Part 1

1494, Winter

Leon and his father, Edward, approached the market in silence. At least, his father assured him that it was the market as all that was visible right now was a silhouetted splotch in the distance. The rhythmic crunching of snow under their boots and in those rare moments when the footsteps lined up, Leon found it immensely satisfying.

As the ‘market’ was coming into view, Edward grumbled in that way he does when he wants to say something. He had said nothing the entire way over. Every time Leon had asked where they were going or why he had been met with a vague, grumbled, “Wait.”

Despite being a larger gentleman, Edward was shivering so much that it was clear he’d need a few false starts before he could force any words out.

“Leon…” Well there’s a start. “…you are now about my age when I first shadowed my business mentor. And I am glad to see you are as annoying as I was.” Edward laughed as Leon stood there unimpressed. “I’m only having fun, kiddo. I like that you ask so much about how I run my businesses, you have that fire in you. You are probably at your wit’s end with me never giving a straight answer, and I understand your frustration, but I am simply doing to you as my father did to me.”

Leon was taken aback.

“What your father did to you? What are you talking about!?”

Edward grinned and shakily crumpled himself down to meet Leon’s eye level.

“You cannot harvest a fire at the wrong time. Too soon and it goes out, too late and it runs out of fuel. You, my boy, are a roaring fire and I am here to make you an out of control blaze.”

Without a word more, Edward hauled himself back onto his feet and tapped on his dumbfounded son’s shoulder to keep moving.

As they approached the market, more and more details began springing into view. The squat buildings were more defined; the noise of business went from a distant clattering of tools and carts to a chorus of conversation and laughter. Figures were moving along the road .

Leon was awe-struck. He had played with the other kids but it was always in fields on the outskirts of town. He had never been to the town centre proper, and as soon as he crossed from the dirt to stone road it was as if the fog had all but lifted out. The fog seemed to dance with the action that was taking place in the market.

Edward walked slower now, as if to give Leon more time to appreciate the chaos of it all. The marketeers came in all shapes and attitudes. Some would roar at the top of their lungs at everyone they could see to buy some smoked fish, some made it clear they were much more refined and better than those people as their sold their pottery. Naturally, the louder shopkeepers were the ones with more customers.

“Which of these do you own?” Leon finally piped up.

“All of them,” he replied flatly.

Leon’s eyes widened. “What do you mean all of them?”

“I mean every single store you can see, and a few more you cannot, are either owned or partly-owned by me.”

Leon looked around, this new information completely recontextualising everything around him. The shopkeepers selling to their customers, they were not their customers, they were Edward’s. The marketeers? They were not marketeers, they were employees. More than anything, Leon started understanding why so many of them had been darting their eyes from their work to Edward and Leon. There was one burning issue that Leon was confused about, however.

“Partly-owned? That means you work with the owners, right? I thought you told me you never worked with anybody,” Leon said, firing off a flurry of questions.

Edward stopped walking and Leon followed suit.

“‘Working with?’ No. You may have misunderstood what I meant by that. I am in no way these people’s equal.”

Leon was unfazed in his confusion. “But you said some were ‘partly-owned.’ Does that not mean that you are these people’s equal.”

Edward sighed. “Leon…The way I do business…Is how every living creature on God’s Earth do business. How the ants work for the queen, despite them all being the same animal. How the spider will mate and eat their spouse.”

Leon was now ready to stop talking, but clearly Edward wasn’t.

“Did you know behind that behind building over there,” he began, pointing towards the nondescript market building on their left, “There lies the most magnificent pond you will ever have seen?”

Leon nodded, it was likely frozen over right now but a few seasons ago some of the local boys took Leon down there because—

“It is completely free of flies,” Edward stated, “It could be a day so humid that sweat pools in ungodly areas, and the flies stay far away from here. This, my dear boy, was because of the exploits of three frogs.”

Three frogs? I cannot tell if this is a wind-up or not.

“These frogs lived long ago in that very pond, and they happened upon a problem. As the story goes, the flies had become too clever for them to catch and they decided to bring their lily pads together and discuss this. They were split on how they should proceed, two of them wanted to work together on the same lily pad and the third was not willing to do so. And yet, ‘That sounds like a grand idea’ he assured them. He wished to remain on his lonesome, but still encouraged them.”

Leon nodded along. He had no idea where the hell this was going.

“As it turns out the third frog had it completely right. All was going well for the group, they had collected more flies than ever before, but one was consistently catching more than his fellow frog. They were almost ready to come to blows but the third frog, in his wisdom, floated back over to them.

‘I see you are having quarrels,’ he stated, ‘How about this: If you give me a portion of your flies then I will be able to mediate this discussion’”

Edward paused, checking to see if Leon was getting it yet.

“They agreed, their fight was over, and now they had a wise frog to watch over them. That is all I am, young Leon. I am not a part-owner no matter what you may think, I am the third frog. All of these marketeers are happy and I am rich. If I were to be truly working WITH them, I would be just as poor as they are.”

Leon looked suspiciously at his father but then looked around in confusion. They had walked all the way to the other end of the market and up to a door without him even noticing. Edward looked back at the door and gave it a few knocks.

Leon finally noticed the strange looks they were receiving from passing travellers. Each wore a face of fear and sorrow every time they looked, without fail. Leon was starting to feel anxious, something felt off.

”…And if I am to teach you to be that frog, there is an important thing about wealthy business you must learn first.”

The door opened to reveal an older man dressed in all black. He peered down at Leon, not once making eye contact with Edward.

“Do not worry, this is my son, Leon. We discussed his presence at this meeting earlier.”

The man glanced over at Edward but he remained facing Leon. He ever so slightly nodded and disappeared back into the house. Edward and Leon followed, they were greeted by a rather plain, dark wood office. The man, without sitting, dug through the papers strewn about his desk and picked up a document much less aged than the others.

“You have been blacklisted, The Circle sends its apologies.” And without a word more, the man breezed past the two and disappeared out the door. Leon looked back and furrowed his brow. He looked up at Edward who was still staring forward, absolutely catatonic as a million thoughts shot through his head.

“What’s The Circle?” Leon asked. No response. Leon grabbed Edwards arm and tugged a few times. Edward finally snapped out of it and quickly herded Leon out the door.

“We need to leave. I have a contact I need to talk to about this, I can get it all straightened out.” Edward said, firing off sentences one after the other.

“But wait!” Leon protested, stopping in his tracks, “What in God’s name was that!?”

Edward buried his head in his hands and was rubbing his face.

“I worked with someone. That’s what happened.”

He dropped his hands revealing the face of a man who was melting down.

“Do you remember the lumberyard with the attached lodging? We can stay there for a short period. It will only be a bit, I will get this sorted,” Edward stated frantically.

Leon nodded with a sense of unease filling him. He had an inkling that even his father didn’t believe what he was saying. And with that they disappeared back down the market road.

1502, Autumn

Leon hauled himself up from his bed. As he did, sawdust was blasted in every direction. He had long since stopped bothering to clean his bed every night and was resigned to enduring the coughing fits every time he woke up.

He rolled out of bed and threw on a tunic. He had more reason to wake up than most days so he was actually walking to the door instead of shuffling out with a jug of beer in hand. As he walked past the open window frames of the second floor, the breeze gently blowing over him and giving him another lungful of sawdust, he looked over at the saw that was currently half stuck into a log.

It was rusted and had long since been usable by anyone except the strongest of men or beast. Lucky for Leon, someone else was doing it for him.

He reached the mill floor and pushed open the giant doors that led into the dirt path. They swung open more violently than he expected, slamming into the wall and blasting glass all over the sawmill floor.

Leon was unfazed and continued out into the road, finding a tree to lean against and getting comfortable.

He was flanked at either side by dense forest, shielding the lumberyard and shrouding the midday sun in darkness. The breeze was picking up, blowing through the trees and sounding as if Leon was right next to the ocean.

Soon after this, Leon spotted a figure hobbling up the road. He was shrouded in a black cloak which covered a cane and a stack of papers.

After a slow, long, painful journey the old man was finally in earshot.

“Welcome,” Leon greeted him.

“Young man, I am in my waning years. I would like to keep things quick and reserve the pleasantries. Shall we discuss out here.”

Leon nodded.

“Right,” the old man said, rifling through papers. “Apologies, busy day.” He whipped out a suspiciously small piece of paper and adjusted his spectacles to read it.

“And you’re…hm…Edward’s child?”

“Yes,” Leon replied tersely, more anxious to conclude than the man.

“Interesting, I also read the will for your father when his elder died. He inherited quite a princely sum.”

“You certainly have a creative interpretation of interesting.”

The old man scrutinised this child before flicking his eyes back to the page.

“How have you been this past year without your elder?” He asked, as if this was routine for him.

“I have no money, I can’t pay my worker, the crown will probably come down when I go bankrupt and haul me to the Tower of London—”

“And your dad passed away.”

“And my dad passed away.”

The old man cleared his throat and went back to studying the paper like he was hiding behind it.

“I apologise…”

Both men stood around in an uneasy silence. The old man eventually piped up.

“Despite the considerable debts and sale of businesses your father incurred, you should be left with quite a modest estate. We have not collected the sum total yet but at the very least we know you will be maintaining the property we are standing on.”

Leon furrowed his brow. The wind picked up and threatened to blow away the old man’s papers along with the leaves.

“What about everything else? What do you mean by ‘should be left with’?” Leon asked.

“I mean that your father left behind a quite complicated estate and the details are being finalised.”

Leon clenched his fist behind his back,

“So you have come all this way to tell me I will not be receiving anything?”

“Young man, this is a courtesy. If it is not appreciated I will take my leave.” The old man fumbled around with his papers getting them back into order and hopping his coat back up on his back. He turned to leave but gave one last aside.

“You should receive your inheritance within the month.”

And with that, he disappeared down the road. Leon turned back to the mill and slammed his palms down on the wood fence, the force reverberating around the whole perimeter. After a few moments of self-pitying silence he spotted out of the corner of his eye someone coming out of the mill’s attached living quarters.

“Didn’t go well?” He asked.

Leon shook his head and rested it gently on the fence post.

“Abel…” Leon murmured.

“Yes, Leon?” Abel responded.

Leon turned his head to look to Abel. His rosary beads were wrapped tightly around his calloused hand. Even at his old age he was still a fine woodcutter.

“…you might have to go without pay for a while longer.”

Abel was briefly taken aback, but was not angry.

“Your meeting not go well, then?”

Leon got off the fence and furrowed his brow, confused.

“Are you not enraged?”

Abel sighed and began unwrapping his beads from his hand.

“I do not remember it being said anywhere in the bible that the way into the gates of heaven was with silver. I am housed and fed, therefore I am content. I am sure you will provide me with compensation once you are able,” he said, flashing a grin as he put his rosaries in his pocket.

Leon opened his mouth to argue but shut it sharply once he realised he would basically be arguing for Abel to not agree with him. He motioned to the still open doors of the mill, now somewhat obscured by floating sawdust because of the wind that was still blowing, and Abel went over to do his job.

Leon figured that by now Abel’s lungs were just wood, another reason not to clean. Abel stopped at the doorway and turned around.

“What else did he tell you?”

“That my father’s estate is ‘complicated’ and all they know for sure is that I am keeping this place.”

“After the misfortunes your father suffered, it is surprising he has even this place to give you.”

Leon nodded but felt an anger building inside him. ‘Misfortunes’.

Before Abel could get to work Leon blurted out, “Do you know what ‘The Circle’ is?”

Abel wheeled around and Leon was already starting to regret what he said. His father had told him the day they arrived at the lumberyard to never bring them up. And for Edward, once is enough. Not like he was here to punish Leon, though.

“The Circle? What on Earth are you speaking of?”

“My father seemed to be affiliated with an organisation with that name. I was young but when he was told he had been blacklisted, his fortunes shifted shortly thereafter.”

Abel thought for a moment, absentmindedly scratching his ear and flicking away some sawdust.

“Leon, I know you are searching for a reason but I would not ascribe much blame to one single group. I have been working for your father for years and I can assure you he failed for many different reasons. His few holdings in London were unsafe and confiscated. The crops of his farms died. This lumberyard, even, ran out of suppliers willing to work for it.”

“You are a worker; How do you know so much about my father’s affairs?”

Abel sighed and pursed his lips.

“Your father was an angry man, but he did not wish to show you weakness. As I was the only other here, I became somewhat of a confessional to him. He had not sinned, but he needed relief regardless.”

Leon looked away. He didn’t exactly love his father, but what he was hearing was never going to be easy to accept.

Abel ducked his head down and tried looking Leon in the eyes.

“Leon? Are you okay?”

“I need to speak with someone. I know you are content with food but soon we will be without that as well.”

“Who?”

“There is a blacksmith on the other side of the village, on the other side of the market. My father did some business with them and it looks like I am going to have to use up all that goodwill for some return.”

Abel stood there transfixed with worry as he pictured what Leon could mean by that.

“Oh Holy Mother no! Are you talking about…”

Abel walked forward and leaned in.

“A loan?”

Leon took a step back.

“Well, yes. But, one without interest. I will not be sent to the gallows, I am thinking more a charity donation.”

“But what about consulting with the church? Surely they cannot refuse your pleas.”

Leon knew what he wanted to say, but refrained from insulting a devout worshipper.

“Abel…” He began. “It must be this other business. It is my only contact here, nobody else would even think of listening to me. They would rather bid on the land when I am destitute and in jail.”

Refusing to engage further, Leon headed down the road. Abel turned and entered the mill, growing more concerned than he ever had thought possible about his boss.

The Blacksmith

Leon figured it would be quicker to cut through the market than to take the most direct route from the lumberyard to the forge. However, Leon hadn’t been through the market in many years, and he had no idea what kind of state it was in.

Far outnumbering the few stores with marketeers who quietly went about their business, were boarded up buildings shrouded in darkness and scorch marks. Every once in a while Leon would have to dodge a beggar who’s desperation seemed to match Leon’s.

His entire net worth was jangling in his coin purse; He was not in a very charitable mood right now. More horrifying to Leon than anything else, was that he recognised many of these people. The older ones were marketeers that Edward had done business with, the younger ones were Leon’s friends that he had horsed around with so many years ago. Naturally they used that fact in the vain hope it would sway him. Leon saw an uncomfortable reflection in all of them that made him speed up, and rethink going through the market next time.

As the market drifted further from view, the unmistakable smoke of a forge was more visible. What was before a barely perceptible tube of smoke on a cloudy sky, now was a billow that blasted into the sky like a roaring fire. Leon saw the entrance, a miniature slice of missing forestry that to anybody passing could be mistaken for a simple misgrown patch of forest.

A man who looked like he hadn’t slept, showered or shaved in days stood idly at this entrance with his palm resting on his sword. Had it not been for the few polished metal parts of his leather armour, you could have thought that he belonged with the beggars back at the market.

As soon as Leon came into the man’s field of view he snapped his head to stare at Leon. With one look Leon was told everything he needed to be, and yet he made his way to the entrance regardless.

The wind picked up and flecks of rain began hitting the two. Leon got close enough that he could see the faint glow of the smith. However, this was short lived. The man whipped out his sword and pressed the tip against Leon’s throat. There was no form, he was just a man with a sharp hunk of metal.

“Leave the premises immediately or I will slit your throat to ribbons,” He shouted.

Leon stood, hands raised, thinking of anything to say to defuse the situation. The guard gave him maybe a few seconds before turning the sword around and bashing Leon’s stomach with the hilt of the sword. Leon fell to the ground and a small cloud of dust joined him. He was just about ready to return the favour to the guard.

“I SAID LEAVE! I WILL NOT HESITATE TO GUT YOU LIKE A GOD DAMNED PIG.”

A bulky figure rushed from behind and draped his black apron over the guard’s eyes.

“Malcolm we talked about this! You threaten them AFTER they state their business.”

The guard whipped the apron off his eyes and pushed it back to the smith.

“He did!” Malcolm responded much as a child would.

Leon had gotten up and dusted himself off at this point.

“Hadn’t even had a moment to introduce myself, let alone state my business. Maybe you should keep your animal on a tighter leash,” Leon stated matter-of-factly.

Malcolm took a step forward but the blacksmith halted him.

“Tell us, then. Why are you here?” The smith responded.

Leon hesitated, the words struggling to leave his mouth.

“My lumberyard is in bad shape. I should be able to secure a supplier soon but I need the funds to do so. All I ask of you is…” Even with the preamble Leon found it difficult to say the rest.

“All I need is enough coinage to get through a month or so. If you provide me with this I can pay you back with int… I can make it worth your while. At the very least you can be in my good graces.”

The three remained in silence, the increasingly harsh rain mocking Leon with every splash. The Blacksmith turned to Malcolm and nodded. Malcolm raised his sword and started making movements to prod Leon away.

“Wait!” Leon shouted.

“No! You stay back. IF YOU COME ANYWHERE NEAR HERE AGAIN YOU’RE A WALKING CORPSE. Leave before I slit you open.” Malcolm shouted back in one go.

Leon got the message and started back to the lumberyard.

“Oh, by the way,” The Blacksmith added, “I am not bound to the same fate at the others of the market. I receive my metals from an outside iron monger, I sell my weaponry outside . I will be paying you, but it will only be when you are destitute and I can buy you out for the loose change of my coin purse.”

Leon would have stood there in agape shock had he not just been threatened with death. Every step away he took filled him with something he hadn’t felt in a long time: An angry resolve that only intensified as the blacksmith’s words rattled around his head. By the time he reached the outskirts of the market, the seed of a plan was already growing in his head.

There was one stop he wanted to make before going back to the lumberyard. He took a hard left and made his way to the town hall.

Pressure

Abel was reclined in an awkward wooden chair of his design. If you asked him, it was a fine enough seat so long as you avoid the nails. On the one side of the room was a pile of freshly cut logs coated in a continually settling layer of sawdust. On the other side of the room, Abel was so drenched in sweat he was turning into a human dust collector.

The door suddenly blasted open and Leon walked in with a fire in his eyes that Abel had never seen. He jolted up and noticed the leather-bound book tucked under Leon’s arm.

“Good morning!” Abel said excitedly, “You look appropriately chipper for someone who has secured some money for himself.”

Leon grinned back.

“I am appropriately chipper for a man who is soon to own a blacksmithy of his own.”

Abel was taken aback. He didn’t know whether to be concerned, happy, or call the guards. He glanced to the book and then back at Leon.

“Leon…what happened?”

Leon, still grinning, floated over to a nearby rotting wooden desk and grandly dropped the book, landing with a THUD and causing chips of wood to drop onto the floor. Abel cautiously walked over as Leon flipped open the book, found the page he was looking for and motioned Abel over. In bold, artistic lettering laid across the top by a scribe who clearly wasn’t being paid nearly enough, was written ‘DUNFELD VILLAGE SUPPLIERS AND OUT-OF-TOWN MERCHANTS’.

Tables of names, trades and the supplies being sold were listed in varying qualities of handwriting. However, as the years drew closer to the 1500s, the list of suppliers grew thinner and thinner until one name dominated the list: Robert Dewel.

“Leon,” Abel began, with a sound of concern that outstripped even his father, “Where did you get this?”

“The town hall of course!”

“I figured as much. And how did you find yourself in possession of this book which is presumably kept under heavy lock and key?”

Leon placed his hands down on either side of the book and sighed.

“Can you not simply allow me to proceed with the explanation of my plan?”

He leaned in closer to Abel.

“I can assure you this is going to be one for the history books,” Leon said, barely able to contain his excitement.

Abel grimaced. The magnitude of one’s sins is not simply something to be ignored, or to pretend to not know about. However, Abel thought, he was a pious man and one simple feint of ignorance would not condemn him. At least not in any way that cannot be absolved by a parish.

He looked on with unease as Leon motioned him over.

“I have never listened to a ‘plan’ that involved any moral good,” Abel stated with no small deal of concern.

Leon held out his hand and pointed to the book.

“Robert Dewel,” He stated, pointing to the various repetitions of the name.

“He is the supplier of the blacksmith. It seems like at some point in history he supplied other tradesmen but over the years, at least in this village, he only supplies the blacksmith with the iron he needs. Which means…” Leon paused, allowing Abel to chime in.

“He has lost a lot of business?” Abel responded, amused.

“Well, yes. But he is a prominent supplier of this village and always has been. When one is used to that lifestyle one does not let it fade like this. What would that say about his business, then?” Leon asked once again.

Abel touched his fist to his forehead.

“Leon…please.”

“It means he is dealing out of town!” Leon replied, exasperated.

“It means he is not only supplying the iron but also taking something in return besides payment. Abel, there is but one business I can think of that can weather any storm and make its salespeople rich.”

Abel let the realisation wash over him and nodded.

“He is an arms dealer. He is selling direct to the lord and thus protected from any local hardship.”

“Correct!” Leon shouted, perhaps a bit too loudly.

As Leon’s excited intensity escalated, the wind seemed to get just as intense, picking up as he explained this.

“This is all rather an interesting description of a man’s livelihood,” Abel said flatly, “But what does any of this have to do with you or a plan? I am concerned what this all entails.”

“I went over there seeking charity, I had to swallow no small amount of bitterness to do so as well. Shortly after having my life threatened by his guard and a sword resting at my throat he said that…”

Leon’s voice trailed off and he looked like he was momentarily distracted.

“He said that he would buy this place once I have been slung into the Tower of London. I can only think this is a threat against me and by extension you. This is not just about money, this is about our lives!” He shouted.

Abel stood there transfixed as the child he once knew was dissolving before his eyes. This cynicism and talking of life and death situations is not who he thought he knew.

“Right, well here is how we protect it. Now that I know the supplier and that he seems to arrive on the dot every two weeks I can use that punctuality to my advantage. If I remain in the market on the day I can learn his routine, his pattern.”

“For what purpose?” Abel asked.

“This man is not simply an iron supplier he is a transporter of all kinds of goods. If I can convince him of our quality as a business.”

“And you truly believe this will work?”

“But of course! If he has done business with the smithy he will know how unsavoury their character is. If he works with us he may find working with them much more distasteful.”

Leon turned to look at Abel but his boyish grin slowly faded from his face.

“Leon…” Abel began, “Please do not stalk this man in service of a half-baked plan intended to make another man suffer. The bible tells us to love everyone, even those that wish us harm. Can you not exercise temperance in this matter? Show the blacksmith you are the better man and turn the other cheek.”

Leon let those words rattle around his head for a moment and sighed as he closed the book.

“Fine, I will not harass Mr Dewel.”

Meeting Robert Dewel

It’s rather hard to act nonchalant in a market which is all but completely shut down. Leon was finding this as he tried to decide whether it would be less suspicious to be hanging around the butcher’s shop or the tailor, the only two stalls still open. Either way he would be loitering.

The wind seemed to be following him around from the mill to the smithy and now at the market. Thankfully, at least, it seemed like the beggars had taken the day off because they were nowhere in sight. Actually, Leon thought, it was rather eerie now with the only signs of life being himself, the two marketeers, and the sheriff tokenly walking his patrol route. There hadn’t been a crime in the marketplace in years. A more superstitious man than him would think it was haunted by all those who had died of hunger.

Leon had finally decided on just sitting on a nearby bench and cloud watching.

Walking past the long in disrepair fountain, Leon noticed two figures. One was hunched over dragging a cart loaded with iron, his eyes never averting from the market’s cobblestone road. The other was dressed head to toe in an ungodly shade of red and staring intently ahead of them.

As they drew closer, the red man shot a glance at Leon and squinted, scanning him up and down. He raised an eyebrow and continued on past.

Leon, as soon as he was out of view, hopped up from the bench and walked discreetly behind him.

“Mr Dewel,” He said.

Robert Dewel sighed, shooting out a hand in front of his cart transporter. Despite still looking at the ground the man stopped immediately.

“I am sorry but I simply do not have enough money to pay you. I have already paid off your other beggar friends to leave me alone and you would do well to accost them instead. If this is a robbery then you will survive maybe a day before my contacts have your head on a pike.”

Robert said all of this in one breath, like a rehearsed speech, and finally turned to face the man who had asked in the first place. He finally noticed that Leon was smiling.

“I am no beggar, sir. I am actually an owner of one of the last four businesses in this village.”

“If you are searching for a loan you would have better luck getting in contact with those Genoese types.”

Leon tried his utmost to not clench his fists or do anything that would betray a sense of anger at this interrupting ass.

“Please, Mr Dewel. I am here to talk to the men you are doing business with,” Leon said, exasperated. He wasn’t trying to make it sound like that, but yet here we are.

“Oh?” He uttered, visibly more interested that someone wasn’t just begging for money. He motioned towards the ground and the servant dropped the cart to the ground, breathing heavily and leaning against it for support. Robert took a few steps towards Leon.

“I know about your dealings with the Blacksmith,” Leon said.

Robert looked at the cart and back at Leon.

“What gave it away?”

“Every second Tuesday, the same amount of iron with brief spikes around once a year. Presumably that’s when the lord gets caught up in a war.”

Robert was taken aback and clearly wanted to be furious about this invasion of privacy, but he was more curious than anything else.

“What do you want?” He said flatly.

“I want your business.”

That seemed to lift his mood. Robert laughed and pat him on the shoulder as one would a child.

“Oh dear boy. What business do you have?”

Leon hesitated. No matter what he said the merchant would pounce on him so he spoke truthfully.

“I own the lumberyard on the other side of town.”

Robert reacted to this as if Leon had just spit venom from his mouth. Without a word more he motioned his servant to pick the cart back up and he hurried off. Undeterred Leon chased after him.

“Wait!” Leon shouted, “I understand that you understand that the lumberyard is lacking in business.”

“You will be destitute by season’s end,” Robert stated as a matter of fact.

Leon stomached the insult and pressed on.

“Yes, however this is your opportunity to turn it around and make a profit for yourself.

“I am not in the habit of engaging in high-risk ventures.

“You want to talk high risk?” Leon asked incredulously, “Have you met the blacksmith’s guard? What chance do you think you have of surviving if you make a personal comment and he takes out that sword of his? I can tell you he has very few qualms about brandishing that thing at the slightest provocation—”

“Enough!” Robert shouted, “Admittedly he is…a bit much. But I value efficiency of money above any kind of personal transgression.”

“Is that why you paid off the market’s beggars?” Leon asked.

“That was necessary for my sanity. You will find all of my decisions have this cost-benefit analysis to them. This is why I wear only this outfit, and this is why I do dealings with the blacksmith. They are a guaranteed source of income, and you are a proven failure. Now you would do well to leave me alone for the foreseeable future.”

Leon followed him a bit longer, sputtering out excuses and half-baked rationales until eventually he stopped and allowed them to become shadowy figures in the distance. Leon had a look of frustration on…that was until he was sure Robert was unable to see him anymore.

Then Leon smiled, step one was complete. He watched as Robert strode out of view with that incredibly gaudy red frock, and Leon began walking towards the tailor.

A Rather Improbable Sequence of Events

“This is what you borrowed my money for!?” Abel shouted as soon as he saw Leon.

He had seen Leon and almost immediately stopped even thinking about cutting the wood any further once he saw this bright red clown walk through the door.

“You borrowed my money and told me it was for a business venture! Why in all that is holy did you waste all that coin on some horrifying outfit?”

“Abel!” Leon shouted, finally getting a word in, “You are right, this is a horrifying outfit. But I had a chance to speak to Mr Dewel.”

“Ah,” Abel reacted, “You mean the one you said you would not harass?”

“Exactly! He essentially told me the same thing as the blacksmith…minus the physical injuries.”

Abel looked at Leon and squinted.

“Oh dear heavens, are you working for the man now?”

“NO!” Leon shouted, offended, “I am not working for anyone. I am just wearing a replica of his outfit.”

Abel shook his head and was scratching his head.

“And you said nothing that changed his mind? I am very confused, Leon.”

“Look, what I said was irrelevant, I just needed to know what he looked like and to ensure he knows we exist.”

“You are going to impersonate this Mr Dewel to trick the blacksmith?” Abel asked.

“Not unless I am able to eat three whole feasts a day for the next few years. No, I am not looking to fool him, per se. Well, not yet anyway. I am trying to trick his guard.”

Abel raised an eyebrow and seemed frozen for a moment.

“Wait, Leon, is anybody going to come into harm by this?”

“If all goes well I shan’t have a scratch on me.”

“Leon,” There’s that concern again, “There is one figure in The Bible that regularly uses deceit to his advantage. I am not going to stand in your way, but I am worried you may turn into someone much like him.”

Leon, undeterred, still remained just as visibly excited.

“I know, Abel, but we need this. It will be just this one temptation and we will never need to do something like this again.”

Leon glanced briefly at his wrist, forgetting he had sold his father’s watch about six months ago to pay for food. He looked at the sun perched almost perfectly above them.

“Gotta go!” He shouted, running off, “Be back in time for tea.”

He left Abel to contemplate what all of this meant for Leon’s soul.

Leon traced the route he would take in reverse. The market was once again absent of all noise and thankfully Mr Dewel was nowhere in sight.

Everything had to be perfect. The sheriff should be doing his rounds soon, the beggars should be gone, but on the advice of Leon should be close enough to hear a scuffle, Robert would be arriving any second. It was all shaping up to go exactly as planned.

Once past the market he once again made his way towards the smithy. He remembered all the landmarks, walk past the withered oak tree standing apart from its tree bretheren, turn left at the pointy rock that faced the sky, once the dirt path’s colour changes then slow down because you’re almost there. This would have all been quite a bit easier if he wasn’t wearing a bulky ankle-length tunic on top of his regular clothing.

Leon spotted the glint of a knight’s armour in the distance and ducked into the forest, he would have to be quiet from here on in. He was able to find a tree wide enough to hide him but gave him a decent view of the smith.

The blacksmith was standing outside but behind the guard, enjoying the view and a hot cup of something or other.

Leon was silently willing the blacksmith to just leave. The timing had to be perfect, but this was messing everything up. Eventually something Leon was thinking must have gotten through to the blacksmith because he dumped whatever he was drinking on the ground and went back to work. Leon breathed a quiet sigh of relief and hopped out onto the road.

As he walked towards the guard he scooped up a rock, the guard turned to look at him and: WHACK!

The rock bounced cleanly off of the guards helmet causing him to stumble a few steps, dazed. He stared at Leon with eyes made of daggers and almost immediately reached for his sword. Before the guard could pull it out of the scabbard Leon turned and fled, the guard chasing in hot pursuit and shouting all manner of obscenities at him.

Despite the panic that was filling Leon, he knew the plan inside and out and ran the route perfectly. He looked back and the guard still hadn’t taken his sword out, and that bulky armour was doing him no favours as he was beginning to drift further and further back.

Leon rounded the final corner and made it onto the stone walkway of the market, and there he was. Robert was being momentarily distracted by the butcher’s shop and his cart-puller was performing his ritual of staring at the ground. Leon continued running, hoping he could slip by unnoticed.

“Leon!” Robert shouted surprised. Leon skidded to a halt and turned to him, still panting heavily from his chase.

“Why…” Robert was clearly trying to figure out which thing to address first. “Why are you dressed like me?”

“Oh, I took your advice and got this rather cheaply,” Leon blurted out, hoping that would be satisfying enough to end the conversation and for Leon to be able to leave.

“Ah, I see you are a fast learner. Yes, clothes are rather an important thing to get right.”

Stop talking, stop talking, stop talking, please for the love of God stop talking.

As Robert kept talking Leon heard the faint sounds of someone running in armour on the other side of the market. He had to think quickly and say something without pissing off the supplier.

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted, “I have a supplier I have to meet at my lumberyard and I am already late. If you would excuse me.”

Robert looked on in surprise but nodded, impressed at him. As he turned around Leon slipped between two buildings and hastily threw off his frock. He sighed and leaned against the wall.

Almost immediately after this Leon heard Robert let out a surprised “Hel—” before the distinct sound of a man in armour tackling another man to the ground.

What ensued was a scene of pure chaos. Leon peeked out and saw the million different things he had placed go into action. The guard was kneeling on Robert, and was drawing his sword out.

Soon after this beggars began filing into the market and, once they saw their source of revenue about to be sliced up, pounced on the guard and mobbed him relentlessly. Someone was able to take his sword and pieces of his armour were flying everywhere. Robert continued lying in agony on the ground and Leon rushed to his side.

“Are you okay, Mr Dewel?” Leon said with a voice of concern that would put theatre actors to shame.

“I…uh…the blacksmith…” He stammered out.

“Okay, try not to speak, I will see if I can help you.”

Leon withdrew his hands and the one that was holding his head was now slick with blood. He ripped part of his sleeve off, easy to do since he had been wearing the same shirt for years now, and wrapped it tightly around his head.

The commotion was beginning to die down and the beggars were running out of items to take from the guard and one deep booming voice was beginning to take centre stage: The sheriff.

“ENOUGH!” he shouted, “EVERYONE DISPERSE, THIS IS A MATTER FOR THE CROWN.”

The beggars dutifully followed this order and Leon was able to see the sheriff kneeling on the guard’s back and binding his arms with ropes. Leon left Robert and jogged over to the guard.

“Excuse me, sir,” Leon began.

“YES!?” The sheriff shouted back. He clearly only had one volume level.

“If you need any assistance, I was a witness to all events and I can assist you with your investigation.”

The sheriff leaned to look at Robert on the ground and turned back to Leon.

“FINE, BRING THE VICTIM ALONG WITH ME TO THE DUNGEON. WE CAN DISCUSS MATTERS THERE.”

Leon walked over, hauled Robert to his feet, no easy feat with a man of his size, and jogged him to the sheriff who had already taken off.

Relenting

It was dusk by the time Leon returned home, the auburn light was flooding through the forest giving just enough light to see his surroundings. He was greeted by Abel who had clearly made some attempt to wait up for Leon some time ago but was slumped against the wall, snoring softly. He attempted to sneak past Abel, not ready to talk about what happened to the moral compass.

As he gripped the large doors leading to the lumberyard something grabbed onto his shoe and nearly squealed, instead letting out a muffled yelp.

“Oh, sorry, Leon. I was just going to ask if you were okay,” Abel said, still groggy. He hauled himself to his feet with some discomfort, still sore from the day’s work.

Leon cringed and turned to face Abel.

“Of course!” Leon said, as if there was absolutely no danger ever. “Why would you think I would come into harm?”

“I just worry, is all. You were talking of some grand operatic plan and I hear a commotion in the market from all the way over here. What was that about?”

“Ah,” Leon reacted, “Well you see, I decided to have another go at convincing the blacksmith to join our cause.”

“Again?” Abel asked.

“What other choice do we have? We have no way of doing business within walking distance of here with anyone else. I walked up to the guard…”

Leon thought for a moment.

“And he chased me down with his sword drawn.”

Abel gasped.

“Leon! Oh my dear boy, how did you get out of that?”

Leon tried to check if Abel had clocked his lie, but all he could see was genuine concern.

“Well it was rather unfortunate but I happened to run past Mr Dewel.”

“Oh?” Abel responded, the concern beginning to drain from his voice.

“And as I rounded the corner the guard attacked him. Before I could help, all the beggars of the market swarmed him and the sheriff arrived to arrest him. I brought Mr Dewel in and I told the sheriff everything that had happened. I know not what has happened to the guard.”

Abel thought for a moment about all the information that Leon had just dumped on him.

“And Mr Dewel is okay?”

“Oh yes, he is currently in the care of the church and should be okay.”

“Leon…” The concern was building once again.

“Honestly, Abel, I had absolutely nothing to do with anything that transpired today,” Leon reassured him.

“No, Leon, behind you!” Abel said, pointing.

A silhouetted figure strode up the path. It was hard to make out but the dangling apron was unmistakable: The blacksmith was here.

Abel stepped forward but Leon motioned him towards his house.

“I will be fine, he has no quarrel with me,” Leon murmured, “You go inside and try to get some rest.”

Abel took a moment but he finally nodded and walked off in a probably vain effort to go to sleep.

As the blacksmith approached he seemed more and more sheepish with every step. Leon stayed exactly where he was, simultaneously dreading and ungodly excited for the conversation he was about to have.

“Um,” The blacksmith began, always a good start, “Hello again…um…”

“Leon,” he said, outstretching his hand. The blacksmith raised his hand slightly but put it away. Humiliation trumps all niceties.

“Leon…good to meet you again. I am willing to now do business with you.”

Leon feigned surprise.

“Really? Does this have anything to do with what transpired with your guard?”

The blacksmith nodded.

“I am sure you will be pleased to hear that he is no longer able to work for me. As such, there should be no problem for us to work together. Now, I was thinking that the lumber market—”

“I am going to have to stop you there, sir,” Leon interrupted. The blacksmith looked confused. “I have no intention of doing any business with you.”

The blacksmith’s eyes bulged out so far Leon thought they were going to fall out.

“Excuse me?” He said, indignantly, “I am trying to accept your offer. Are you going to allow us…yourself to go bankrupt rather than swallow your pride?”

“Ah, yes, about your financial situation. I am well aware that you are currently having difficulties with your business, seeing as you no longer have one,” Leon stated cooly.

He was taken aback.

“But…how…that happened today how did you…” The blacksmith stammered out.

“Because the sheriff told me, in his usual shouty tone, that he and by extension the crown do not approve of your conduct as a businessman. Hiring someone of such low morals reflects your character.”

“Fine!” He interrupted, “I have lost the smith. However, I still have enough coin for your business to survive, provided that we go into business together.”

“Maybe you should have let me finish. What I am trying to say is that…” Leon tried to savour the moment. “Effective immediately the sheriff has turned your smith over to me. And no, before you ask, I will not be requiring your services to help run it.”

Leon was only now considering the possibility that there may be violent retribution in a few seconds. The blacksmith stared for some time as Leon was scanning anything in the vicinity that could be used as a weapon. And, without a word more, the blacksmith turned and left.

“Hm,” Leon reacted aloud, a mixture of confusion and relief was washing over him.

At least for the time being, he and Abel would be secure.

Celebrating Properly

Abel and Leon had slipped out of town and were in the pub of the neighbouring village. Grenwich’s “Sharpened Dagger Pub & Ale” was quite lively despite Dunfield’s economic demise rippling rather sharply out of its borders. Leon and Abel couldn’t have cared less about the economy right now, however. They were sat at the bar, Abel was nursing his second flagon as Leon was seeing the bottom of his fifth.

Abel squinted at Leon, trying to understand his slurred speech through an alcohol-induced haze. He seemed to be going on about something to do with ‘Horse tools’…whatever that meant. Everything else was just a mixture of spittle and random mouth sounds. Leon stopped talking for a moment and peered at Abel.

“Wouldja wipe tthhat conshern off your face!” Leon exclaimed, “We…Are…Celebrating!” He shouted over the raucous crowd, flinging his arms in the air. “We no longer have to worry about money, we no longer have to worry if we may eat in the next few months. We are doing…great!”

“I just…” He shouted back, “I still do not feel at ease with what happened.”

“Wouldja say that the blacksmith is an upshtanding individual?”

“What?” Abel shouted, confused.

“After hiring that guardsman and how he treated me. Wouldja say he was a moral character, a real pious man?”

“Well…no…but”

“What about the guard? Was he even remotely a good man?”

“Absolutely not!” Abel shouted, almost offended Leon would ask.

“Exactly! We would do much more good for the world with that smithy than—”

“Will we stop selling weapons?” Abel asked.

Leon froze.

“Um…” He spat out, “We can talk about that later…preferably when we are less…”

Leon seemed to forget the word and pointed at his mug, before chugging down what was left.

Abel still worried, but couldn’t help but laugh at this buffoon. The two continued drinking and as the night wore on more people were filing in. Most were standing as all the seats had been completely filled. Men and women from all walks of life were knocking back ale at frankly alarming rates. However, one face in the crowd caught Leon and Abel’s attention immediately.

As soon as a seat next to Leon opened up, a heavily bruised guard plopped down and motioned for one ale to the bartender. Leon tried to keep his eyes glued to his mug, as if it would have the secret to how to get out of this situation.

He glanced at the guard and saw him glaring at Leon, seemingly never blinking.

“Oh hello there, sir…How did…How did you get out of jail?” Leon slurred out. Probably not the best thing to ask.

The guard said nothing, shaking his head ever so slightly.

“Leon…maybe we should leave,” Abel said, tugging on his shoulder to get his attention.

“No! We are here to celebrate, we should not—” Leon said, turning to face the guard.

As he did, a fist collided with his face and he was forced to the ground. Leon could see very little as he tried protecting his head from this savage beating. From what few glances he could sneak out he saw Abel desperately trying to push through the crowd to help out. Each blow came with it another explosion of pain and another mouthful of blood to spit out.

Eventually it stopped. Leon could hear through the ringing in his ears Abel shouting and scuffling with the guard as the crowd finally figured out what was happening and split them up.

Any attempt to see through his swollen eyes was completely impossible, but he could feel the world slowly begin to slip away from him as everything turned black…