The smithies were clear on the other side of town from where I’d come in, which was fine. I wasn’t in any hurry beyond the self-imposed excitement of my own dreams, so a few extra minutes wasn’t going to dampen my mood. I walked those streets every day, and I knew them as intimately as I knew the scars that danced across my flesh and the stories they told.

  There were two smithies, one right next to the other. On one side—left as you faced the two shops—was a more traditional shop. Master Elijah was an expert metallurgist and Master Forger. He could make you a sword or a revolver, a blunderbuss or a poleaxe, and everything in between and beyond. Leather smithing, bone crafting, metal weaving—he did it all. He once studied at the fabled Tophana University of Smithing in Verdana City back East, where you had to be recommended by three Master Smiths to even apply. You really had to prove your worth.

  Master Elijah had my respect as well as that of everyone in the town.

  Next door to him was his brother, Master Elloy, a Cardsmith.

  Cardsmiths were vital to the economy of the entire world, so though scrutiny, training, and certifications were required to become one, the selection process was not as rigorous as Tophana University’s. In fact, a fair number of Cardsmiths that didn’t go to a university at all, especially out in the Badlands. Master Elloy had been trained somewhere, but I didn’t know exactly where.

  Elloy knew some metal smithing, and Elijah knew some cardsmithing, but they each had their expertise and generally stuck to it. People looking for cards and all related things went to Elloy, and if they received a brand-new skill and wanted a weapon for it, he’d direct them next door to his brother.

  When I arrived at the smithies, I was dismayed to see that there was a line in front of Elloy’s shop. That made sense because everyone and everything ran on cards, whereas you needed a good amount of money to afford Elijah’s best stuff. It wasn’t the worst I’d ever seen though. One time, over thirty people were waiting for Elloy over the course of a whole day, but that was a lot for our town. Right then, it was about eight.

  Most of the town was made of wood siding, easy to mass produce quickly from the forests in the region. But buildings like the bank, the mayor’s office, the sheriff’s office and lock up, and—of course—the smithies were all made of either brick and mortar or some sort of stone, like limestone or sandstone.

  A trio of men I’d never seen were waiting on a bench near the entrance of the card shop. They all wore wide-brimmed leather hats, brown and black. One wore a red-skinned leather vest that likely came from a fire hog, and one wore a bright green bolo tie that was secured with an emerald-like gem, but I doubted it was real. Anyone who could afford an emerald that big wouldn’t wear something so gaudy. The last man was young like me, and he had a nasty scar down his jaw. Two revolvers hugged his hips, and I glimpsed a bit of ink on the pale skin of his wrist between his sleeve and his gloves. All three men wore chaps. They could have been ranchers or mercenaries; it was hard to tell which.

  They regarded me with little interest as I went inside. I tipped my own hat—a ratty, wide-brimmed straw thing that my father supposedly had made for me—to them in greeting and walked past.

  I’d been to the smith before. Several times, in fact. Many times, even. I was banned from the premises now though. Well, not banned in the purest sense of the word. I could come if I actually had business with Elloy. In the past, I’d come all the time just to see him work his magic and work the cards and to see all the interesting skills that people gained from them. It had been fine when I’d been a little kid—who didn’t like kids? Plus, my uncle had still been alive back then, and he was a well-respected man from what I could recall.

  Then he’d died, and people weren’t going to kick out the orphan with nowhere to go, and that had suited me just fine. I wore out my welcome in most places, but the Cardsmith was where I went the most. Even Elloy, who was a very patient man, lost it with me eventually. So, about a year ago, I was banned.

  Despite that banishment, this was not my first time returning from exile. I was an errand boy for many of the shops in town. If you needed some chores or something delivered for you, I was your guy. So, I’d delivered one thing or another to Elloy several times in the previous year.

  The inside of the Cardsmith’s shop was simple yet elegant in its own way. It was a wide-open space, a huge room supported by wooden beams along the sides and studded with metal to keep them strong and sturdy and to prevent fire damage as much as possible. The few powerlines that did run into the town had some wires to spare for the Cardsmith, unlike much of the town, so the space was brightly lit compared to others. Dim bulbs in foggy glass lamps hung along the walls and from the support beams that crossed the room from the rafters. Electricity still fascinated me since it was relatively new to these parts, though I’d heard that Verdana City and the capital back East glittered with electric light at all hours, and I longed to see this with my own eyes.

  I wasn’t alone, of course. On a bench to either side of the door were a few more customers waiting. Mostly men, but also a couple of women, and I only recognized two of them. So, people passing through, it seemed.

  Ahead of me and directly across from the door stood a small desk encased by a semicircular wooden counter. Sitting behind it was a young man, Landrid, who was in his midtwenties and served as an assistant for both smiths. He had a mousy face and pale hair that always seemed too dry. Often, his face was smudged and dirty from helping Elijah and Elloy, though today, he seemed clean. The glint of the pale electric lights on his glasses hid his eyes temporarily from view.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  As soon as I stepped in and the bell above the door jingled, Landrid looked up with a bored expression.

  “Howdy, welcome in. If you don’t have an appointment with Master Elloy then you need to . . . Griff?”

  I put on my best smile and gave him a wave. “Awful nice day out there, ain’t it? How you doing, Landrid?”

  He scoffed. “Get out, Griff. As you can see, we’re busy today, and neither I nor the master have time for your foolishness.”

  “Well, as much as I’d love to follow that command, I’m actually here as a customer.”

  That got Landrid’s attention and his disbelief. “Oh, really?”

  Before he demanded for me to prove it, I pulled the card fragment free from my pocket. That was enough to silence any further retorts that he had loaded in the chamber. His eyes narrowed for only a moment before he sighed in acceptance.

  “Okay, Griff. I guess it’s about time you actually came with something we can help you with. That said, you don’t have an appointment, so take a number.”

  I would have liked to argue, but Elloy had a system, and he didn’t like people messing with that system, so I resigned myself. There was a small roll of paper on the desk next to the little brass bell that I had often loved to ding. I pulled one, and the segmented end broke off from the rest. I gave it a look. Printed tall and thin was the number seventeen.

  I pocketed it. “How many people are ahead of me?” I asked.

  Landrid pushed his glasses up the bridge of his skinny nose as he looked down at the logbook behind the desk. “Master Elloy is servicing number nine at the moment, so there’s eight customers in front. I reckon it will take a couple of hours to get to you.”

  “Okay, gotcha. Thanks.”

  As eager as I was to stay, a couple hours was a lot of time to kill, and in that exact moment, my stomach decided to roar and remind me—and everyone in the room—that I was starving. The sugarbark had staved off the hunger for as long as possible, and there was no more waiting now. I thanked Landrid, then left.

  A part of me wanted to go straight to one of the saloons or to the inn, but I really needed to save my money for the smithy, so I hightailed it back home so I could unload my stuff and cook up some grub.

  By all rights, I shouldn’t have even had a home. A lot of the homes in town were technically owned by the bank, which I always thought was an awful system. I mean, if you build a home yourself, even with the help of the bank, it should be yours. Well, thankfully for me, Uncle Deebo had paid off what he owed the bank before he passed, and he’d named me the sole owner in his will, so I had somewhere to live.

  That was all he’d left me, really: just whatever possessions of his were left in the house and the house itself. I had to fend for myself when it came to provisions, but I was able to survive, and in those first few years after his death, the people of Parroia had been kind to me.

  The house wasn’t overly impressive, mind you, but it was enough, and it was a home all the same. I lived on the north side of town, near the retaining wall next to the lake, so I often snuck out and sat by the water. The house was a simple little number, just four square walls with a single room and a slightly gabled roof. Nothing fancy, but it was my world.

  I put away all of my things, fished a can of beans from the cupboard, then started a fire on the stove with some matches. I’d need to replace the starter oil soon. My can opener was rusty, but it still got the job done after some effort. I placed the can over the open fire to heat them, as I wasn’t gonna dirty my one good pan on a can of beans.

  While that got started, I put the meat I had packed in salt in the larder for later and gave myself a quick wash in the back. That consisted of wiping off the sweat and dirt with a wet rag from the cold-water basin behind the house. It got the job done. I changed my clothes when I was finished, as they stank, and I didn’t want Elloy to be disgusted by me, even though I knew full well that he dealt with dirty customers every single day. But he knew me, and I was a young man of good repute. Mostly.

  The beans were cooked by the time I was dressed again, and I poured them into a metal bowl. They slid easily and landed with a kerplunk in a single heap.

  I ate my fill and let the time roll by, though I was by no means being lazy. When I was sure more than an hour had passed, I hurried back to the smithy, which took around ten minutes at a brisk walk.

  When I got there, the three men on the bench outside were gone, and in their place was one of the deputies, Mr. Harris, reading a paper. I didn’t know him too well beyond his name and face and a few pleasantries exchanged as he was relatively new. He lowered the paper as I approached, tipped his cap, and wagged his thick brown mustache with enthusiasm at me. Then he carried on reading.

  Inside, the people that had been waiting were gone. Two of the men from outside earlier now sat on the left of the entrance, the man with the fire-hog vest and the other with the fake-looking emerald bolo. They were both bent over the edge of their seats as they played with some dice and dominoes, none of which looked to be of any fine make. Their words and curses were hushed, as if they were trying to be quiet. Not so unusual, as people held Cardsmiths in high esteem and usually didn’t want to do anything to piss them off. Usually. Landrid was still reading behind the desk, looking bored. If it was busier, he would have been running around between the two shops, but it seemed like a slowish day.

  There was no one else waiting. I looked to the two men. “What numbers y’all got?” I asked them.

  They stopped their game and looked up to glare at me. Neither of them shot me a reprimand, however. Instead, they both raised the same thin pieces of paper as I had from their pockets. Fifteen and sixteen. I nodded my thanks and then sat on the other bench.

  Even though I knew it wasn’t very long in reality, the time went by in a slog. Only a few minutes after I arrived, the other man in their trio returned from the back, grinning from ear to ear as he buttoned up his shirt and vest. I glimpsed a new glowing tattoo on his chest whose light was slowly fading. It was impossible for me to tell what design it might be. On his back, however, were two gleaming metal clubs that had not been present when I saw him outside. So, perhaps a [Strength] buff? Or maybe a [Blunt Weapon] skill card. Impossible to know for certain. And I wasn’t about to ask, even if my curiosity was screaming at me. It was ill form and rude to ask people about their cards and tattoos if they were deliberately hidden. Sometimes it was outright dangerous. These gentlemen didn’t look very savory, so I wasn’t going to push my luck.

  He left, and then Landrid waved bolo tie through. Another twenty-odd minutes elapsed, and he returned as well. Fire-hog vest went back next, and then it was just me waiting.

  I was sure an hour had passed by the time it was my turn. I was bored out of my mind and burning with excitement and anticipation, and there was no way I was going to wait any longer.

  I stood as soon as the man in the red vest left, my grin as wide as the valley. The door jingled to my left, but I didn’t even spare a glance. I looked to Landrid and started to walk to him and to my ascension.

  And then I got pushed aside by whoever had come through the door.