Snippet #1623711

It had been many years since Garbiel had taken an active role in the political aspects of the Blacksmith’s Guild, and the weight of his decisions began to bear down upon his shoulders as if the world were coming down on him. He had sent Scheherazade off with the letter for the Guild Master of the Carpenter’s Guild that included a small set of blueprints that he had drafted and a brief message detailing the usual ins and outs of business, but on the very bottom it had the phrase Hammer and Anvil written in a dark-blue ink. He had not sent a message with that term for many years, but it denoted a Guild Pact that had been signed between them years previously, and he knew the Guild Master Ben Woodsworth would find a time and place that they could meet.

Unfortunately their meeting had been taking longer than expected. Most of the other blacksmiths acquiesced to the Guild’s decision, but their youngest Smith named Erryk Fireeyes had stormed out a half-hour previously and threatening exposure of their plans. As the others began to file out the aging Smith sighed noticeably at what must be done, and he was glad to have the Sir Amon in his good favor at this time. Across the city bells began tolling the hour with their sound denoting more than just lunch for Forgefire, and as the last bell sounded he began heading towards the room he had reserved for the young apprentice that had been assigned with him.

Each step down the hallway seemed like a mile as his feet became heavy as lead weights, and it felt like an hour before he reached her apartment. The servants had already come and gone with the two trays of food he had asked to be sent their this morning, the young woman might be eating or waiting for him for all he knew, but he still stopped to knock at the door and await her answer for him to enter. Only after her voice called out did he open the door to her room and approach one of the less elaborate chairs placed to eastern wall by a desk with two trays sitting peacefully.

“I hope the food is to your liking Scheherazade, but please I believe it best for us to dine first before we discuss our next order of business.”

As they sat eating from the trays, the cooks had brought a healthy serving of mutton roasted with carrots and onions along with two rolls for each of them, Garbiel could only pick at a small amount of the food on his plate, leaving a large portion of the mutton and one roll left on his plate. At times like these food was always hard to consume for him. His right hand strayed to the simple dagger at his side, the dagger that had been his brothers so many years ago, and his thumb flicked the hilt upwards to break the sheath’s hold of the steel. He grasped the young woman’s left hand gently and placed the hilt in her palm, closing her delicate fingers around the weapon. So young, but she is a member of the Guild.

“You will need that for later Scheherazade. I know the trivial matters bore you, but sometimes we must need have patience for the hard times ahead. Tonight you must go to the Manor adjacent mine and plant this in the heart of a man. His room is the one directly above its entrance with the only set of double-doors there. No questions.”

After waiting for her to reply to his request the Smith sat quietly for a moment to gather his thought for what must be said next. These decisions were always the hardest, but sometimes the good of many overlooked the good of a few. His gaze was distant, but hard as his eyes focused upon her own, if there was any emotion laying behind them it would not be evident to her. That gaze had come from many years of pain and living in Revelation.

“You know of my son Danterus? He was the dark-haired lad seated with us at the meeting.” Garbiel waited for her reply to the near inconsequential answer. He knew that she knew, but it had become a necessity of his to study another’s expressions and habits of speech.

“He may become a problem later on for us. Although he is a good man there is hatred in his heart and it years for the death of mages. You need not concern yourself with any…task right now, but we must be cautious with him. Can I trust you with this?” Once again the elderly Blacksmith paused for Scheherazade to respond, however that may be, before he continued.

“It is not that I want him dead. I love him as mine own….but if a time comes then…” He found himself unable to vocalize the last part of that sentence. Not wanting to waste more time than was necessary he quickly began with the rest. “We need to keep a mindful eye on him for the moment; just watch, listen, and if needs be… persuade him from doing anything foolish. However that may be is irrelevant, but unless absolutely necessary there must be no violence as of yet…”

His left hand stretched out to grab a glass of wine that sat next to his less than half-eaten tray. He had never been particularly fond of matters like these, but without Amon to discuss these things with her must take matters into his own hands for the moment. The Assassin Guild’s Master would naturally question his reasoning, but that was more a formality between them than an actual necessity, but it had been many years since he had come to the Guild for such services.