The disciples, and workers were all stunned to see Ludwig in nothing but his white inner garments cleaning up rust and iron residues from the floor.
Their stares followed him the way stares followed a scandal. A few looked offended on Andre's behalf, as if the forge was being disrespected by a noble touching dirt. Others looked offended on Ludwig's behalf, as if Ludwig was humiliating himself by choice. Ludwig ignored all of it. He didn't sweep to be admired. He swept because Andre told him it was the first step.
He didn't have pride in his motion, nor did he have anger in his temperament.
The broom scraped over stone, gathering filings that glimmered faintly in forge light. Ludwig paid attention to what Andre said and what the floor showed him. Some dust was darker, heavier. Some was bright and sharp. He watched the way the particles caught light, the way they clung to the broom's bristles, the way they scattered when his motion wasn't careful.
