Chapter 6: Tannin, Bark, and the Problem With Doing Things Properly
The third morning on the cliff arrived with a kind of quiet normalcy that Khun Ming found far more comforting than he expected, especially after the previous day had behaved in a way that suggested the world itself might occasionally forget how to act properly and then correct itself without explanation.
There was no tremor lingering in the air, no strange pressure pressing against his senses, and no unsettling shift in the sky above the mountains, and perhaps most importantly, there were no distant bells ringing for reasons that no one could explain, which made the entire atmosphere feel grounded again in a way that allowed him to focus on things that actually mattered.
Khun Ming appreciated that more than he felt the need to say out loud.
He woke slowly, not because he was tired, but because the steady rhythm of the waterfall outside and the faint, familiar scent of iron and vinegar drifting through the room created a kind of calm that did not encourage sudden movement, and as his awareness settled fully, his attention shifted almost immediately toward the clay jar resting near the window.
Overnight, the liquid inside had changed noticeably.
What had once been a pale mixture with only a hint of gray had deepened into something much richer, the color now leaning toward a darker tone that carried weight, especially where the iron nails rested beneath the surface, quietly continuing their slow transformation.
The early sunlight slipped through the window and fell across the jar at an angle, revealing gentle movement within the liquid as faint currents swirled around the submerged metal, subtle enough that someone inattentive might have missed it entirely, but steady enough to confirm that the reaction was progressing exactly as expected.
Khun Ming sat up and watched it for a moment, his expression thoughtful in the quiet way of someone who preferred observing results over rushing toward conclusions.
The dog was already awake.
It sat in the same place as before, watching him with the same calm attentiveness that had begun to feel less like coincidence and more like a consistent personality trait.
Khun Ming rubbed his eyes once, then looked at the animal with a slightly narrowed gaze, as if he were trying to confirm a theory that had not yet fully formed.
"I have to admit that there is something about you that I appreciate more than I expected when you first appeared here," he said, his tone calm but lightly reflective as he rested his elbow against his knee. "You do not snore, which immediately places you above several people I used to live with, and that alone significantly improves your position in this household."
The dog blinked slowly, offering no argument.
Khun Ming continued studying it for another moment, then shifted slightly as if reconsidering something.
"You also wake up before I do every morning, which introduces a completely different kind of concern," he added, his voice carrying a trace of quiet curiosity. "That level of consistency suggests either a very disciplined routine or a suspicious amount of free time, and I am not entirely sure which explanation is more concerning at the moment."
The dog's tail moved once, brushing lightly against the wooden floor with a soft, confident sound that suggested it had no intention of clarifying the situation.
Khun Ming let out a small breath that almost resembled a quiet laugh.
"Well, as long as you do not begin evaluating my sleeping habits or offering suggestions for improvement, I think we can maintain a peaceful arrangement without needing to negotiate new terms every morning," he said, swinging his legs off the bed and standing up in a smooth motion.
He stretched his shoulders and rolled his neck slightly, easing the stiffness from sleep while the faint scent of iron, vinegar, and damp mountain air continued drifting through the open window, blending together into something that felt both practical and oddly comforting.
After a moment, he stepped outside into the courtyard, where the air still held the coolness of early morning, and the light moved gently across the ground in long, clean angles that shifted slowly as the sun climbed higher above the mountains.
His eyes lifted instinctively toward the entrance.
ATELIER VIMUTTI.
The signboard remained exactly where it should be.
The rope held firm, the wood sat level, and even though a faint breeze brushed against it occasionally, the board did not tilt or shift in any way that would suggest future problems, which was exactly the kind of quiet reliability Khun Ming preferred in objects that were meant to represent his work.
He nodded once, his expression settling into quiet approval.
"That is reassuring," he murmured, stepping a little closer to inspect it from a slightly different angle. "A signboard that begins to lean on the third day of operation would create a very questionable first impression, especially for a place that technically does not have customers yet and is therefore relying entirely on potential reputation rather than actual feedback."
The breeze moved again, light but steady, brushing through the courtyard and carrying with it the layered scents of bamboo, damp soil, and distant water, while the forest below the cliff shifted in soft gradients of green that caught the sunlight in uneven patterns.
The bamboo grove beyond the wall whispered quietly as the tall stalks brushed together, their movement slow and natural, never rushed, never forced, as if the entire mountain had agreed to maintain a certain pace that did not need to be questioned.
Khun Ming stood there for a moment, simply taking it in.
Morning on the cliff never arrived abruptly.
It did not demand attention.
It did not rush anyone into action.
Instead, it unfolded gradually, allowing light, wind, and sound to settle into place before expecting anything in return, and that kind of environment made it very easy to forget that the world beyond the mountain was far less patient.
Behind him, the dog stepped out of the cottage and paused near the doorway, its posture relaxed but attentive as it looked out across the courtyard as if confirming that everything remained in acceptable condition.
Khun Ming glanced back at it briefly.
"You appear to be conducting a morning inspection," he said, his tone calm but lightly amused. "I hope you will inform me if anything is out of order, although I suspect your standards may differ slightly from mine, especially when it comes to determining what counts as a problem."
The dog wagged its tail once.
Khun Ming nodded as if that response was entirely reasonable.
"Good," he said. "As long as we both agree that the house is still standing and nothing has caught fire overnight, I would consider this a successful start to the day."
He turned his attention back toward the courtyard, his mind already shifting toward the next set of tasks, not with urgency, but with the steady awareness that preparation, once begun, should continue without unnecessary interruption.
And in that quiet, unhurried way, the third morning at Atelier Vimutti moved forward, exactly as it should, with small observations, simple confirmations, and the quiet satisfaction of things behaving properly without needing to be corrected.
Khun Ming walked slowly toward the hanging yarn and lifted the iron-treated sample between his fingers, holding it up at eye level as he let the morning light fall across the fibers, not in a hurry to reach a conclusion but allowing himself a moment to observe how the color had settled overnight.
The strand was completely dry.
The gray tone had distributed itself evenly along the fibers, quiet and restrained in appearance, yet carrying a sense of stability that did not need brightness to prove its presence, and as he rotated it slightly between his fingers, he could see that the surface remained consistent from one end to the other without any blotching or uneven patches interrupting the flow of color.
He rubbed it gently between his thumb and forefinger, paying close attention not only to how it looked but also to how it felt.
"No residue," he murmured with a faint nod of approval. "That is a very encouraging result, because if iron leaves any kind of roughness or leftover material at this stage, it usually means the mixture was too aggressive, and the fiber would end up feeling unpleasant once it dries completely."
He brought the strand slightly closer, narrowing his eyes just a fraction as he examined it more carefully.
"The tone itself is stable, which is exactly what iron should provide," he continued thoughtfully. "Iron is not meant to produce loud or attention-seeking colors, and if it does, something has likely gone wrong. Its real strength is in creating depth, and depth is far more useful than brightness in the long run."
He lifted a second strand and held it toward the sun, rotating it slowly so the light could pass through the fibers at different angles, watching how the tone responded as it shifted.
"Yes, this is still consistent," he said quietly. "There is no resistance from the fiber, which means it accepted the treatment properly instead of fighting against it."
Satisfied with what he saw, he lowered both strands back onto the line and allowed them to sway gently in the breeze, their movement slow and unforced as the morning air passed through the courtyard.
The dog had wandered closer during this time and now sat beneath the hanging cloth, watching the slight movement above as if it were studying something of great importance.
Khun Ming turned toward it.
"Today we begin working withtannin[1]," he said in a calm, explanatory tone, as though continuing an ongoing lesson that had never formally started.
The dog tilted its head.
"Yes, I am aware that you do not actually know what tannin is," Khun Ming continued patiently, crouching near the basket beside the dye station and beginning to sort through a few tools. "However, since you insist on attending every stage of this process as if you were a very dedicated apprentice, it would feel somewhat impolite not to explain what is happening."
He selected a few items and set them aside with deliberate care.
"A dye bath on its own does not always hold color firmly, especially after repeated washing," he went on. "Tannin acts as a kind of bridge between the fiber and the dye, giving the pigment something stable to attach to so it does not simply drift away when exposed to water again."
The dog continued watching, its expression steady in a way that suggested it was taking the explanation seriously, even if it did not fully understand it.
"So in order to prepare a proper tannin bath, we need materials such as bark, husks, or other plant matter that naturally carries strong tannin properties," Khun Ming said, rising to his feet again. "Fortunately, forests are quite generous when it comes to providing those resources, assuming we take only what we need and leave the rest undisturbed."
He glanced toward the mountain path beyond the gate, where a thin layer of morning mist still lingered between the trees, softening the shapes of the forest in the distance.
"Walnut[2] would be an excellent choice if we can find it," he added thoughtfully. "Oak bark would also behave very well, and either option would produce a stable result if handled correctly."
He gathered a woven basket and adjusted the sword at his side, sliding it into place so it rested comfortably against his hip, more like a practical tool than anything meant for conflict.
Then he looked down at the dog.
"I assume you will be coming along as well," he said, though his tone suggested the answer had already been decided.
The dog stood immediately, without hesitation.
Khun Ming let out a soft sigh, though there was no real resistance behind it.
"Yes, that was exactly the response I expected," he said. "You seem extremely committed to participating in what I can only describe as an ongoing field study."
He stepped toward the gate and pushed it open, the wood giving a quiet creak as the courtyard gave way to the narrow path leading down the mountain.
The dog trotted ahead for a few steps, then paused and looked back, as if confirming that he was following at an appropriate pace.
Khun Ming shook his head faintly.
"You are behaving as though you are leading this expedition," he said mildly. "I would like to point out that I am technically the one who knows what we are searching for, even if you appear very confident about the direction."
The dog offered no argument.
Together, they began descending toward the forest, their pace unhurried as the path narrowed and the surrounding trees grew denser, the air shifting slightly cooler as the canopy filtered the sunlight into softer, scattered patterns.
Khun Ming's attention moved carefully from one tree to another as they walked, his gaze steady and observant, taking in details that might have been overlooked by someone less familiar with this kind of work.
"Not every tree in a forest is useful for dye preparation," he said quietly as he examined the texture of a nearby trunk. "Some are visually appealing, which is nice for scenery but not particularly helpful for what we are doing. Others contain compounds that can interfere with dye binding and create problems later."
He paused beside a tree with deeply grooved bark and reached out to scratch lightly at its surface, bringing a small piece closer to his nose.
"The scent is bitter and dry, which is exactly what we want," he said, shaving off a thin strip of bark with controlled movements that avoided damaging the tree more than necessary.
He stepped back and moved to another tree nearby.
"A common mistake is taking too much from a single source," he continued. "If you injure the tree badly, it will not survive long enough to provide materials again next season, and that is not a sustainable way to work."
He repeated the process with care, gathering only what was needed.
Further along the path, he noticed several fallen husks scattered beneath a broader tree and crouched down to inspect them more closely.
"Walnut," he said quietly.
He picked one up and cracked it open with a small stone.
The inside stained his fingers almost immediately with a deep brown color.
Khun Ming smiled faintly.
"That is a very good sign," he said. "Strong tannin always leaves a mark."
The dog leaned forward to sniff and immediately sneezed.
"Yes, the smell is quite bitter," Khun Ming said with a small chuckle. "And no, that does not make it suitable for eating, so I would strongly recommend that you avoid experimenting with it in that way."
He gathered several husks, selecting those that were beginning to soften but had not yet decayed completely.
As they began making their way back uphill, the dog suddenly stopped.
Its ears lifted sharply.
Khun Ming paused as well, his posture shifting slightly as he listened.
A faint rustle moved through the undergrowth.
From beneath a cluster of low bushes emerged a small spirit beast, fox-like in shape but heavier in build, its fur carrying a dull copper sheen that caught the filtered sunlight as it stepped cautiously into view.
The creature paused, its nose twitching as it caught their scent.
It looked toward Khun Ming.
Then toward the dog.
Then, without hesitation, it turned and bolted back into the forest.
Khun Ming blinked once.
"That reaction suggests that you may have a somewhat intimidating presence," he said thoughtfully, glancing down at the dog.
The dog lowered its head slightly, as if unsure how to respond.
"Or it simply does not appreciate unexpected company," Khun Ming added with a small shrug. "Both explanations are reasonable."
They continued walking.
By the time they returned to the cottage, the tannin extraction process began immediately, the husks and bark simmering into a dark, heavy liquid that carried a strong, bitter scent as it developed.
Khun Ming leaned closer and inhaled lightly.
"The scent is correct," he murmured. "This is exactly what we want from a proper tannin bath."
He covered the container and moved it into the shade.
"This stage requires patience," he said. "If rushed, the fibers will stiffen, and that creates unnecessary problems later."
He proceeded with testing, soaking, rinsing, and preparing each piece with the same steady attention.
By the time he stepped back, everything had aligned.
The iron deepened.
The ash clarified.
The tannin settled.
The fiber accepted.
Khun Ming crossed his arms and nodded once.
"The foundation is finally ready," he said quietly.
Inside the unseen space of the sword, ancient presences observed in silence.
Outside, the dog lay near the doorway.
No noise.
No disturbance.
Only quiet alignment.
Khun Ming wiped his hands clean and glanced at the tools before setting them in place.
"Tomorrow we begin working with real color," he said calmly.
The wind moved through the bamboo.
The waterfall continued without interruption.
And Atelier Vimutti remained quiet on the cliff, carrying forward its work in the simplest and most reliable way possible.
__________________________________________________________
Chapter 6 complete.
[1] Tannins are naturally occurring, bitter-tasting polyphenol compounds found in plants (bark, leaves, fruit skins, seeds) that provide defense against pests. In foods like wine, tea, and chocolate, they create an astringent, dry mouthfeel. While offering antioxidant health benefits, high consumption can cause nausea or nutrient malabsorption
[2] Walnut (especially black walnut) refers mainly to the outer hull (the green husk) of the fruit. Use walnut when you want reliable brown tones, fewer steps, strong and stable results