Aeris Feathermane stood in the center of his studio, surrounded by half-finished bowls and tool handles waiting for their final polish. The space smelled of wood shavings and oil. He'd been thinking about the art class for weeks now—a way to bring in new makers, teach them the basics of carving and tool care. But he needed a proper place to hold it. The main studio was too cluttered, too full of orders and ongoing work. He walked across the yard to the old workshop he'd been using for storage. The timber-framed building had good bones—visible joinery, a rough stone foundation, windows that let in enough light. He spent the morning clearing out old crates and sweeping dust from the corners. By afternoon, he'd set up a foot-powered potter's wheel near the center of the room. The aged oak frame sat steady on the floor, a half-finished vase resting on its table to show what careful work looked like. Against the back wall, he arranged a wooden rack filled with unfinished pottery and clay sculptures—pieces he'd made over the years that demonstrated different techniques. Each bowl and pitcher showed the marks of hands that understood their purpose. Aeris stepped back and studied the room. It wasn't fancy, but it was functional. A place where people could learn to make things that lasted, things that served. He'd post a notice at the market tomorrow. The class would start small, just a few students at first. But if it worked, if even one or two of them caught the craft and kept it going, the cycle would have new makers feeding into it. He locked the door and headed back to the main studio, already thinking about what tools he'd need to gather.