Merrick held up a hand to shield his eyes from a sudden gust of wind. The rain from the previous night had stopped, but the air was still moist and the winds were enough bend the trees or produce a worrying groan from the nearby buildings. He stood before Jaimie's Smithy once more. The faint snorting of pigs and the distinct clink of metal on metal cut through the noisy wind. He'd been standing outside the smithy for at least half of an hour, mulling over his approach.

Would Jaimie hold a grudge against him for the stunt he'd pulled the day before? Or had he earned some amount of respect from the old smith?

For Merrick's plan to work, he certainly hoped it was the latter. 

The bell chimed as Merrick pushed the door of the shop open. A gust of wind caught it and flung it open the rest of the way. The door slammed into the wall behind it and the bell jingled wildly from the sudden jolt. A shelf of pots and pans deposited it's contents onto the ground, merchandise clattering and clanging as it fell. Merrick grimaced and quickly tried to close the door back before Jaimie could see. He reached down to scoop up some of the fallen pots and out of the corner of his eye saw a hulking figure standing behind the counter, arms crossed.

Well... not a great start.

"Ahem." Merrick set the last pan back on the shelf, before turning to face Jaimie. "The...uh...wind..."

Jaimie stared right through him unamused. "Need some more nails, do ya runt?"

"Yes. I mean... no," Merrick stammered, struggling to regain his composure. The wind had interrupted his thoughts and broken his concentration. 

"I'm here today with a far better offer than to just buy some nails, good sir."

He tried to make his speech sound more like Mr. Selars or some of the rich folk he had met when making deliveries. It might not amount to anything but at the very least he thought it sounded more respectful than how he'd spoken to Jaimie the day before.

Jaimie's face was scowling now, arms still crossed as he spoke.  "If ya ain't buyin' nothing, then ya ain't got no reason to be muckin' up my shop then, do ya?"

"Normally, you'd be right, but I wouldn't come here without a good reason."

"A good reason to come to a smithy is to buy what's bein' sold."

"One of a few. Toda—"

Jaimie cut him off. "Only other reason you’d be here is to collect for the crown."

Jaimie leaned across the counter and peered at Merrick through squinted eyes. "And you look a little small to be a coin crow."

"No," Merrick replied. "I'm not here to collect, nor am I here to buy goods from you. In fact, it's quite the opposite. I wish to offer my services to you."

Jaimie leaned back, unimpressed. "Mhmn. And what kind of services does a little street rat have to offer?"

Merrick met the big man's eyes with as serious a glare as he could muster. "I'm going to be your apprentice."

Jaimie didn't react. 

Just stared.

Merrick would've preferred if the big man had laughed at him.

"No," Jaimie said bluntly.

"Why not?"

"Sounds like a lot of work for me. So, no."

"But I could help you," Merrick reasoned. "I can read and write."

To a certain extent, he thought. A white lie, but he was improving by the day.

"Mr. Selars has already taught me the basics of business and I'm a fast learner. Mr. Selars can attest to that."

Jaimie shook his head. "Just ain't worth the headache kid. Plus I ain't got the coin to be takin' on an apprentice."

"I don't need coin. Just some food each day and a roof to sleep under."

Jaimie chewed the thought for a moment. "What ya wantin' be a smith for, anyhow? If ya know yer letters, shouldn't ya be tryin' to be... I dunno, a scholar or something?"

"I want to make things."

It was another lie. This time to prey on a craftsman's pride.

"I don't want to just learn smithing, I want to master it," Merrick began. "I don't want to leave people a choice when they're deciding where to buy their metalwork. I can help you. But first, I need you to give me a chance."

"Food and shelter's all, huh?" Jaimie mused, scratching at his unruly beard.

"That's all."

"Got no folks, then, I take it?"

"Nope."

After a long deliberation, Jaimie finally shook his head, rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, and let out a heavy sigh. "Fine. Ya can stay in the shed by the pigs. But ya cause me any trouble and yer done."

"Of course. Thank you sir!" Merrick beamed. "I won't let you regret this!"

"Shit, I already do," Jaimie replied, sounding more exasperated by the second. "I just hope yer hands are as smart as that mouth o' yers."

———

Merrick sat at a small table in Selars' shop where he reading the book from which he had taken his name. A Tale of Triumph was its title. It was a story for children and he'd read it twice before but had decided it wasn't very good. The story made no sense and the book's monsters were attacking the world for seemingly no reason at all. Overall Merrick felt that it lacked any purpose, but for some reason, he felt drawn to the protagonist whose name he'd taken for himself and kept coming back to read the story again.

Merrick had just revealed to Selars that he planned to become Jaimie's apprentice. The old man raised a questioning eyebrow, but didn't seem all too surprised by the development.

"A smith?" he asked.

"Yes," Merrick replied, looking up from his page. "Mr. Jaimie's offered me a place to stay and said he'd train me. I hope I can still come here when I am free to continue our lessons."

His eyes drifted to the floor. "But... I won't be able to run deliveries for you anymore and I won't have anything to coin to give you, so I understand if—"

"Oh no, young Merrick," Selars said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You won't escape from me that easily. I expect to see you here the first and third evening of each week. And be ready for far more rigorous lessons."

Merrick cracked a smile. "Thank you, Mr. Selars. You have very kind to me."

Selars smiled back. "And you have staved off an old man's loneliness. I fear I would grow quite bored without you around. Besides, it's not often a child wishes to learn anything in this day and age. When I was younger..."

Selars started off on another long lecture about his youth. Merrick found it strange that adults always believed the world to have been better when they were young. Perhaps the world started off as a wonderous place filled with joy and excitement, and has been spiraling into despair ever since. Or maybe the world was never better or worse in any specific day or age. Maybe it was just that old people wished to not be forgotten so they speak on a time that only they remember. 

But Merrick didn't mind Selars' stories or lectures. The old man had a soothing way of speaking. These lectures and stories were the closest thing Merrick would ever have to sitting and talking by the fire with a grandfather or grandmother and so he chose to enjoy them rather than endure them.

———

Twenty-one coppers.

That was the remaining wealth Merrick had after his day of shopping in preparation for his move. He'd purchased himself a pair of gloves and boots as well as jerkin and trousers. One of the older beggars had cropped his hair short for a copper since he figured long hair and blazing smith's fires were a bad combination. Lastly he'd begrudgingly shilled out ten coppers for a heavy fur blanket, easily the most expensive thing he'd ever bought.

That left him with a meager twenty-one coppers. 

He hadn't done his usual amount of petty thieving over these past few months, choosing instead to rely on his earlier scores. Much more of his time had been dedicated to reading, studying, and planning. He enjoyed nothing more than create scenarios in his head, desperately trying to figure out which one would lead him where he wanted to go.  The past few days had been good. Selars agreed to continue his education and now he had a shot at a learning a profession. Best of all, he'd have a new home.

He stood outside the small shed he'd been sleeping in. It was falling apart, rotting, and exuded a disturbing odor.

He spat at it. 

This will be the worst place I ever have to call home, he promised himself.

Satisfied with his farewell, he slung his blanket over his shoulder and hooked his coin purse on his belt. He turned his back on the little shed for the last time and began the trek to Jaimie's Smithy.

Along the way Merrick passed by the market square. The sun was nearly set, but there were still the sounds of the final rush of business for the day. He hoped that he would no longer need to thieve from the travelling merchants and unsuspecting customers. If his plans progressed, he would more than likely be merchant himself before too long. But to do that, he'd need to focus on learning as much as he could from Jaimie. Not just in the craft of smithing, but in how to run a business and handle customers. While he didn't think highly of Jaimie's charisma as a salesman, Merrick understood that even watching someone do something poorly could help him improve. 

There was a long way to go yet. 

Patience. 

Step by step.

Finally, Merrick arrived at Jaimie's Smithy. The weathered brick, the smell of smoke, the mismatched shingles, the sign with fading letters above the door—this was his new home. He pushed open the heavy door for the second time that day. With the wind from the morning dying down, it was much less chaotic this time. The bell chimed as the door shut behind him, and a pair of bushy eyebrows turned his way.

Jaimie was sitting behind the counter, fiddling with a hook on the wall, and set his hammer on the counter when Merrick entered.

"Got everything ya need then, runt?" he said.

"Yes," Merrick answered. "Where should I put it all?"

Jaimie said nothing, but swung open the wooden counter for Merrick to walk through and motioned for him to follow. Merrick was led through the forge area and out to the back near the pigpen.

There was a small but sturdy wooden shed off to the side that Jaimie motioned toward. "That'll be you, then. Should keep out the rain and such. I laid out some hay for ya to sleep on. Outhouse is over there. We get water from the well down the road. And we eat two meals a day—one before work, one after. Any questions?"

Merrick shook his head.

"Right then, get some sleep. We start at the crack o' dawn."

The big man turned to leave as Merrick called out. "What about dinner tonight?"

Jaimie didn't turn back. "You eat on the days you work."

Merrick had hoped for some food but knew this was supposed to be a job not a charity. Jaimie wasn't Hargro handing out stew to all the hunger children on the streets. Merrick would have to earn his keep here and he planned to do much more than just that.

He opened the door of the shed and looked inside. It was larger than his old shed, and the wood was new. The faint smell of pigs was far preferable to the stench of rotting wood from his old haunt. There was a firmly packed bed of hay in one corner, just as Jaimie had said, and the rest was an empty dirt floor. The walls and roof were well crafted, enough to stifle the chill of the night. Merrick set his things down and laid out his blanket on the hay. He figured it would take a while for sleep to find him, with all the excitement for tomorrow swirling in his head, but as soon as he lay down, he realized how comfortable it was to have a bed—even one made of hay.

———

His breathing was ragged.

He was exhausted.

His legs burned, and sweat dripped from his hair into his eyes.

He wiped a hand over his face and blinked away the sting.

Stairs.

That’s right—stairs.

To his left and right were gaping chasms, darkness stretching as far as the eye could see. He was on a set of stone stairs only a few feet wide. Ahead of him on the steps were others. The stairs climbed ever higher, into dark gray clouds and beyond.

And on every step, there was someone.

Some were stopped, trying to catch their breath or perhaps giving up on the climb. Others trudged up the steps slowly. Every once in a while, someone would fall off the edge and into the abyss without so much as a sound. No one even looked their way as they fell. He didn’t recognize any of the people here. There were children, men, women—even people from different lands, some with dark skin or pale hair. Old and young alike—everyone climbed.

Panicking, Merrick looked back down the stairs and found that the ground was in sight.

For just one moment, he was relieved. He could head back down.

No reason to die climbing a set of stairs, he thought.

What could even be at the top?

He turned around, but he didn’t take a step.

What was at the top?

Now he remembered.

Remembered why he had started the ascent in the first place—why all of these people had. Whatever was at the top was worth the risk.

It had to be.

Why else would everyone else be here?

Determination—no—excitement rose within him.

Everyone on the steps looked so miserable, but Merrick grinned wide.

And up he went.