In the insular world of the Forging Department, the petty politics and scandalous rumours of the academy rarely took root. If there was one thing that defined the artisans of the spire, it was their obsessive, almost manic focus on the craft.
They lived for the rhythm of the hammer and the song of the furnace. Consequently, the "porter incident" and the subsequent whispers of treason had largely bypassed their ears, filtered out by the roar of the bellows.
"It's me," William said, his voice calm amidst the growing tension.
He didn't sense the usual wave of hostility that usually followed the mention of his past. Instead, he felt a profound, vibrating shock emanating from the master before him. The man wasn't looking at him as a social pariah; he was looking at him as a walking enigma.
"It is an honour to finally meet you!"
