'Another tourist', he thinks to himself, his suspicion replaced with a familiar boredom.
"The day goes long and is borne on the backs of me and my siblings as is the far reaching fame of this forge."
He speaks thoughtlessly with some bitterness, his resentment obviously beyond publicly observing the mores of filial piety. He hammers on then, apparently unsettled at his own loose tongue, he looks up with unease and continues.
"Though it's founded on the skill and dedication of our dear father and we serve happily in his stead."
Apparently satisfied that this rejoinder to his own indelicacy will have smoothed things over he sets back about his work. You see a look of bitter resentment settle on his harried face. Perhaps there's more he could be coaxed in to revealing.
Xaikon takes it in. There was something here, the boy was basically begging to be questioned. It was risky, tipping his hand before having all the facts but...that was how one gathered the facts.
The tengu decides to throw the dice.
"Must be a hard life," he ventures, "Living in the shadow of a retired master? Even if he is your father. I bet many like me simply ignore you to gaze in awe at the old masters fine works to ignore the more recent masterpieces?"
The boy's expression changes quite dramatically as if your words hit the silent centre of his woes and he has heard explicitly for the first time what he previously could not express.
He puts down the hammer and looks at you as one does a dear friend in times of peril. His expression conveys hurt and long quiet suffering.
"You don't know the half of it! We do the bulk of the work and we do work as good as he ever did. He brought us up for it. Our whole lives have been about learning this trade and his secrets. Yet, still, the biggest contracts come in for him. People still want to say they have a Tewey sword made by the great master himself. You know what, though? He hardly sets foot in this place any more! We knock out the special jobs like we do every other, and what do we get in return? A future of penury if he has anything to do with it. Our dear mother, gods look after her soul, is buried in the cemetery up the road. She's been dead years but he still won't let her go. Like it's not been tough enough for us, her children, to deal with things without him refusing to accept her death. He'd always say 'she's around, I can feel her presence, she talks to me'. Well, that was bad but what's been happening lately is worse."
"A few months back he met a holy man praying in the cemetery. He was praying over a grave and the old man says the spirit of the departed was talking to him. The old man begs him to help him talk to mother. Begs him again. Offers him money. The 'holy' man relents - for a price, of course. Since then our dear father has been frittering away our inheritance in indulging this extravagant sentimentality. He won't let her be. It's all the same to her. She sends her love and we send ours but she has passed over. Passed over for good."
He pauses, troubled deeply for a brief moment then continues.
"Well, maybe not for good. I'm not sure. There's something strange happening. Dad's been talking about getting her back for good, but not resurrecting her. Something different. I don't know. He's very secretive. It's got to have something to do with that blasted 'holy' man. None of us like him - him or his friend the Apothecary. He shouldn't be performing services without a license - not in Maxvale Janis' town. He may have one, might not. We'd turn him in to the authorities but father would probably find a way to get him out. He might need dealt with more permanently."
At that he stops talking. The emotional outpouring over, the dam burst, he recovers something of a calm it seems he's not felt in a long time. You see now an overworked boy who is just happy to have found someone he can trust. He smiles, picks up his hammer and continues.
"Have a look around the workshop if you want while the great master is away. If you want, I'll introduce you to him later."
The tengu whistles appreciatively and says, "I think I have already met the great man in the family." Xaikon does wander around the smithy a bit, making friendly conversation about the tools and such he sees.
After a bit he goes on, "You know, friend. I have some pull with the authorities, and some smarts about finding fakers and charlatans. I wouldn't mind putting your 'holy man' under my lens. He sounds very...fishy, as you say. Do you know where I could find him?"
He turns, puts down his tools and speaks.
"If you don't find him at the Apothecary's they should be able to point you in his direction. I've seen him coming in and out of there a lot - never anywhere else."
Then, looking at you with a concerned earnest expression, he goes on.
"If you could help us in any way get to the bottom of his hold over my father ... in fact, if you could help us run him out of town we'd pay - handsomely. As I said, my father also has friends in power and might try to counter anything you do so tread cautiously. Please ... come back if you learn anything. I'm here every morning from dawn till afternoon, then my brother takes over. Good luck!"
Xaikon leaves the smithy, his mind working things over.
The boy could be a useful tool, had been already. He seemed quite willing to turn on his father, to some extent. Even if everything went wrong, perhaps he could be turned to the tengu's purpose? It was worth a thought.
Xaikon found the Apothecary and entered, careful to look for any interesting information that could tie this place to the mysterious holy man.