Chapter 1: Fools and Inheritance

The worst days tended to start with good mornings.

“You’re fired! Fired! Get all of your things and get out of my shop! If I ever catch you here again, I swear on Uldar’s beard you’ll wish I called the guards for you!” Master McHarris roared, his face turning beet red.

As mornings went, this one was shaping up to be great.

Alex Roth froze in the middle of a disaster: collapsed shelving, shattered eggs and flour dust falling like snow in the middle of the bakery. The young man gave an awkward cough and wiped the white powder from his chestnut brown hair. “Does this mean you won’t be giving me this week’s pay?”

McHarris reddened further.

“I mean not for today, obviously, but there was yesterday and Firstday so that’s two silver pieces—”

The baker made a choking noise before stomping across the disaster zone, jabbing his key into his strong box, ripping it open and whipping two dull coins into Alex’s chest.

“There! And you only get that so folk know that McHarris is no cheat! Now get out—” The baker snatched up a rolling pin. “—or you’ll need to put those silvers where your teeth used to be!”

Alex had seen enough of McHarris’ rages to know that he meant it. The young man tore off his apron and scrambled to grab his pay. He sniffed the air near the eggs as he bent: a nasty stench confirmed his suspicions from early this morning. Keeping his face neutral, he jumped up and scuttled for the exit to the front room of the shop.

“Boy…” he heard McHarris say. “What happened to you? You were quickest witted out of any assistant I’ve ever had, but today you act like a bull with half its brains slammed out of its skull. That sister of yours won’t grow up proper if her older brother pulls things like this.”

Alex paused just as he was about to pull open the kitchen door. That was all news to him. McHarris paid well enough, but he terrorized all his assistants. Welts still marked the young man’s arms from when he’d been too slow whipping the custard a couple of days ago.

“I dunno, sir,” he gave a shrug and hid the grin threatening to spring up on his face. “Maybe it’s a special day?”

He was gone before McHarris could say anything else.

The Town of Alric was shrugging off sleep when Alex emerged from the bakery for the last time. The sunlight filtered through a haze of clouds and townsfolk trudged past the square’s fountain with their days’ tools and lunches in hand. A carriage—pulled by a set of proud horses—approached from down the road, their hooves clattering on the cobblestone. On the side of the carriage door was emblazoned the symbol of a lantern: the Sigil of the Traveller, the town’s patron saint.

As it passed, Alex spied what he was looking for: two guardsmen sitting on the side of the fountain. They were bleary-eyed from the night watch, and squinted at Alex as he strolled up as light-footed as a pleased cat.

“Morning Peter, Morning Paul,” Alex made sure to use their names. Remembering details about people made them more friendly to your cause; it was just one of the tricks he’d picked up in the last four years of hustling together every coin he could. “I got something to report.”

Peter groaned, scratching at his stubble-marked chin and craning his neck to look up at Alex. The young man was lean and gangly, and quite a bit taller than most.

“You caught in a snowstorm, boy? It’s mid-summer.”

“Naw, that’s flour, idiot; you don’t recognize one of McHarris’ assistants? By The Heroes’ good graces, I’ve been on night watch with a blind man.” Paul shook his head and peered closer at the flour-encased youth. “Alexander…right? The Roths’ boy? What’s it you have to report?”

A dull ache touched Alex’s heart at the mention of his parents, but he kept his face neutral. Even the largest wounds grew dimmer with time. He jerked a thumb backward toward the bakery. “McHarris is putting rotten eggs into his cakes and covering it with sugar. He could poison somebody.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “That sounds like a guild violation, not a crime.”

“I don’t think the merchants or nobles that shop there would see it that way, and I don’t have time to run to the guild before he cleans up the evidence.”

Alex held up two flour-dusted silver coins. “This is not a bribe, but I’m just saying that if you go over and take a quick look around, you might do the public some good while pocketing a silver coin each.” He gave a winning smile and rolled the coins across his knuckles. “I know, you’re tired and want to go home, but that’s a third of a day’s wages for you, all for walking fifty steps and having a sniff around his kitchen. If you find nothing, you keep the coin. Sound fair?”

Peter and Paul looked at each other.

“Boy.” Peter shook his head. “You’re bad at bribing people.”

His winning smile shrank. “N-no, it’s not a bribe, I’m—”

“You’re trying to pay us to get a service done for you. It’s a bribe. One where you might not get what you want, so it’s a stupid bribe.”

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“The worst attempt I’ve ever seen,” Paul groaned as he lifted himself from the fountain. “But, if he’s willing to try something that stupid, then maybe we should take a look. Last thing we need is for some bigwig to turn all green in the face and keel over. Come on, Peter.”

Alex could hardly contain his excitement as the guards made their way toward McHarris’ shop, though he made sure to hide his smile when Paul turned around.

“Oh, and don’t try that again. Stupid or not, bribery of a guard’ll get you ten lashes. Understand?”

Alex nodded vigorously and gave him a thumbs up. “I’ll be a good boy from now on, sir!”

Paul shook his head. “The hell’s wrong with you?” He pointed up at one of the fountain’s statues rising over their heads. “Act the fool long enough and you’ll get the fool’s mark. That little sister of yours needs a brother she can rely on.”

“I have a plan for that, Paul, don’t you worry,” Alex said. “But thanks for asking. You’re good people.”