Cylus 5th 706
The wax was hot, Woe was ready... to start making candle-pots inside shoes. He'd make a fortune!
In a few days, Woe would be released from his servitude to Erastus, and he was going to make the most of things. He was given a small hovel in Lowtown, not too far from his old master to dwell in. At first he thought to support his old master, in the gathering of slaves and indoctrinates. However, it occurred to him that he could make much more coin just doing something novel, and selling it enmass. He could buy his own servants later, to support his own efforts, and begin a candleshoepot making empire. For now he was testing his craftiness in Erastus' abode, but soon enough he'd have a chance to do so in his own place.
The leather was already fashioned into a shoe, but needed some repair. He stopped, meditated on it a bit, and felt for flaws in the shoe leather. While he wasn't anywhere near as good a leathercrafter as his old master... well he wasn't a leathercrafter at all. But he'd seen enough of his master's leatherwork to tell when a piece of leather was worthless or in need of repair.
But for one of his inexperience, flaws were difficult to spot in the shoe. He held it to eye level, appraising it. Hmm... The soles were a little floppy, coming off at the seam between the sole and the covering. He'd have to stitch those up. So he took out a hokey pokey tool and began pushing twine through the holes, into the leather, through the soft sole. He continued in this task until the twine made a neat little lattice, connecting the sole to the rest of the shoe's leather. He bit into the twine, separating it out from the spindle he was using, and then set the spindle aside. From there, it was a simple task to wrap the twine into and around the last of the holes, and then close it off.
Once it was sealed up, he began packing the wax in, pouring it slowly into the shoe to be sure it wouldn't catch fire. He brought out a thread that was to serve as the wick. It was made of coarse linen and flax, and would burn slowly. The wax, as it melted, would probably mitigate some of the burning. Nevertheless, he managed to fill it without the wax coming out of the seam between the shoe leather and the sole.
Then came the interesting part. He took a measure of flint and steel, and began sparking at the wick, trying to get it to light. This went on for many bits, with no luck. Woe's fingers were beginning to get sore from all the movement and tight grip he was exerting over the tools. Perhaps one of his master's tinder boxes would be useful?
He stood up from his project, and looked around his room. There wouldn't be any match boxes or tinder kits in there. Erastus didn't let his 'wards' play with fire. To do so would mean many lashes of the belt or whip. Woe wasn't in the mood to get on Erastus' bad side, and so he went about his task cleverly.
He decided to engage in a bit of deception.
Woe walked over toward the room where Erastus housed his mistress. The lady was reclining in a lounger, smoking a joint of ambrosia. She wore a fine dress of deep green velvet, lined by black mink. The skirt of the dress was slit at the knee, showing off her black stockings. She wore no shoes while at rest, smoking her days away. Woe never learned her name. Erastus seemed to go through mistresses as frequently as every other man had a barber visit. Yet Woe didn't question the master's prolific social life. It wasn't for him to do so.
He thought this mistress was attractive, with her dark blonde hair and soft features. Yet her blue eyes were vacant, perhaps addled by the blend of ambrosia and... Woe sniffed, probably brain berry as well. The young slave had gotten to know the smell as Erastus hosted many soirees at his primary residence, and let Woe serve the guests there.
Woe stopped at the threshold between the hall and the mistress' room. He stood there a good few moments, before clearing his throat to get her attention. She startled for a moment, caught in the bliss brought on by her joint. Then she turned to smile at him, "Oh, it's you, Woe."
"Yes Mistress... My master wishes to know where the tinder kit is kept?"
She half rose from the lounger, coming to an upright sitting position as she placed her hands on her lap. She leaned toward him slightly, and smiled in a way that made him slightly uncomfortable. Like a cat that's spotted a mouse. He had half a mind to run then, but stood his ground, just knowing that she'd know where to find a tinderbox.
"Well... What will you do for your mistress?" Another question that prompted Woe to a feeling of profound discomfort.
"What does my mistress want?" Woe ventured to ask, not quite wanting the answer, but wishing to keep her talking. The more she talked, the more likely she could let slip the location of the tinder kit. Or so he surmised.
"Mmm, I'm lonely. Come sit with me." She patted the space next to her on the lounger, as she took another drag of her joint. Her tongue stuck in her lips, causing her to blow out smoke rings at Woe as he approached shyly. He knew he was playing a risk here, approaching his master's mistress. While Erastus wasn't a very jealous man by nature, he wouldn't let such transgressions go unpunished. The principle of the matter was what counted, not the deprivation of one of his ladies. Although Woe suspected that Erastus would silently approve of Woe making a move on just about any woman, to prove he was more than just a loyal automaton.
He sat beside her on the velvet lounger, and put his hands on his knees, in a stiff posture. He didn't look at her, but could feel the eyes of the woman on his periphery, staring at him and smiling. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up a bit, and he couldn't help blushing, which elicited a fit of giggling laughter from the mistress.
She playfully wrapped her gloved hand around his shoulder, holding up the joint with her other hand for him to sample. "Let's have some fun, little Woe."
Woe sharply inhaled through his nose, sealing his lips against the joint. This only seemed to prompt her to greater amusement, and she lowered her other hand to tickle him under the arm. Woe gasped, which gave her the opening she needed to stick the cigarillo into his mouth. Once there, he accidentally inhaled, and then had a sputtering fit of coughing.
The joint fell to the floor, but the Mistress only seemed amused, not annoyed at this turn.
"Oh, Woe... Little lost Woe." She traced his jawline with her newly freed hand, and turned his chin to face her. "Don't you like me?"
Woe considered the question silently, analytically, while surveying the periphery for any signs of a tinderbox. He knew what she wanted to hear of course, but he had to calculate the potential benefits against the risks. It was a careful balance he struck between dishonoring his master's woman and finding the damned tinderbox.
"You like me, admit it." She pouted, and leaned in to kiss him. Her lips grazed him in a chaste kiss against his lips. Neither of them probed any further than this, just savoring the feeling of her warm lips on his. So it was done, and he might as well continue. They turned to each other and embraced, Woe breaking the kiss to nuzzle her neck a bit.
"Mmm, yep. You like me, alright." She giggled as he nipped at her ear.
He lingered there for a moment, and then ventured to ask her, "Do you know where the tinderbox is?"
She pushed him away, a look of mock surprise on her face, though she couldn't hide the upward curve to her lips. "Woe! Is that what you call it?"
"I... I mean..." Woe had lost the battle of wills, and was pulled into an embrace on the lounger before he could protest.
A half a break later, after entertaining his mistress, he got redressed and located the tinderbox he was looking for. It was in the vanity next to her dresser. With not so much as a goodbye for her, as she reclined on the lounger, taking a drag of another ambrosia joint, he made his way back toward his quarters, where the shoepotcandle was waiting to be lit.
He shut his door behind him, and sat at the work area. Once he'd settled in, and put all thoughts of the mistress to bed (no pun intended) he lit a match and touched it to the wick of the candle. There, it burned brightly, illuminating the room. The candle had enough wax and a strong enough wick to last through the night, which Woe used to read through some material he'd 'acquired' from a library.
He was well on his way as a craftsman, he reflected. Although later it would end up seeping through the sole and nearly burning his quarters down before they doused the flames. Nevertheless, he often wondered if anyone else had ever thought to combine shoemaking, pottery, and candlemaking into the same trade.
