“Damn that man’s pride,” his father said. He turned to Samuel. “Damn my pride. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t fight for her. For you. I’ve failed you both. And I’m sorry.”
Samuel nibbled on his cheek. His mother was the daughter of a general? She risked her life to run into the arms of a cleric? His eyes swelled. “Why? Why did she have to die?”
“She didn’t,” his father said. “I deserved to die. She didn’t.”
“Don’t say that,” Samuel mumbled. “You don’t. I love you. No one deserved to die. You’re my father. And you’re a good father.”
His father sighed. “You’ve always been a gentle soul. You’re her son. Our son. I wish you could have met her.”
The front doors to the blacksmith’s shop swung open. Samuel jumped up, his head nearly hitting the post behind him. Several hours had passed since his father wept himself back into unconsciousness. He must have fallen asleep shortly after. He was more exhausted than he realized.
Mayor Thompson marched inside the shop, the stem of his pipe writhing in his teeth. His eyes darted back and forth wildly. Snow continued to fall outside, and an inch or so had accumulated on the ground outside. The other patrolmen kept their stations outside but peeked in until the mayor turned and slammed the wooden doors closed. He came forward, his feet smashing into the floor like hard bricks. He clenched his jaw tighter, the pipe sticking up.
“Get out,” the mayor said with a snarl. He turned to Jax. “Wait outside. You as well, Mikael. I need to speak with the accused. Alone.”
The foreigner bowed lowly, giving Samuel and his father a subtle nod before taking his exit. The mayor rubbed his chin excessively, his ears reddening. Samuel’s father squared his shoulders, the dampness from his eyes all but dried up. Samuel watched the shadows dance around the mayor as if they fed on his rage.
“I told you,” the mayor said behind closed teeth, “that I needed you with me, boy. I told you to make sure your loyalty was with me. Have I done anything to you that would give you reason to doubt my graces?”
Samuel couldn’t force the conviction. “No.”
The mayor inhaled on his pipe, rolling his fingers on the table’s surface. He plucked the stem from his mouth before speaking. “The work you’re doing with that demon. Do you realize the potential? If that creature were trained enough to be brought onto a battlefield and comply with orders, can you image the power we would have? Greenland simpletons would run in fear once they heard tales of the demon in the whitelands. Northern lives would be saved. The whitelands can rise from the chaos. We can become the greatest nation these lands have ever known.”
Samuel said nothing. His father kept silent as well, but he watched Samuel.
The mayor came closer to them, jamming his hands into his pockets. “I am going to be frank. With the both of you. I have no idea if that child is a demon or possessed or some other form of altered human. It doesn’t matter. What I know is that it likes you, Samuel. And it has been more responsive to you than anyone or anything else. Keeping that creature chained up in a jail cell isn’t enough. Men must see it. They must witness its uncanny viciousness with their own eyes.”
The mayor raised his right arm.
“Don’t you understand?”
“I don’t, sir,” Samuel said.
The mayor stepped back. “What?”
Samuel nudged up his glasses, gazing at the mayor through the cracked lens. “I don’t see it. I don’t see the demon becoming your weapon. She can’t be controlled.”
The mayor’s belly rose and fell, his breaths deep and intentional. “Are you saying you are incapable of doing your job?”
Samuel paused. “Yes. No one can do what you want. She can’t be tamed.”
Samuel’s father shook his head. “Forgive him, mayor. The boy is upset. He doesn’t mean to be obstinate.”
The mayor popped the pipe back into his mouth. “I agree with you, cleric.”
His pupils widened. “But. I do think the boy needs to learn about respect.”
Samuel sat beside his father, watching as the half-asleep blacksmith entered his shop. The large man pulled his coat tighter to his chest, covering his stained nightshirt and woolly pants that were bunched up near his ankles. He surveyed his shop, seeing the foreigner, Jax, four patrolmen, Samuel, and his father. There was hardly much room to move.
The blacksmith bowed to the mayor.
“Mayor Thompson. How might I serve?”
The mayor grinned. “Tybel, you’ve always been a true citizen of our northern state. You work hard and fast.”
“Thank you, sir,” the blacksmith said, his demeanor reserved.
Samuel tilted to his right side, his elbow grazing his father’s arm. His father’s swollen eyelids made it look like they’d been burned with smoke.
The mayor puffed on his pipe before waving a hand at Jax and another patrolman. The men stepped back, giving the mayor more space to maneuver. He sauntered over to the wall adorned with crafted knives varying in size and shape. His round belly jiggled as he grabbed a knife with stylistic line designs carved into both the wooden handle and the blade. He pulled it closer to his nose.
“Your care and attention for detail is beyond compare.”
The blacksmith bowed low once more.
“You are too kind.”
Bumps rose on Samuel’s skin. Something about the way the mayor held the knife made his chest tight. The foreigner stood by the furnace, his olive skin glowing in the light. He leaned his head back, forcing some of the bones in his neck to crack.
The mayor dug inside of his suit pocket and pulled out a handful of coins. He motioned for the blacksmith to come, jingling the money in his hands.
“Thank you, sir,” he said as the coins fell into his palms. “But this is far too generous. I can’t accept—”
“I have a special job for you.” The mayor tapped the knife against his leg before turning to the foreigner. “Grab the lad. Bring him here.”
Samuel’s throat swelled closed.
The foreigner trekked to Samuel, his lips no longer grinning. He extended his hands. Samuel waited for a moment before lifting his bound wrists up. The foreigner helped him to his feet.
“Please, mayor.” Samuel’s father rose to his knees. “I am the criminal. He’s only a child. He has acted childishly.”
Samuel followed the guidance of the foreigner, his blood racing as he came to the mayor. He was somehow able to keep his composure, but he didn’t know how much longer he could.
“Restrain the cleric,” the mayor said. “Now.”
Jax got to Samuel’s father first and shoved him. His father bounced into the wall, but he immediately rolled back and dove into Jax. The other two patrolmen ran to aid their struggling comrade, all three of them taking hold of Samuel’s father. Jax got back to his feet, kicking his father in the ribs. His father doubled over, gagging for air.