STEP 1

     Apprentice Pergamon Blacksmith sat eating his breakfast of gruel. Next to Perg sat Gilray, the younger of his Master’s apprentices.   Across from them both sat Master Yuther Blacksmith. The trio sat, eating in silence.  Perg and Gilray ate quickly, knowing they had to go and get set up before their master finished his leisurely breakfast. It was the apprentices’ job to ensure that when Master Yuther walked in, the forge would be hot, with iron and tools at the ready.

     Perg gulped down the rest of his near tasteless oatmeal.  Then, after clearing his bowl, he rushed out, donned his leather apron, and prepared the forge. He began setting out tools as Gilray came and began gathering materials. Finally, Yuther ambled in.

     Gilray had a cracked axe head, a repair commissioned by a local farmer, and was placing it before Master Yuther when the door flew open. Dace Manelson, a child from down the lane, rushed in and said, “Goblins are rushing the gate!”

     Yuther looked up slowly, and said, “The Town Council commissioned the Guild of Heroes to take care of that.” He then picked up the axe head.  He paused and said, “Come to think of it, though, he should have been here already. Ah well, not for me to judge a Hero’s work, I’m a Blacksmith.”

     Dace sputtered, looked at Perg, then ran off. Perg spoke up, “But Master, what if the Hero doesn’t get here in time?”

     “Nothing we can do. The laws of the Guild Board.  It is a Hero’s job to fight monsters, so we swore out a Writ of Quest. I wouldn’t want a Hero to tell me how to smith, who am I to tell a Hero how to quest?”

     “But Master, the children and homes–” Perg began.

     Yuther, for the first time Perg ever had seen, moved with sudden speed. He slammed the axe head down and jabbed a finger at Perg, “Guild rules are sacrosanct! Do you want farmers mending their axes and scythes? You want teamsters shoeing their horses? Cobblers making their needles? What would the world come to?!”

     Yuther grabbed tongs and picked up the axe head, as he said, “No, this is a job for Heroes. Now, this head needs replacing, but we’ve been paid to repair it best we can. When it cracks again maybe Rees Farmer will pay proper money to get a new one.”

     Perg was dumbfounded. Sacrifice lives and livings for Guild jurisdiction rules? Perg felt his face flush.  He grabbed a driving hammer, turned, and began stalking to the door.

     “Where are you going, apprentice?” came the Masters query.

     Perg whirled around and declared, “To do the right thing, not the selfish thing.”

     Yuther was about to respond when Gilray cut them off, “Aaaaah!”

     Perg turned as he heard glass shattering.  He saw something fly past him. There was a startled gasp then the sound of Gilray crying.

     Yuther cried out, “Damn it, where’s that Hero?!”

     Perg, saw goblins leaping through the window. Grey-green skinned creatures with porcine faces and protruding teeth.  One had an axe in its ape-like arms, the other was pulling a short sword from its belt. Without thinking he hefted his hammer, yelled a cry of fear and anger, and smashed down on the nearest goblin’s head and the monster crumpled in front of him.

     The second squeaked, “‘Ey now, yous not a ‘ero! Only guild ‘eros is allowed ta fights backs! Its da rulez!”  Perg rushed forward and the goblin skittered backwards just in time to avoid getting its own head caved in.   “‘Ey! Dis ain’t right! I’m gonna file a complaint wit da Guild Board!” the goblin protested. The ugly creature seemed hesitant to fight back, fearing violating “da rulez” in engaging in combat with the peasant.  “Yous peasants supposed to run or dies!  Yous canna fight, taint right!”

     Perg yelled, “To the depths with the rules!” He swung again, clipping the goblin’s shoulder.

     The creature yelped and leapt out the window.  It scampered away while yelling, “Yous gonna hear from ma attorney ’bout dis!”

     Perg turned, sweaty and tired and looked at his master. 

     Yuther sputtered, “You…you…fought it!  Do you know what you’ve done?!”

     Perg ignored him and went over to Gilray.  The boy lay on the ground groaning and blubbering.  Looking at the sweaty mess of an apprentice, Perg saw a small cut along his upper arm.  It was probably a finger length long and half a finger’s width.  Gilray, croaked out, “I’m done for, aren’t I?”

     Shaking his head, Perg said, “Not today.”  He grabbed Gilray’s sleeve, ripped a piece off, and tied it around the wound.  “That should stop the bleeding until you see a proper healer.

     “GET OUT!” boomed Yuther. 

     Perg jerked up, startled at the force of his shouting.  He began to ask, “Wha…”

     “First you take Hero’s work, then a Healer’s!  You cannot be my apprentice; I swear you off for violating our sacred duties to the Guilds and the law!”

     Perg’s rage boiled.  His mouth worked a few times, but no sound came out. Finally, he turned and stormed to the door.  As he went to wrench it open dramatically, his sense of righteous fury was broken when the door latch got stuck. He muttered curses to himself as he fumbled with the latch.

     “Jiggle, then pull,” Yuther reminded him. “I need to get that fixed…” Once Perg got the door open, Yuther yelled, “And don’t come back!”

     Perg slammed the door behind him. He realized he still had Yuther’s hammer in his hand. He almost returned it, not wanting to be a thief. After all, the Guild of Thieves might complain too. Then he noticed the screaming and saw the chaos. Goblins chased and killed men, women and children. Buildings burned while goblins ran out of them, clutching looted goods in their clawed hands.

     Perg forgot about returning the hammer. He rushed towards the nearest goblin. The ugly creature was shuffling on all fours after a pair of children. It never even saw Perg smash the hammer into its skull.

     Perg kept moving. The next goblin was running out of a house with a small chest clutched under on arm. It squealed, “Rightful lootses, only ‘eroes!” But Pergs hammer made smashed into its blunt nosed face.

     Another Goblin was coming out behind it and it shouted in protest, “‘Ey now! Yous not a ‘ero! Wes be doing a proper pillage, only ‘eroes canna fight. Yous job is to…Ey!” The speech was cut short as it leaped back to avoid Perg, dropping a bundle of clothes it had held. Perg took anpther swipe and the goblin ducked away. “‘Ey! That na fair! I canna fights yous or I lose me license!”

     Perg kept swinging. He didn’t care about the rules for heroes, monsters or peasants. The Guild Board could rot. These creatures were destroying his home, and he would stop them.

     The goblin in front of him slipped far enough away to safely turn and run. “Stupid peasant! Imma get ma attorney and sues yous!” it cried as it ran.

     Perg didn’t bother giving chase. Instead he stormed the next goblins which were a few doors down. A similar scene played out. He charged the goblins, a trio this time. They watched him, apparently shocked that he was not following “da rulez” and running or dying. Perg smashed one, killing it. The other two protested, dodged his attacks, and then fled while threatening legal action.

     A woman, Jayda de Jento Tailor, and her two children stood in the doorway of the house. Perg nodded to them, but Jayda shook her head. “Thanks, but you are in a lot of trouble.”

     Perg turned away, disbelief warring with resentment. Surely the law would recognize the village’s need and the right to defend itself. Rules were well and good, but this was a crisis.  He thrust his irritation out of his mind, and chased down another group of goblins.  By now, he recognized a pattern.  Catch one unaware, smashing it into oblivion with a blow from his hammer.  Any nearby goblins would protest, evade his attacks, then run away threatening legal troubles. 

     After repeating this twice more, he stood over the corpse of a goblin breathing heavily while watching two others scatter.  He looked for his next target but saw all the goblins were fleeing.  He felt a surge of triumph mixed with profound weariness as he watched them flee.  He had done it. 

     Sort of.

     As he looked around, he could see houses broken and burning.  He saw some bodies lying on the ground.  The sight made him feel sick and suddenly he was bent over, heaving out his breakfast.

     After his stomach finally stopped heaving. Perg stood up and found himself eye to eye with a tall man clad in chain mail. The face was scarred and bearded, his teeth were clenched and his eyes burned with fury. The man spoke, “You. Took. My. Quest.” The angry words were bitten off one at a time as if each one took supreme effort to form.

     “You must be the hero,” Perg responded. He felt numbness creeping over him, and realized he just didn’t care anymore. “Goblins went that way. You might be able to catch them if y–“

     Perg was cut off as he found himself lifted off his feet by his neck. The Hero had him by one hand, and it occurred to Perg that the Hero must be very strong to lift him like that.  He also noticed it made breathing decidedly difficult.

     “YOU TOOK MY QUEST!” Spit flew over Perg’s face. “I’d kill you if you weren’t a…” He glanced down at Perg’s leather apron and then at the hammer he had dropped, “A blacksmith? Oh, you idiot. After I report you to the Guild Board you’ll wish I’d killed you…”

     Perg began to wonder if the hero was going to put him down, he was starting to see spots. Fortunately, at that moment the hero dropped Perg in a heap. Perg lay there, enjoying the sensation of inhaling and exhaling, and wondering why he never noticed how comfortable it was to lie on the rocky ground.

     “You’ll be hearing from my attorney,” came the distant voice of the Hero.

     Perg thought, “These attorneys had better get in line.” and then everything went black.

     STEP 2

     Perg woke up with a start. He realized he ached all over, and his head was on a hard rock. He stared up at a sky marked with red, yellow and blue and he realized a new day was dawning. Perg sat up, then wished he had not, as he hurt all over. Perg stood with great care, and was about to take a wobbly step forward when he heard, “This appears to be the young man.”

     Perg turned, slowly, and saw four men approaching.  Two were middle aged men well-dressed in fine quality suits, both were holding cases in one hand.  A couple of feet behind them stood two Crown Guards.  The well-dressed man on the left spoke, “Yes, I believe you are correct…Apprentice Pergamon Blacksmith?”

     Perg tried to say, “That’s me,” but all that came out was a “Thaghma.”  He realized how dry his throat was, so nodded his head, suppressing a cry of pain from his aching head and neck.

     Both men reached into the cases and pulled out papers.  The right one handed him some papers and said, “On behalf of the Guild of Heroes, you have been served.”

     The man on the left also handed him papers and said, “On behalf of the Guild of Monsters, you have been served.”

     Perg looked at the papers he held, and tried to understand them, but the words swam on the paper.  He stood there stupidly until one of the guards said.  “On behalf of the Crown of Degarath you are under arrest for violation of the Charter of Guilds.  Please surrender any weapons you have and place your hands behind your back.”

     Perg blinked, finally realizing what was happening.  Perg was impressed at the quickness of the goblins and Hero to get their attorneys after him.  He turned and let himself be manacled.  He tried to attempted them his only weapon was a hammer on the ground but all that came out was, “Hamfersha.”  He tried to locate the hammer, but it was nowhere to be seen. 

     The guards escorted him to a wagon, loaded him up, and drove it off.  Approximately an hour later they arrived a Crown jailhouse in the Capital.  There he was taken to a cell and given food and drink.  That small bowl of gruel and glass of murky water was probably the best meal he had ever had in his life.  He asked a guard walking rounds for another glass of water, and got a wad of spit in his cup for his trouble.

     A from a little down the jail block hall chuckled. “Please sir, can I have some more? You’re not at the Golden Pike Inn, man.”

     Perg shrugged, then realized the gesture was pointless.  Embarrassed at his foolishness, Perg muttered, “Yeah, well if it was, I’d have something to say about the quality of this wine.”

     Another laugh came in reply.  The voice was rough and raspy.  “Yeah yeah, it be poor wine if it was!  What ya in for?”

     Abruptly the guard yelled, “QUIET ON THE BLOCK!”  And there was silence.

     After Perg heard the guard open and close a door, the voice said somewhat quieter, “Me, I killed a man.  Was at the Leaky Keg day before last.  Fellow knocked my beer over, spilling, so I was like ‘Who do you think you are?!’ and smashed the drink out of his hand.  He then, big ol’ fellow, turns and tells me, ‘I’ma beat the teeth out of your face for that!’  So here he and I are, squared up, and the stupid bouncer yells at us to get out.  Well, I’m a fair man, so I say ‘Sure, let’s go out.’  Big guy says, ‘Nah, I want a drink, forget this.’ Like a yellow coward.  So I’m mad now, and call him a yellow coward, cause he was one right?”

     Perg nodded.  He caught himself, and said back softly, “Yeah…”

     “So I say, ‘If you’re not going to let me beat you, at least buy me a new beer!’  He looks at me and says, ‘The beer I would have given you, you knocked out of my hand!’  Now I’m hopping, but the bouncer grabs me by the collar and hauls me out.  Stupid cussing bouncer.  Anyway, so I’m still mad, so I wait for an hour.  Fellow comes out finally.  I wait, yell at him and he looks at me and says, ‘What…you still waiting?’  And I chucked a brick at his head.”

     Perg winced, replying, “Well, that’d kill him, for sure.”

     “What? No, that missed.  Just hit the wall.  Big guy laughs so I run at him and try to swing.  Well, I told you he was a big one, right?  He smashes my face in before I’m in arms reach, cause his arms so much bigger.  I’m down, see, and the world is spinning.  Man starts to turn and walk away, but I tell him ‘What you running from?!’  Though it doesn’t sound too good because I got blood in my mouth.”

     “Wow…”

     “Yeah so I get up, and put up my dukes.  But see, the world is all wobbly and I cant stand up straight.  So I tell him, ‘Come at me, bro!’  He starts laughing and laughing.  He can’t stop, and just when I’m about to charge him out of sheer impatience some drunken teamster comes down the road on a wagon and runs over the guy.  So then the guards show up, see.  They figure the teamsters a Master, no way could it be his fault for running over a fellow, and even if it was the Guild attorneys would get him off.  So instead they bust me for distracting him intentionally in the street, saying I did that to try and kill him, a murderer.  So here I am.  Gonna get me a tattoo after they send me to prison to show I’m a real killer!”

     Perg was somewhat perplexed by the story.  Not only was it absurd to the point of stupidity, but the man actually sounded proud he was going to prison for murder.  Finally he said, “Must be rough taking the fall for a murder charge for some Master Teamster.”

     A dismissive noise came back.  “You serious?  If they’d have had me for public drunkenness and making a nuisance it’d be so much worse.  See I done that so much the magistrate would have sent me to prison for sure!  But you know how much trouble people would give me for being in prison as a drunk and nuisance?  ‘Oi, here’s the man who drinks so much he gets thrown in prison.  You’re a real bad man, ain’t you!”  Perg heard a dismissive grunt.  “I’d get beat up for sure.  But murder now, a murderer has credibility.  No, my man, this is the best thing that could happen to me.”  The voice laughed again, then said, “So what ya in for?”

     Perg was still trying to digest the man’s statement, more confused than ever before.  He finally answered, “Violation of Guild Board rules by doing Hero work.”

     A long slow whistle, “Oh boy…you’re in deep donkey pies there.  You’ll be in prison longer than me, most likely.  Those Guilds don’t mess around.  And, to steal a hero’s work…my man you got guts.  What’d you do to get that?”

     Perg sighed, “Defended my village from a goblin attack when the Hero they hired never showed up.”

     “Get any goblins?”

     “Oh…yeah, a few.”

     “Double trouble, my man.  You got the heroes and the monsters for you.  You’ll never see outside of a cell again.”  After a second’s pause, his jailhouse mate offered a consolation, “But you’ll probably be the baddest of the bad guys there, so you’ll get plenty of respect.  You’re a crazy man, and they’ll all know it.”

     “Yeah, at least I got that,” was Perg’s reply, not really sure how he felt about being considered the “crazy man” in prison.

     Time passed slowly.  Perg ended up getting another two meals.  They were the same gruel and water, but seemed to taste less and less wonderful each time.  He was of mixed mind as to whether that was because the gruel was from the same batch as he’d had that morning or because he was no longer so ravenous.

     His fellow jailhouse partner chatted time to time about various goings on.  Things like fights he had been in, who had the cheapest beer.  He also seemed to talk a lot about how to survive prison.  His advice on beating the biggest man and getting respect seemed based on the tales of Minsterls, and Perg remained unconvinced the man actually knew much about prison life. 

     Step 3

     The next morning a guard announced, “Pergamon, you have a visitor.  Step to your door and hold your hands out.”  Perg did so and the guard reached through the bars, shackled him, then opened the door.  He was lead to a small room.  Inside, seated at a table was a man dressed in rich dark robes.  He was perhaps in his early 50s, balding, and wore a pair of spectacles.  He looked at Pergamon and said to the guard, “Can you please undo the shackles?  I don’t appreciate meeting my client in chains.”

     The guard obliged, grumbling something vaguely derogatory and left, closing the door behind him.

     “Sit, Apprentice Pergamon Blacksmith, or should I say soon to be Pergamon Thierson?” the man said.

     Perg sat. “Who are you?”

     “Ascevius Esquire, your attorney as appointed by the Guild of Blacksmiths.”

     Perg sighed, “You don’t have to bother, Yuther cast me out.”

     The man waved his hand, “That’ll be enough to avoid censure for Master Yuther Blacksmith,” the rebuke in the emphasis was not lost on Perg, “But it is not official until he files the paperwork.  So, you have me as your defender, not that I think you have much of a case.”

     Ascevius looked down at a stack of papers he had in front of them, and began thumbing through them as he continued, “They have a sworn statement from multiple goblins that you engaged in combat and pursued a number of goblins.  Your Master has submitted a sworn statement that he warned you of the legal boundaries of your profession and that you took his hammer to fight one goblin, bandaged your fellow apprentice, and then left with the hammer.  Most of the villagers are claiming not to know what happened, likely doing you a small favor, not that it helps much.  Finally, we have Hero Tulian the Awesome, which is quite a pretentious title if you ask me but that’s what he’s officially title as, stating he found you standing over dead goblins with a bloody hammer in your hand.  Hero Tulian has the Writ of Quest in his possession for him to fight the goblins that you apparently killed.  In summary, you are in a deep mess.”

     Perg looked at him, realizing this was serious.  It was really happen, they were charging him for defending his friends and neighbors from murder and pillaging.  “But, my friends and our town!”

     Ascevius brushed his hand to the side dismissively, “If you were only an untrained peasant, we might be able to plead your ignorance and get you off with a year at a work house.  However, you are an apprentice sworn into the Guild of Blacksmits.  As an apprentice you are obligated to study and know guild rules.”  The attorney frowned, “And listen here, young man, you know why we have the rules?  Safety for the people of Degarath, that’s why.  What if unlicensed blacksmiths made horseshoes? Think of the damage to horses and roads!  Or your stunt with bandage with your fellow apprentice, he could have died if you did something wrong.  Or what if goblins looted without a guild license? They might run amok over the whole nation.”  He shook his head, “No, we are a nation of rules to protect us all, and you violated them.”

     Perg hung his head, not sure whether he was ashamed of what he did, or furious that self-protection required a license.  “If only that stupid Hero had come in time…”

     “Excuse me?”

     “Master Yuther,” Perg added a touch of sarcasm as he spoke the title, “said that the Hero was late or something.”

     The attorney’s hands clasped together in front of his face, and he looked at Perg but said nothing.  He seemed to be thinking.  After a few minutes he said, “Indeed… interesting… perhaps…”  Abruptly he stood, “Apprentice, I will see you tomorrow.  I may be able to do something with that tid bit.  I don’t know, and I don’t want to give you any false hope. I have some research to do…and then maybe some people to talk to.” 

     Perg stood as well, and shook the attorney’s hand, unsure as to what was transpiring.  The guard returned and lead Perg back to his cell.  Apparently, the other fellow was either gone, asleep or ignoring him.  So, Perg spent the rest of the day in his cell, eating gruel and drinking murky water and trying to entertain himself.  The best was thoughts of smashing Hero Tulian the Awesome and Master Yuther in the face.  He could not decide whether the image of hitting them with the driving hammer or his fist were more satisfying.

     The next day was more gruel and boredom.  Finally, about an hour after the second meal, he was again led to the little room.  Ascevius sat at the table, this time with a smile on his face.   Perg sat down. “How was your research?”

     Ascevius rubbed his hands together in front of him as he said, “Oh, very interesting.  It turns out that Writ of Quest was properly sworn in as a Time Sensitive Quest, and Hero Tulian the Awesome was very much aware of that.  So, he’s technically in violation of Guild of Heroes rules there. But that’s not the best part.”

     Perg was unsure as to why that mattered and said as much.

     Ascevius placed his hands flat on the table, “It seems multiple people saw Hero Tulian on the road from the Guild of Heroes to your town, a road he frequently travels.  His habit, apparently, is to stop in a town about a half hour’s ride from the Guild.  Rumor has it that he is fond of paying call to a certain woman, Silma de Marc Merchant.  He often stays there for considerable lengths of time, which he did the day of the Goblin attack.”  He clenched his fist in a gesture of success.

     “But what does that have to do with anything? What does it matter that he has an… arrangement with a Merchant’s wife?”

     Ascevius smiled, “Master Marc Merchant is a major supplier to the Guild of Heroes.  And per a couple of sources of mine, he is their primary source of weapons.”

     “So, Tulian’s missing a timely quest would be a posted violation of Guild Ruels, and the investigation would…expose where Hero Tulian was?”

     “Exactly!  The Guild of Heroes does not want to find itself in violation of a Writ of Quest because its member was cheating on one of its most important suppliers.”

     Perg sighed, “Not that this helps me.”

     “I have a deal to offer them that may work all this out for you and the Guild of Heroes,” Ascevius said, grinning ear to ear. 

     Perg looked at him, feeling some small hope.

     Ascevius raised a paper from his stack.  “I have here a complaint to file with the Guild Board for violation of a Timely Write of Quest.  However, what if there was no violation?  What if Hero Tulian was sending his apprentice in his stead, as way to test his apprentice’s mettle?  I would not have grounds for a complaint, then, as Julian would have completed the quests via his apprentice.”

     Perg again was confused, “What apprentice?”

     “What do you think about being Hero Pergamon the Apprentice?”

     A week later Perg found himself wearing rough leathers and listening to Hero Tulian the Awesome scream,  “I’ll train the bloody peasant, but I don’t have to like it!”

     The Guildmaster of Heroes, a short, balding and mild-mannered man in his late 40s replied in a soft voice, “Yes, you do, you will love having an apprentice.  Otherwise I’ll bury you in a deep hole in the training grounds. We can’t afford to tick off Master Marc. Therefore, you will like that you have an apprentice that saved you so much trouble. Do we understand one another?”

     Hero Tulian turned and growled, “Come, Hero Perg the Apprentice, we have training to get to.”

     Perg followed his new master, wondering what he got himself into and whether Heroes had Medical and Dental like the Blacksmiths did.