“Don’t get so arrogant, child,” Barssanna growled. “Stay away from my daughter. I have no intention of letting her, the future Lady of Archi Town, marry a twenty-year-old blacksmith apprentice. Know your place!”

Geruke gulped. “My Lady, I think I will become a journeyman pretty soo-“

“Any respectable man would’ve become a journeyman years ago!” Her spit sprayed his face as she roared. “Not to mention the fact that a journeyman blacksmith isn’t much more impressive. Compared to who I’m planning to arrange her with, you’re nothing.”

“You are not wrong, my Lady,” He rubbed his nape and his eyes fled to the ground. “I promise I will never marry her and I find the idea of that ever happening ridiculous. I am sure she would have much higher standards and should probably go off to marry another Lord of a Village or Town or maybe even a Count.”

As his eyes fled further away from Barssanna’s glare, Pipper’s water bowl entered his vision. He paused and stared at it. A fire burned within him, he rubbed his sister’s golden-beaded necklace, and his eyes rose to stare into the Lady of Archi Town with a malevolent glint. “But if she goes off to marry a starving peasant farmer, I wouldn’t care. I’d actually be happy for her because, as a friend, I want to see her happy. I want her to find true love and not forsake it for wealth and power,” He smirked and his stare turned to a glare. “As Meguss said in the Rilan, ‘Love exists to rejuvenate the soul, not to gain wealth or land.’”.

“What!?” Barssanna twitched and stepped away from him. “Meguss? The Rilan? You’re speaking nonsense!”

“Are you not a Dischan? Your daughter told me she and you were. Was she wrong?”

“Of course she was!” Sweat dripped down her forehead. “I’m not a Dischan! Why are you speaking of such things!? I could have you burnt to ash and bo-!”

“You think I’m gonna be the one burning?” He marched towards her and devoured her figure with his shadow. “How about I gather up a bunch of my buddies and have them search through this house and your manor. Let’s see who owns a Rilan after that. Let’s see who the real Dischan is after that.”

“Y-you have no idea what you’re talking about!” Her words jumbled under her quivering lips. “I-I won’t be the only one burning! My daughter, who you love, would be as well!”

“You think I love her?” His laugh ravaged the room."I’m not a filthy Dischan like you. I don’t care about my soul. I don’t want her love. I want her money. Her death would be nothing more than an inconvenience; a failed business deal. But you’d lose everything. Neither you nor her are anything special."

She paused and ground her teeth. Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly, appearing to struggle to find a retort. “Fine.” She finally turned away and crossed her arms. “What do you want?”

Geruke walked away from her and to the door and opened it. The gleaming noon sun greeted him, the tumult of the townspeople’s bustling across the cobbled street drowned his ears, and the beauty of the blue sky blessed his eyes. He strolled to Madrily.

“What did she say?” Madrily asked, grasping his hands as he approached her.

He stroked his hands away from her smooth palms, grabbed her slim waist, pulled her soft body close, and planted a kiss on her sweet lips. She flushed and froze.

“W-what’re you doing!?” Madrily asked with a nervous smile after he pulled away, eyes wobbling at Barsanna who crossed her arms in the doorway. “M-my mother is here.”

Geruke turned, Madrily’s body still pressed against his, and smirked at her mother. “She’s fine with it, right?”

Nodding with a grimace glued to the ground, she stormed out of the forge and snatched Madrily’s wrist. “Your tutor has probably arrived a while ago.” Barssanna dragged her away. Geruke and Madrily waved at each other as she faded in the bustling street’s mass of people, cheeks reddening the longer she waved and stared.

He gazed up at the clear sky and spread his hands to feel the breeze. The noon sun twinkled on tree canopies and birds tweeted and sang as they glided across the sky, forming picturesque silhouettes. Today might not be so bad after all.

After he headed back into the forge, another intruder greeted his eyes. Lyrassa’s hands glided across a rack of daggers and swords underneath an open shutter, letting in a breeze that fluttered her black and wavy ponytail, and a ray of light that sparkled on her large blue eyes, falling into thin and sharp slits that glinted with mischief as he entered. She yanked a dagger into her white and flour-covered baking apron pocket.

“Put it back,” Geruke said, crossing his arms.

She chucked the dagger back onto the rack, except it bounced off and rattled on the stone tiles along with a sword that it knocked off. “Happy?” she asked.

He leaned against the door frame and continued to stare. Rolling her eyes, she pulled out two daggers from her apron pocket and threw them at the rack, except this time she knocked over five swords instead of one, and of course, the two daggers clanged on the floor.

Crossing her arms, she stared at him. Silence filled the forge. He nodded at an open and empty cupboard next to the weapons rack.

“What?” she asked, cocking her head.

“I know your tricks, Lyra.” He tapped his foot. “They were decoys. You’ve already got plenty of daggers.”

Lyrassa groaned as she pulled out a pouch of coins from her seemingly bottomless pocket and threw it at Geruke. Specifically, at his face; it was Lyrassa, of course she would. She laughed, but she paused when he caught it, destroying her amusement.

“I give up,” He sighed and shook his head. “There’s probably more, but I’d be here all day If I wanted to get everything you’ve stolen from me and my Master back. He started to suspect me a week ago, you know? Do you want him to kick me out?”

“Let’s put it this way,” she smirked. “I steal from this place a lot less than anywhere else in this Town.”

“How sweet and charitable. Are you the next Herald of Fralil?”

“I am, and if you want me to cleanse you of your sins, throw me that pouch of coins back.”

“I’ve never sinned,” Geruke chuckled.

“Really?” Lyrassa snorted. “If so, why are your lips so red? Have you been kissing a certain daughter of a noble lady?”

“I did,” Geruke wiped Madrily’s crimson lipstick off of his mouth with his wrist. “Is there a problem?”

“I could tell Barssanna that she was here and kissed you. I could even sprinkle some spice on the scandal and say you bent her over the anvil and impregnated her.”

“Her mother was there. I made her watch.”

“Barssanna saw you kiss her?” Lyrassa laughed. “What did she do?”

“Nothing.”

“Really? She just sat there and let some filthy blacksmith slobber all over her pretty noble daughter?”

“We made a deal,” He told her about how he threatened Barssanna with knowledge of her and Madrily’s religious beliefs. She sat on a table, knocking over a chair in the process, and listened.

“How bold,” she frowned. “What if Barssanna retaliates? She could kill you and there aren’t many that’d miss you. And the ones that would aren’t all that threatening.”

“How cold,” He chuckled. “You mean to say you wouldn’t seek vengeance if she killed me?”

She grinned and glared at him."I’d kill you myself if she paid me enough."

“I know,” he smiled and sighed, shaking his head. “Luckily, she won’t be hiring you or anyone else to kill me. It wouldn’t be that much of a leap for Madrily to realize who paid for my death, considering the fact that I kissed her in front of her mother. “

“That’s still quite the gamble.” Her grin dropped. “What if she doesn’t care about her daughter’s opinion of her as much as you hope?”

“Then I’ll die,” He shrugged. “But it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“Quite the risk just to marry someone you don’t even love.”

“I love the land she’ll own in the future, when I come to profit off it at least.”

“I don’t recommend it,” she stared at the stone tiled floor. “It’s a bad idea to love someone just for their money. I’m not a big fan of that God thing, but the people who wrote the Rilan didn’t tell people to chase after love and not money for the fun of it.”

“They wrote it so everyone else will marry peasants and criminals, driven by love, whilst they’ll be cold heartedly getting cold and hard money by marrying nobles and royalty.” He sat down on a bench, faced her, and clenched his hands. “Make the world charitable, and you’ll be the only one left with any money.”

Her eyes rose from the floor, and she glared at him. “What makes you think Madrily will continue loving you after she finds out who you really are?”

“Who am I?”

“A thieving bastard, just like me. How do you think she’ll look at you when she finds out that I’m not the only person she knows whose been robbing the people of this town?”

“She won’t find out.”

Lyrassa hopped off the table to stand. “What If I tell her?” They both paused. The hustle and bustle of the town’s street wafted in through the shutters. Confusion jumbled and scattered the contents of Geruke’s brain.

“Why do you care so much?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “It’d be more beneficial for both of us if I was to come to own this Town. Just think of how much thievery you could get away with.”

She paused and crouched to pick up the chair she knocked over. Tucking it back in, she wistfully smiled at the floor. “I was just kidding.”

Geruke cocked his head at the expression. “What’s up?”

“Anyway, discussing your carnal exploits wasn’t why I came to talk to you.” She strolled to the bench and sat next to him. “But it’s related at least.”

“Let’s hear it,” He laid against the wall, cushioning the back of his head with his hands.

“A few days ago I tried to rob Barssanna’s manor.”

“I see where this is going,” Geruke rose and rushed across the room. She told him about doing something like that many times and he always told him no and always told him he wanted no part of it. Now she’s probably got herself into trouble as a result and wants to drag him into her mess. There was no chance he’d let that happen.

“No, you don’t,” she said as she hopped to her feet and followed him across the forge. “Just listen.”

“Maybe,” he said as he grabbed a set of fire strikers that sat on the ridge of the furnace and snatched his water satchel from a desk. He walked out of the forge and into the house it was attached to. He stepped off the forge’s stone tiles and onto the wooden floorboards of a hallway.

“In the process of my burglary, I met some complications,” she said behind him. “I got caught by three guards, Uthimma, Harrathock and Ranoll.”

“And they didn’t kill you?” Geruke gulped some water, walked down the hallway and stopped in front of a door.

“What do you think?” She shoved her hand in front of the door. “Just stop and listen. I want you to understand all the details.”

“I’ll ask you to repeat all the details once I’m actually interested.” He pushed her hand away and opened the door.

“You’re a knight in shining armour.” She shook her head and rubbed her temples as if she was trying to push back a headache. “Anyway, my attempted robbery intrigued the three guards. Why rob a house that had nothing to steal?”

“What do you mean?” Geruke asked as he stepped through the doorway. “I’m sure there are plenty of things to steal there.”

“There might be food, clothes, jewellery or weapons, but you might as well just corner and mug a nobleman on a forest road or in a city alleyway if you wanted to steal that. Why risk burgling a highly guarded manor? Why not catch her when travelling? Most nobles don’t travel with grand nastagles and many don’t even travel with huxkrana horses. Barsanna certainly doesn’t at least.”

“So why did you do it?” He stepped on a set of stairs that lead to the cellar.

“You said she’s a Dischan, right?” The wooden steps creaked and squealed as Lyrassa followed him. “That makes her unique. If she kept all of her money in a Templaga bank, having her religious beliefs exposed would ruin her. But If she stored her money inside her own home, then even if they or anyone else found out, it would still be possible for her to escape and survive. She’d have the wealth to start over.”

“I see,” Geruke said as he descended into the darkness of the cellar. He reached the bottom of the stairs. “So, unlike most people, and especially nobles, you think she has a ton of loose money stored in her house?”

“Exactly. I explained that to the three of them, so they let me go.”

“And they want you to rob the manor at a later date.” He reached around in the darkness until he touched wax. Slamming his fire strikers together against the candle, a dim and flickering lustre filled the cellar. Wooden crates and barrels covered the cobbled wall. “But in return, they want you to give them a share of the loot.”

He looked back at her, and she nodded. “They gave me a map of the manor and the surrounding area. They even told me about the location of an escape tunnel that leads from her cellar to the centre of the Lord’s forest.”

“Why is the Lord of a town investing in that?” He snorted. “Why not just buy a huxkrana horse? She’s a paranoid woman.” He walked over to a barrel and pulled off the lid to grab a loaf of bread.

“She’s a Dischan noble, of course she is. Anyway, what do you think?”

“Why does my opinion matter?” He said before he took a bite.

“You used to be a nobleman, Geru,” a coy smile spread across her heart-shaped visage as she scuttled up to him and wrapped soft hands around one of his. “You used to be a big and strong warrior who fought valiantly in dangerous battles. You did it to save people, right?” She squeezed his hand, stepped closer and stared up at him with her large eyes that watered and sparkled. “You’ll save a pretty little damsel like me as well, right?”

“Don’t worry,” He mumbled between his chewing of the bread. “I’ll be gentle when I capture you and hand you over to the Town’s Watch to be hung in the streets.”

Her damsel persona vanished as she let go of his hand and stepped away, glaring. “I’m not asking you to be gentle when capturing me. I’m asking you to help me make some money. “

“I know.” He opened another barrel and grabbed an apple. “I just don’t care.”

“You’re seriously not gonna help me with this?”

“Stealing’s sinful,” he smirked. “Why would a pious man like me help you?”

“How about this,” Geruke clicked his tongue as she snatched his apple out of his hands and crunched a quarter of it off. She grinned. “I’ll give you fifty per cent of my loot if you help me rob her manor.”

“When do we start?” He took a bite from his bread and rested it on the rim of the barrel.

“We can do it tonight.”

“Tonight? Do you really think that would give us enough time to assassinate the three guards and infiltrate the manor?”

“We won’t be killing them before we rob the manor,” Lyrassa snatched the bread before he could pull it away from her. “You’ll be doing it during.”

“How?” He shot his hand at the loaf of bread she stole from him, but she dashed backwards. He sighed and grabbed another loaf from the barrel. “Doesn’t Barssanna have a few dozen guards? We can’t fight them all off at once. And how are we gonna sneak past so many guards? It’s just gonna be a fruitless repeat of your attempt.”

“Don’t worry,” she took a bite from the bread. “My plan takes care of all of that. Unless your skill with the sword has gotten rusty.”

“If that’s your only uncertainty, then it must be impossible to fail.” He closed a barrel, sat on top of it, and bit into his bread. “The results of our sparring is proof of that,”

“That’s not how our sparring went at all,” she mumbled through her chewing, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, ignoring your delusions of grandeur, all we’ll need is a barrel and a wagon, which we can find anywhere. But I’ll need to head to the market to buy a load of gunpowder and a fuse. I’m investing a lot into this, so your arrogance better have some basis in reality, or else.”

Geruke crept through the Royal Forest of Archi, pushing along a wagon. A gunpowder barrel rattled as the wagon rolled across grass and bumped over tree roots. The hooting of owls obscured the sound of the barrel, wagon, and Geruke’s crunching of grass and twigs as he walked, but when he reached the edge of the forest, the chatting of Barssanna’s guards aided the owls. The two of them stood in front of iron gates and cobbled walls with black gambesons, and silver helmets, pauldrons, and gorgets.

Barsanna’s manor towered over them, possessing a size and opulence that hit Geruke with a feeling of awe. How he felt surprised him because, thinking back to where he used to live as a child, the manor looked like a cheap toy.

Geruke ducked behind a bush and pulled his wagon behind it. Shadow covered both the barrel and the wagon. He pulled out fire strikers from his pocket and adjusted his mask - a canvas sack with eye and mouth holes stabbed into it. Leaning over the wagon, he fiddled with the barrel’s fuse. As he struck the fire strikers together, the fuse blackened, shrivelled and sparks flashed. The smell of burnt toast pummelled his nose.

He rushed to his feet, grabbed the wagon’s handles, ran through the bush and at the guards who jumped, yelled and shook at the sight of him. After a few seconds of letting the fuse burn, Geruke pushed the wagon at the guards, putting the force of his legs, arms and entire body behind it. The wheels rolled across the dirt and the wagon rushed at the gua-

The explosion pummelled Geruke’s ears and rumbled through the forest. Grass, dirt, and stone splattered at Geruke as he turned and ran into the forest. He caught a rock that rolled beside him on the grass; debris from the wall. He shoved it in his pocket. Tree canopies rustled as owls flapped away. After the tumult of the explosion ceased, the sound of the screaming and groaning of the burning, bleeding, and dying guards devoured the crackling of flame, blackening grass.

As Geruke ducked behind a tree, a pang of guilt slapped his heart. He inhaled, exhaled, and stiffened his jaw, burying it. If they were in his position, they’d do the same as him. Ranoll, Uthimma and Harrathock’s compliance with such a violent plan was evidence of that.

Releasing a golden lustre, the manor’s mahogany double doors slammed open.

“If there was an explosion, it’s probably an attack by a large group of people!” the guard who fit Lyrassa’s description of Uthimma shouted as she ran towards the gate from the manor’s doorway.

Her plate armour that gleamed in the moonlight, and her two-handed war hammer, which was nearly twice the size of her, implied that she was the leader and the strongest considering how much expensive armour and weaponry Barssanna entrusted her with. Nine other guards with swords, gambesons, helmets, gorgets, and pauldrons followed.

She turned to one of them and pointed at the manor doorway. “Considering that to be the case, I need you to go back inside and bring more guards out here. Some to fight and some to help the two injured in front of the gate.”

Just as Lyrassa planned, the loud and flashy attack baited all or at least most of the Manor’s guards outside and towards the forest, away from the treasure Lyrassa planned to snatch. She informed Uthimma, Ranoll and Harrathock of that stage of the plan.

The next stage of the plan, however…

Geruke adjusted his dagger covered belt, drew a short sword but left his special claymore resting in a scabbard on his back, glimmering with golden decals, for when things got serious. He crept up a tree, crouched on a thick branch, and glared down at Uthimma, Harrathock, Ranoll, and the other trembling guards, as they marched into the forest, letting the tree’s shadows devour their figures.