Dealing in Falsehoods

 Had someone told me I would bring an entire kingdom crumbling down, I would’ve laughed in their face. Had they said it was from a simple con gone wrong, I would’ve been more inclined to believe them. After all, I was by all accounts a rogue. I wasn’t raised a rogue, in fact I was raised to be the apprentice to my blacksmith father. It was my two friends that helped form me into the rogue that conned an army.

            The story of my accidental effort to overthrow the theocracy began on a bright day in the middle of summer. These days were cherished ones in The Kingdom of Fladoria, as our winters were quite harsh.

            I was helping my father, Gareth, with his latest order of arms for the town garrison that warm summer day. Since he was one of the best blacksmiths in the land, our kingdom’s army and local garrison went to him first. He needed all the help he could get, which usually fell to me and a couple other local young men around my age. Because our large town, Grenell, was so close to the capital there existed a supply line.

            “Trevor Smith how many times do I have to tell you to not to hit the blade like that?” my father asked, angered at my techniques.

            Anytime he used my full name instead of calling me son, I knew I had done something wrong. I had heard it plenty by the age of twenty. My father was meticulous and found most defects to be enough reason to dispose of the weapon or armor he was working on. Apparently, his father, also a blacksmith, was the same way. He never made any mistakes. However, I did somewhat frequently, which played a big role in the scheme to come.

            “But the end result is about the same, it just looks a little different, sir,” I rebutted respectfully, not really caring if I had to toss the sword.

            “Yes, but I care. The reason the Grenell Town Garrison comes to me first is because of how good my work is both practicality and artistically. I don’t even mean to brag, but it’s the damn truth,” my father said proudly.

            “You’re right then. Should I try to save it or start over?” I asked, flipping around the near-finished sword for him to see.

            “Bah, we have excess metal. Add it to the junk pile and try to be better. I will make a true blacksmith out of you yet!” my father said with a wave.

            I brought the still warm sword to the large barrel full of other flawed weapons to the far side of the three-walled workshop. Every so often he would have me dispose of the weapons and armor he didn’t see fit to sell, as he didn’t want his name brought down by their inferior quality. He would’ve had me smelt them down back to a raw metal, but little did he know I had been selling off the flawed items in the underground market with the help of my friends. It was an easy way to earn coin, as buying raw metal from the underground market was somewhat cheap. It allowed me to come out ahead with no expense to my father.

            As I walked back, I noticed the other two apprentices giving me upset looks. Due to the workload, my father had hired Tim and Jim Reedus, brothers who were a year younger and older than me. They were quite good with a hammer, but a little slow otherwise. They were also a pair of do-gooders, obedient to the end. I never really spoke to them outside of work.

            It was later that night at the tavern that it all truly began, over a few pints of rather warm ale. This was no ordinary tavern, and was located just outside town in the forest. It didn’t even have a name, and was simply referred to as “The Tavern”. It was a well-hidden place, seeming almost abandoned from the outside. However, the inside was quite lively and loud. The patrons that frequented this place were not society’s finest, and could often be heard boasting about their latest shady endeavor.

That night I found myself sitting at a table with my two best friends in the world, Jakob Smee and Katy Martin. These two introduced me to the less legal world and had been my close friends for as long as I could remember. The three of us found trouble as if it were our own tail dragging behind us.

            “So, Trevor, remember how I said I might have the lead of a lifetime?” Jakob asked devilishly, taking a large swig of his ale.

            “Oh, it’s a grand lead,” Katy added with her buck-toothed smile.

            “Yes, I do remember. For a week you’ve been going on about it. How could I possibly forget?” I replied, trying not to seem as interested as I was.

            “Well it’s something alright. Tell me, how many full sets of plate armor defects have you saved up?” Jakob asked with a grin.

            “Hmm, maybe a dozen or so. As you know far more people look for weapons to buy in our markets, as armor is more expensive, and illegal for private citizens to own during wartime. Have you found an actual lead for it?” I asked, increasingly curious.

            “He’s found more than a simple lead,” Katy beamed.

            “She’s right. I found a buyer looking for ten full suits of blessed plate armor. If you can cobble together ten full suits of armor, I can have Katy here bless it and we can sell it off. Our buyer said he could give us two thousand gold coins per set! Incredible right?” Jakob said excitedly, some other patrons of the tavern glancing at us.

            “Hush, we can’t be saying that so loud,” Katy warned, lightly slapping the back of Jakob’s head, ruffling his long black hair.

            My smile slowly faded, and my face contorted. That sort of armor was blessed by a member of the state church. It couldn’t just be any member either, but a high-ranking priest or priestess. Supposedly their blessings gave our soldiers an incredible advantage in the battlefield, or at least they said they did. I wasn’t sure what Jakob meant by having Katy bless it, but I had to find out more. The potential payoff was too good, as normal plate armor sets only went for four hundred coins tops, which was an already healthy amount of coin.

            “Er, am I missing something? Katy blessing armor?” I asked with a laugh.

            “Not really blessing it, but making it appear so. As you know she’s quite the artist, and could definitely make the necessary paintings on them. You wouldn’t even be able to sell ours apart from the real deal, well minus the invisible holy blessing part,” Jakob explained in an enthusiastically hushed voice.

            “Surely you’ve seen officers of our army wearing it at parades and whatnot? I’ve got it memorized. They’re all the same really. The holy markings and gold trim on the armor can be easily replicated, I know I can do it. I even have the right dyes in mind,” Katy explained confidently.

            “I know it isn’t normal to care about the buyer, but who would want blessed armor? Do they even think it’s real? Or are they actually asking for fakes? I asked with growing curiosity.

            “Oh, they’re expecting the real deal. Here’s what happened,” Jakob began, looking around to make sure nobody else was listening. “I was hanging around the Mule Inn in the center of Grenell last weekend because I heard some army officers were passing through. I overheard a rather stressed out captain explaining how he lost a shipment of supplies to Sordoron raiders. While he could replace most of the supplies himself, he had no way of replacing the blessed armor. I heard his dilemma and approached, posing as land baron who had lost to one of the Sordoron incursions. I told him I could replace his armor, as I had accumulated many over the years through familial service and needed the coin.”

            “It’s brilliant isn’t it?” Katy asked, grinning at me.

            It was a lot to take in, and I could barely believe it. It seemed like a perfect opportunity, or a possible setup. While the rich could usually persuade the government to let them have armor of their own, blessed armor was completely different. No citizen, regardless of wealth, could be found in possession. That would lead to an instant trip to the dungeons. Plus, our war with the nation of Sordoron did lead to many attacks such as that. It wasn’t completely implausible.

            “And you’re sure this isn’t a setup? I mean if blessed armor goes missing and you suddenly have some, what if they think you stole it to resell?” I asked slowly, trying not to sound condescending.

            I could see Jakob’s mustache pucker, a telltale sign of dissatisfaction. However instead of instantly responding with a tirade, he took a deep sigh, blinking his eyes a few times. I knew he was a very proud man, and tried his best to always be right. But over the years he had messed up a couple times.

            “That was my first question too,” Katy teased, giving Jakob a silly look.

            “That is a potential risk, yes. However, that captain, uh, Captain Howe, sounded truly panicked. I guess he would face some pretty hefty consequences if anyone found out he lost it. He was only confiding in a man he claimed was his brother-in-law, and seemed distraught enough that I heard him. Plus, I have to say I made a very convincing nobleman, and we look nothing like Sordoron raiders” Jakob admitted.

            I knew the opportunity was too good to pass by, and I tried rationalizing it as a good cause anyway. Officers rarely went into battle, so I figured faking the blessing wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. I doubted anyone could even tell the difference anyway. Although I knew this would be extremely illegal, as the state church was the most powerful entity that existed. Even nobility’s influence had dwindled away to almost nothing compared to what it used to be.

            “It’s a risky job, but not a very hard one. The coin is fantastic too. I’d be hard pressed to say no,” I admitted, learning back in my rickety chair.

            If we would actually get two-thousand coins for each set, then we were looking at twenty-thousand split three ways, minus whatever the special dyes would cost. That would be at least six thousand for each of us, an incredible sum. I could even build a house with that coin, a goal I had for down the line.

            To compare, I had only saved up just under a thousand coins at that time, which was from years of selling weapons in the underground market. Six thousand at this point was an incredible amount to suddenly receive, and was far more than any normal citizen had saved up. I even made an average wage by being my father’s apprentice, but it didn’t compare to this.

            “So, are we gonna do this or what?” Katy asked, nervously twirling her curly brown hair.

            “You already know I’m in,” Jakob said, looking from Katy to me. “What about you, Trevor?”

            “I’m in,” I replied, taking no time to respond.

            Admittedly, I know I should’ve thought this over more. I’m somewhat quick to make decisions, in fact my father would call me rash. Although to be fair, I could’ve never predicted what would happen as a result.

            The three of us spent the rest of the night drinking, and socializing with our other acquaintances in the tavern. Ale flowed like a rushing spring stream, and a couple fights broke out over love and coin. Crude musicians played songs of humor, thievery, and sexual adventures while the lot of us danced like fools. It was a jolly time to say the least. Recalling it all, it was the times like these I felt most happy.

            Nothing else of importance happened that night. We agreed to meet the following afternoon and begin on our project, and I drunkenly made my way home incident free. That was also one of the last night’s I felt truly carefree, and wish I could relive it once more.

            The next day we began our short career as holy armor forgers. Katy had already found some gold colored dye that struck an uncanny resemblance to blessed armor. Fortunately, the local captain of the guard was wearing his around town all day, so we got a good comparison. Plus, the dye had only been a few hundred coin, a small investment for such a grand scheme. I didn’t know it at the time, but this would also be the final time I’d linger in the underground market.

            The underground market initially got its name for its literal location in Grenell. It was located along the edges of the sewer and underbelly of the large town, and was once a place of trade for those citizens shunned away from society. That of course was a long time before my birth, and admittedly I don’t know the exact circumstances of those who faced discrimination. But their poverty brought crime and illegal goods to survive, which eventually became a place for anyone to deal in illegal goods. Grenell guards knew better than to go there, and turned a blind eye to what was essentially a waste of their time

            After buying the dye from an old artist named Cecilia, we looked around the market for a bit longer. Hundreds of people were trading that day. They sold everything from weapons, armor, falsified documents, drugs, to a variety of knickknacks and valuables of questionable origins. The market may have seemed like a decent enough place, but truly it wasn’t. I had been introduced to the place from a young age through my friends, and knew how to act and who not to mess with. To any other commoner, the underground market was a place they might run into a blade if they weren’t looking.

            Tables, mats, and other forms of display were set up all along the slightly muddy path around the outside of the sewer. Being on the edge of town, nobody had to worry about being seen here by others. I figured my father knew I went to places like this, but he always held his tongue.

            Katy lost us at one point and came back with a small pouch of what appeared to be dust. We joked with her, saying she had been scammed, but our words were quickly proven wrong as she threw some at the ground and created a large puff of dark smoke. I hadn’t heard of vanishing powder before that day, but it seemed quite useful.  

            As we moved on, the two had asked me why I was bringing a shovel as we made our way into the forest, and I had only told them they would soon find out. As I walked past a large shattered boulder, I knew my secret cache was just ahead. Sure enough, the familiar clearing was as quiet as ever, only the sound of chirping birds and rustling leaves filling the emptiness. I had been meticulous at burying the barrels, not making it look as though anything had been buried there. Between that and the time that had gone by, it looked as ordinary as any other clearing.

            “Well, are we lost then?” Katy asked with a chuckle.

            “Or maybe he’s finally snapped and plans to do us in and bury us with that shovel,” Jakob joked.

            I rolled my eyes, beginning to dig in the area I had buried them. I had initially dug a deep whole, as I knew the barrels had to be standing up. Filled with armor, they couldn’t simply be dragged out of the whole, but the armor would have to be taken out of the barrel, at least at first. It only took a few shovelfuls of rich dirt until my shovel made a satisfying thud against the buried barrel. I pried it open, displaying the contents inside.

            “Ah, I have a really good feeling about this,” Jakob smiled as he saw the armor.

            “This armor looks nice though, your father really didn’t want it?” Katy asked in disbelief, grabbing a helmet from the barrel.

            “That’s right. As you can see, that helmet has a sort of warp to it. It’s not completely symmetrical, and I think there’s a couple chips in the bottom,” I explained, eying the helmet.

            “But it would still do the job! Any normal person probably wouldn’t even notice, let alone care,” Katy said.

            “Well, let’s not waste time talking about it. We’ve got some armor to bless,” Jakob grinned, his eyes filled with a greedy stare.

            We spent the rest of the day assisting Katy in painting the armor. Fortunately, the dye was of good quality, and her skill surprised me. She had no trouble recreating the specific designs of the blessed armor, and I was in awe of her precise memory. It seemed she could remember the local guard captain’s armor as if it was here before us.

            This first day’s work went slowly, as Katy had to get used to the dye. Still, she had completed an entire suit of armor by the time the large sun fell behind the large trees of the forest. We knew we wouldn’t work in the dark, as vicious dire wolves were common out this far. We left enough time to carefully place the armor back in the barrel and rebury it almost as good as we found it.

            “So, what date should I tell our desperate officer?” Jakob asked as we left the forest.

            “Good question. We already did one set, and we had a late start. There’s no real rush Katy, but since you’re the artist what do you think?” I asked, not wanting to pressure her.

            She thought about it for a minute, pondering over the details. The edge of the forest was up ahead, and we could see the torches hung on the town’s walls. We hadn’t brought any light source of our own, and I was glad we made it back when we did.

            “How about five days from now? That should be plenty of time as long as we get earlier starts,” Katy suggested.

            “Works for me,” I added, looking to Jakob.

            “Sure. Five days from now it is. I’ll find Captain Howe and let him know he should expect them that afternoon,” Jakob replied.

            We parted ways, ready for what was to come. I worked for my father while the other two worked on the armor. Katy’s skills were impressive, and I knew I couldn’t tell her fakes apart from the real thing. With each passing day I found myself more excited, knowing we would actually pull it off.

            It was on the day of the deal that something happened. I was working for my father as normal, trying to make him proud. Still I couldn’t focus enough on my work, and made a terrible error on a sword.

            “Again? That’s junk now! Focus yourself more son! Or I may have to leave my legacy to the Reedus boys,” my father scolded, not entirely joking.

            “I’m sorry, I know. I guess I’m having some trouble focusing,” I admitted, looking at the now cracked blade.

            “Less strength and more finesse in those strikes, you’re hammering it as though it was your enemy,” my father sighed.

            Knowing he would want it gone, I brought it over to the other mistakes. Tim and Jim eyed me the entire way, as if they knew something they shouldn’t. It was in that moment I made a mistake and let my anger take hold of me. To this day I still feel bad about it, and can only figure the fear of being found out caused me to do it.

I marched up to the two brothers angrily, my hammer still in my hand. They still eyed me with what looked to be disgust, not wavering as I approached. I was filled with a sudden rage at the two judgmental fools, knowing they thought they were better than me. In fact, I was a better smith than them.

“What the hell are you looking at?” I asked in a quiet yet sharp voice, stopping a few feet from them.

“A waste of good metal. We know what you do with those,” Tim said, his voice low enough so my father couldn’t hear from the other side of the workshop.

“What was that?” I asked, even though I had heard.

“Selling the defects in the underground market, buying metal to replace what them. We aren’t as dumb as you think,” Jim said disapprovingly.

My rage built as the two talked down to me as if I was their lessor. Not only were we about the same age, but this was my father’s workshop, not theirs. In a moment of fury, I swung my hammer towards Jim’s hand, which had been resting on the anvil in front of him. He let out a blood-curdling cry, almost falling as he launched his body back from the anvil. Tim barely caught him from falling over, his face in shock.

I stepped back in shock, never having hurt someone like that before. My eyes darted from the brothers to my hammer, which was now dripping with blood. My rage began to subside, leaving me with a sick stomach.

“What is going on over here?!” my father yelled, quickly rushing over.

I didn’t know what to say, and barely knew what to think. Jim was holding in tears as his now disfigured hand bled while Tim was trying to find something to wrap the hand in. I just stood there, staring at the dirt floor, waiting for one of the brothers to say what had happened.

To this day I still can’t believe what happened, and feel immensely bad for what I did. If I ever see either of the brothers again, I will profusely apologize and make it up to Jim. I was awaiting the truth to burst forward and my father’s wrath to follow, but instead the opposite happened.

            Jim told my father it was an accident, as I was showing him a trick. I stood there dumbstruck as the man I had just assaulted lied through his teeth to my father, covering for my offense. This only made me feel worse, but the possibility of our plan being discovered was too great. Like a greedy coward, I stood there, and went along with Jim’s phony story.

            Not much else happened after that. The two brothers left early to find Jim a healer, and I finished up work. My father didn’t even ask once more about it, and as I left to meet my friends I felt as though I might throw up. The worst part was that my desire for coin slowly beat out my guilt for hurting Jim, something I am still not proud of.

            As I arrived at the Mule Inn, I saw that Jakob and Katy were already there with the barrels. They had said they were going to borrow a horse and wagon from a friend, and it appeared as though it had worked. To my surprise, a man I assumed was Captain Howe was in the back of the wagon with Jakob, peering into the lids of the barrels.

            As Katy noticed me, she quickly walked over, stopping me from approaching. She had a nervous, yet excited look on her face. She turned us to face the other way, and spoke in a hushed tone.

            “He was here early, and seemed as desperate as Jakob said,” Katy explained.

            We watched as the two discussed the deal, their voices kept low. I had worried he would try to betray us, and find a way to get the armor and keep his coin. It was because of this I kept my eye out for anything out of place. Captain Howe peaked inside our barrels, a small smile of relief showing itself.

            After a few minutes I watched Captain Howe take a small metal chest from his wagon and hand it over to Jakob, who actually flinched as he grabbed the heavy box. Katy and I stared as he slowly loaded it onto our wagon, and peaked inside. A stupid grin overtook his face, and he waved us over.

            “Alright you two, get the barrels loaded onto the good captain’s wagon here,” Jakob ordered, happily keeping his façade going.

            We didn’t reply, climbing from the cobblestone road up onto the old wooden wagon. It was best to keep the show going, and went along with it. It was awfully heavy for just the two of us, and fortunately Captain Howe sent over a soldier to assist us. With his help it didn’t take long to get the large barrels into the other wagon, but the summer heat still made me work up an uncomfortable sweat.

            After the last one was loaded Jakob made the motion for us to leave again, having one more brief conversation with the captain. We ducked out of sight in one direction, then snuck to the back of our wagon. Katy and I couldn’t help but look inside the chest, seeing it was filled to the top with coin. Our eyes lit up and Katy stopped me as I tried to walk away.

            “What?” I asked in a quiet tone, not wanting any of the nearby soldiers or Captain Howe to hear me.

            “Now that Jakob has their attention, I say we take this somewhere safe,” Katy suggested, grabbing one of the side handles.

            “Really? What if they need it again?” I asked, figuring the worst of it was over.

            “Better safe than sorry. I’m getting a weird vibe from these guys. I don’t even see how a captain could have this much coin lying around.”

            “But wouldn’t he have acted already if he was going to betray us?”

            “Maybe, maybe not. Now c’mon, let’s go,” Katy urged, patting the chest.

            I followed her lead, and we managed to sneak the chest out of the public area without being noticed by the soldiers. We knew Jakob would figure out we’d taken it, and headed towards where Katy lived.

            Katy had no family, and had been taken in by a local baker, Agatha, when she was young. Nobody seemed to know what had happened to her parents, but the baker had loved her as her own. Agatha not only knew about Katy’s less than legal activities, but saw no issue with it, saying that “it was an unfair world anyway.” I had always liked her, but knew her time was limited as she was in her sixties now.

            As we entered the small house connected to the back of the bakery, the aroma of baked goods wafted over me. Part of me wanted to drop the coin and go find whatever she was cooking. The wooden floors creaked as we walked towards Katy’s room, and Agatha slowly peaked her head out from the kitchen.

            “Good afternoon Trevor. Oh, what do you both have there?” Agatha asked slowly with a cheeky smile.

            “Good afternoon!” I replied, looking to Katy to answer.

            “We’ve encountered a little coin if you can believe it. I’m going to get us the best meat in town for dinner,” Katy answered with a grin.

            “Well good job then. Feel free to have a fresh muffin after you’ve finished counting out your prize,” Agatha offered, returning to her work in the kitchen.

            We wasted no time in counting out the coin, counting three times to make sure it was all there. Sure enough, twenty thousand worth of fifty denomination coin sat before us. I almost didn’t believe it, and found myself drooling between the sight of the coin and smell of the bakery. Dividing it into three piles minus the dye cost, I now had just over six and a half thousand coin in front of me. It was more than I expected, and had actually brought a pouch to keep it in.

            “I can’t believe it’s all here,” I said.

            “Well, they probably figured Jakob would count it,” Katy replied.

            “True… where is he anyway? I mean he should’ve caught on to where we’d go. This is the only safe place to bring something like this.”

            “That’s for sure. Your dad would probably kill you if he found out what we’d done. And Jakob’s parents pray every time they see us. Maybe he got in a bit of trouble?”

            “I hope not, he’s got nobody there to get him out of it.”

            “Not that it would really help. Besides, if we lost the coin to save him, we’d never hear the end of it.”

            I knew she was right, but still didn’t like leaving him behind. We decided to have a muffin while we waited, and took a seat at the small table in the kitchen. As we talked to Agatha I enjoyed her fresh batch of muffins. They were savory, and just as delicious as anything else Agatha made. But as good as it was, I worried about Jakob, and even almost forgot about the coin.

            Sometime later we heard the other door to the bakery attempt to open, which had been locked after closing for the day. Before we knew it, Jakob burst through the back door, looking dirty and frantic.

            “Jakob! What’s going on?” Katy asked as we ran out of the kitchen with Agatha trailing behind.

            “It was a set up! Please, please tell me you’ve got the coin.”

            “Yes, Katy and I took it! What happened? Are you alright?”

            We watched as Jakob sighed, dropping to the floor and sitting down. He was out of breath, and didn’t speak for a few moments.

            “You didn’t lead anyone here did you Jakob? I don’t want any trouble for my bakery,” Agatha asked in a firm tone.

            “No, no. I got away. Just barely though, it was actually the vanishing powder that saved me. I bought some of my own this morning and made quite a show with it to escape,” Jakob said, his breathing normalizing.

            “So, Captain Howe wanted it for free then huh?” I asked, patting Jakob on the back.

            “He sure did. Church zealots came minutes after you left. He tried to convince them we were selling it, but fortunately you had already taken the gold. The zealots only saw him with the armor and me with nothing. Of course, then Captain Howe tried saying I had stolen it, but that didn’t make much sense. So instead he tried to detain me and I took my leave. Between the vanishing powder and my speed, I lost them, but only barely,” Jakob explained.

            Even my heart raced as he told us the story, and I felt bad he had been left behind. Still, he was much nimbler than me, and it’s easier for one to escape than three. However, they had seen our faces, and that was my new worry.

            “They’ve seen us Jakob. Our faces. What can we do about that?” I asked nervously.

            “They barely noticed you pretending to be servants. It’s me we have to worry about. Agatha, you don’t happen to have a razor lying about?” Jakob asked.

            “I’ll assume you didn’t mean for my use. But I do have one I think from my late husband, let me take a look,” Agatha answered, shuffling towards some drawers.

            “Don’t tell me. You’re actually going to clean yourself up, aren’t you?” Katy asked.

            “I don’t want to. But I figure if I get rid of this long hair and glorious mustache, I’ll look like a baby face again. But fortunately, Captain Howe has to return to the fight, and doesn’t even know my name… We’ll be alright,” Jakob replied, standing up slowly.

            Agatha had found an old razor I watched in disbelief as my friend shaved his head and his upper lip for probably the first time in his life. His long black hair disappeared, leaving behind a really crude short haircut. His thick twisted mustache was shaved off in a moment, leaving behind the face of a young man. I hadn’t seen Jakob look so clean cut in many years, and I knew he disliked having to do this.

            “We’ve got your cut of the coin ready,” Katy finally said after Jakob was finished.

            “Excellent. If it wasn’t for that I’d be in poor spirits right now,” Jakob admitted, looking to Katy for the coin.

            We had stuffed his coin into an old bag that used to be with flour, leaving most of it coated in a thin layer of flour. I watched with happiness as Jakob laughed in triumph, digging through his pile of coin. We had finally done it, a score we could savor for a long time, or so we thought.

            We decided to go our separate ways for a short time, not wanting to be seen together. No more underground market dealings, no more being seen together during the day. The only times we met were at the tavern outside town at night occasionally. Every time I saw my friends, they were dressed in something new and nice, clearly spending their money as they pleased. I saved most of it, hoping to accomplish something more someday.

            I kept my head down and worked diligently for my father in the coming months. My mistakes slowly vanished and my father took notice. He wasn’t so harsh with me with my smithing ability, and even complimented me once. I didn’t say another word to Tim and Jim, and let them do what they did best. The orders for new weapons and armor kept coming, until the start of spring of the following year.

            “Sorry boys, I don’t have any work for you,” my father apologized.

            “It’s alright sir. Just let us know when you need us,” Tim said, shaking my father’s hand.

            The brothers eyed me as they left, Jim’s hand never healing right. Despite my outburst he was still a good smith, and found a way to adapt. I should’ve apologized there, but was still too ashamed to admit what had happened.

            “What’s going on? The kingdom has had work for us since as long as I can remember,” I asked my father after the brothers left.

            “I don’t know. I only know they aren’t needing any more at this time,” my father explained.

            “But the fighting, has it stopped?” I asked, wondering what had changed.

            “Not that I know of. Like I said, I don’t really know anything,” my father replied.

            His job defined him, and I could tell being out of work upset him. My father was the type of person who loved to keep his mind occupied, especially since he was essentially alone without me. He did have some fellow blacksmiths he talked to on occasion who he considered friends, but that was it. My mother passed away during childbirth, so I had never known her. My father barely even talked of her, only on rare occasions.

            It was also around this time church zealots began to show up around town. Dressed in their white and gold robes, the zealots stood on almost every street corner and talked to whoever they saw. Both the men and women of the church had no hair on their head, only some of the men having beards. I had never been involved much with the church, but I made sure to go on the required days during this time. Something was obviously up, and my father was as suspicious as I was. Between the zealots and the lack of orders I could only imagine we were losing the war.

            It was on a rainy spring night I learned news of what was really happening. As usual I left the city in the evening to go to the tavern. Zealots were out at all times of the night, and a few even sat at a table in the tavern, only drinking water.

            “They give me the creeps,” Katy whispered, shooting a glance at the zealots at the far side of the room.

            “Well you know why they’re here right?” Jakob asked.

            Katy and I looked at each other, not knowing what Jakob was talking about. I had no idea if my hunch about the war was right, so I kept quiet. Instead we motioned for him to continue.

            “Now, keep this quiet, but I’ve heard that the church has lost the support of the military. In fact, most of the non-church officials are waning in their support too. That’s why the zealots are here, the church is flexing its might. Can’t say why though, my source hasn’t found out,” Jakob whispered excitedly.

            “Your source?” Katy snickered.

            “Yes, my source! I know a merchant who frequents the capital and deals with powerful clientele. He hears the latest, and tells me when he comes into town. He’ll be back in a couple weeks with some more information I bet,” Jakob replied.

            “But why do you care so much? And why does he bother with the likes of you?” I joked.

            “Because there’s money to be made in times of crisis. I help him out when he needs it for the information,” Jakob.

            “How much money do you need then?” I asked.

            “Enough to build my own castle,” Jakob said with a chuckle.

            “Good luck with that,” Katy snickered.

            The rest of the night went alright, but the presence of the zealots really killed the mood. Nobody danced, and anyone that got too rowdy was chastised by the zealots for their behavior. The bartender looked frustrated with his unwelcomed guests, but couldn’t do anything about it. The zealots had the authority of the church, which was the greatest authority in the kingdom.

            The nights went like this for another few weeks, and in that time the church members had become even more aggressive. Over three dozen public lashings happened in that brief time period, as church members had to deal with those they claimed acted disobedient. I tried not to watch them, but saw a few familiar faces of those I had met in the underground market.

            Finally, Jakob came bearing information that made things far clearer. The tavern was almost empty that night, only a few other citizens besides us inside. Some zealots kept their eyes on us from across the room, but didn’t give us any trouble.

            “Jakob, stop building tension. Just tell us what you’ve learned,” I urged, sick of Jakob putting it off.

            “Fine. I heard that the reason this is happening stems from frustration in the military towards the church. They say the church uses them for unjust wars, and lies to them,” Jakob said, looking almost pale.

            “I could’ve gathered as much from what you’ve said before, get on with it,” Katy replied.

            “It all started when a division was ambushed on the border. The officers and soldiers were slaughtered. They say even those in blessed armor didn’t stand a chance. One of their leaders was Captain Howe,” Jakob whispered quietly.

            “What? You’ve got to be kidding. You’re saying this is our fault?” I asked in shock.

            “No, that’s just it. Apparently, it’s common, and had been kept a secret. The blessed armor never seemed to provide anything different at all. It was this obvious display that called it all into question. They don’t even know the armor is fake. They can’t tell the fake blessed armor from the real stuff, as if it were the same,” Jakob explained quietly.

            Before I could say anything, a zealot had worked his way behind me, clearing his throat. I turned to see a bearded man standing over me, a strange look in his eye.

            “I couldn’t help but overhearing your gossip. That’s not a good thing to do, you know,” the zealot said monotonously.

            “What? We weren’t gossiping, just talking about the state of our fair kingdom,” Katy insisted.

“You wouldn’t be lying to a clergyman, would you? I could’ve sworn I heard mention of blessed armor,” the zealot replied with a snarl.

            “Why don’t we all just relax?” Jakob insisted, standing from the table.

            The other zealots walked over as they heard the commotion, looking ready for a fight. I knew this was a losing battle and shot my friends a look. Fortunately, things didn’t go this way.

            “Hey! Stop hassling my customers!” the bartender yelled, fed up with the zealots loitering.

            “Excuse me?” the zealot asked, walking over to the bartender.

            We made our escape as the bartender dealt with the zealots, quickly making our way as fast from the tavern as possible. We said our brief goodbyes, and went back to our homes. Little did I know that would be the last night I would Jakob.

            The tavern was shut down, and the church’s hold on the city strengthened. As time went by, public skirmishes between citizens, city guards and zealots brought chaos to the cobbled streets. Of course, the guards fought alongside the people, causing a divide in society. Only those seeking trouble went outside and I never left my father’s property. I half expected Katy or Jakob to show up, but hoped they wouldn’t. The fighting was too dangerous.

            Katy did slip by one day almost a month later, telling me that Jakob’s parents had forced him to leave town to head to the capital. They were to be full members of the church, and Jakob was taken by his father against his will. I knew there was no way to get him back just yet.

            Suddenly, the zealots disappeared from Grenell. Nobody knew why, but I suspect it was an uprising in the capital. The peace lasted only days before the worst came. That following summer was when everything collapsed.

            Nobody knew the status of the war, but the near civil war of the Kingdom of Fladoria had left it vulnerable. Sordoron raiders burst through the countryside like a broken dam, and flooded every outlying town like a violent crashing wave. Grenell was no exception.

            My father burst through the door one rainy night to tell me we had to leave. I was confused, and tried to argue for a moment before he slapped me across the face. He had never hit me before, but I didn’t say anything and obeyed him. It was the least I could do now, considering my role in this all.

            I grabbed my personal belongings and my hefty bag of coin, hiding it so my father wouldn’t see as we fled our lifelong home. I also carried a large pack filled with supplies, taking the burden from my father. I wanted to find Katy, but my father ignored me and dragged me along. A red haze filled the dark summer night as we ran. Screams of raiders and victims rang through the large town. I didn’t stray from my father, who wore his own crafted armor and wielded his own sword. I couldn’t fight, and to be honest I didn’t think he could either.

            He proved me wrong. We encountered some raiders at the north gate. They might’ve looked imposing in their spiked leather armor, but they proved no match for my father. His sword fighting was incredible, and he cut down the attackers with ease, bloodying his fine blade. He said nothing about it, only telling me the way was clear.

            We ran for a week or two, barely setting up a camp to sleep when we were exhausted. I don’t know how much time passed as we fled, never running into another human. We fled so far north I could see the ice mountains in the distance, something I had never thought I would see. They were massive and coated in what I imagined to be a deep layer of snow. It wasn’t far from the base of the mountains when my father finally stopped.

            He said we would build a small home here, as the raiders had no reason to come this far north. There was nothing else here, and we could live in peace until the kingdom stabilized. We spent a hard, cold week building a small home, and hunting for food. The entire time I felt horrible, wanting to tell him everything that had happened. Finally, days after we finished, I came clean.

            “Father, I need to tell you something,” I said, looking to my father as he smoked a pipe in the corner of the room in his newly built chair.

            “Yes?” he asked, slowly looking my way.

            “It’s about this,” I began, retrieving my hidden still bulging coin purse. “I made a mistake.”

            “I know you’ve been hiding that from me, I am no fool. I also know how you obtained it,” my father said, puffing on his crude pipe.

            “What?” I asked in disbelief.

            “I know you sold flawed weapons and armor to make that. I could tell by the metal you bought instead,” my father replied, his tone emotionless.

            “Not only that, the three of us sold fake blessed armor to the army. Those lives ruined are because of us! I struck Jim on purpose!” I yelled, my eyes beginning to tear. “Take this coin! It’s yours anyway! You can use it to rebuild!”

            My father said nothing for minutes, and seemed expressionless. He seemed exhausted, mentally and physically. I waited for him to speak again, not knowing what would happen.

            “I see. I was never a believer of the church anyway. From what I heard they didn’t mention fakes. It was all fake, it always was. Your mother convinced me early on they were a vicious, controlling force. But that doesn’t change the fact that you did play a hand in this. All those falling victim to raiders, all those suffering from our kingdoms fall, you helped cause it. Not only that but you sold weapons to criminals. You think they didn’t harm others as well? Your actions have consequences, son. Even when you think they won’t, they will affect the world in ways you cannot see or expect. I even know about Jim. You may have a lot of coin, but I’m sure you will have a lot of internal suffering now as well. As for what happens with the coin, I do not want it. It’s blood money now, your blood money, not mine,” my father lectured, his emotion finally coming alive.

            He was right, and every word cut through me like a knife. I was so focused on a payout I didn’t consider what could’ve happened. Even though I could’ve neve predicted this, what I did was still wrong. Even the weapons I used to sell to those at the underground market likely caused more suffering. I now saw why my father only sold to the military, and gave them exactly what they asked for. There was a difference, whether I wanted to see it or not.

            My father and I have barely spoke since then, just basic communications. I still feel terrible with each passing day, and I long to go back to Grenell. I don’t know what happened to Katy or Jakob, and want to find them. I wanted to apologize to Tim and Jim. I hoped Agatha was alright. My father said he’ll let me go with my coin anytime, but I don’t know where I would go. I’m not a fighter, not like my father. I’m not that brave either. I’m just a rogue who earned a pile of coin from turning his home into a battleground.