The Making: Entry 4

The Fire

A constant flame provides a constant warmth.

And so we tend the fire in order to provide a place of inviting and a seat for the story to be told.

While the fire is an excellent place to tell our tails, it is also the most tactile way we could imagine to mark our covers.

The Irons

The Irons

The Brass Tacks

You see, I have always preferred a burned mark to that of an inked print or an etched plate, it's just a bit more permanent. And so, a set of irons are needed for my books covers. As you see above, The Irons, made of brass, are carved from solid stock and produce a fine and even mark.

Finding the stock proved as difficult a task as any, as I wished to find the strongest alloy composition. I knew that there was only one man I could trust when sourcing the materials, and so I ventured to pay my dear friend Trismegistus a visit.

The Press

The Press

When I arrived at the grotto entrance to Hermes subterranean workshop, I was greeted, in disappointment might I add, by a note on the locked door.

Dearest Satyrus,
A breeze has carried me off the North shore. The smelting has begun.

(There was a scroll which accompanied this note, however, I will save that for another time.)

Now, It is no secret to me that Hermes has "his own methods", it's just a bit frustrating to travel half way round the globe to find a 'Gone Fishing' sign on the door of ones supposed host. And so instead of making the return trip, I decided to slide down the cottage wall and take a nap in wait. As I tipped my hat over my eyes, I sighed in a deep exhale of certainty that I would be asleep for quite a while. You see, these things always take a great deal of time.

The Stock

The Stock

The Alarm

A mere second after nodding off, I was face to face with a giant reptilian beast, breathing the foulest sooted breath into my face... (Yes, I was dreaming), and after inhaling a puff of the vile creatures ethereal plume, I jumped out of the vision and up from my seated slumber.

You see, while the winged serpent was mostly a product of my undigested lunch, the smoke was not! Hermes had left an alembic over the flame, and the whole grotto was catching fire. No doubt, there was a century of work being lost inside, and so I did what any reasonable wanderer would do in that situation... I ran!

But not before leaving a note of my own.

 Dearest Hermes,
Patience must be the virtue of which you went out seeking.
The Fire

The Fire

The Moral

Upon returning home, I was once again greeted by, you guessed it, another note and a package against my door. The note simply said:

The wise man does at once what the fool does finally.

He made no remarks as to the fire in his grotto, or the immediacy in which he had vanished, and so I have not raised the questions since. Regardless, the task had been completed. For in the package accompanying the note were the fine brass irons which I have shared with you here today, the irons by which I will forever make the mark.

The Brand

The Brand

Make. Believe. Reality

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