Old Blood and New Ch. 01

A subtle smile bloomed on the Mistress' face as she examined the embroidery. Then, some moments later, she lowered the hoop and looked up to Vyn.

"Pick an unassigned desk. It will be yours for as long as you can fill it. But be warned, if you cross me I'll break your arm, maybe your spine too, and anything else that can make up for any losses you put to me."

Vyn's eyes widened at her statement. "You think you can do that?"

"I don't care that you're a man," the Mistress said with a wave of her fingers. "I'll pay a bunch of others to tie you down. Then I'll put your fingers in a mangle."

Vyn tried to laugh it off, but he eventually learned that the Mistress wasn't joking.

One girl was soon caught stealing expensive threads and lace. The Mistress had all the fingers on her hands broken and her back beaten with an old but sturdy cane.

The sad fact was that nobody really did anything about it. There weren't very many laws in place to protect workers from physical abuse. The main exception was outright murder.

The even sadder fact was that Vyn had seen people treated much worse in his old homeland.

***

For the next few weeks, everything was smooth, almost disturbingly so. Vyn had to remind himself not to look over his shoulder every five minutes when he was walking the streets. Certainly, this was a safe place to live.

Vyn won a few more matches at the Fighting Stadium. More money and fame, he was the newcomer, the interesting one, although he wasn't so famous that he felt that life was much different than before.

Over time, Vyn found that he was running out of space for cash, and he didn't want to use a bank just yet. He decided to invest in a few more things. He bought a brand new personal sewing kit, a few boxes of full spools, and a some bolts of linen, wool, and cotton, all for whenever he needed to make his own clothes.

Most people, women included, either didn't have the time to make their own clothes or didn't trust their skills. Labor was cheaper than fabric, and even the wealthiest in the world preferred to save fabric whenever possible. Vyn, however, felt confident enough to make his own clothes whenever he had the time.

Vyn also gave some random fighter his bedsheets and mattress, for he'd gone off to purchase his own set. He then bought a few more books, some of them more expensive than what he was used to. Later, he ordered two new pairs of shoes and a new tricorn hat of sturdy leather. He also bought a new shaving kit. His old one was shabby, the razor usually falling apart.

As odd as it might seem to some people, working at the seamstress shop soon became Vyn's more beloved job. He loved how neat and practical his desk was. He also loved how gentle the environment was in comparison to the gymnasium and stadium.

Yes, the women gossiped like mad, and Vyn had witnessed quite a few personal feuds and fights between the women, but it was all drama he could watch with guilty pleasure in his heart. It was like he was living in a silly novel for bored, rich wives to read.

His favorite piece of drama was when two young milliners became enemies because the Mistress had been praising one more often than the other. This launched off a feud of pranks and sabotage that lasted for five days. It only ended when Vyn decided it was going to far. He caught one woman trying to poison the other's lunch. So, he snatched up her delicate wrist and angrily dragged her over to the Mistress. In Vyn's mind, a thick line was between amusing and dangerous.

Of course, Vyn soon found that he was an unintentional source of drama on occasion. It couldn't be helped. He wasn't only the newest employee, but he was also a man, and a huge man at that.

One day, he learned that one employee had a slight infatuation with him. He knew because she kept sneaking gifts to his desk. Tiny pouches full of scented powder, boxes of cheap but pleasant crackers, a set of wooden hairpins, and even a little jar of pig tallow, all these sorts of things were put on his desk. Since the woman hadn't had the courage to go to his face, Vyn thought it was adorable. The poor thing might have felt quite intimidated. What if he rejected her? How cute!

Vyn accepted all these gifts with a little smile, and he asked around to see if he could learn who the giver was, but nobody would tell him anything. Eventually, Vyn had to learn the truth by peeking from the doorway and watching the woman in the act. He chose a time when the shop was about to close and there weren't any other people in the work room. The giver turned out to be a very pretty young woman, and he couldn't help but approve.

She was certainly on the shorter side, a petite little thing. Aside from the patches of pink, her skin was like fresh milk. Her bosom was always hidden by her kerchief, but he guessed there was something substantial enough there. Her hair, which was often tied up under a lacy cap, was straight and black like rich ebony wood. Her face was a slight heart shape with wide green eyes, a straight nose, and a tiny set of lips that were like a pale rosebud.

What was her name?

Vyn's eyebrows lowered as he tried to remember.

As she put a tiny wrapped package on Vyn's desk, the name came to him.

Joselyn.

He approached her with a quiet, "Hello there."

Joselyn hopped in place and spun around, her hand on her chest. Her pretty eyes were shocked. Her lips parted and showed off delightfully crooked teeth. They weren't ungodly in appearance. They simply looked natural and friendly.

His hands behind his back, Vyn stayed a respectable distance away, but he did nod at his desk and say, "Have you been leaving gifts for me?"

Her cheeks reddening, Joselyn wrung her hands together and looked down at her feet. Then she ran past him, her shoes clicking against the hardwood floor. Vyn didn't pursue. He was afraid of frightening her. He only went to his gift on his desk and unwrapped it.

There was a pretty little handkerchief folded up in the bundle. Blue and green stitches had been put in to make images of flowers and vegetables in a corner of the simple square. Red stitches had been used to make a delicate script that read, "With Love."

Another darling little gift!

The next day, Vyn tried not to embarrass the poor girl by staring at her. He looked down at his work and focused on little else. After the work day was over, though, he caught up to Joselyn on the street and called out her name.

Joselyn stopped and turned around to look up at him. Her lips seemed to flush. She let him move in closer, and she said up to him, "It's good to see you," as if she hadn't seen him at work earlier.

"Are you on your way home?"

She nodded. "I live with my family a few buildings down the road."

"Oh." Vyn reached back to adjust his hair, but he'd forgotten his hair was kept away. There was no loose lock to push under his hat. "Then, I shouldn't bother you."

Her eyebrows rising, Joselyn waved her hand in a panicked gesture. "No! I mean... I don't have to go to them right now." Those darling, flushing lips turned into a light smile. "Would you like to spend a little time with me?"

His heart fluttering a little, Vyn offered, "I'll buy you dinner at the inn, if you want."

She agreed.

Vyn and Joselyn ate a nice meal together then, laughing under the dying sunlight. He took a plate of fried pork jowls, chopped chicken gizzards and rice, and a cup of light ale. She had a plate of similar pork jowls, cheese coated vegetables, and a cup of sweetened water. They listened to the buzz of the full dining room. They watched people pass by on the street. They discussed unimportant things.

At one moment, Joselyn asked, "Who taught you how to stitch?"

Vyn shrugged as he nursed his drink. "My parents. They both knew how to make clothing, although my Papa had two other professions." Joselyn put her hands on the table and listened to him quite eagerly. "He was mainly a farmer," Vyn continued, "but the farm was small. He focused on pigs, goats, and whatever random stuff he wanted to grow in his garden. Money gaps were filled in with his other job. He was a war veteran, and that got him a monthly stipend. But, occasionally he'd go on to the military school to sell a lecture."

Joselyn likely didn't know what military school he was referring to, since she wasn't from Luralf, but she didn't seem to care.

"My father's a worker at a fabric printing factory," Joselyn told him, "and my mother works at a spinning mill. They both warned me not to take jobs at such places if I can help it. It's too dangerous. So I'm a seamstress instead."

"It's good to have a family that works hard," Vyn said.

Joselyn took a quick sip of her drink. "Are your parents dead?"

His lips twitching, Vyn gave a nod. "Yeah. I decided to leave once they passed. Why not come here?"

"Yes," Joselyn said with a nod that shook a stray bit of her dark hair from her cap, "why not come here?"

It was the beginning of something that seemed beautiful.

***

"Ladies and Gentlemen! I shall now officially introduce to you our new champion!"

The referee took Vyn's wrist and held it high in the air.

The crowd was roaring.

Vyn wasn't really thinking much about how he'd won the tournament.

He was wondering if he should go to the capital for the rest of the Social Season.

Not everyone spent all of the Social Season in the capital, and not everyone even went anywhere near the capital during that time, not even the rich ones. Many of them were there, in Geraldan, at the tournament, cheering at the results of the last match. Some people even went off to Cheppa Village to enjoy whatever local festival was taking place, for even a little village would love to have some tourism now and again.

The capital just so happened to be the most popular tourist destination during the spring and summer.

But, then he thought, if he could go, he'd want to take Joselyn.

But she might not want to go, and her parents might not approve, especially since they wouldn't be able to afford to go. They would hate to have their girl sent off with only Vyn to look after her.

As Vyn was given his medal, which was a medallion pendant on a cloth necklace, he gave a humble bow but didn't think much on it. He wore the medal as he walked on out.

By this time, he had a bank account, and he'd saved up quite a bit.

He licked at his own teeth, tightening his lips, as he pondered and pondered. He ignored anyone that approached. He only went on to his bed in the dormitory, hardly acknowledging the congratulations from the other men.

As he sat down on the edge of the mattress, the idea came to him. He smiled at himself. It was a stupid smile.

The next day, he took a trip to a fabric shop. He found lots of beautiful things there. He chose a few bolts of very nice red silk. It had no pattern to it, but the sheen was lovely. He then went to the gymnasium, but he didn't train there.

To the mild bewilderment of quite a few people, Vyn borrowed a table to start working on. He used a bunch of paper to make a pattern. He believed as long as he got the approximate size right, it would be fine. The finished product could be altered later.

Once the pattern was done, he sat down and began cutting.

For quite some time, he spent his days in the seamstress shop, making more money, dealing with the admiring gazes and words of several women. He was a bit of a celebrity now, but he tried not to act like it. Besides, he was too focused on Joselyn's attention to concern himself with others.

Whenever she smiled at him, his heart felt light. Whenever he was feeling overwhelmed with a task, she'd help him. Vice versa too. They often spent time together after work, usually walking in a park or getting something to eat. Sometimes, she'd even pay for the food, darling thing that she was!

Sometimes, Vyn would notice that the other workers would secretly lash their jealousy out onto Joselyn. They wouldn't typically do so with him in the same area, but he could tell. Joselyn didn't like to talk about the issue. Maybe she'd been brought up to think you weren't supposed to tattle about that stuff.

Whatever, Vyn didn't like it.

There had been too many thumb tacks left in Joselyn's seat, too many of her lunches stolen from her, and all too often whatever project she'd been assigned to would end up vandalized. That was last problem was especially dangerous. On those occasions, Vyn had to help Joselyn repair or redo her work, for if the Mistress thought she was being cheated, Joselyn might be the one to suffer for it. Or that's what Vyn feared.

Once day, Vyn happened to catch one of the culprits, a woman in her thirties. She'd actually used a pair of spring scissors to cut up a petticoat that Joselyn had so carefully embroidered. Since Vyn was there to stop most of the damage, he did so by grabbing her wrist, forcing her to drop the scissors, and then mercilessly slamming her hand against the desk's tabletop.

Hit her hard so the Mistress doesn't hit her harder, that was part of the logic applied.

He didn't hear any crunching, but he was certain he'd hurt her.

The woman screamed and wept.

Vyn regretted it the second right after he'd done it.

He called upon the shop's Mistress to turn himself in.

To his shock, his absolutely delighted shock, the Mistress looked at the thirty something woman with a furious expression, and she said, "Did you think I didn't know about all the damage done to the work? I'm relieved this one's found the offender."

The offender tried to argue, but the Mistress interrupted her. "This man has worked here for such a long time, and he's always been nothing but gentle and cautious. You can't successfully lie to me about his intentions, and I'd have done much worse to your body if I'd been the one to find you destroying a customer's order! You've tried to ruin products from my business, essentially taking money from my hands, food from my lips!" The Mistress slapped her own thigh, pointed at the nearest exit, and hollered out, "Take your things and leave this place!! There's no room for you here!!"

Vyn took it as a sign.

This city was his home now.

He imagined a future with a townhouse, Joselyn as his wife, and several children running around.

It made him giddy.

By the time autumn was beginning, Vyn got a more than a taste of what true fame meant. As he was exercising in the gymnasium, a man approached and offered a proposition. At first, Vyn had wondered if he was a journalist. He'd given a few interviews for journalists not long after he'd won the tournament. But no, this was the owner of some fancy restaurant.

He asked Vyn if he wouldn't mind coming to eat at his business. It would all be for free, of course. He just wanted Vyn to be seen there. Vyn asked if he could bring someone with him, and the owner agreed. So, Vyn later asked Joselyn to put on the prettiest dress she had and meet him there the following evening.

Joselyn was very shy as she held his arm and let him lead her up into the building. The restaurant was cozy but with quite a bit of elegance. There were even nice paintings and taxidermy heads hanging about. As soon as the couple was led to their seats, the waiter quietly reminded them the meal would be free of charge, and so they should order whatever they like.

Joselyn spent the longest time looking through the menu. It took Vyn a while to understand that she had difficulty reading some of it, and she hadn't wanted to admit it. The poor dear hadn't had a very classy education.

Vyn took her hand, gave her a firm smile, and told her, "Don't worry. I can help you learn how to read better, if you want."

Slowly, Joselyn's teeth were exposed in the brightest smile he'd seen yet.

It made his cock pulse a little.

Unfortunately, Joselyn still had the occasional bully at work. Vyn even overheard few angry gossipers go on about how Vyn shouldn't even be working at the seamstress shop. He had plenty of prize money to live off of.

Well, the truth was... Vyn didn't know how long that money would last. He'd rather be frugal.

The next day, during the lunch hour, Vyn even saw a recently hired seamstress using a seam ripper to undo all the stitches that Joselyn had done earlier in the day. Vyn grabbed her by her hair and shoved her into the nearest wall. He was careful not to let her head make contact, but he made sure she felt pain in other parts of her body.

The Mistress only gave her approval and dismissed that seamstress.

In reality, all Vyn did was save that woman from getting a much worse beating, but he wondered about himself.

But, a few days later, any regret Vyn had over the incident had been amplified.

The headline in the local newspaper read, "Tournament Champion Vynstrum Dahlren is a Woman Beater." Apparently, that seamstress from before had given an interview, and so did the previous one whose hand Vyn had whacked.

His stomach curdled when he saw it. A paper boy had handed it to him so cheerfully, apparently not knowing who he'd sold the paper to.

Back in the dormitory, on his bed, Vyn read the article over and over, grinding his teeth. There were quite a few lies in the article. The women claimed he'd lied to have them fired and beat them black and blue, almost to death.

But still...

It was his fault. All his fault.

He shouldn't have been so violent.

Just because the Mistress had a reputation for breaking much more bones than he did, didn't make his own actions right. He should be more careful with women. How could he have ever hoped for a wife when he went around treating women like shit?!

The only reason he didn't end up weeping was because there were other men around.

The next morning, Vyn sucked up his sorrow and tried to pay Joselyn a visit. He had a surprise in his arms, kept in a wide box in his careful arms. The seamstress shop was closed, and beforehand Vyn had already met Joselyn's parents. They'd seemed very nice.

He went up to the appropriate apartment building, and he knocked on the door.

Joselyn's father answered. He was a short man but with plenty of fire in his eyes. He was normally friendly, but he stared up at Vyn with hardness in his features.

"Stay the fuck away from my daughter," was all the man said. Then he slammed the door in Vyn's face.

Vyn remained for some time, listening even as his eyes watered. He heard the muffled voice of Joselyn speaking to her father.

"Is he gone? Tell me he's gone!"

"He should be," the father said.

"Gods be worshiped," Joselyn said with a relieved sigh. "If I clung to him anymore, people would take wrong ideas of me. I can't afford to keep him. He's going to lose his jobs anyway, I bet. It's not as if he can support me."

A sticky, mucus-like feeling slithered all around in Vyn's lungs. His frame quivered. His vision was ruined by tears. He sniffed and wiped at his eyes. Then he put his box down on the floor, right before the entrance to the family's apartment.

As he walked away, he thought of every single cut and stitch he'd personally made. Then he thought of the finished product.

Pieces of a red gown, pieces because almost no woman got dressed without tying and pinning the pieces together. There was a stomacher, a robe, and a petticoat. It was all in shimmery red. Vyn hadn't had the time to do much embroidery, so he chose to sew in pretty strips of gold ribbons as borders. There was a bit of lace though, mainly in layered flounces from the sleeves and on the part of the petticoat that would be revealed by the open robe.

At least Joselyn would have something new to wear.

Vyn considered finding out where those two women lived, the women he'd assaulted, the women that had given interviews for the newspaper. He'd wanted to get some money and leave some at their doorsteps, or something. He thought about it all the way back to the Fighting Stadium, but there he found out that Joselyn's predictions were coming true.