Meristal rolled her violet eyes in disgust as strands of her flaming red hair flapped in the breeze. The gust rippled through Ralloc’s crowded streets. Heavy footfalls of the Royal Guards echoed off the buildings, and her horse’s shoes resounded from the cobblestones. The streets overflowed with commoners. With merchants and nobles filing in, the roads jammed Meristal’s escort.

  When Meristal left the castle that once housed the royal bloodline of Kothlere, she was usually accompanied by two squads—twenty men—of royal guards, the finest the army had to offer. Today, however, the war council accompanied, and the five generals were allotted two squads themselves. So, the streets were filled with the bustle of daily life in addition to Meristal’s personal entourage. The Master of Commerce, Master Wizard Roxie of the Vernetti House; the Lord of Coffers, Grand Wizard Wes of House Bevyl; and the Steward of Disbursement, Grand Master Wizard Maryssa of the Joel House escorted her. Their total troupe comprised of one hundred soldiers, Meristal’s guards, the five jyneruls with one scribe a piece, and Meristal’s entourage. A sigh of disdain slipped from her as she shuffled through the crowded streets.

  To make matters worse, she agreed to help Judas with a pesky problem. She inherited his vexation: Todd Wynters, the young and overly excited journalist. Now, he hounded her almost as much as Judas. Since Judas kept away from the capital, she had shown Todd a small thimble of kindness, and he clung like a babe at the breasts. At one point, she barred him from certain sections of the castle, mainly the council’s chambers, but that only made it worse when she slinked away. He smothered her like the blackness that swaddled the celestial bodies at night. Now, he tagged along on any business outside the castle grounds, such as today and its numerous problems. The only stipulation was that he stay out of the way and never speak. Todd, happy to comply, recording everything with his quill and parchment.

  Her war council complained they lacked armorers to adequately outfit each of their two hundred thousand members. With the start of the war, the fall of Cape Gythmel, and the death of the former Consul Kayis Dathyr just weeks prior, the army’s ranks had swelled with conscripts or what the jyneruls jeered as scabs. Meristal hunted for the skilled laborers of the blacksmith trade, but economics hindered all efforts. Blacksmiths made much more money than they would recruited into their ranks. When she came calling, most laughed them out of their forge. With what they were offering for their services, she couldn’t blame them. However, they didn’t come away empty handed. The apprentices saw an opportunity to continue their desired trade and make more money enlisting. Any apprenticeship received the lowest wages in Ralloc except servants, but servants enjoyed free lodging and meals. With an immediate increase in funds, a rank above normal conscripts, and the choice to retire from the army, the apprentices clambered to serve. Meristal cast a far-reaching net for masters of the craft but came away with workers of minor experience.

  Reaching the Anvil of Thunder, the consul dismounted and stretched out her saddle soreness. The last stop inside city walls. Without acquiring this blacksmith, or any others, they’d turn to hiring outside the city, and the costs would soar with moving fees, especially for those married. This smith remained her last sliver of optimism which dimmed by the minute. She had almost given up hope of finding one.

  Entering his shop—a barn-like structure easily three times bigger than any she visited yet—a blast of heat rebuffed her. Young men worked, oblivious to their entry; hammers smashed against glowing steel. A quick headcount revealed twice as many apprentices or helpers as the last.

  A young man’s eyes went wide in recognition of her and the jyneruls. Today, Meristal wore official office robes which echoed that of her royal escort. The inner robe of white silk, covered with the over robe of black and silver stripping. The phthalo blue sash holding the robes closed completed the ensemble. The boy dropped his hammer and iron in his haste to greet them.

  “Lady Consul, Jyneruls, how may I be of service?” he said with a hasty bow.

  “I’d like to speak to the master of the smith,” Meristal said. Though tired and disgruntled, she kept up a gracious appearance and soft voice.

  “At once, my lady.” He hurried off, and moments later a mountain of a man loomed before her. His entire body gleamed with sweat, his shoulders were like cannonballs of hard muscle, his chest and back like slabs of iron. Thick legs supported his massive frame; dark blue eyes peered through a sweat-coated brow. It took him a moment to register who stood before him, and then he courtesied.

  “Lady Consul,” he said with a bow. He reached down and kissed her hand.

  “Unhand her, commoner!” Master Jynerul Tyku roared. “You presume too much!” The jynerul’s hand immediately went for his sword, but Meristal waved him away.

  “I don’t think he means any harm, do you, Master Jynerul?” She turned back to the blacksmith. “That was the nicest courtesy I’ve received today. What is your name, kind sire?”

  “Kam, if it pleases you, my lady, though I am yet a sire.”

  “Very well, Kam. What is your family name?”

  “Vebbek.”

  “Vebbek,” Meristal frowned. “I’m unfamiliar with this name. From where do you hail, Kam? May I call you, Kam?”

  “Call me anything you wish, my lady. I am from the Forgotten Isles.” The jyneruls grumbled at his proclamation, and Meristal blushed a shade of light scarlet.

  She fought for control before speaking again. “Tell me, Kam, you courtesied and speak as eloquently as a lord of a noble house. Are you of a noble bloodline?”

  “I’m of a minor noble bloodline, a distant cousin to the Godfrey family that rules the Isles. As for the standards of the Ralloc though, I’m no more than a commoner.”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  “I see,” Meristal said. Then she smiled. “Consider me impressed with your etiquette.”

  “Thank you, my lady. What brings you to my forge this fine day?”

  “Ah,” she smiled more broadly. “You even lie as good as a nobleman. I’m sure you looked outside and saw the rain coming down.”

  “As you say, my lady.”

  Meristal sighed. “Alright, enough with proper talk and all that nonsense. It’s terrible outside. It’s raining buckets, and I’m like a cat when thrown in the horse trough. I hate the rain and whatever gods decided it had to be today.” Kam choked back a laugh at her abrasive demeanor. She imagined the jyneruls shook their heads behind her. Meristal took a breath before continuing. “Let’s be blunt for a moment, Kam. I had high hopes when I set out this morning, but I was refused at every turn. You are the last forge in the city, and I have a feeling that I’m wasting my time and yours. So, I won’t praise or cajole, I’ll just say it. I need men of your profession for the army. Would you be willing to consider joining our ranks and working for us?”

  Kam’s eyebrows drew down in a frown. “I find it hard to believe that someone would deny a woman as beautiful as you, my lady.”

  “Okay, Kam, we are past the flattery and flirting. Let’s sidestep that pile of manure and get on with it.”

  Kam smiled at her candidness before speaking. “As you wish. I’m not surprised they turned you down. Anyone who took your offer would be mad. On average, blacksmiths make slightly less than you, Consul.”

  “Last I checked,” Meristal corrected, “you make about an ingot less a month, not including expenses and supplies.” An ingot was a small gold bar worth six thousand scepters. A scepter was a denomination of money. One bit was one scepter; thirty bits equaled a silver chip or thirty scepters, twenty silver chips equaled six hundred scepters or a gold coin called a bright eye. Ten bright eyes equaled one ingot or six thousand scepters.

  “That’s a correct assumption, my lady. However, I’m not most. I make more than they do because my products are of higher quality, and I do more business. Moreover, I can barter down the people I purchase supplies from because I buy in bulk, and they know I’ll return for more business quicker than the others. So, in truth, I make nearly as much as you do per month. But you didn’t come to argue incomes, tell me what you wish.”

  “I wish for you to join our ranks as the Master Blacksmith.” Kam grinned at her words.

  At least he didn’t laugh, that’s to his credit.

  “I’m sure you appreciate my position, my lady, but I’d be a fool to accept, a fact I’m sure you’re well aware of. Out of curiosity, what would you grant me?”

  Master Jynerul Tyku spoke up, “The rank of Master Sergynt, a most generous of offers.”

  “Generous? That’s an insult.”

  “Contrary,” Jynerul Vikal spoke up, “You have no prior military service, no training in arms of war. Our offer is most generous. You’d be in charge of a platoon of fifty men.”

  “What need do I have of men?” Kam countered. “I need apprentices, not soldiers. Just as I have no time in your army, they lack time spent in the forge.” He pivoted and spoke to Meristal. “I’m sorry you came all this way to receive a no, but that’s my answer.”

  He turned to go back to work when Meristal called out. “What would it take for you to consider joining?”

  The towering blacksmith paused in mid-stride, then turned around. He was silent for a moment, his eyes rolling up and to the left as he thought. “For starters, a larger place, twice as big as this.”

  “Done,” Meristal promised without consulting the War Council.

  “And I get to keep it after my time is done.”

  Meristal paused in consideration as Tyku spoke up. “If that’s the case, you relinquish your hold on this building.”

  “Agreed.” Kam rumbled after a second of thought.

  “What else?” Meristal inquired.

  “A commission as an officer.”

  A jynerul barked a laugh, but Tyku spoke up. “You are common born; you can’t receive a commission.”

  “We were making an exception when we offered you Master Sergynt,” Jynerul Mecas added. He was normally the quietest of the War Council.

  “Make another,” Kam muttered.

  “What rank?” Meristal asked. Again, the jyneruls growled at her back.

  “Kernoyl.”

  “Outrageous!” Tyku barked. “That’s for noble houses, and you’re a commoner.”

  “Actually,” Meristal held her hand up to cut the jynerul off. “He is a cousin to the Godfrey bloodline who is king of the Forgotten Isles. At the very least, he’s a minor house.”

  “Still,” Jynerul Vikal said.

  “I can wave that exception, but you’ll not receive the rank of kernoyl,” Meristal spoke. “You’ll be escalated to the rank of kaptyn. Does that suit you, Kam?”

  Kam stood silent for a moment before shaking his head. “No, the pay cut would be too great. Good day.” He turned to leave.

  Damn it! Shades, we were so close. Too close for Meristal to just walk away.

  “What do you want to compensate for your commission?”

  “Consul, I must protest,” Master Jynerul Tyku spoke gruffly.

  “Either be silent or go away,” Meristal hissed at him. Her voice softened. “In case you forgot, we need him, and much more.” She turned back to the blacksmith. “Well, Kam? Name all your terms.”

  The massive man was silent for a moment. “If I am a kaptyn, then I want the ability to advance in rank. Additionally, I’d like the privilege to do enough work on the side to make the same amount of money that I’m accustomed to. I’ll run my work from the new forge; you will, of course, be providing all the supplies I’d need. If you want a smith in the field, I’ll send apprentices in my stead.”

  “What apprentices?” Jynerul Vikal laughed. “You don’t have enough!”

  “I will take all the apprentices that joined your ranks today,” Kam declared.

  Meristal smiled. “You knew we were coming.”

  “Of course, my lady. After you cleared out the other blacksmiths of apprentices, they showed up and tried to bribe mine with better wages.”

  “I agree to all your terms,” Meristal said. A collective gasp came from those who accompanied her. She held a hand up to silence them. “All except the supplies part. Making additional armor to sell for personal gain will come from your purse.”

  Kam nodded in approval. “As you command, Consul.”

  A true smile spread over Meristal’s porcelain features, the first of the day. “Then, it’s good to have you in our ranks, Kaptyn Vebbek.”