload the outer rear weight, brace the inner wheel over sound stone, cut a wedge slot without opening the weak pocket, and lift the frame before guiding the wheel."

"How many strikes?"

"Seven." Kord looked at Halden.

"Seven," Halden confirmed.

"The eighth would have damaged the repair."

"Brecht tell you that?"

"He arrived at the same number after the slot was already complete." Kord returned the tag to the board, took a short iron striker from beneath the rail, and hit a hanging witness bell twice. The sound travelled across the yard. He called, "Valdais to entry rail," and the name was repeated between the weigh sheds until it disappeared into the cart lanes. While we waited, Kord pulled a sponsorship slate towards Halden.

"Technical sponsor accepts waste fees, tool damage, rail damage, brace failure caused by instruction, and removal costs if the applicant becomes unable to leave under his own power."

"Removal costs?" I asked.

"Bodies are heavier after an argument with stone." Halden read the slate.

"This clause charges the sponsor for damage caused by yard equipment."

"Only if you fail to record the equipment defect before use."

"And this one allows the yard to suspend the licence without returning the test bond."

"If your applicant ignores a direct safety order."

"Reasonable," Halden said, which told me the terms were worse than he wanted and better than he expected. Kord pushed a stylus towards him.

"Initial each liability, then sign the lower line." Halden did so with the expression he used when a bridge calculation produced an answer he disliked but could not insult into changing. Kord then turned the slate towards me.

"Applicant acknowledges restricted access, immediate compliance with yard orders, no independent tunnel entry, no unsupervised use of ranked abilities, and no claim rights arising from test material."

"The yard keeps the sample?"

"The yard keeps anything you break while proving you deserve to break it." I signed. The Heartwood Bird warmed against my chest while the attention around the rail pressed harder than it should have. Several workers had found reasons to sort hooks, check wheel pins, or wait near the weigh boards. Their interest asked whether the new Copper would swing hard, freeze under direction, or make Halden pay for more than paperwork. The pick rested against my shoulder with its conditional Strength waiting beneath the cord.

My fingers wanted the grip. For a moment, swinging seemed easier than standing there while strangers measured me. Halden spoke without looking towards me.

"Do not perform." I moved my hand away from the haft again.

"I was not."

"You were preparing to."

"That is less satisfying than doing it."

"It is also cheaper." Brecht arrived through the ore sheds with red dust on his forearms and a complaint already moving ahead of him. He saw Kord, then Halden, and finally me.

"That is the weak Copper human," he said.

"He listened before swinging. Let him try a poor face before you waste more of my morning." Kord folded his arms.

"You vouching for him?"

"I am complaining in favour. Different tradition."

"Did he save your axle?"

"He kept my crew from destroying it after the road had already made a claim. Close enough." Kord lifted the haul tag.

"Seven strikes?"

"Seven useful ones. He stopped before the eighth."

"Tool control?"

"Still wearing shop oil, but he checked the socket, read the road, and did not spend the pick's Strength merely because it was available." The workers nearest the rail returned to their tasks and left the yard to settle the question. Kord slid the witness tag back across the rail.

"Trial face. Poor seam. One cut, one sample, and no theatrics. You strike outside the marked section, you fail. You open the dead pocket, you pay the waste fee. You channel an unapproved ability into the tool, the test ends."

"What is the waste fee?" I asked.

"Six copper if the face can be reset. Twelve if the pocket sloughs into the training cut." Talia looked at my purse.

"And when the applicant cannot pay?" Kord handed Halden the sponsorship slate.

"Then his sponsor pays."