Ozlo woke up, went downstairs and started eating breakfast with his master. "Master Burgin, how much do I owe the church exactly?" Burgin looked up from his food and into Ozlo's eyes.

"I'm not sure, want to go find out?" Ozlo, being ignorant of what that would entail, shook his head in the affirmative. "Great! I've been meaning to have another little chat with them. They always love seeing me after all."

Burgin put down his simple breakfast of toasted bread and a slab of bacon and started wiping the crumbs from his shirt. "Come boy, wipe yourself off and follow. I'm sure you'll find this interesting."

Confusion followed by dread flooded through Ozlo. "Wait, now? We're going over there right now. As in, me and Burgin back in the church. The same church that made work all day with no pay and called me names and, and-"

Burgin, sensing Ozlo's mood leaned in close to his face. "Boy. It may not seem like something you want to do now, but you'll be glad when it's done. Suck it up and follow me, I promised I won't leave you there."

Ozlo did his best to quell his rising panic and fell into line behind his master. "Alright, I can do this... Probably." Burgin threw open the door and down the street they went. The walk there was uneventful, only memorable because of what lay beyond that short walk.

"Alright boy, now be quiet and I'll do the talking." Burgin glanced down at Ozlo and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Relax, we'll be in and out. No need to fuss."

Burgin's meaty fist slammed onto the large chapel doors, making one of the loudest knocking sounds that Ozlo had heard thus far. "Hello. Is anybody home?" After a few moments of silence Burgin made another fist and moved to strike the sturdy wood once more, when it opened to reveal the Father Superior.

The father walked out with a hard scowl on his face that only deepened further when he saw who awaited him. "Ahem. Burgin. What brings you here?" He asked through gritted teeth and pursed lips, as though he had tasted something disgusting but was doing his best to be polite about it.

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Burgin, seemingly oblivious to the good fathers disposition gave him a wide and toothy grin. "Father, it's good to see you. How have you been? Been eating well I see." Burgin poked the slim man in what passed for his stomach.

Gritting his teeth and visibly straining against his growing temper, the good father took a deep breathe and addressed Ozlo's master. "Burgin The Butcher, not as bloody as you used to be. I see that you cleaned yourself up to visit our most humble of chapels. But I must ask again, how may we assist you on this fine morning?"

Burgin, once more ignoring the fathers growing temper, responded lightly to the father. "Can't I visit the chapel? Might be that I want to worship in a house of gods. Or maybe I just wanted a pretty place to pray."

The father, quickly losing patience stamped his font and waved his bony finger in front of the burly smith. "I have things to do Burgin, so enough games. Get to the point or I'll just go back to the chapel and pretend you aren't out here."

"Temper temper, and you called me a butcher. How would your congregation feel if they could see you now?" Burgin gave the father a small knowing smile and all of the wind left the good fathers sails.

"Just tell me what you want so I can be done with this farce." Burgin's face lost all of it's cheer and became hard as stone. "Alright, how much does the boy owe the church. And don't give me that standard rate bull. We both know you didn't give this boy a proper education so get to figuring."

The father looked behind Burgin, seeming to notice him for the first time. "Ah, good Ozlo. I see I chose a good vocation for you, Burgin could use all the help he could get after all."

Burgin continued to stare stone-faced at the good father until he cracked. "Fine, half rate. We taught the boy plenty in his early years but some people just aren't inclined to that kind of education, I'm sure you can relate. Ahem, ten years times 365 days divided by two... Let's just say an even fifteen hundred shards minus what he's paid. There, does that get you off of the lords steps now? I have my flock to attend to."

Burgin rubbed his chin and grasped the good fathers hand, pulling him in close before whispering in his ear. "Not one shard over that, if you send the guild after my apprentice we'll be having words. Hard ones." Father Superior pried his hands from Burgin and practically ran back into the church, slamming the large wooden doors behind himself.

"Boy. You heard the man. Fifteen hundred, a sizeable number but manageable." Ozlo, who to this point was silent let out a deep sigh. A sigh of relief but also a sigh of determination. "Damn it. Fifteen hundred shards and then I'm free."

Burgin slapped the boy on the back once more and said. "Look on the bright side, at least now you have something to work towards. There's no greater motivation than complete financial ruin, or so I've been told."