[center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center][center][img]https://i.ibb.co/vXD6Q0t/Update-Text.png[/img][/center][center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center][center][img]https://i.ibb.co/GWcg0WP/Silversmith-s.jpg[/img][/center][center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center]

	[u]Weather[/u]: Light rain, and though no one inside can tell, the temperature is beginning to drop slightly. 

	[u]Time[/u]: Late afternoon. The cloud cover does not overly prevent the after-midday sun from illuminating the Township in any appreciable way though it's difficult to pinpoint exactly where it rests in the sky.

	[u]Ambience[/u]: In contrast to the dropping temperature outside, the silversmith's place is quite warm and just a tiny bit hazy. The two lamps lit by Jacques earlier and the constant dim glow of the flameless heat source under the pot forge provide adequate light to the room as a whole, though shadowy corners remain. The doors are solidly closed and barred with a heavy beam, front and back both. The fellow by the door is still there, and he's getting very curious. 

[center][color=darkgray][h2]*****[/h2][/color][/center] 

	[color=darkgray]"Um, hello?"[/color] The knocking continued from the door, even more uncertain than before. [color=darkgray]"I, I, um, I don't... Who is that? Is Monsieur Mallard okay?"[/color] The words spoken came from a lower, male voice, though the lack of overall confidence did not make this person seem hostile. There were a scattering of other words spoken though they made a little less sense than they probably should have. These words halted as the people inside made their own statements as if listening. A bit fainter, one from within could the same voice, presumably calling behind himself, [color=darkgray]"I don't know! I'm trying to find out!"[/color]

	Meanwhile, Jacques gave the smallest of attention to the door or anyone else inside of his shop. He was working, and did not seem to like the distractions. He shook his head and selected Kathryn's axe next, preparing the same silver wire as with his last inlay, but paused as Marita replaced her dagger with the larger mace. This rerouted his attention enough to make him change his next course of action. [color=darkgray]"Hmm..."[/color] he mused, giving a simple nod and turning to his small pot forge. The oil used to quench his glowing metalwork while maintaining its integrity found a different use as he quickly applied it to general areas of the weapon which would not, in a mixture of his opinion and common sense, require silvering. The process itself took little time. It took even less time to dip portions of the business end and pommel into the crucible of perpetually heated silver and quench them in rapid succession with just enough care not to lose a drop of his precious metal. During this process he lightly dusted the mace with an impossibly fine powder. One more coating overall and he looked to Marita, [color=darkgray]"This is still quite hot."[/color] Jacques picked up a small jewelers' rod and began tapping the piece again and again, leaving a dimpled, hand-hammered appearance in the softened silver. [color=darkgray]"Overlay, rather than inlay for you. When it cools more fully I shall remove the excess and rebalance it. Is there a flourish or symbol you would like in the metal? There is a time factor, but I was expecting to work on more than just these few pieces."[/color] He kept up his tapping, occasionally brushing the item with a piece of rough leather. 

	Concerning the Great Moral Debate of what awful things to (or not to) do to the prisoner, the silversmith voiced no opinion. he barely gave this a look of disapproval whatsoever until things began to get loud. Hoping to break up the more aggressive train of thought, he answered Kathryn's question. This earned her an odd look, as if he was explaining something he thought might have been obvious. [color=darkgray]"The full moon lasts for three nights. Tonight is the first. Tomorrow night is its zenith."[/color]

	The prisoner himself was awash in a sea of conflicting instincts, even if this didn't show more than a general sense of apprehension on his face. The threat made to him - and as much as it was spoken with generalities it was most certainly a threat - was something that he didn't seem to react to past twitching his head in the general direction of the speaker, this occasion being the Dragonborn fellow he had crossed swords with earlier. One could almost make out a tiny change of expression; a nervous twitch at the corners of his mouth. It could have been either amusement or anxiety, difficult as it is to read body language from a bound and blindfolded man. 

	Kosara's gambit led to stunned silence from the other side of the door. At first, a stillness fell upon the whole of the place, inside and outside both, as the people tried to process this new event, relayed from an unfamiliar voice and delivered with a sense of mirth that did not fit a [i]post-streetbattle between guards and outsiders in a rural town[/i] scenario. After this stillness wore off, several things occurred in rapid succession:

	First, the man outside spoke loudly, with fear coloring his earlier concern, [color=darkgray]"What? What have you done with Monsieur Mallard? Can you hear me in there, Jacques?"[/color]

	This was immediately countered by a VERY annoyed silversmith, shouting, [color=darkgray]"Curse it all! Pitor, yes I can hear you! I have friends over - [i]they're obviously drunk[/i]. Please hang up my sign and leave!"[/color] It was not a cover story that would hold up with any critical thinking whatsoever but it was all he could come up with in the moment. Jacques shot a withering scowl at Kosara.

	THIS was immediately countered by the prisoner, moving as much as his binding and injured arm might let him, and called out, [color=darkgray][i]"HELP! They're hurting us!"[/i][/color] His face was split by a wicked smile. 

	Jacques responded tersely, looking at both Kosara and Kathryn, [color=darkgray]"Get him out of here. Don't care what happens after he's gone."[/color] 

	The Guard himself shook with restrained laughter.