“Thank you,” Winry said. The pot had likely been cooled, because the tea that filled the cup to the brim was cold to Winry’s touch. One mouthful and the chilled liquid seeped into her, soothing her overheated and exhausted body.
Winry loved spending time with her fellow mechanics and basking in a shared sense of satisfaction after a day of hard work. She exhaled and let herself just listen to the other three chat amongst themselves. Their conversation flowed between politics, economics, and the general state of the world, but when there was a pause, Garfiel turned toward Winry and said, “Oh, I just remembered. How did the talk with Darish about his automail go?”
“Ah, about that.” At the question, Winry drew the cup away from her lips and let out a small sigh. “He actually left before we could get anywhere.”
Winry caught Garfiel up on what had happened while explaining the situation to their fellow mechanics, who had missed the entire incident.
“… and then I asked if he had any requests for his automail, but he didn’t give me any answers, and I was kind of stuck.”
“Oh my, I see,” Garfiel said. He had been deep in conversation with one of his regulars when Darish left and had missed out on how it had all ended. He arched a single brow, surprised. “He seemed like such a well-behaved child. I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”
“I asked him to come again tomorrow but, I’m sorry.”
They were running a business, and it was Winry’s job to earn the trust of their clients and contribute to the shop. She regretted that she hadn’t managed to achieve that. Garfiel, however, didn’t seem bothered, and sipped his tea. “There’s no need to apologize, my dear. That boy, Darish, he didn’t say he was going to another shop, did he?”
“No,” Winry answered.
“Well then, I don’t see how anything has changed,” Garfiel said. “You’re still in charge of him. Until he gives you a clear rejection, all you need to worry about is how to make a lovely piece of automail for him.”
Weis had been listening in silence, but he began to stroke his beard. He asked Winry, “Was the kid Darish Harling by any chance?”
“Yes. That was his name,” Winry said. “Do you know him?”
Considering the number of people there were in Rush Valley, it was unusual to hear that a fellow mechanic had encountered the same customer. Right as Winry was being struck by what a coincidence it was, Weis let out a groan.
“Hmm, if he’s who I think he is, he might end up moving on to another shop right away.”
“You think so?” Winry asked. Darish’s mood during their entire interaction had confused Winry, but this only added to the bewilderment.
“Ah, sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry.” Weis waved his hands, trying to reassure Winry as her face scrunched up, deep in thought. “That kid’s come by my place too. I think it was around a week ago. He came to get automail made, brought his mother too, but he didn’t seem too keen on it. Apparently, the place that made his current prosthesis was of the nasty sort. Didn’t bother taking proper measurements and didn’t provide any follow-up care either.”
“That’s so …” Winry frowned.
Regardless of whether it was automail or a regular prosthesis, it was crucial to gather precise measurements to make something that fit a client’s body. Follow-ups were also essential for making adjustments to suit the client’s growth and lifestyle. Prostheses created from sloppy plans put strain on the wearer and risked warping their skeletons. In extreme cases, they could even cause paralysis.
“It seems like that’s why his leg started to hurt immediately after he got his prosthesis. Probably still distrusts mechanics as a result. He was civil while his mother was around, but as soon as he was alone with me, he stopped cooperating. I had other jobs and couldn’t just sit there with the kid, and after a while it was clear we weren’t getting anywhere. He ended up leaving for a different shop.”
“I see,” Winry said. She had thought Darish’s prothesis seemed wrong for his size, but apparently it had never fit, even when it had been brand-new. Winry couldn’t blame him for hating prosthetics mechanics if he’d been dealing with years of leg pain.
Winry recalled the awful-looking bruises on Darish’s leg and tightened her grip on her teacup. As a member of the same industry, she simultaneously felt guilt and simmering outrage at the thought of a fellow mechanic treating a client so carelessly.
Winry wasn’t alone in her anger. Garfiel refilled all of their cups and when he spoke, it was with quiet rage. “Some people are careless with their work like that. They’re less mechanics and more like corrupt businesspeople who only care about profit. They know that people looking to buy automail usually have plenty of money prepared, so sometimes they’ll drag them into their shops and force them to sign contracts, or they’ll sell shoddy, overpriced automail. They won’t provide any proper maintenance but will take the money. They’re just horrid.”
Garfiel was usually imperturbable, but the sudden rant betrayed his unusually strong feelings about the matter. It seemed these people truly disgusted him.
“Recently people like that have set their sights on Rush Valley itself. We’ve been seeing more of them, swarming like hyenas whenever they smell money. What absolutely dreadful people,” Garfiel said, touching his hand daintily to his face and heaving a deep sigh.
Weis’s agreement with Garfiel’s assessment was clear on his face, grimacing as though he’d tasted something terribly bitter. “Absolutely. They’re awful pests. They’ve even dragged proper businesses into their mess, trying to rip us off when they sell materials too. Not like we can say anything either, or we risk getting everything burned to the ground.”
“Burned to the ground?” Winry frowned when she heard the unsettling phrase.
Henrik slammed his empty cup onto a crate with a bit more force than necessary. He looked pained as he began to explain. “Do you know that big, empty plot of land by the station? A buddy mechanic of mine used to have a shop there. They had a real strong sense of justice, too, and always stood up to those snakes. But then, in the middle of the night, there was a minor arson incident. The hustlers who’d been antagonizing my buddy got arrested almost immediately, but in the end there wasn’t enough evidence to convict them, and the guys were acquitted. My buddy couldn’t even get reparations for the store, and it went belly-up in the end.”