It was just before dawn by the time Gav returned to the workshop. He had taken time to hide in several abandoned buildings he had discovered around the town to ensure he hadn’t been followed from the castle. Although his bed never looked more inviting, he forced himself to change back into yesterday’s sweat stained work clothes before flopping into bed.

It felt like he had just closed his eyes when he heard the front door to the workshop open. Moments later, he heard Arden singing the same off tune song he did every morning. Then, footsteps, followed by a loud crash as he kicked the storeroom door open.

“Come on lazy bones,” the old blacksmith cajoled. “Daylight’s burning and we have plenty to do!”

Gav groaned as he turned lazily under the covers. Arden yanked the covers off and made a face. “You slept in your work clothes? You moor folk are something else!”

After much cursing, Gav reluctantly rolled out of bed and washed his face in a nearby bucket before changing into a fresh set of clothes while Arden stoked the forge. As Gav slowly stumbled into the workshop, he heard footsteps approaching. They were measured and heavy. Soldiers’ footsteps. Had he been followed after all?

Then came an imperious knock, and Arden scowled at the door. “Who is it?”

“City Guard,” came the arrogant reply.

Arden sighed and gestured at Gav. “Open the door and see what those idiots want.”

Hesitantly, Gav did as he was told and revealed two men staring at him like he was something unpleasant they’d found stuck to the bottom of their boot.

“Who’s this one then?” one of them asked.

“He’s my apprentice,” Arden snapped. “What do you two want?’

“Someone burned down half the castle last night,” one of the guards sneered. “We have been ordered to question the people and report anything suspicious.”

“And that one,” his partner added, pointing at Gav. “Is mighty suspicious.”

“I’m vouching for this one,” Arden growled. “So you can take your suspicions and shove them up your arse. We’ve got a lot of work to do. In case you hadn’t heard, there’s a war on.”

“I don’t know who you think you are, old man,” one of the guards said threateningly.

“Look at the notice by the door, you halfwit,” Arden shot back. “This is a protected business, and I answer only to the Lord General.”

The soldiers’ faces contorted in confusion before they saw the bright red paper nailed to the doorpost. They looked back at the blacksmith in disbelief and one of them managed to splutter. “Don’t either of you go nowhere. We’ll be checking with the Lord General, and woe betide you if you’re fibbing.”

“Close the door on your way out,” Arden growled.

“Thank you for sticking up for me,” Gav said quietly after shutting the door when the guards didn’t. “I appreciate the risk you are taking.”

Arden made a sour face as he checked the furnace. “So, why did you desert?’

The question caught Gav off guard. “I’ve been working here six days and you’re asking that now?”

Arden shrugged and turned to study his young apprentice. “Six days ago, I was desperate for help. In light of recent events, I think it’s time to ask the hard questions.”

Gav’s eyebrows shot up. “You think I had something to do with that fire?”

“Answer the question,” Arden ordered flatly.

“There’s not much to say, is there?” Gav shrugged nonchalantly. “We heard the Balith were coming and ran for safety here in the Finger. I got pressed into service and didn’t think much of dying in a hopeless war just so some noble can cling onto power for a little longer.”

A sly smile twisted Arden’s lips. “So, you think our master is fighting just so he can say he is the master of Norrow for a few extra days, eh?”

“I think he’s having us die to save his own skin,” Gav replied.

Arden shook his head. “I suppose I can’t blame you commonfolk for thinking that.”

The old man eyed Gav for a moment before chuckling. “I suppose there’s no harm in telling you that our lord the Count has been sending messengers to House Balith to discuss terms since we lost the Narrows. House Balith has not responded. Both sides know there is no reason for House Balith to accept a surrender at this juncture. We have not punished them enough for the gains they have made. However, if we can stymy them here, well, Count Gordon is no fool and will come to the negotiating table.”

Gav looked at the old man in confusion. Partly because he didn’t understand how a lowly blacksmith could be so well informed, and partly because he had never considered what he was saying before.

“The Count will kneel?” Gav asked at length.

Arden’s smile broadened. “Of course. He has no chance to claim the throne now, any fool can see that. The best he can do is throw his weight behind someone who can.”

“Count Gordon?” Gav ventured.

Arden nodded. “At the same time, House Balith needs to claim as much land as they can to keep their vassals happy, and strengthen their position for when the time comes to negotiate. The last thing they want is to waste resources fighting a guerrilla war like we did in Cumbar.”

“My point stands though,” Gav protested. “Our lives are just being thrown away to strengthen our lord’s position.”

Arden’s eyes hardened. “What do you think happens when an army conquers a land they have no affinity with, lad?”

Gav fell silent. He knew all too well.

“Yes, precisely,” Arden snorted after seeing the look on Gav’s face. “We’ve seen it all too many times over the last fourteen years. Armies rape and pillage their way through lands they take by the sword, and it can take a generation or more for its people to recover if they survive. So when steel meets flesh, you had better give your all to defending this place.”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“So much death,” Gav breathed. “All because of the Great Traitor’s lust for power.”

Arden laughed out loud, surprising Gav. He looked at the boy again and chuckled. “Yes, that was the story told to the common folk, wasn’t it?”

Gav looked at the old man in surprise. “Was it a lie?”

“Not quite,” Arden shook his head. “King Jeremiah was a tyrant. He would often behead people, common folk, and noble alike for the smallest slight, imagined or real, and it was said his collection of skulls filled ten large storerooms in the Great Palace. Truth be told, Count Brandon did the kingdom a service in ending his reign of terror.”

“So the Four Counts are to blame?” Gav asked.

“No,” Arden said with a sad smile. “Brandon Lasingian committed regicide. What else could the king’s other, most loyal retainers do? If they stood idly by, it was as good as admitting to being conspirators, and if slaying one’s master was suddenly acceptable, chaos would reign.”

“Chaos is already reigning,” Gav pointed out.

“That’s a fact,” Arden sighed. “No one could have foreseen that the war would last this long. However, the bright side is that potential victors are finally emerging, which means that the end is in sight.”

“Is that a good thing, even if it isn’t our side?” Gav asked, choosing his words carefully.

The old blacksmith shrugged. “House Verini was never in a position to rule.”

“How is it a blacksmith is so well informed?” Gav ventured.

Arden laughed. “Ah, you’re a sharp one, young apprentice. That’s why I like you. You’ve also realized by now that I’m not lowborn either, haven’t you?”

Gav nodded carefully.

“Well, everyone has their secrets,” Arden said, levelling his gaze on Gav, who got the uncomfortable feeling that the old man could see straight into his soul. “Maybe I’ll tell you mine one day.”

Gav nodded and the pair began their day’s work, hammering thin sheets of metal into arrowheads. Arden had told Gav that arrows were consumed at an alarming rate during sieges. Gav was now proficient enough to perform the work unsupervised. It was simple, but time consuming work, and it wounded his pride that the old blacksmith seemed to have no trouble producing twice what he did in a day.

Just as they had begun to get into the rhythm of the day’s work, there came another, more polite knock at the door. Gav glanced at Arden, who looked like he hadn’t heard the knock except for the vein that pulsed in his forehead like an angry worm. The youth focused on his work, knowing that mentioning the door would only trigger an eruption directed at him. Better Arden’s ire be directed at whoever was on the other side of the door than at him, Gav thought to himself.

The knock came again, and Arden clicked his tongue but otherwise showed no indication that he had heard it. The forge was not lit today, but Gav felt as though the temperature in the room had risen several degrees and mopped the sweat from his brow.

“Open up, it’s me,” came Lord Vick’s voice from the other side of the door. “I’m afraid there’s no putting this off. It’s about last night’s fire.”

“Farglarn’s sake!” Arden cursed.

The old blacksmith bounded over to the door and yanked it open. “A man can’t get any work done with you lot coming round every five minutes bleating about a fire at the castle.”

“Sorry about that,” Vick said with a sheepish grin as he entered the workshop. “But I’m afraid this cannot be avoided.”

However, Gav was hardly looking at his target. Randal was standing next to Vick, glaring daggers at the boy. Did he know he was the intruder?

Arden scowled. “Ask your questions and be quick about it. I don’t understand how you can’t see how busy we are.”

“Where were you last night?” Randal demanded as he stood in the doorway.

Gav blinked and gave his best confused look before stammering. “In… in my bed, m’lud.”

“Can anyone confirm that?” Randal asked, gripping the hilt of his sword tight. Vick’s expression had hardened, and the older man had slowly worked his way around the workshop and was now blocking the only other exit.

Gav gaped at the young man. His mouth moved but no words came out. After an uncomfortable silence, Arden stepped between the pair. “I’ve been working him hard, and he’s been sleeping from the moment we stop work until the moment we start. I’ve caught him sleeping in the previous days’ clothes twice now. He’s working for a living! He doesn’t have the energy to be sneaking about the castle and starting fires!”

Randal and Vick exchanged looks. At length, the older man shook his head and sighed. “Can I have a moment alone, Arden?”

The old blacksmith’s scowl deepened. “If I dismiss him, he’ll just hide somewhere he can overhear us. Just speak your piece. He’s no spy.”

“He wouldn’t dare,” Vick objected.

“You did it all the time,” Arden pointed out defiantly.

The Lord General broke into a rueful smile. “I did, didn’t I?”

“You were a proper terror, you were,” Arden added.

Vick’s smile vanished abruptly. “Are you sure you aren’t protecting him because he reminds you of your grandson? He’s around the boy’s age, isn’t he?”

Arden’s eyes hardened and the temperature in the room seemed to drop. “You watch your tongue, Vicky boy. You know full well I would never do anything to harm House Verini.”

Vick nodded. “A spy is in our midst and needs to be caught. The enemy is almost upon us and there’s no telling what mischief he can cause.”

Arden’s didn’t waver and gestured to the door. “Then you better find him quickly.”

Their eyes locked for what felt like an eternity before Vick finally chuckled and gestured to Randal. “The search continues.”

Randal glared at Gav for a moment longer before joining his friend outside.

“What do you think?” Vick asked as eyed the workshop. A dozen soldiers were waiting nearby, dressed for battle. They were Vick’s personal guards and had been pulled off the town walls to assist in the search for the intruder.

Randal shrugged. “He is the most likely candidate, though only by process of elimination.”

“That could just mean we haven’t picked the intruder up yet,” Vick pointed out. They had spent the entire morning grilling all the young men who had entered town over the past week. Most had been pressed into the town’s defences and their whereabouts over the past three nights were easy to verify.

“I know,” Randal conceded. “We might learn something if we could interrogate him properly at the castle.”

“That will be difficult,” Vick conceded.

Randal raised an exasperated eyebrow. “Are you sure your reverence for that man isn’t interfering with your ability to perform your duties?”

“That man has done more for House Verini than you could ever imagine,” Vick said. “You had best remember that.”

The atmosphere in the workshop was tense. Arden was still staring at the door twenty minutes after Randal and Vick had left. His fists were clenched, and he was trembling with rage. Gav stared at him in silence, wanting to get back to work, if only to alleviate the tension but was unsure if it was appropriate.

“I want to thank you for standing up for me,” he said at length to break the tense silence.

Arden jumped, as though he had forgotten Gav was there. He looked at the boy and sighed. Almost instantly, the tension was gone.

“That’s three times now that you’ve protected me, and I thank you for it,” Gav said. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but I’m curious as to why.”

Arden scowled. “Because I saw another boy who looks old enough to be my grandson walking aimlessly around town and I couldn’t stand to see him sent to the gallows.”

“Is your grandson dead?” Gav asked and regretted the way he had worded it as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Gods forbid!” the old blacksmith exclaimed. “He is very much alive and is on a ship in the Dramouth Bay as we speak.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” Gav began and cursed his awkwardness. He didn’t have much opportunity to talk to other people in his line of work and had often been told he lacked tact.

“It’s fine,” Arden said with a wave of his hand. Suddenly, the years seemed to weigh heavily on his shoulders. He sat down wearily and looked at the half finished arrowhead before him in distaste.

“Are you estranged from him?” Gav ventured, his curiosity overwhelming his better judgment. Having none of his own, the familial relations of others fascinated him.

Arden scowled at the boy for a moment before replying. “A long time ago, I made a decision that angered my son. He decided then that he wants nothing to do with me.”

“That’s awful,” Gav blurted.

Arden shrugged bitterly. “He’s an adult and must stand up for what he believes in. I can’t blame him for that... It’s how I raised him.”

Gav nodded, though he didn’t understand. He saw the anguish on the old man’s face and deeply regretted bringing the topic up. At length, he began hammering, and Gav gratefully followed suit.