Author: Kathy Rose
Date: 2021-07-25T18:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy
Description: Kirk—whose life is cut short in a car wreck on his way home from work—wakes up in a fantasy world… Middle aged Kirk has lost everything. Well, everything except his job. When he’s in a car accident on the way home from his job, it’s as if the universe has finally succeeded in taking everything from him. When he wakes, he’s in a fantasy land… in someone else’s body. Unexpectedly a child again in a new world, unlike the one he left, Kirk must make new friends, fit in, and learn to eke out a new existence. Disabled by the accident that led to the death of the child whose body he accidentally inha
Publisher: Kathy Press Publishing

REBORN

My Life As a Merchant

Untitled

Copyright © 2021 Kathy Press Publishing LLC

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

ISBN-13: 9798544437062

Cover design by: Art Painter
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309
Printed in the United States of America

Contents

Copyright

Chapter 1: My Life

Chapter 2: The Boss

Chapter 3: At The Office

Chapter 4: Overtime And Death

Chapter 5: Heaven

Chapter 6: Fantasy Life

Chapter 7: I’m Seven

Chapter 8: My Older Brother

Chapter 9: William’s Tale

Chapter 10: Knowledge

Chapter 11: Usual Routine

Chapter 12: Free Time

Chapter 13: A Trip

Chapter 14: Village Errands

Chapter 15: The Festival

Chapter 16: The Parade

Chapter 17: The Fight

Chapter 18: Repentance

Chapter 19: Bartering

Chapter 20: Apple Harvesting

Chapter 21: Bad Decisions

Chapter 22: William

Chapter 23: Growing Up

Chapter 24: Snow

Chapter 25: William’s Training

Chapter 26: Swords

Chapter 27: Chess

Chapter 28: Spring

Chapter 29: Toys

Chapter 30: Agreements

Chapter 31: Strategy

Chapter 32: Figures

About The Author

More Information

Chapter 1: My Life

The wind howled with mad fury, and the heavy rain beat down from above. Kirk’s clothes were soaked and heavy, slowing down his movement. Shivering, he pressed on. The noise of the people chasing him grew louder with every step he took. A blue bolt of lightning lit up the sky. Before him, he could see a steep, jagged cliff. There was nowhere else to run, looking down into the pitch darkness below, despair filled his heart.

Above him, Kirk could see the silhouette of a helicopter marked by small red blinking lights. The giant searchlight on the bottom of the machine soon scanned the ground all around. Eventually, the bright light blinded him. Forcing him to cover his face with his arms and hands as the sound grew closer.

The cellphone sitting next to some car keys and a small stack of beer cans lit up. It filled the darkness around it with a burst of light and sound. There was a series of beeps, followed by a lengthy pause and then another series of noises. A few seconds later, it stopped, and the room became dark once more. That cycle repeated itself, happening several times. Though it only did what he had programmed it to, the half-awake body in the next room thought about how nice it would be to throw the blasted cell phone right out the window and curl up once again for more rest.

At first, he tossed and turned, trying to ignore the sound and go back to sleep. Eventually, though, he gave in and rose from the bed. Kirk ambled through the dark out of his bedroom doorway and into the hallway. For a second, his gaze fell on the closed door at the end of the hall, which would have been his daughter’s room. Shaking his head as if to clear his mind, he turned in the other direction.

Walking a short distance, he ended where the living room began. Having reached its entrance, he stopped and fumbled on the wall to hit the light switch. After a moment, his hand found what he was looking for, and the room was awash in light. Squinting from the brightness, he stood there collecting his thoughts.

Without waiting for his vision to adapt fully, he moved forward into the large room. Overestimating the distance to the coffee table, he stubbed his toe on one of its legs. A small string of profanity and a half scream followed. Picking up his injured foot, he inspected it to assess the damage done. It throbbed in intense pain but didn't seem to be bleeding.

"Great, just great," he muttered to himself while biting his lower lip.

The alarm on the phone started again, which made his body lurch forward. Leaning over, Kirk picked up the cell phone. With a scowl across his face, he hit the notice with his thumb several times to shut off the alarm. In frustration and anger, he threw the cellphone at the couch a little too hard. It bounced off the back cushion, leaving the phone precariously positioned on the edge of the sofa. Kirk sighed, looking down at the phone.

Turning slightly, he headed back to the bathroom to start his morning routine. Quickly he ran an electric shaver over his face. The reflection looking back at him through the mirror came as no surprise to him. Being thirty-five and out-of-shape, he was used to being dissatisfied with his appearance. More than anything, though, his reflection only brought a wave of resentment towards himself and the feeling of guilt. Emphasizing it was the permanent frown residing on his face. Reaching up to his short hair, he brushed it by moving his hand across the front until he was satisfied with it.

From there, it was back to his room to find some clean clothes. Picking a shirt off the top of the pile, he gave it a quick smell before pulling it on and buttoning it up. Then he did the same with a pair of pants. It took a while to find matching socks, but after some searching, he was successful. Once dressed, he made his way into the kitchen and grabbed the last clean bowl. After pouring some sugary cereal, he opened the refrigerator and saw it was mostly empty with no milk at all.

So dry cereal it is, I guess that’s not the worst thing, thought Kirk picking up a few pieces out of the bowl and popping them into his mouth. In between crunches of cereal, he thought about how to spend the next few hours of his day. Mornings were not the best time for him, or at least that's what he would tell anyone who would listen to him. Those days, there were fewer people around for him to talk to. Due to his downward spiral, he had been alienated from almost everyone.

Good, who needs people anyway, he thought while grabbing another bite of cereal. There was still a roof over his head, and he had food to eat, even if it was dry. Thinking about that, he smiled a little, feeling he was doing just fine on his own. Besides, all of his so-called friends had all left him when he needed them the most. Deep down, he knew it was because they didn't know how to handle the situation, but right now, he wasn’t going to let reality mess up his pity party.

The fact was he didn't know how to handle things either, but it's different when it happens directly to you. Unfortunately, you can’t just escape from being you because things aren't convenient at the time. Kirk had been married, or maybe he still was. It wasn’t clear how that worked. Two months ago, his wife, Madalyn, had passed away because of complications during childbirth. So within minutes of each other, he had lost both the love of his life and his newborn daughter.

They left me all alone, Kirk thought, as he walked back to the couch. With a heavy sigh, he sat down on it and leaned back into its cushions. That caused the cell phone to fall onto the carpet. Watching it with his eyes as it fell, he didn’t bother to try and catch it.

On its descent, he caught the coffee table in his peripheral view, and it reminded him of his toe, which no longer was throbbing. A second smile for the day formed on his face as he realized the pain was one of the few things he could still feel. It was short-lasting, as his head filled back up with negative thoughts.

That event had changed him, as it would have for anyone. Kirk was confident he would never be the same again. How can I be? Life had walked up to him, punched him in the gut, and then laughed as he fell to the ground, moaning. Knocking the beer cans off the coffee table with a shove, he watched as they collected onto the floor where several others were already. Kirk hadn't been drinking heavily since college, so he was a little surprised his head was clear.

Nothing seemed important to him anymore. Why should I care?
Even if you do everything right, you can still lose. What kind of life is this? It was just something he had to endure, and so he did, day after day. Finishing the bowl of cereal off, he walked over to the kitchen and tossed it casually into the overflowing sink of dirty dishes. I’ve got to clean this place up, he thought with another sigh.

Returning to the couch, he leaned over and grabbed his cell phone from the floor before sitting down again. With the phone now in his hands, he looked down at it. Immediately he noticed several messages, which he had somehow missed earlier. Kirk also noticed the battery life on the phone was only at thirty-two percent. Going through the notes on the device, he frowned as one of them jumped out at him.

It was a message from Madalyn, she had only asked him to pick up some milk from the store on his way home, but he couldn’t bring himself to delete it. Breathing in, he pressed the message to hear her voice again, which was probably the hundredth time since her passing he had. For those few seconds, her voice played; it allowed him to feel like she was somehow still with him, though he knew she wasn’t.

Carefully saving the message from Madalyn, he deleted the next couple and then found the most recent one. Damn, work called earlier. While he was scheduled, it was not for several more hours. Building up his courage, he tapped on the voicemail notification and held the phone to his ear, listening to it.

Kirk heard. "Hello, this is Rick," which caused him to sigh once more. Rick was his boss, and while he wasn’t the biggest jerk, he certainly didn't have any Best Boss awards. "We need you to come in early today.” Just great. “We are very short-handed, and you are already on the schedule." Though it was true, he would have to go to work sooner or later, that didn’t mean he wanted to.

Just fantastic, I have to go to work early. Kirk let the information sink in and simultaneously tried to figure a way out of it. The look on his face changed to anger, and another string of profanity escaped his lips. There was no way out of it. Kirk had to go in. Maybe going in now will buy me a little goodwill at the office, he thought, trying to turn the situation around in his head. That thought was supposed to cheer him up, but it just made him want to groan more.

Kirk was an office worker at Great USA Foods, whose main job was to arrange contracts between food suppliers and his company. It was his job to get the best price he could from the suppliers. Then his company acted as a middle-man selling the food to restaurants and various other entertainment locations.

It wasn't an awful job, and at one time, he had enjoyed the work. Kirk had been salesman of the year, once, which earned him a decent bonus on top of a good salary. After the incident, he had just lost all interest in it, no longer giving it his best effort with everything going on. Initially, he had put in for a promotion to upper management to help pay the bills after his daughter was born, but work, much like life, had become a burden since that day at the hospital.

Walking over to his work shoes, he slipped them on and found himself ready to leave. Kirk reached out with a deep breath and turned the knob of his front door, which led out into the apartment’s hallway. Stepping outside, he let the door slam behind him before turning and locking it. Then he took the short walk over to the elevator.

Once there, he pressed the button to take him to the parking garage. Several minutes passed, and he looked down at his phone to check the time. Deciding it might be quicker to take the stairs, he moved to the side door and began the descent to the parking area.

Each footstep rang out as he made his way down the metal steps. It was only three flights of stairs, but it honestly felt like a lot more. Too many days of staying in one place, combined with too many nights of ‘one more slice of pizza’ has finally caught up with me. Upon reaching the door-marked ‘Parking Garage’ he opened it and stepped through. The metallic tings of his shoes he had made each step in the stairwell changed to a much heavier sound as he walked onto the cement floor.

Sounds of outside traffic made their way into the space and echoed off the thick walls. The parking garage was located under his apartment building and almost always packed. Kirk often thought the number of cars certainly didn't match the number of people who lived in the building. Looking around, he tried to remember where he had last parked.

Kirk took a few minutes to find his little blue car, but he climbed inside of it once he had. Looking over at the opening leading to the outside world, he could tell it was raining. Starting the engine, he pulled out of his spot and drove around to the exit. Soon he found himself out on the street, joining the rest of the living who had to go to work.

A couple of turns later, with an uttered curse word at a driver who had pulled out in front of him, Kirk drove up the ramp connecting the road to the highway. The rain had picked up, making it hard to see clearly through the car's front windshield. Speeding up, he merged into the closest lane. A large semi-truck passed him on the left, splashing his little car with a blinding amount of water. With a twist of a knob, the car windshield wipers were soon working their hardest back and forth.

Sighing, he looked around the car's interior, where a decent pile of trash covered the passenger side. It’s a mess in here. I'll clean it up tomorrow, he thought as he turned his attention back to the road. Ideally, he would have loved to quit his job, but he knew he needed it to keep his apartment. It wasn’t that he was out of money. It was just the bills he had once split with Madalyn were now all his to pay, which meant he had to work to keep himself out of debt. They had taken out a loan to furnish their daughter’s room,  which didn’t help matters.

Had he not used up all his sick days, he gladly would have called in. If it was not for his need for money, Kirk might not have ever left his apartment again. What is the meaning? Why was I left here, all alone? Why was it not me who had died? Soon, his anger at life gave way to a familiar feeling he had grown used to all that time: apathy.

That feeling made the universe around him feel darker. The world had lost its luster, its mystery. Now it was nothing more than an empty shell of a once-familiar place. The rain changed to a steady downpour making it hard to drive. Kirk thought about pulling over to the side of the highway and waiting for it to let up, but he was in a hurry, and work was just the next exit.

Turning on his blinker, he saw a long line of cars waiting to exit. Slowing down, he brought his vehicle to a complete stop. Traffic was at a standstill, and he guessed there had been an accident up ahead. Fidgeting, he reached over to flip on the car's radio. The inside of the vehicle became loud with music, and he quickly turned it down. Looking back up at the road, he could see the cars were barely moving. So he waited and edged forward every time it became his turn to do so.

Chapter 2: The Boss

Eventually, he had moved far enough forward he was able to exit the highway. Further down the road, he found the parking lot for his work. Entering it, he parked in his usual spot and headed into the building. Above him, as he entered, he could see the giant letters spelling out Great USA Foods, with the ‘Great’ being red, ‘USA’ being blue, and ‘Foods’ being white.

Scanning his badge, the doors slid to the side, allowing him entry. Inside the lobby was a woman behind a desk, a nameplate reading ‘Rachel’ sat on its corner. At the sound of the doors opening, she looked up. The light shining in caused her eyes to sparkle as she smiled and waved a hand in greeting.

“Hello, Kirk, it’s good to see you.” Rachel let out in an overly cheerful voice. “Rick asked for you to stop by his office before you start work.” As she said the last part, her voice seemed to raise an octave, as if she were singing it.

Rachel was a large woman, who Kirk guessed was in her forties. Every time he saw her, she had been nice, but since his wife passed away, she seemed to be incredibly kind to him. Kirk couldn’t help but feel a sense of responsibility to do the same back, so he waved and forced a smile in response to her. While he had worked at Great USA Foods for several years, Rachel had been there far longer and had always been the receptionist.

“Hello, Rachel,” Kirk responded as he walked past her desk. Turning his head, he looked at her, but his voice sounded forced, almost robotic. “I'll head over to see Rick then.” Kirk sighed, a frown returning to his face.

Rick was his boss and a vice president at the company. Kirk had found himself with motivating and engaging bosses in previous jobs, but that wasn’t Rick’s management style. Instead, Kirk often wondered how Rick had managed to stay at the company, as he never seemed to do any work himself. Moving past Rachel’s desk, Kirk entered a hallway and walked down it a short way.

Kirk made a sharp turn, and a few steps later found himself in front of a door marked ‘Rick Moore, Vice-President’. Stopping, he looked at the door and steadied himself for whatever was on the other side. No closer to feeling prepared but ready to get it over with, he knocked on the door.

The sound echoed out into the hallway, which caused Kirk to look around him. Another worker happened to be passing by and waved at Kirk. Jerry, the intern, was pushing the daily mail cart and passing it out for the office.

“Hey Kirk, are you going to see Rick?” Jerry asked, in an exceptionally upbeat tone, as he approached.

“Yep, sure am,” Kirk said.

“Here, give him this then,” Jerry said, tossing a letter through the air to Kirk as he passed by. Looking back, he said, “Hey, thank you.” Jerry gave a big smile as he disappeared down the hallway.

Long after Jerry disappeared, a voice finally sounded from the other side of the door. “Come on in.” Came a booming voice that sounded too deep to be natural.

Rick was a tall man who looked to be somewhere between his late twenties to early thirties. He was wearing a white button-up in his typical style, with a suit coat draped on the back of his leather chair. Kirk knew he was also wearing black slacks that matched the suit coat, but Rick hadn’t bothered to stand, as per usual. Rick sat behind an overly sized desk, and had that been someone’s first impression, they might have thought it looked impressive. However, upon closer inspection, the lack of paper, folders, or other signs of work would have left them feeling the desk was meant to overcompensate and distract people.

The office was gigantic. A big window looked out onto an empty field behind the building. While not a fantastic view, it was probably one of the best in the entire building. Along the walls, his office was lined with glass display containers showing off baseball memorabilia, one business degree, and several awards that had been given to their department.

Most of the memorabilia was signed, and Kirk guessed it to be from the 1950s to 1960s era, which would have been well before Rick's time. Names such as Mantle and Aaron could be seen on most of it. There was no doubt it had considerable worth, as even Kirk, who didn’t follow sports, recognized several names. Like everything else in the office, Kirk felt it was there to show superiority and power, not a passion for baseball.

Kirk just stood there for a second, taking in the view, as he knew better than to approach until he was told. Rick was Kirk's most significant pain at work, even worse than seeing his so-called old friends with their fake smiles. Rick was on a phone call or appeared to be, but Kirk knew he had a habit of pretending to be busy when guests were in his office.

“Of course, we’ll get that sent over to your office first thing this morning,” Rick said into his desk phone. Then he paused, laughed, and said, “It was good talking to you again, Kirby.”

The Kirby in question would have been Josh Kirby, the company president. Kirk had only met him a time or two at business parties. Kirk had felt Kirby's appearance matched his title. He was a large distinguished gentleman with a big belly and a full mustache. From the few times they had spoken, Kirby had always seemed to be the serious type. What Kirk found most interesting about him was everywhere he went, he had two or three aids following. They would carry out his orders as he shouted them out.

Turning his attention back to the office, he wondered if Rick needed anything from him. That was not the first time Kirk had been called to Rick’s office, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. Rick put the phone receiver down. Was he talking to Kirby, or is he just showing off again? That was the type of man Rick was in Kirk’s eyes. Trying too hard to look great in front of everyone, especially those under him, Kirk found it ironic since he knew Rick was one of the most inefficient workers in their office.

Rick snapped and motioned with his fingers to the chair in front of him. It was as if he was calling a dog to sit down. “Come have a seat Kirk, how are you doing?” Without waiting for a reply, he started speaking again, “I see you got my message about us being short-handed. I had some contracts diverted to your office. They need to be finalized today if that’s possible for you.” Emphasis was added to the last few words, and it was clear he was referring to Kirk’s work performance.

Moving further into the room, Kirk set the letter Jerry had given him down onto Rick’s desk before taking a seat. The two chairs, which sat directly across the desk from Rick’s own, felt as if they had been specifically positioned, so Rick was partially hidden behind his computer screen. Kirk did not doubt it was another attempt to make people feel he was doing work, as Rick would interrupt their meetings to reply to emails.

While that often drew out their visits, Kirk honestly didn’t mind. These seats were far better than his office chair, as they were cushioned. Plus, from the scent alone, one knew they were genuine leather and very expensive. Sitting down in them only helped to confirm it. The seats were large and set close to the ground, making Kirk sink into the chair as if it were eating his body whole.

Due to their height, every visitor was forced to look up at Rick as he spoke since his seat was set higher. Kirk felt it was meant to intimidate people but had stopped caring about Rick’s opinions quite a while ago. Before even entering the office, Kirk had known what Rick would say, having heard the same speech several times in the last month. That should have made it less impactful, but it unfortunately just re-emphasized what Kirk already knew: I’m failing, and they will fire me if I don’t improve.

“I was just talking to Mr. Kirby about you and your recent performance.” Rick looked at Kirk to see if that line got a reaction from him. “We both agree you can do better than you have been recently. Your productivity for this quarter has fallen, and if Mr. Kirby has noticed, then you clearly need to improve it.” Rick began. Kirk knew that was virtually impossible, as he was pretty sure Mr. Kirby didn’t even know he worked for him. “You need to get caught up on those contracts so we can keep moving forward. You know we here at Great USA Foods are a team,” Rick grinned as he looked over at Kirk.

“If one team member is not pulling their weight, then the whole team is affected.” Kirk rolled his eyes, with no concern Rick would see since he wasn’t looking at him as he spoke, only after finishing. “If we can get your numbers back up to where they used to be, I think Mr. Kirby and I might be able to put your name back in for that promotion you were wanting.” At that, Rick intertwined his fingers, looking over them at Kirk as he put his elbows on the desk.

That pose only made him look like a figure of an evil cartoon boss. Kirk was half expecting him to start monologing about how he was about to take over the world. Sadly, Rick just kept talking about work and his performance. Kirk breathed in heavily, held his breath for a moment, and then exhaled it out while trying to find something to focus on in the office.

Once he saw a TV show where the hero was interrogated, he remembered how he had survived it by finding something else to focus on. That was somehow supposed to help you from breaking under the stress of your situation. Bored and feeling a little overwhelmed, Kirk's eyes darted around the office, searching for a distraction.

The speech was Rick’s way of enticing his workers. It didn’t work, especially on Kirk, who had been in Rick’s office more times than he could count, to hear the same speech. The thought he could get Rick off his back interested him, so he just started nodding in silent agreement. Kirk had found out a long time ago it was best to let Rick talk, as he was the type of man who just liked to hear his own voice. If Rick would leave me alone and let me do my work, then my numbers would improve on their own.

Rick continued about how business relied on every worker or some such nonsense before ending with. “This quarter's sales numbers are down almost a full percent. As a unified team, we need every member to pitch in and get our numbers back up.” Rick started to turn that way and the other in his chair to emphasize what he was saying.

“I think with just a bit more effort on everyone’s part, this quarter’s productivity could surpass last year’s numbers.” Kirk ground his teeth as everything Rick was saying had absolutely nothing to do with him. “One only has to look at the predicted growth in our sales division to fully understand the trajectory the food industry is headed for in the future.”

Kirk was starting to question if Rick even understood what he was saying. Rick was spouting off useless facts with figures that belonged in some sort of board meeting. “Now you understand how important this is for all of us, so I hope you’ll focus more on your day-to-day tasks.” Rick seemed to be trying to tie in what he had been talking about before. It didn’t work and instead just left Kirk sitting there with a frown on his face.

Rick then moved into the current employee conduct policies when Kirk closed his eyes and wished he were anywhere but there. “Employees are to arrive at least fifteen minutes before their shift starts and to be prepared for their work shift. Wearing casual business attire. Punctuality is of the utmost importance here at Great USA Foods. In addition, I noticed you have used up all of your sick time. While I do empathize with your situation, if you continue to call out, we will have no choice but to start you on corrective actions.” At that point, Rick was just reading the most recent memo, which had been sent out to everyone from his computer. However, it did come with some slight modifications targeted directly at Kirk.

Kirk shrugged a little, having tuned Rick out. Maybe he’s just lonely. Looking up at Rick, Kirk noticed he seemed to be posturing as if he was some kind of king. Rick had one empty hand outstretched, like a pose from Hamlet, staring at it. Maybe he’s practicing for an acting career. Continuing to nod, Kirk felt like one of those crazy toy birds dipping its head down and then back up again, repeatedly.

Finally, the one-sided conversation ended when Rick said, “so go get on those reports.” That was done by pointing at the door to his office and trying to sound encouraging. More like do the work Kirk so I can take all the credit, Kirk mocked in his mind.

Rising from the chair, which always felt like an impossible feat, Kirk stood. Then nodding as if he were thinking over Rick’s empowering words, he headed out the door and back into the hallway. Rick’s simple meeting had taken well over forty minutes of the workday and had no uplifting effect on Kirk whatsoever. Being a salaryman himself, it had done nothing for him but eat up the time he could have been working.

Chapter 3: At The Office

Kirk made his way down another long hallway which looked very much like the hallway before it. Eventually, he arrived outside a door with his full name on it. ‘Kirk Richards, Account Manager’ read the plastic engraved plaque. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and opened the door, and stepped into his office. The space itself was small, all the account offices were bigger than the cubicles the sales staff used, but only about twice the size. The only window in his office was behind his desk, which looked out at the parking lot in front of the building.

Making his way over to his tiny desk, he sat down in the chair. Even with a less comfortable seat, he was still relieved to be out of Rick’s office. Taking a moment to motivate himself, he lightly slapped himself on his face to focus on the task before him. Glancing across his desk, he spotted a small picture frame on the corner of it.

In the picture was Madalyn, it had been taken when they had gone on vacation two years ago to Florida. The ocean was behind her as she sat on the beach. Kirk smiled as he looked at his wife, who was wearing a two-piece swimsuit. The entire month before they left, she had worked out to make sure her figure was perfect.

That big familiar smile on her face was something he missed. After a long while, he placed the photo back down where he had found it. Then he looked over at work waiting for him. The mound of file folders stacked up on the other side of the desk was tall enough it was leaning over. Had he not missed so many days, then he wouldn’t have been so far behind.

Reaching out, he straightened the folders and thumbed through the back edge of them. A hasty count told him twenty-three were waiting for him. Kirk uttered a groan, knowing it would take all day and then some to complete them. Grabbing the first folder, he flipped it open and hastily went through the papers inside. Stopping when he found the contract page the company had with the vegetable supplier.

The vegetable supplier provided Great USA Foods with items like spinach, lettuce, and various other vegetables. Glancing at the salesman's name, he saw the contract had been set up by Ted. Originally Ted and Kirk had been co-workers working in the cubicle sales area. Their spaces had been positioned front to the back of each other, and quickly, they hit it off.

Those had been fun, simpler days back then. Thinking about it, Kirk remembered how the occasional paper wad would fly over the wall and into the other space only to be tossed back a moment later. Work was only a mild inconvenience in those simpler times. There had been no grueling Rick speeches, just taking the orders from restaurants and entertainment spots who called in and goofing off.

Ted had been one of Kirk’s best friends at the office. They had gotten together with their wives, Madalyn and Matty, to go bowling and eat dinner several times. It seemed like an entire lifetime ago. Madlyn was a terrible bowler, though, so they always lost.

Ted was smart and funny, and Kirk missed interacting with him. However, since Madalyn’s passing, Ted had purposefully avoided him. Matty hadn’t even bothered to call and check in on how he was doing. So old friendships were just another thing he had lost.

Looking over the contract, it appeared Ted's numbers could be cut tighter. Kirk knew he was going to have to talk to Ted in person. Building up the courage, he reached over for the phone on his desk and pressed the button for the front receptionist.

“Rachel, this is Kirk, I’m going over an old contract, and I need to ask Ted a question or two. Is he available on site?” Kirk was hoping Ted was out because if he were on-site, it would mean they had to go over the contract for the next hour or more.

“You’re in luck,” Rachel said. “Ted is in the building.” It was almost like she was singing into the phone. ”I can send him a message telling him to see you right away.”

“Yes, please do,” Kirk said, disappointed to learn Ted was in.

“Not a problem. If you need anything else, just give me a ring.” Rachel said, making the conversation, in Kirk's opinion, much longer than it needed to be.

Kirk set the folder to the side with a groan and quickly went over several other contracts while waiting for Ted. The others looked fine, so he signed off on them and started a pile just to the side of Ted’s folder of finished contracts. Kirk was looking over his fifth contract of the day when a quiet knock came from his door.

“Enter,” Kirk said, not looking up, as he already knew it would be Ted.

The door opened, and Ted entered the room. “Hey, how ya doing?” Ted asked, being overly friendly for someone who had been avoiding him. Kirk looked up from his desk but didn’t say anything. With one hand, he motioned at the only chair in front of his desk for Ted to take a seat. Ted moved over to the hard chair and sat down.

It occurred to Kirk he was treating Ted just like Rick had treated him, and he shifted his mood to be more cordial. “I was going over one of your contracts. It looks like we could cut this cost,” Kirk circled the figure on the paper in front of him with a red marker. “I think maybe by three percent?” Kirk passed the contract folder over to Ted, who took it and began looking it over.

Three percent was a considerable amount when it came to thousands of pounds of produce. The company was overpaying the supplier by almost two thousand dollars per order. Mistakes happen, and not all contracts are profitable for the company. It was Kirk’s job to look over them and see which ones to cut, renegotiate, or keep. Meaning Kirk had to be very well-versed in all types of foods. It also meant Kirk had to keep up with the current price of those foods. While the company had spreadsheets outlining it, they were vast and complicated.

Kirk was the type of employee who could monitor current trends, which allowed him to bypass their maze of data. While he had taken pride in his job performance in the past, he no longer did. Instead, he performed the task as a soulless zombie. No longer caring about the people on the other end of the contracts meant he could spot overages of one percent or more almost at a single glance.

“Ah, this contract,” Ted said, looking over the paper he was holding. “There was a shortage at the time, and the percentages were spot on then.” Ted nodded his head up and down a couple of times, much as Kirk had done in Rick’s office.

Ted’s response meant the contract had to be renegotiated for current market trends. Kirk sighed and nodded to show his understanding. A three percent change in the base price of produce was huge, and he had to figure out if Ted had done his part for the company when initially negotiating the contract. Food contracts were a strange thing, and they were always open to some renegotiating based on the current prices the goods were selling at. Both parties would have to accept changes to the contract while it was still being executed.

“It says you made the contract with a Mr. Wilson,” Kirk said, remembering what was on the page Ted now held. That was another one of Kirk’s abilities, as he had an excellent memory. Often he was able to recall things he had only seen once or twice with almost perfect accuracy, and he was incredibly good with names.

“That’s correct,” Ted said, who looked a bit surprised. “Uh, his family owns a large farm in California.” Ted sighed before he continued, “This particular market shortage you might not know as you were out on leave at the time.” Ted paused here, trying to judge Kirk’s reaction to what he was saying.

The last bit stung, as Kirk realized he might have missed a market trend or two. That would mean he would have to do some research before he could finish the conversation. “I see, okay, I will do some more research and touch base with Mr. Wilson on my side, and we can tie up any loose ends, say, Monday?” Kirk asked as he leaned his head over to one side.

“Sounds good. Monday.” Ted smiled and rose to leave. “It’s good to see you at work again, Kirk.”

“Yea, it feels good to be here,” Kirk said, looking up at Ted. The meeting had gone much better and ran far shorter than he had envisioned. “How’s Matty doing?'' Kirk asked, looking up and offering a forced smile.

“She’s just fine. I’ll tell her you asked about her,” Ted replied.

The rest of the day went relatively smoothly, and Kirk even finished half the pile of folders he had to look over. Looking up at the clock, he saw it was almost lunchtime, so he powered through a couple more folders and pushed his contract renegotiation call till after lunch. That was partly due to the time change between California and the midwest and his procrastination. Standing, he headed out of his office and down to the cafeteria.

Great USA Foods, despite the name, didn’t have the most appetizing lunches in the world for its employees. Since he had left the house without a sack lunch, he would have no choice but to go through the food line if he wanted something to eat. Soon he had joined the other souls who had forgotten their meals and grabbed a food tray, putting it down on the metal guide rails.

The cafeteria was set up like an ala’ carte food buffet. There were usually three main dishes to choose from, and everyone knew it was best to avoid those. In addition to those, there were also side dishes, which for the most part, were okay. That left Kirk able to pick from garden salads, fresh fruits, and desserts. Kirk grabbed a green salad with a couple of ranch dressing packets and, further down the line, a roll with some butter.

Making his way over to the drink station, Kirk grabbed an ice tea and some napkins. Reaching the end of the line, he paid using his employee badge and found a suitable table nearby to sit down at. The salad was pretty plain, just green lettuce, a couple of cherry tomatoes, and three tiny red onion rings. Kirk spread the butter on his roll using a plastic knife and watched as it slowly melted, leaving the bread a lovely yellow color.

The cafeteria wasn’t bustling, but here and there set an employee or two. Occasionally he saw someone he knew, and they would wave awkwardly at him. Kirk would wave back at them in between bites of salad. Picking up too much salad with his thinly made plastic fork caused him to choke as lettuce and dressing fell into his lap.

Coughing and reaching for his tea, he used the liquid to wash down the lettuce. Then he turned his attention to his pants. Brushing the piece that had fallen aside, he could see the oily spot the dressing left behind on his work slacks. A spot like this won’t come out until I rewash my pants, nothing I can do about it right now. I guess I need to do laundry anyway. Finishing up the rest of his food, Kirk rose and took the tray over to the trash bins to dump out the remnants. Then he placed his tray into the spot for used trays and the salad bowl into a plastic dish tub on top of the trash bin.

Returning to his office, he sat down once more and decided to make the call. Pressing the number nine first to signify he was making a call outside of their company, he dialed the phone number from the folder. After a couple of rings, a pleasant voice came over the phone.

“This is Wilson farms. How may I direct your call?” A woman’s voice from the other end said.

“This is Kirk Richards, with Great USA Foods. I need to speak directly with Mr. Wilson, please,” Kirk said, trying to sound as professional as he could.

“Just one moment, I will connect you,” came the response from the other side.

A couple of click sounds later, and the phone was picked up by what sounded like an older man. “This is Mr. Wilson of Wilson Farms.”

“Hello Mr. Wilson, I’m Kirk Richards of Great USA Foods, and I'm calling to inform you that upon inspection of our current production contract with you, we will be doing some renegotiating on the current payment levels.”

“Hmm, I see, I don’t have that contract in front of me, and my people will have to go over the terms,” Mr. Wilson replied, his tone informing Kirk he was less than pleased about the idea of the contract changing.

“This was just a courtesy call to tell you Great USA Foods will be taking a serious look at the payment amounts on Monday. So if you would make yourself or a representative available, then we can work out any changes needing to be made.” Kirk had done these types of calls hundreds of times, as it was common in their industry. Due to that, he had a pattern he followed. It consisted of getting out what needed to be said in as few words as possible to avoid unnecessary conversation.

“I will do so. What time will the conference call be?” Mr. Wilson asked.

It was a valid question, and one Kirk needed to know himself, but he had purposely left the time open just in case Monday was unavailable for Mr. Wilson. Since he seemed to want Kirk to set the time, he obliged, looking at the clock to see the current time. “How about one pm central standard time, does that work for you?”

“That should work,” Mr. Wilson said.

“Thank you, we will call you then. Have a good day, Mr. Wilson. Goodbye” The call ended, and Kirk picked up the red pen on his desk and marked the time and date of the conference call on the outside of the folder. Then he placed the folder back into its spot on the desk and picked up another one from the slowly decreasing pile.

Chapter 4: Overtime And Death

With his shift nearing an end, the thought of staying over to finish the rest of the stack didn’t sound terrible. Already at the office, Kirk didn’t have anyone to go home to or anything else to do. Reaching over again with his thumb, he did an impromptu count of the folders left. There were only twelve, and if he finished those, it might just keep Rick off his back for a little while. To Kirk, it felt like a great reason to keep going, so he pressed on.

Grabbing the following folder, Kirk flipped it open and looked inside. With one last sigh, he began to pour his full attention into work. The first two flew by, and then he hit another hard one. It was now past five o’clock, which meant none of the salesmen would be available. Placing it beneath the folder containing Mr. Wilson’s contract, he was relieved he didn’t have to talk to anyone else.

Having sat all day, his back was feeling stiff, so he stood up and stretched. Thinking a walk might do him good, he headed out of his office and down to the break room. It was a medium-sized room with no windows, but it had a sink and a refrigerator. Additionally, there were snack and soda machines. Kirk reached into his pocket to see if he had any change on him. Counting out several quarters and a few other coins, he was sure he could afford something.

Using his badge, he opened the break room and walked over to the snack machine. It was the type of device with a clear front showing the snacks lined up on large coils inside. A couple of the spots were empty, and Kirk wondered what he was missing out on. Looking over what remained, he eventually narrowed his choice to three items.

Will it be cheesy chips, a chocolate cake roll, or some dried apple crisps? The choice was hard, as he wanted something sweet but light enough he wouldn’t feel tired after eating. With that in mind, his sugar craving eliminated the cheesy chips, and his desire to avoid overeating took the cake roll off the table. All that was left were the apple crisps. Pushing in three quarters, he pressed the corresponding code number E45.

The coil turned, and the crisps moved forward, dropping into the bottom area where he could get at them. Immediately, he was relieved when the bag hadn’t become stuck on the coil, as it was a known issue with the dispenser. Reaching down, he pulled out the plastic bag and tore off the top.

Kirk reached in and took out one of the crisps, popping it into his mouth with two fingers. It was crunchy and satisfying, but it also reminded him to stop by the water fountain before going back to his office. Continuing to eat them as he walked back towards his office, he grabbed a drink at a nearby fountain.

By the time he arrived back at his office, the tiny bag of apple crisps was all gone. Entering the office, he tossed the bag into a small trash bin and headed over to his desk. Pushing his procrastination aside, he flipped open the following contract folder. What he saw inside pleased him, as it was an easy one and wouldn’t take long.

Three hours later, he had completed the pile of folders on his desk. A couple would need Kirk to go over them with the contact person before signing off on those. The other contracts, which Kirk had signed off on, were done. Placing the last one into his outgoing box, he felt a sense of accomplishment.

It was now eight o’clock in the evening, and Kirk could tell it was dark outside from the small window in his office. With a smile on his face at a job well done, he arose and prepared to leave for the night. With him, he made sure to take the uncompleted folders, including Mr. Wilson’s, with the date and time of the conference call on the outside of it.

Stepping out of his office, he made his way down the hall and turned towards Rick’s. A short walk down another corridor and he was in front of Rick’s door. A metal folder holder hung to the side of the door. All the other offices in the building, including Mr. Kirby’s, had plastic file holders. That meant Rick had made sure to order a metal one just for his office.

Kirk tossed the folders of incomplete contracts into the rack and then made a hamlet pose like Rick had earlier. In his best theatrical voice, he said. “Your folders are all complete, King Rick.” Afterwards, he let out an audible laugh and turned to head out of the building.

Kirk was feeling pretty good about all he had done. A short walk back the way he had come found him at the main doors to the building in the lobby. All the exterior doors required a badge to leave the building, so he fumbled in his pocket for his.

Unable to find his badge, he let out a loud groan, knowing he must have left it on his desk. A short walk back, and sure enough, it was just sitting there waiting for him. Scooping it up, he put it in his pocket and once more made the trek back to the front.

That time he swiped the badge and caused the door to let out a click sound as it slid open. The open door let in the cool night air, and Kirk breathed in deeply. Leaving the office always felt much better than entering it. The gentle breeze felt nice, and he unbuttoned the top of his shirt, loosened his collar, and allowed his body to relax. What he had just completed at work was more than he had done in quite some time. Maybe this was the answer, he thought. If he just poured his all into work, perhaps he could kill the pain of his memories with it.

Of course, right now, he was a free man once more, at least until Monday. Kirk strode confidently across the parking lot, watching his shadow move past the empty spots. Having worked so late, his car was the last one there, and somehow it looked smaller to him as he made his way over to it. Laughing to himself, he wondered what Rick would think when he saw the file folders were almost all done.

Upon reaching his car, Kirk opened the door and climbed inside. Having survived a busy day of work, he took a moment to feel proud of himself before starting the vehicle. Turning his key brought the radio to life. Reaching over and turning up the song, he began singing along. The music raised his spirits, and he smiled.

Rolling down the driver’s side window, he put his car in reverse. Looking behind him, he backed out of the parking spot and made his way over to the lot’s exit. Pulling out from Great USA Foods, he started to drive down the road. The weekend was upon him, which meant work was a distant memory for a few days.

Wondering if he should stop somewhere on the way home for food, he thought about what he might want to eat. Kirk had been eating a lot of pizza, and something different sounded good. I think I want a burger, some fries, and a milkshake.

Speeding up, he merged onto the highway and quickly joined the traffic going his way. In some small ways, things were looking up for him. The lights of the passing cars on the other side of the road seemed to have a rhythm as he watched them. A loud commercial for some vitamin came on, and he reached down to turn the radio off. Looking back up, he noticed the traffic up ahead had slowed down.

Kirk pressed on his brakes, slowing down to join the new speed set by the cars in front of him. Looking out the passenger side, he could see a large semi had lost a part of its load, and traffic up ahead was having to use the side of the highway to get around it. Gawkers were slowing down, looking at the pallets that had fallen off the semi. Kirk could see what he thought looked like a load of baby diapers had crashed, blocking the other lane.

Events like these always kicked his brain into market supply and demand trends. While one load wouldn’t affect the diaper market, he knew it would affect the supply available at the location that pallet had been meant for. After all, to shoppers, the place they bought things, such as diapers, was usually their only one from a supply point of view.

That meant some poor mothers would be left without the necessary items to care for their children. Which would leave them with only two choices: accept the way things were and go without or change to another location that had what she wanted. If the mother went to another location, there would be the chance altering the way things were usually done could lead her to find a new place to buy diapers. That might result in lost revenue for the original shop.

Kirk found those things interesting, as they were oversimplified problems compared to the market trends he had to keep up with at work. While it was related, they were outside the general scope of what he dealt with. Maybe I’m just a nerd. Madalyn had always told him he was.

Looking back over at the traffic in front of him, he sped up faster than he had been moving. Without warning, he heard the car behind him slam on its brakes. Looking into his rearview mirror, he could see it skid out of control across the pavement. Its headlights were coming closer and closer to the rear end of his car. Then the sound of crushed metal and broken glass filled the air.

Darkness enveloped Kirk, who was unsure what had happened, Kirk tried to move, but he couldn’t. All he could manage to do was turn his head. When his vision returned once more, it was now blurry. Looking out the passenger side of his car where a window had once been, he could make out other cars that had stopped along the road.

A group of people had gotten out of their vehicles and were gathering around. Some of them were running towards him. Kirk fought to remain conscious, forcing his eyes open each time they would close. Causing him to lose track as minutes passed. Unable to move, a sense of fright came over him and rendered him frozen.

The vehicle that had hit him forced his car under or maybe into the one in front of him. Kirk wasn’t able to determine which exactly had happened. Looking down as best he could, he saw something from within his vehicle had entered his chest, and blood was everywhere. Nothing hurt, even though he should have been in pain. Instead, he just felt numb and cold. A single thought went through his head: Is this all life is?

“Quick, call an ambulance,” Screamed a female voice.

“It looks awful,” A male voice said.

Suddenly a bright light blinded him, it moved past his face, and he heard a man gasp. Straining, he could make out the faint image of a police officer in front of him, but his eyes closed once more. Seeming unable to open them, he oddly felt content, leaving them shut. After all, who needs this world, he thought. Kirk embraced the darkness swallowing his entire being as his life ended.

Chapter 5: Heaven

Kirk tried to open his eyes, but the brightness of the world around him was more than he could take. Groaning, he raised his right arm to cover his eyes. It made his headache so much he clenched them tightly again. From above, where he lay, he could hear a loud hum.

That sound must be coming from the light-up above me. Trying a few more times to keep his eyes open, he eventually found he could, but only by squinting. Gathering his bearings, he could tell he was lying down in the center of a large room. It looked empty as Kirk turned his head from side to side.

It was unclear what he was lying on, but he thought it was some sort of bed. Reaching behind him, it felt soft but strangely not like a mattress. It was almost as if he were lying on some spongy material as it snapped back to its original form when no longer bearing any weight. Kirk felt well-rested with no pain anywhere.

Raising his left arm, he looked at one of his hands. Moving his fingers about, Kirk found all five were there and functioned as usual. Causing him to let out a sigh of relief. The irony wasn’t lost on him, as there had been many times he had welcomed death but now felt the urge to cling to life. The last thing he remembered was the car accident, which had happened on his way home from work.

Thinking it over, he was sure another car had rear-ended him. Maybe this is a hospital? Taking in his surroundings, a hospital seemed to be the most likely answer. Raising his head slowly, he looked around and could see there was nothing around him. No counters or cabinets, nothing at all, just four white walls. The room was empty, aside from him and whatever he was laying on.

Kirk was sure he had died in the wreck. How could I still be alive? Attempting to move to a sitting position for a better view, he found he could do so easily. The new vantage point only confirmed what he had seen as he looked around.

However, Kirk must have tried to rise too fast as his mind started spinning. Feeling forced him to lay back down until he was able to regain his clarity. After a moment, he tried again, slower, and successfully set up. Now seated upright on the material under him, he noticed the floor in the room was also a bright white color.

Kirk examined his surroundings closer and could not see a single speck of dust, smudge, or discoloration anywhere around him. There was just a never-ending sea of bright white everywhere. How he had arrived there was not something he understood, and the lack of people around him only added to his confusion.

What he saw only made him think about where he was. The lack of windows didn’t help, as it provided no landmarks or view of the outside. The amount of time passing since his accident escaped him. Is it still night, or is it day now? Reaching for his phone to check, he found it to be missing. Other than the clothes he was wearing, nothing else in the room seemed to give him an idea of where he had come from.

Kirk once again focused on the lack of other people around. It seemed unusual as he had now been awake for at least a few minutes. With no nurses or other staff entering the room, Kirk was growing concerned. Maybe they had all just stepped outside, he thought, trying to create some sense of normalcy out of his current situation.

Hopping off the platform he was on was much easier than he thought it would be. Standing on the white floor caused him to notice again he experienced no pain from the prior action. Looking down at his feet, he saw they were bare, which led him to another question: Where are my shoes?

Beneath him, he was standing on what he assumed to be a smooth tile floor. Looking down at it, he saw no connecting lines, but it felt like tile. Moving his view upwards, he studied the walls and found the only opening in the room was to his right, which led to a corridor. Kirk shrugged and took a step in its direction, and then another. Surprise crossed his face with how effortlessly he was able to do so.

Stopping for a moment, he used his hands to feel around his body to check for injuries but found none. That’s odd, the damage I had seems completely healed. Patting himself down, he was left in disbelief. I’m perfectly fine, how can that be?

Baffled by his discovery, he felt more motivated as he moved forward the rest of the way until he was standing at the entrance of a small hallway. Staring down it, the floor, ceiling, and walls were all made from the same annoying material as the room he had come from. Maybe this is all a dream and not reality.

Kirk tilted his head to one side, trying to focus on where he was. There had to be an explanation for the place, but nothing was coming to mind. Where he found himself was so strange and different from anywhere, he had ever been. Reaching out, he touched one of the walls to see it was even real. Feeling how sturdy it was, he let out a small laugh at himself. Of course, they’re actual walls. What else could they be?

Then he looked down the small hallway before him and took a step inside of it. Kirk stopped moving about ten feet down the corridor, as he could see it ended at another annoying white wall. Turning to face the left side of the hall, he saw three wooden doors standing there in front of him. Kirk would have sworn those doors were not there just a second earlier if you had asked him about them.

Everything about the place struck Kirk as odd. Sure, doors can pop into existence now. Totally normal. Moving in for a closer view, he inspected each door.  They were all made of varying wood shades. Each was unique in its own way. I must have just missed them when I walked by earlier? There’s no way they weren’t here before.
Maybe they have me on some medication?

Each door had a small window on it. Moving over to the first door, which was the largest of the three, Kirk examined it. The door looked ancient with well-weathered wood cracked as if made from some sort of driftwood. Even though it was worn, it had an intricate carving of a large tree on it. Only on closer inspection, he found the door itself had been set inside the carving of the tree.

Each limb of the tree seemed to be present. Kirk reached out and touched the tree branches, following one out until it completely disappeared. It must have taken the artist years to do the design. At different intervals, the tree branches had small yellow lights that lit up like shiny leaves.

The tree ran completely off the sides of the door and frame and onto the wall around it. The branches seemed only to disappear for the other entryways to exist. The entrance featured a silver handle with a thumb latch at the top instead of a traditional doorknob. The handle portion made out of twirled metal went around before returning to the plate it was mounted on.

The door’s handle was superbly crafted from what appeared to be actual silver. Though shiny, it had grown darker in spots due to its age. The patterns of the lines behind the grip on the backplate were familiar. They looked like Celtic knotwork with designs that continued forever, disappearing into themselves.

To Kirk, it looked like something he would have seen in a high-budget fantasy movie. Had a unicorn or dragon burst forth from it, he would not have been surprised. Running his hand over the surface reinforced he was not hallucinating the whole thing. The smooth indents in the wood told him the door was actually there.

Looking through the window on the door, he saw green fields lined with trees that seemed to go on forever. Above them was a warm, inviting sun in a blue, cloudless sky. It was a picturesque view, like what he might have seen in a painting. Just from looking at it, Kirk felt a warm sensation as if it were welcoming him into it. Kirk stared out the window for a while before he backed off to look at the other doors.

The second door was a typically sized one, looking like a home entry door. In fact, in almost any nice neighborhood, he would have seen many doors like that one. The entrance featured a four-panel design running down its face. In the middle of the four-panel pattern was a round window.

The panel sections were made, so the edges of the panels were recessed back into the door. A deep brown stain made the entry very inviting, and it had a shiny large brass doorknob with a matching neatly etched back panel. Kirk moved closer to the door so he could look into its round window.

What Kirk saw instantly brought tears to his eyes. On the other side, almost like a ghost, was his wife Madalyn holding their daughter. Though he had never seen his daughter, he knew without a doubt it was her. Gulping, he closed his eyes and then opened them again. They were still there smiling from the other side. Thinking maybe they could see him from how they were standing sadly though their expressions never changed to confirm it.

Immediately he reached out and grasped the doorknob, trying to pull it open. The door wouldn’t budge. Pushing and pulling at it with all his might, he couldn’t get the door open. Pounding on it, he tried to break it down, but it was futile.

There were no signs Kirk had even touched the door, let alone been punching it. Additionally, his hands, which should have been black and blue, were not. The sensation in his hands was different from pain, but he was too lost in sorrow to notice it. The door was soundly locked, unable to be opened, and it filled him with anger.

Kirk turned that anger to the window, trying to break it open so he could join the rest of his family on the other side. However, that too had no effect, as the window seemed unbreakable, no matter how hard he hit it. Working himself into a feeling of being emotionally spent, Kirk collapsed at the base of the door crying uncontrollably.

For an unknown amount of time, Kirk laid there. When his strength returned, he arose and just stared through the small clear opening in the door. Madlyn continued to smile at him from the other side. Knowing he had no chance of getting through to her, he pried himself away to examine the last door in the hallway.

The third door was smaller than a normal-sized door. While it was still human size, it seemed thinner and was not as wide or tall. It had two large stained glass windows that ran down it vertically. One of the windows was red, the other green. Both of them had been made with bright-colored pieces of glass. They sharply contrasted with the white wall the door sat within.

To Kirk, it looked like it was old, from the 1920s to 1930s, though he wasn’t positive of that time period. The pattern in the glass made looking through to the other side hard to do. However, he was confident he could see strange dark shapes moving about.

They looked somewhat human but at the same time different. Looking down at the doorknob, he could see it too was vintage-style and much smaller than the modern-looking door next to it. If he had to guess, he would say the doorknob was made of tin. Unlike the other entries, the knob and the classic skeleton keyhole below were not mounted using a backplate.

The keyhole seemed to be part of the door as if it were made during construction. A thought occurred to Kirk. Maybe this door could lead to the area of the middle door. Reaching out his hand, he grasped the small doorknob, turned it, and tried to pull the door open. The entry only rattled back and forth. That noise told him, without a doubt, it was locked from the other side.

Well, so much for door number three, Kirk thought with a sigh. Slowly he walked over to the first doorway, the one he had not yet tried to open. It was so much larger than the other two he wasn't sure if he could move it. It looked too large for a single person to push or pull open. Even if he used all his strength, Kirk was sure it wouldn’t budge, locked or not, just due to its size.

Looking through the window again, he realized there was no way if he went through the door that he would reconnect to the one he had seen Madalyn behind. The realization caused him to break down again, and he collapsed in the hallway next to the door. In between the emotional pain, he came to one conclusion. That he had to be in some kind of afterlife, which meant he must be dead.

For a long time, he thought about staying in the hallway forever. Nothing seemed to be forcing him on. However, that idea seemed silly in many ways. After all, he didn’t know what lay beyond. Eventually, he stood again, and with his legs wobbling, he looked through the window to see the fields, trees, and bright sunshine. For all he knew, the door was locked just like the other ones, and in some small way, he hoped that was the case.

With one final glance at the middle door, he reached out his hand toward the one within the tree carving. Pressing down on the thumb latch, he was surprised by how easily he pushed the door open. On the other side of it, a bright yellow light greeted him. A warmth surrounded his whole body as he stepped through, and a sense everything would be alright made him feel comfortable and wanted.

Chapter 6: Fantasy Life

Meanwhile, in the kingdom of Vale, the carriage of Lord Zain Drace rushed over the rough dirt pathways leading to his estate. Inside the carriage, Lord Drace and Grober, the head tax collector, were covering the province's financial affairs. Grober, who was always quick to add new taxes onto the people, was proposing just such a thing.

“You don’t need to worry about the trade agreement with Lord Talon. We can make up for its shortfall with a new tax,” Grober said, looking over at Lord Drace to gauge his reaction to the words.

The long ride to the neighboring territory of Lord Talon had left Lord Drace more than a little annoyed. Their journey had been for nothing, as Lord Talon accepted no trade agreement they proposed. The critical trade route Lord Drace had hoped to establish with Lord Talon’s territory had fallen through completely.

Drace sighed, pushed the curtain over his window to one side, leaned his head out of his carriage, and shouted, “Driver go faster; I’m tired and want to be home before nightfall.“

The passengers were already bumping about during the ride, but Lord Drace’s words must have gotten to the driver’s ears as the trip became even bumpier. Their new speed caused the carriage’s wheels to grow louder. That forced Grober to raise his voice for Drace to hear him. These carriage rides were exhausting, and having Grober as his only company left a sour taste in his mouth.

“I will write up the new tax documents and present them to you tomorrow.” Grober was trying his best to get Lord Drace to agree to his plan, but the message seemed to be falling on deaf ears.

Outside the carriage and down the road a ways, a family was walking towards Brighton village. It was a small place inside Lord Drace’s territory but a reasonable distance from Lord Drace’s estate. The trio consisted of a father named William and his two young sons, Cam and Gil.

The youngest boy, Gil, had bright blue hair, as many people in the kingdom did. While he ran along the road, his hair glistened in the sunlight. The oldest boy, Cam, had dark, blond hair running long in every direction from the top of his head.

William had black hair, green eyes, and was a big muscular man with tanned skin from working outside. Over one of his shoulders, he carried a make-shift bag with enough food inside to feed them for the day. That was Gil’s first time going to the village, and William planned to make the best of it.

“How much further, is it?” Gil asked, running up beside his father and Cam.

“Not much longer. We’re about halfway there,” came the reply from William.

The oldest boy, Cam, nodded, agreeing with their father. The road was mostly dirt, with some small stones and clumps of grass jutting up from time to time. It had only been worn smooth by foot traffic, though ruts from carriages and wagons could be seen along the way. Larger stones marked the edge, which had been put there by travelers. Since it was early morning, the family had the road mostly to themselves.

The family could hear birds overhead singing back and forth to each other. Being so early in the season, the sweet smell of spring hung in the air. Without a cloud in the sky, the sun looked down on the family as they casually walked towards the village.

“What’s the village like?” Gil asked, who was always curious.

Cam took the lead, “It’s an amazing place, people are everywhere, and there is always so much to see and do.” The village, while small, was the largest Cam had ever remembered seeing.

Occasionally, another traveler was seen in the distance, coming or going. When they would pass them, pleasant greetings were exchanged. The youngest of the trio trailed behind his father and brother. Gil was far more occupied with kicking a flat stone about the road than the journey in front of them.

The group had just come to a sharp bend in the road. On one side of them was an outcropping of trees, and to the other was a rail fence marking the edge of someone’s property. The road narrowed because of the turn. They had just cleared the turn's blind spot when the thundering sound of horses at a full run came within earshot.

William suddenly yelled, “Get to the side of the road, boys!”

Unfortunately, the warning came too late as two enormous horses rounded the bend, pulling a brightly painted blue carriage with white trim. The carriage, horses and all, were bearing down on the oldest boy. Cam looked up and froze in fear as he saw two horses charging, full speed, right at him.

Gil was already on the side of the road when he saw his brother just standing there in the middle of it. Bounding into the street, with all his might, Gil shoved his brother out of the way. In doing so, Gil fell flat, right in the horses' path. There was nowhere he could go.

Gil tried to rise to his feet, but time was not on his side, and the two horses trampled him. Before anyone could act, it was all over. Gil was left in a heap on the ground as William and Cam looked on in horror. The youngest boy’s compact form was curled up in a ball, lying motionless on the dirt road.

Blood flowed freely from his body, mixing with the dirt and making dark red mud all around him. Turning, his father shouted towards the carriage that had run his youngest son down. Without slowing, a brightly blue-clothed arm reached out from the carriage window, tossed a single gold coin onto the dirt road, and continued out of sight.

“Damn Nobles, they don’t care about anyone but themselves!” William said, rushing to the youngest boy's side.

The carriage belonged to the lord of their territory, Zain Drace. To be noble in the kingdom of Vale afforded one particular privilege, but what had occurred went beyond that. William had only moved to the territory because its last lord had been such an outstanding leader.

Zain, the son of the late Lord Theodore Drace, who most would agree, had been a prominent leader, was nothing like his father. Theodore had helped the people of his lands through bad times and built up the territory by expanding its borders. That had made him well renowned in his life throughout the entire kingdom. Many people had mourned his passing.

Driven by only what he wanted, Zain was what most people in the territory would have called a spoiled rich kid. If he had not been in charge, people might have even said it aloud, but as he was their lord, they kept it to themselves. Allowing the people to be grossly over-taxed, he cared nothing for any of the commoners. Spending in excess on himself while his people starved, he was a cruel and demanding lord. Lord Drace had ruled over the territory for four short years, during which parts of it had fallen into decay. Life was much harder for the people who lived there.

Cam, who was closer to the coin than his father, stooped down and picked it up, as William picked up the lifeless body of Gil. In shock at what had happened, Cam stared down at the gold coin in his hand. Part of him was in awe, as he had never seen one, but looking over at Gil's body left him feeling disgusted by it.

William looked around, desperate for any help. By pure coincidence, a wagon from Brighton was coming up the bend at that very time. Quickly, he flagged down the driver, who happened to be both a local merchant and friend of William’s. The man’s name was Galvin, and he was the local weapons merchant in Brighton village. Carefully, after moving some goods aside, William laid Gil’s limp body into the back of the wagon.

As they were still some distance to the village, William quickly decided he had to take the boy to a place closer. Therefore, he directed the merchant to veer off the road into the nearby trees. After a brisk ride, they entered a clearing, where stood a simple yet well-made house. The home itself was a single-story structure made of brightly painted wood.

William hastily thanked Galvin for his help and cautiously grabbed Gil’s unconscious form. With Cam in tow, he found himself at the front door of the dwelling. Raising his hand, he pounded soundly on it. Within a few seconds, a boy about Cam’s age answered the door. It was Jack, Mr. Brooks' son, who the family knew well.

Being close in age to Cam, all three of the boys had played together on several occasions. Mr. Brooks and his son were both members of the Carpenter’s Guild. Mr. Brooks was an elder member of the guild, while his son, Jack, was just an apprentice. Since Jack had been accepted into the guild, Cam and Gil hadn’t been able to play with him as often as they used to.

The hierarchy of guilds was set up with the lowest level being apprentices, which also happened to be the largest group of a guild. They were someone who had shown talent in the craft the guild specialized in. After completing some tests, they would be accepted on a trial basis at the guild to hone their skills further. They were often the manual labor workers of the guild, assigned to the less critical jobs.

Regular guild members were the middle tier of the guild's craftsmen. The group was made of those who had advanced beyond the apprenticeship level and gained the guild's full rights. They did most of the day-to-day work for the guild and oversaw the apprentices. Many members were never promoted above it. If a member did go higher, they would become elders in the guild.

Being an elder in a guild was a prestigious title and came with much respect from all guild members. Meaning they were more skilled than those below their ranking. Usually, elders had some specific talent they had focused on and had proven themselves. For Mr. Brooks, it was his ability to do ultra-fine, detailed relief carvings.

Relief carving was a specific style of woodworking where one would create pictures in the wood instead of shaping the wood like an actual three-dimensional, stand-alone piece. Those skilled in relief carving only removed a small amount of the wood from a flat surface to create an image. It could best be described as drawing by removing wood.

Above the elder level was the group in charge of the guild. They were called masters, as they had mastered every skill of their craft. Depending on the specific location’s size and the number of members, there could be one to eight masters. The village of Brighton, for example, only had one master craftsman at its Carpenter’s Guild.

The expression on Jack’s face changed to one of concern. Jack looked down at Gil as if he were trying to figure out what had happened. Keeping his head about him, he quickly called back into the home for his father. Shortly a well-dressed man in a tan robe with dark, brown thread lining the edges appeared from within. The man in the robe was Mr. Brooks, a craftsman from the village of Brighton. Quickly, William detailed what had taken place out on the road. Mr. Brooks hastily showed the family into the house.

“Jack, clear the kitchen table, so we have a place to put the boy.” Mr. Brooks instructed.

Jack rushed to clear the table for Gil’s body as William placed the young boy on top of it. They all could tell Gil was barely breathing. Cam looked at his brother's body and could see blood still flowing from his wounds out onto the table. The small form of Gil was not moving while Mr. Brooks looked Gil up and down. It was clear based on his injuries they were terrible, likely fatal.

Looking over at William with a frown upon his face, Mr. Brooks said, “I don’t know what we can do for him.”

William seemed to be assessing the situation, as he had seen many battle injuries in his life. However, Gil was so small his current condition wouldn’t register in his head. If it had been a battlefield and Gil had been a combatant, William would have accepted his son was dying. Since war was not the cause, William was left unsure of how to proceed.

As fate would have it, Mr. Brooks, who usually would have been in the village, had an exceptional customer visiting his home. It was then a man with a long gray robe, which dragged about on the ground as he walked, entered the small kitchen area. On his head, he wore a large, pointed hat atop a round face and had a long beard flowing below his neck. The man was a well-known mage from Kingstown, the capital city of the kingdom of Vale, where he usually resided.

“Hello all, my name is Frederick. I’m a teacher at the Royal Academy in Kingstown.” The mage said as if he were giving his resume. Frederick had arrived at the Brooks' home only minutes earlier. “I was just outside in the woods, you see, gathering magical herbs.” Frederick paused, looking at each of the people in the house to ensure they were listening before continuing. “During my adventures, I ran into a wolf and broke my staff. That’s why I stopped by Mr. Brooks’s home today.”

“Can, can you help my boy?” William asked, looking over at the mage.

Cam looked up at Frederick as he spoke and could see lines on his face showing he was an ancient man. They might have found it odd had anyone been paying much attention to the story Frederick had told. Especially since wolves were a very uncommon sight in their area. Of course, with Gil still on the table bleeding out, everyone’s minds were elsewhere.

“I think I can help the boy,” Frederick said, walking over to the kitchen table. “Oh, I see these injuries are very severe. Hmm, this reminds me of another person I once helped. What was his name?” Frederick tilted his head and looked up at the ceiling, trying to recall some information no one in the home cared the slightest about.

“Can you help?” William asked again, trying to get the magic caster to focus on the matter at hand.

Frederick brought his attention back to the home, appearing to understand he was needed, and raised one of his hands to pat William’s shoulder. “There is no reason to worry, William. I think this boy still has a lot of life left in him.”

William was too caught up in the events unfolding on the table to realize Frederick had used his first name without being introduced. Unbeknownst to William, they had met many years earlier when he was an adventurer in Kingstown. At that time, Frederick was the advisor to the king. Frederick had been the one to encourage the king to send out a team of five adventurers to save the kingdom from a terrible red dragon.

Though many knew William, only a select few knew him as William West, The Dragon Slayer. William honestly preferred it that way, as he was the only adventurer of the five sent to return all those years ago. The mission, which was his last adventure, afforded the small family the land they now lived on.

Frederick removed his hand from William's shoulder and moved closer to the table. Looking down at the boy’s form, he sighed. “You may want to step back,” Frederick warned while he raised both his arms over Gil’s tiny body. Extending his old, boney hands above the young boy, Frederick chanted, “Riportaci quello che hai rubato.”

It was a magic spell of some sort he was casting. The others in the room watched in awe, the words he spoke foreign to them. What he spoke was elvish, which all magic traced back to. Elves were known to be the people of magic; thus, they spoke the language of magic.

Moving his hands outward over Gil’s body, Frederick returned them to the center once they reached as far out as possible. While he repeated the motion, he kept chanting. All the while, small round flakes of yellow light fell from his hands onto Gil’s broken body, where they quickly disappeared. The others in the room shielded their eyes, forced to look away from how bright it became.

Chapter 7: I’m Seven

Kirk slowly opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. Once again, he was in a bed, but there were colors and things all over the room. The walls here were made of large round tree trunks. They intertwined at the corners much like the logs in a toy log building set would. Looking up, he saw the roof was made of flat wooden planks.

The sturdy construction of the bed he was lying in made Kirk wonder what giant person it had been made for. Lifting his head, he saw a small body swallowed in comparison by the blankets around it. That was a jarring sight, as it was not his own body.

Attempting to collect his thoughts, he began to figure out where he was and what he was doing there. The last thing he remembered was the car crash. Is this the afterlife? Kirk wondered to himself. That idea didn't last long since he had somehow moved from the empty white space he had been into some sort of cabin.

The room was small and against the far wall across from his bed was what he figured to be another of similar size. It appeared to have the same heavy wooden frame with a sizable straw-filled pillow on top of it, acting as a mattress. For the most part, the bed he laid on was warm and comfortable, except for a piece of straw poking through the thick cloth.

Had he been able to, he would have repositioned his body to avoid the piece of straw. However, in trying to do so, Kirk quickly found he didn’t have the strength to move. That made him wish for his mattress from back home in his apartment. Lying there, his mind trailed off in all sorts of directions. What had happened to me? How did I end up here? This has all the makings of a horror movie. Kirk’s mind kept telling him at any second, a monster would enter and devour him.

After they didn’t happen, those thoughts eventually gave way to new ones: This is more like a fairytale, but the classic versions of those didn’t always end well either. The only thought Kirk’s mind clung to was the need to escape. After all, he hadn’t asked to be here, and he certainly didn’t want to be. The only words he could assign to what was happening were that he had somehow been taken, hostage.

It just wasn’t obvious how someone had taken him from his world and put him into a new one. Thinking about it made him tired, and Kirk found himself drifting in and out of consciousness. Eventually, he regained it once more and stuck with the fairy tale thought without any other good options. It wouldn’t have surprised him had the three little pigs walked right into the room at that point. Since he was awake, he tried again to rise off the bed, but to no avail, as he was too weak to move his body. However, his attempt led to discovering that he could now move his arms, but only a little.

Raising his right hand as close to his face as he could, he looked at it. Was my hand always this small? It was so much smaller than he remembered it being, tiny even. At which point, Kirk remembered the small body he had seen before. Quickly running both his hands up and down his body as far as he could, he found he was smaller everywhere than he had been.

Everything was so surreal, with his entire body being small and very thin. Now it was no longer a fairy tale, but more like an Alice in Wonderland story. Kirk brought his hand back into view and stared at it for what seemed like the longest time. The fingers on the hand reacted when he moved them as if it were his hand. That amused him to some degree, as he thought of himself as a puppet. It is quite possible he would have done that for some time had he not been interrupted.

“He’s awake, father. Gil is awake!” A young voice exclaimed as the door to the room opened, and Cam entered.

At the sudden noise and knowledge, someone else was in the room; Kirk tried to sit up again in the bed. That turned out to be impossible for him, as he realized any movement more than just his arms and hands sent excruciating bolts of pain down through his body. While screaming was his first instinct, Kirk thought better of it and stayed silent. If anyone meant to harm him, he wanted them to believe he was still strong enough to fight back.

Cam, who had shouted to his father, moved closer to Kirk. Excitedly he began talking a mile a minute. Kirk had a hard time processing all the information.

“You, wake, Gil, doing,” was the jumbled mess Cam said in Kirk’s mind.

What Cam had really said was, “Your awake, Gil. How are you doing?” As he had spoken, he had also moved closer to the bed.

As Kirk could pick out a word here and there in the jumbled mess, he realized the boy was speaking English. How is that possible? Maybe he isn’t speaking English, and this body I’m in is decoding his speech? Not certain if it was his cloudy mind or Cam’s excited speech pattern, Kirk struggled to put the words into anything meaningful.

“Can you slow down?” Kirk asked, relieved to find he could at least talk. The request seemed to be of no use as it was impossible to get any words in over the other boy. Giving up, he settled back into the bed.

Cam was very excited about finding his brother awake, and Kirk gathered that much from what the loud-mouthed boy was saying. From what Kirk could figure out, there had been an accident of some sort, and horses had trampled the boy’s brother. Well, it would suck to be that kid.

“We were worried about you Gil, it was so lucky the mage was visiting Mr. Brooks' house,” Cam said.

From that, Kirk picked out some sort of mage saved the kid's brother. That, of course, sent his brain off into all kinds of thoughts. After all, with how weird things had been, that was just the new normal for him. One fact did stick with him, though, which was that magic was real in his new world, or at least the boy believed so.

“Wait, magic is real?” Kirk asked hesitantly, as the words sounded crazy.

“It was amazing, yellow lights, and then you were healed,” Cam said.

Just the little Cam said gave Kirk a lot to think over, and he would have liked to have had time to do just that. However, before he could, William entered the room and came over to him. Kirk thought the guy must have been the father of the noisy kid. With a sigh of relief, he hoped the man would take away the other boy and allow him to rest more.

“Cam, you should give your brother some space. He has just awoken from a horrible accident.” William instructed.

“Ok,” Cam said, looking at the floor and sounding disappointed.

With that bit of knowledge, Kirk was able to give the other child a name, Cam. So Cam is Gil’s brother but wait. That makes me, no, that’s impossible, I must have misheard him. William had indicated Kirk was somehow Gil. Slowly most of what Cam had rambled on about was starting to piece together in Kirk’s mind. If Cam’s brother was the one who had been in the accident, and that man was the father of both, which meant Kirk was in Gil’s body. I must be in a coma or some crazy fever dream.

Something was going on because it was impossible to be in another person’s body as far as Kirk knew. What kind of insanity is this? How can I be Gil? Gil tried with all his might to rise out of bed, but he couldn’t. With his mind overloaded by new information and unusual ideas, Gil, exhausted by it all, closed his eyes and passed out.

Gil awoke again sometime later, still stuck in the same bizarre world and small body. Remembering full well all about his life before and the terrible car wreck, he couldn’t figure out how he had ended up in the land of fairy tales. After some time, he remembered the door he had gone through, the one within the tree carving, and realized it must have brought him there. A noise startled him as Gil’s father entered the room. Moving over to his son’s bed, he sat on the edge of it beside the boy.

Looking up at the man, Gil noticed he had the greenest eyes he had ever seen. They were a bright unnatural-looking green. William was also muscular and clearly worked out a lot. Great, my new father is some kind of muscle head. William reached out and put his rough, sandpapery hand down onto Gil’s forehead. They were calloused and looked worn with several small scars. That wasn’t from working out as Gil suspected but instead came from all the hard work he had done over the years.

The sensation of William’s hand on Gil’s young skin sent shivers up and down his spine. William then moved his hand and placed the back of it against Gil’s left cheek. Having none of that, Gil began to move his hands around wildly to get the big oaf off of him. Stranger danger much? I don’t know this man. What is he doing so close to me?

“Stop, stop,” Gil said, still moving his arms wildly about.

William let out a little laugh as he said, “Well, you seem to be doing better. It looks like your fever has finally gone down, Gil. This time we were fortunate the mage, Frederick, was visiting Brooks' or we may have lost you. Get some rest, my boy. Soon I will make us some supper.” With that, William rose from the bed and headed out of the room.

Gil wasn’t exactly sure what to do, but he felt exhausted from all the movements he had just made. Though he hated being stuck in one place, there was nothing he could do about it. Trapped in the bed and at the mercy of those around him, he had no choice but to give in. Laying back, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep once more.

Waking again, Gil could smell some food from the other room. For the first time, he found he was able to sit up in bed. Moving into that position gave him a better look at the room he was in. Just as he had suspected, he was in a log cabin. Around him was a small stool, two beds, and a cabinet he guessed was for clothes.

The door to the room had been left half-open, and he could see in the hall there was another entryway. Thinking it might be a way to escape the nightmare, he tried to stand up. Managing to clear the bed, he fell onto the floor with a loud thud. Racked with pain, he lay on the floor, unable to get himself back up.

“Help,” Gil cried out as he lay helpless on the hard wooden floor of the cabin.

William, upon hearing the noise, quickly made his way into the room. Reaching down, he picked up Gil as if he weighed nothing and put him back onto the bed. Gil was grateful to William for helping him, even if he was keeping him hostage. Back in bed, he found the pain subsided.

Occasionally, Cam would come in and talk to him about all sorts of things. That became Gil’s primary source of information about the new world he was stuck inside of. Gil took these opportunities when they would arise to try and figure out as much as he could about the world outside.

“How are you doing today?” Cam asked.

“Better, I think,” Gil said. It was times like these Gil would try to steer the conversation into a mission of information gathering. “Have you been sleeping in father’s room?”

“No, I’ve been sleeping in the main room. Though dad’s room is big enough for more people.” Cam answered, shrugging.

The cabin has at least two rooms, and Cam’s father has the larger of them. While the information was not valuable as is, it could be helpful at some point. Continuing along that path, he tried to gather some more details.

“What do father’s friends call him?” Gil asked, attempting to learn what his new father’s name was.

“What?” Cam was surprised by the question.

“Well, we call him father or dad, but obviously, Mr. Brooks doesn't call him that.” Gil used a name he remembered hearing from when Cam visited him before.

“William, silly, how did you forget?” Asked Cam, who looked at his brother with great concern.

“Oh, I knew I was just playing with you.” Came Gil’s reply, as he tried to cover, he had no idea of Williams name until just now.

The conversations often went that way, and with his newfound knowledge, Gil began to hatch a plan of escaping from the cabin. Calculating, all he had to do was wait until both Cam and William were distracted and then make a run for the door he had seen. However,  a nagging thought about his great escape told him it would honestly gain him nothing.

After all, he was trapped in a child's body and was too weak to stand, let alone run. In addition, he had no money, clothing, or food to take with him. Reluctantly, Gil put the great escape on hold. Instead, he decided it was best to gain all the knowledge he could and consider his next move. Accepting in his new world, he was a boy named Gil was the easiest path. Since he already looked the part, he might as well play the role.

“How old are you?” Gil asked, looking up at Cam.

“I’m ten, and you're seven,” Cam said, whose concern only grew with each question Gil asked.

Gil’s expression changed to one of disbelief. Being trapped in the frail body of a seven-year-old took a while to sink in, but looking over himself thoroughly, he concluded it must be true. That was going to make everything harder, including any kind of escape.

Chapter 8: My Older Brother

As Gil was able to stay awake for longer than a few minutes at a time, William and Cam began to visit with him to keep him company. Cam would come in more frequently than William, often looking for something to do. Gil appreciated these moments of interruption. They allowed him some peace from laying in bed replaying his death and the choices that had led up to it in his mind.

The visits also gave him opportunities to ask questions about where he was now and who they were. Cam seemed to be around in the mornings and late afternoons. Since he was such an easy-going and very trusting person, it was not hard to get him to open up about the world around them.

“How are you doing?” Cam asked as he walked into the room.

Gil looked up at Cam, who had been in the room before. While they had spoken previously, he was still a stranger. Cam had stains on both his shirt and trousers. This family must not be able to afford new clothing if he’s dressed like that. Though Cam was supposed to be his brother, Gil felt no familial tie to him.

“Alright, I’m still in a lot of pain,” Gil replied. “Why do you leave in the mornings?” Quickly changing the subject away from himself.

“We go to work,” Cam answered.

“What kind of work?” Gil asked.

“The kind we do every day, silly, gathering wood,” Cam said. “You don’t have to do it right now cause you're in bed, which must be really boring.”

“Yea, being stuck in bed is. What do you use the wood for?” Gil asked, wishing Cam would elaborate more.

“All kinds of things, firewood, projects, things like that,” Cam said.

They must have a fireplace if they’re gathering firewood. “What kind of projects do you do?” Gil asked.

“Stuff for the Carpenter’s Guild, you know that!” Cam’s tone turned into teasing, but his face looked concerned. “Father takes them to town and sells ‘em.”

Guilds sound like trades from my world. I wonder how similar they are. “What other guilds are there?”

“All kinds! Some of them work metal, some of them go on adventures like father used to, some make clothes, there’s one for almost everything!” Cam said.

Gil must have struck a chord as Cam’s voice rose, and he spoke much faster. That meant it would be an excellent opportunity to discover more about the guilds. Gil was thinking of what to ask next when the topic of William having been an adventurer came up.

“William used to be an adventurer?” Gil blurted out. The question came out before he had thoroughly thought over the implications of asking it.

Cam’s brows furrowed together in great concern at Gil’s question. “You don’t remember? Fathers told us lots of stories. About all the stuff he’s killed. Trolls, bats, goblins. Can’t you remember? Are you okay?” Cam’s eyes grew wide as he looked at his younger brother.

“I was just testing you.” Gil lied.

“Oh, you shouldn’t play like that! Maybe father will get us something good for supper.” Cam said. “Like a squirrel or rabbit. His rabbit stew is pretty good.”

While Gil was stuck in bed, he was excused from work, which relieved him as he had never done woodworking before. If my questions are already concerning Cam, they’ll know I’m not Gil when they realize I don’t know anything about wood. What kind of job is that anyway? It can’t pay well.

Being a woodsman didn’t seem like a very high-class job, so he wondered what social group their family fell in. Previously, when William had brought him food, he had examined it and felt William most likely hunted and gathered for it. In Gil’s mind, that was another red flag as to the family's status.

Honestly, though, he wasn’t a hundred percent sure, as hunting animals could be something everyone did. The cabin looked well made, from as much as he had seen of it. If they are woodsmen, then they might have built it themselves. With his concern growing, he decided to ask Cam, but he needed to be more cautious.

“Does eating rabbit stew make us rich?” Gil asked, forcing a laugh out as he did so to make it sound like a joke. If it did, then he hoped it would just sound like a stupid joke, but if it didn’t then, he thought Cam might laugh with him.

A laugh tumbled out of Cam’s mouth before he responded. “Of course not! We’re better off than the orphanage kids. I hear they only got two sets of clothes, one for fancy things and another for working.” There was a short pause, and then Cam continued. “Mr. Holm’s is rich. He’s got an entire apple orchard. The house his family lives in is a lot nicer than ours.”

I wonder who Mr. Holm’s is, but I’m probably supposed to know already. An apple orchard does sound nice, and lots of farmers are wealthy. The way Cam talked about their house made it sound large. Cam seemed to be on a roll, so Gil decided to just let him speak as much as he wanted to.

“If I were rich, I would buy a suit of armor just like the Royal Knights have. Full plate, the kind that covers your head to toe. That would be something then I would buy a sword, the best I could find. Having the best armor and the best weapon would make me a strong knight. But we don’t have that kind of money. Only noblemen and lords do. You know, like the guy who ran you over you.”

“A nobleman ran me over, huh?” Gil said it as a half-question, half-thought.

“Yea, he was a lord,” Cam said, emphasizing the word lord. “Runs the entire area we live in, Lord Drace. Just like all the lords in the kingdom.”

Gil now had the name of the person who had killed the original Gil. That was the kind of information he thought might be useful. Additionally, Gil had learned the area they lived in was a part of a larger kingdom. Piece by piece, he gained as much knowledge as possible, putting it together like a jigsaw puzzle.

“How big is this area, the one we live in?” Gil asked.

“Drace’s Land? It’s a large province, so big it would take a person on a warhorse, without armor, an entire day of hard riding to cross completely over it.” The only reason Cam knew that information was because he once had overheard a traveler in Brighton village use those exact words.

“He ran you right over Gil.” Cam drove his fist into his open hand as if it were the carriage.

Gil closed his eyes and winced. The thought of horses and a carriage running anyone over sounded terrible, and he knew the outcome it had caused. Since he wasn’t the one run over, though, the only reference he had for such a thing was his car crash. I hadn’t felt any pain during my death; hopefully, the real Gil didn’t either.

“They tossed a gold coin out after.” Cam paused here, seeming to be in awe at his memory of the coin. “I picked it up. It was the first gold coin I had seen. Father says we will use it to help us in the winter.”

“How much is a gold coin worth?” Gil asked.

“It's a lot more than a copper or silver coin, for sure. Tom told me they bought a horse and it was two silvers. Of course, I’ve also heard magical stuff costs lots of gold coins, like hundreds.” Cam rambled.

Gil breathed in deeply as if trying to absorb all of the information Cam had shared. That lord had some nerve acting like he could kill anyone he wanted, pay the damages, and keep driving. Though it hadn’t been himself who was run over, he still felt a large amount of hatred towards the man. The talk of the incident brought the mood in the room down, so Gil quickly thought of a new question to break the tension.

“What's the difference between a lord and a nobleman?” Gil asked, confused since the terms had seemed to be used comparably.

“Nobles are rich and able to do almost anything they want,” Cam said. “Lords are wealthy and can do anything they want where they live. Kings are, really, rich and can do anything they want anywhere they want.”

While not meant to be humorous, the answer came out that way in its simplicity. Gil, though, could see the key differences in how Cam had described them. One had power and authority while the other had all the power, at least in their domain. Lords seemed to be a tier above noblemen, and kings were higher than both.

“So, where does the king live?” Gil asked.

“King Leopold rules the entire kingdom of Vale. He has a big castle in Kingstown. That’s a huge city far away. The Royal Knight Academy is there.” Cam said, not missing the opportunity to speak about the academy. “The entire royal family is super-rich.” As if to show Gil how rich they were, he spread his arms as wide as he could.

Gil could tell Cam was repeating things he had heard from others. Even so, the idea of a vast city and a castle was somehow appealing to him. However, based on everything he had learned about their family, he seriously doubted if he would ever visit Kingstown.

“If we are not noblemen, what are we?” Gil asked, trying to figure out where the family fell in the hierarchy of the society.

“Us? Well, we're just commoners Gil,” Cam said. “Most people are, though you can see nobles from time to time in Brighton village.” Perking up on the last part, Cam made it seem like something special to see a nobleman.

The word commoners sank into Gil’s mind, as that almost certainly meant they fell in the lowest tier of the kingdom. “Can a commoner become a noble?” Gil asked.

“No, not really,” Cam shook his head. “You have to be born into a noble family. However, I have heard of a Royal Knight becoming one once with the king’s blessing. It was a story, father told me. The knight did something heroic, and the king made him a noble in a big ceremony. That’s the only time I know of a commoner being given the title of a nobleman, though.”

So noblemen and lords are almost all born into the position. Gil nodded his head slowly, understanding such things were out of the realm of possibility for them. A frown formed across his face at that realization. Money would still make some difference. That has to be true regardless of what world I’m in.

“How rich are they, you know nobles?” Gil asked.

“They have lots of money, land, and servants. I heard they eat bread and fresh fruit every day. Can you imagine? They all live on big estates and have servants to do all the work. Some are supposedly so wealthy they can buy magical stuff.” Cam said, practically whispering the word magical.

“What kind of magical items can they buy?“ Gil asked.

“Magical machines, magical weapons, and armor, those kinds of things” Cam had only heard stories, but he was trying his best to sound knowledgeable on the subject. “Magical stuff is really expensive.”

“Magical machines?” Having heard the term for the first time, Gil focused on it. Magical armor and weapons made sense, and he could make an educated guess about what they were used for.

“Those things are amazing. They can heat and cool an entire home, and some can do the same for food.” Cam said.

To Gil, they sounded very similar to refrigerators and air conditioners, and other electronics that had been staples in his old life. If those are only available to the wealthy, how does this family store food and cool their home? I’m going to miss the season finale of The Big Blocks, not that that’s of real importance right now.

“Have you ever seen one?” Gil asked.

“No,” Cam shook his head and sounded disappointed by his response. “Only the really, really rich can afford things like that.”

Cam’s use of two ‘reallys’ made Gil nod in understanding. If such things do exist, can only nobles own them, or can commoners too? Questions such as that made Gil scrunch up his face in thought.

“Are there any rich commoners?” Gil asked.

Cam leaned his head to the side as if deep in thought about what Gil had just asked. A long pause followed, during which he moved his hand to his chin, clearly searching for the correct answer. Finally, he nodded with a smile.

“Well, some merchants have the same things as nobles, or so I've heard,” Cam said, remembering some of William’s stories about the wealthy merchants of Kingstown and how they lived lives much like the royal family.

Gil had a lot of new information to go through. While not able to make one truly a noble, money did level the playing field.
That figures money is money no matter where you are. Maybe having a leg up on that knowledge will help me since I’m stuck in this life.

“Cam, it’s time for us to head out.” William's voice came from another room in the cabin.

A grin immediately appeared on Cam’s face. “Time for work! I’ll check on you when we get back. try and rest some Gil!” Cam ran out of the bedroom.

Chapter 9: William’s Tale

A couple of times a day, William would also stop by the room to take Gil’s temperature and bring him food. William was a bit harder to work with being an adult, but the information he provided was far more helpful than what Cam knew. Through those reoccurring conversations, Gil learned all about the world.

“I’m going to check your fever. Please be still.” William instructed.

“Where’s our mother?” Gil asked while remaining still. It surprised him that only William and Cam had checked on him.

William’s expression changed to a frown, and Gil felt certain that meant she was dead. If possible, he would have taken back the question since he was all too familiar with the pain accompanying William. Unfortunately, it was already out there, so all Gil could do was wait to see how William would respond. William looked down at his son as if he were thinking of putting something into words Gil might understand.

“Madlyn’s no longer with us. She loved you, boys, more than anything.” William said. “If she were here, she would kiss you on the forehead and tell you that soon you are going to be all better.”

William then held a somber expression as they sat in uncomfortable silence. Gil wasn’t sure how to respond and suddenly understood why so many had distanced themselves from him in his past life. While that didn’t make the resentment go away, it at least explained why he had been left all alone.

Looking back up at William, Gil saw his expression also contained a large amount of concern. Gil guessed it was another thing he was supposed to know and felt doubly stupid for asking about it. While he wanted to ask why or how she was no longer with them, he knew better than to press the topic.

“I am going to go finish dinner for us. I’ll come back with some once it’s ready. You get some more rest, son.” William broke the silence by excusing himself from it.

In Gil’s mind, it was an odd thing being called son by a stranger. While he had to accept Cam and William as other people in the house, he certainly didn’t think of himself as part of their family. Due to that, words like son and brother were strange for him to hear about himself.

Walking out of the room, William stopped in the hallway to speak with Cam. Gil could hear them whispering, so he strained to listen. After a moment, he was able to pick up bits and pieces of their conversation.

“Have you noticed Gil asking any strange questions?” William asked his oldest son.

Cam responded, but Gil was unable to tell with what. Guessing though, he filled in the missing part of the conversation based on Cam’s expressions earlier that day.

“I think Gil may be having some trouble remembering. We should try to help him and answer any of his questions. Hopefully, his memories will come back with more time.” William said.

“Okay, I can do that!” Cam said, forgetting to keep his voice quiet. It was clear he was happy to help however he could.

The conversation ended as Gil heard someone walking further away into the rest of the cabin. They must think I have amnesia. Maybe this will allow me to ask more questions. Cam walked into the room a moment later and took a seat on the corner of Gil’s bed.

“We hauled in a big tree today, the biggest one I’ve ever seen! Father cut it down. Once you start feeling good, you can help us again.” Cam told Gil.

Gil felt Cam was far too enthusiastic about his story but inquired nonetheless about it. “What kind of tree was it?”

Being inside was starting to drive Gil stir crazy, so listening to something like a giant tree getting chopped down was interesting enough. Talking to anyone was better than being left alone in his bed with his thoughts. Fortunately, talking to Cam always meant Gil could take a backseat in the conversation because Cam would talk enough for both of them.

“It was really heavy. It took both me and father to pull it to the house. I also saw a rabbit out there; it was brown. I was able to get close to it before it ran away. You need to get better so we can play with the Holmes’ kids. I haven't been able to go there while you are in bed. I did find a flat rock too.” Cam said, reaching into his pocket.

Cam took a small flat rock out and showed it off to his brother. Gil was able to reach up and hold it. It was a lighter shade of gray and very flat with smooth, rounded edges. Gil wasn't interested in it, but he pretended to be.

“Oh, this is a nice rock,” Gil said, trying to sound believable. “I can’t wait to go play with the Holmes’ kids too.”

“Yea, I haven't seen Tom in a while. He and his brother Barry are probably eating all their green apples. So you had better just get better.” Cam said.

Gil nodded his head to show he understood though he had no idea who Tom and Barry were. Eventually, the door opened, and William stepped through carrying a small bowl of soup. Moving over to the bed, he leaned down and placed the bowl into Gil’s hands.

Gil looked into the bowl, and it appeared to be only heated water at first glance. Upon closer inspection, he could pick out a couple of strange things floating in it, which he felt sure were vegetables of some kind. The soup was thin, almost nothing more than a broth, but Gil didn't care as he was starving. The warm food made him feel better, and he wore his first genuine smile since waking up in Gil’s body.

“You need to go eat your food, Cam before it gets cold,” William said, pointing off towards what Gil assumed was the dining area of the house.

Cam got up from the bed slowly and moved over towards the door. Turning, he waved at Gil as he made his way out into the hallway. It was evening now, which meant Cam’s company would be replaced for a while with William’s.

William smiled as he looked down at his youngest boy. Taking over the seat on the edge of the bed where Cam had been sitting, he began telling an adventuring story. Gil remained silent as he spoke, continuing to eat the soup.

“I’ll tell you one of your favorites tonight. Hopefully, that will help you feel better. I was stuck in Highfield, which is just outside Kingstown. It’s a lot smaller than Kingstown, though, but still big enough to have an active adventurer’s guild. Also, its surroundings are rural enough to get regular jobs posted. Most big cities like Kingstown didn’t have a lot of regular adventure quests. The jobs in big towns are mostly the guarding or escorting type. I was low on money at the time and was looking for something paying well.”

“I saw a job-hunting notice for some goblins in a nearby forest. Goblins are small, humanoid creatures. No taller than yourself. Their skin is often greenish or brown. They have little yellow eyes and very sharp claws and are always found in groups. That’s important you never see a single goblin alone. Goblins also carry primitive swords, bows, and other simple weapons, stuff they have taken from those they have killed or made out of bones.”

Immediately Gil found himself interested in what William was saying. The way he spoke told him he would learn a lot of information, but it also made him feel like he was in the story himself. It was impossible to pick out what was true from what was not, but he found himself hanging onto every word.

“While far from the most dangerous creatures one could face, they can be real trouble under certain circumstances. They like to fight dirty, set up traps, use poisons, and almost always have an ambush for their prey. Because of that, they can be a real hassle for cities by doing things like cutting off trade routes and killing townsfolk.”

“Anyways, I tore the paper off the board and looked around the room at the other adventurers there. It was still early, and most skilled adventurers slept in till afternoon. So the pickings were a bit slim. But If you take a job for a monster hunt, it’s just smart to go with a party. Not having a group, the monsters can circle you and get the better of even experienced adventurers.”

“That was my first mistake. You should know the people you travel with better than someone you’ve just met. There was a human female mage just out of the academy and a male elf scout who claimed he knew the woods around Highfield. He was more experienced than the mage, but something seemed a little off. I should have listened to my instincts, but my need for money overruled them. That was my second mistake: never trust another desperate adventurer.”

“The female mage was a real pretty human. She had just graduated from the magic academy in Kingstown, so this was her first real adventurer job. Normally I would have passed on someone new, but she could cast healing magic and seemed sound enough. All mages are  strange, but no party is complete without one.”

“The scout said he was handy with a bow. He looked a bit ragged and seemed low on money. But beggars can’t be choosers, so I ignored what I saw and joined up with him. The plan was to lead us to the goblins, take them out, and be back at the guild by sunset. In my mind, it was easy, and it should have been.”

“Goblins aren't tough. You just have to watch out for large groups of them. Some goblins can be magical, but they’re pretty rare. Those are called shaman goblins, and you could go your entire life and never see one. Goblins tend to keep to caves and dark places. Monsters, in general, goblins or not, are a lot smarter than most give them credit for being. So if you ever face any, you should give them that much respect at least.”

There was a long pause before William continued again as if he were lost in thought about what he had just said. “Where was I?” William looked down at Gil.

“Oh, that's right. My group had just left the town behind. We were making our way out into the deepest part of the woods. Those woods were called the Forest of Grosh. So the mage and I were following the scout who was supposed to know the area well. It was turning into a long walk once we hit the forest. The scout was lost and aimlessly leading the rest of us through the woods.”

“It was well into the day when we discovered this fact. The Forest of Grosh had several main paths intertwined among the trees, and we weren't certain which one was the one the goblins had been making their home on. A bit of a disagreement broke out among us as I wanted to stick to the largest path, but the scout thought one of the side paths was more likely as they were smaller.”

“The mage, having never been on the job before, didn't seem to have an opinion on the matter. So we took the small paths around and around. We were lost in the woods, the night had begun to set in on us, and it was getting hard to see. Up ahead was an incredibly thick part of the forest, and both the scout and I agreed it was most likely where the goblins were hiding.“

“We entered the area, and it was getting impossible to see any distance ahead of us. Honestly, we should have just set up camp in a thinner section of the woods, but our inexperience pushed us forward. Soon it was dark, really dark, so much I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face.”

“Usually, you can see a little bit from the moon, but the trees above us had blocked out its light. So there we were, stumbling about in the dark. Every step we took along the path seemed to make some noise as it was covered with small twigs and branches.” William stopped and looked at Gil to make sure he was following along.”

Cam appeared in the doorway, having overheard his father telling one of his stories. Stepping inside, he took a seat on the floor at William’s feet. Resting his elbows on his knees and chin on his hands, he leaned forward, getting into a comfortable position.

William looked at Cam as he entered and smiled, pausing the story as he positioned himself. “Now, where had I left off?”

“Your troop of adventurers was in the deepest part of the forest,” Gil said, actually interested in the story William was telling.

Happy to find Gil was hanging on his every word, William looked down at Cam, reached out a hand, and mussed his long blond hair all about. Cam scrunched up his nose in disapproval but did nothing to stop him. Then he turned his attention back to Gil and started the story up again.

“Normally, if traveling at night, we would have just lit torches. But we weren't about to do so as it would give away our positions to the goblins. Those twigs and branches we kept stepping on had been set up by the goblins ahead of us. It was a simple but effective trap to tell them when someone was on the path. We had continued down the dirt clearing for several reasons. For one, we didn’t have any light to see with, but secondly and most importantly, lots of dangerous creatures could be in those woods.”

“More dangerous than the goblins we were after. Due to this, it wasn’t long before an arrow flew right past me out of a clump of trees ahead. At the time, I remembered having heard about goblins using normal things found in forests to create alarm systems. They did this by setting things out for humans or other creatures to step on.”

“The arrow barely missed the mage who cast a light spell so we could see our surroundings better. While useful in most circumstances, light magic was not the right spell to cast right then. The bright light it created blinded both us and the goblins. No one around could see anything due to the light coming from the top of the mage’s staff.”

“If it hadn't been goblins we were facing, I most likely would have been swinging my sword blindly all around while the scout shot arrows in the same manner. Fortunately for me and the mage, humans can recover from such a thing a lot faster than the goblins who could see in the dark.”

“That meant I had the advantage, and I quickly took up my positions for the attack. The elven scout could also recover a little faster than the goblins, but not as fast as a human. He immediately readied his bow with an arrow. Driving forward as the only fighter in the group, I spied a couple of goblins at the forefront.”

“Using all my might, I was able to swing my sword in a wide manner and make contact with the first one. I got him in the chest region, and the goblin fell backward onto the path. The blow I used was strong enough to carry on to the second goblin, who was a bit smaller, and I got him in the neck. With that strike, I killed the two goblins with a single swing.”

“The one I got in the neck, though,” William moved his hand across his neck, “it relieved him of his head. Lobbing it clean off his shoulders. That goblin's head flew right back behind me and rolled towards the female mage. She screamed so loud I thought an arrow must have hit her, and I saw her fall onto the path from the corner of my eye. Her scream forced me forward, cutting down a couple more goblins.”

“All told, we killed twelve goblins. Fortunately, the scout was better with a bow than he was with directions, and he racked up a tally of three or four all by himself. He even managed to get one that had gotten behind me, making up for his earlier error. I finished up the rest of them with my sword.”

William paused and laughed as if he remembered the battle all over again. Gil thought his laugh odd since the mage seemed to be dead on the ground. Then a strange smile crossed his face, and he looked down at his youngest.

“With the battle all over, we turned our attention to the mage expecting the worst. When we reached the body, we saw she wasn’t hurt. She had just fainted, right there in the middle of the forest, during combat. If it wasn't for the scout and myself taking the lead, she most certainly would have died.”

William paused again and looked at the boys. Then he breathed in deeply for a moment before he continued the story. The pause felt dramatic and made the boys all the more interested in how the story would end.

“So then we cut the ears off the goblins to show we had killed them and were still left with a problem. You see, we didn’t know how to get out of the woods. So we set up camp and waited for morning. When it was once again light, and we could see well enough to travel, we followed the dirt path back to town.”

“It was almost nighttime when we arrived back at the adventurer’s guild the next day to collect our money for the job. Even though the mage had been entirely useless, we still split it up three ways. That gave each of us four gold coins. I’m not sure if I felt sorry for the mage or if she was just that pretty, but we hit it off and started traveling together regularly.“

“The mage was your mother, Madalyn. That was how she and I met.” William smiled big and laughed. “She must have been no older than eighteen or nineteen at the time. With a very bright spell, just a frightened little mage, scared to death of a cut-off goblins head. I think I was around twenty at the time, having been adventuring for a couple of years.”

With that, the story had ended. Both of the boys wished it would have continued, as they enjoyed listening to William speak. A long silence fell over the room as they were all lost in thought about various things. Several minutes went by before William smiled and stood up.

“You should get back to resting. If you’re feeling better tomorrow, I’ll tell you another one. William said, taking the then empty bowl from Gil as Cam and he exited the room.

Chapter 10: Knowledge

As the days passed by, Gil grew stronger and desperately wanted to get out of bed. William, however, told him he needed to continue resting for a while longer. Gil could now fully set up and move one leg and both arms freely, with only some minor pain. Unfortunately, upon closer inspection of his new body, he found his right leg was permanently bent.

Troubled, Gil worried it may not ever heal correctly. No matter what he tried, he couldn't get it back the way it should be. Moving the leg around caused a sharp pain to shoot up his spine. The pain was intense, causing him to cry out whenever he attempted to move it.

A constant dull ache also seemed to accompany his new body. Surprisingly though, the pain was not what got to him. Instead, it was the inescapable boredom of being all alone. Stuck inside for days, he felt as if he were going completely insane.

Fortunately, Cam and William checked in on him regularly. It had become a routine where they would each visit two to three times a day. The mornings usually started with Cam, and then in the afternoon, both of them would check on him. Each evening William would bring him his dinner, check his temperature, and tell him a story before bed.

Gil found himself grateful for the human interaction and often looked forward to their visits. Of course, the conversations were not always practical, especially those with Cam. The older boy liked to talk about childish things such as finding a turtle in the woods while working or playing pretend about being a knight.

In his own world, Gil would have found turtles and knights to be boring topics. Due to his current situation, he was content to listen to the tales as it meant someone else was around. Since Cam was Gil’s primary source of information about the new world, he tried to make the most out of what Cam knew. Cam, unaware of Gil’s plan, would often overshare information with him.

The room Gil had been in was a lonely one. That was amplified by the fact it contained two beds. Cam had slept in the living room for the first several days to give Gil a quiet space to recover, but eventually, he moved back into the boys’ room. That caused Cam to be around a lot more, which was a blessing and a curse.

Gil was already living in fear of what they might do if they thought he was an imposter or had gone crazy. When Cam moved back into the room, it only increased his concern. That made Gil more careful with what he said and did.

Trying to remain optimistic about his situation, Gil recognized he could now ask more questions with Cam closer than before. Gil would store any new information he uncovered and sort through it when he was alone. The new sleeping arrangement allowed him to ask even more questions without needing to process them at the moment. It relieved him to find his memory was just as good in the new world as it had been in his own.

“So you awake?” Cam asked.

“Yeah,” Gil replied.

“I wish you felt better. I was really looking forward to going to town.” Cam said.

“I wish I did too. How far is the village?” Gil asked, thinking it might be a place to run to if he needed to escape.

“Brighton? It's a pretty long walk. We were about halfway to it when you got run over,” Cam said. “Just about to the old mill. The village is really neat. You can buy stuff and see all kinds of people there.”

“What kind of things can you buy there?” Gil asked.

“They have an armor and a weapons shop, and food stores, all kinds of things,” Cam answered. “Usually, we visit the Carpenter’s Guild, though, so dad can sell our daily orders.”

“How many days of orders does he normally sell?” Gil asked.

“Seven days, more or less of our work,” Cam replied.

“Wow, we really stay busy, never taking days off,” Gil said.

“Some days we don't have much, others we have a lot. It’s dumb work, but we all have to do it.” Cam said.

That made Gil feel sorry for Cam, as kids their age weren’t required to work in his world. I hope they don’t expect me to work. I didn’t get reincarnated to be child labor. Cam did say the real Gil wasn’t expected to help as much. Before Gil could reply, William had called for Cam, and he had run out of the room.

Left on his own again, Gil thought over the things he had learned. William had shared a great deal about adventurers, as he had been one when he was younger. They were mercenaries for hire who killed monsters and did odd jobs for money. Cam liked the concepts of honor and battle, so he always paid close attention to his father’s stories.

Due to that, Cam’s mind was always focused on weapons, armor, and anyone who used them. Cam would go off on tangents, typically about combat. Through their many conversations, Gil had learned Cam wanted to be a Royal Knight. Gil only had a passing interest in his ramblings and would often tune out his brother when he talked about them.

Gil being far older than his little body, knew such things were not as romantic and exciting as kids made them out to be. Weapons in the world seemed to serve a sole purpose: to kill. The only thing to change was what they killed, which varied from humans and monsters to the family’s next meal.

While Gil’s room had no windows, Cam’s information painted the house's surrounding area as a rural setting. The closest neighbor to them couldn’t be seen from their home. Gil had tried to ask how far of a walk it was, but Cam didn’t seem to understand how to measure time with hours or minutes.

During the day, William and Cam worked in a forest behind their cabin. On three sides of them were fields, and their home was set close to the nearest road. That was important information to Gil. If he were going to escape, then he needed to understand where he was going.

Cam had finished up whatever chore William had given him and returned to the boys’ room. As he entered the room, Gil looked up at his brother and watched him walk across the wooden floor over to the bed. Cam took his usual seat next to Gil before beginning to talk.

“Father’s short sword was out by the table when I went into the kitchen. He was cleaning it. It’s really something to see, Gil. Did you know magical weapons have gemstones in them? It’s because they can be charged up with magic. Royal Knights often carry weapons like that. They are really expensive but very powerful.”

Gil’s interest became piqued as Cam began to ramble. While Gil hadn’t found the Royal Knights to be very interesting before, he realized it might be essential to know about them. I wonder who’s actually in charge of the kingdom? Is it the king, or is he just a puppet someone controls? Since Cam had such an immense interest in joining the royal army, Gil felt he could have more accurate answers regarding them.

“What’s a Royal Knight, Cam?” Gil asked.

“A Royal Knight is a trained knight who has graduated from the Royal Knight Academy. They have a royal contract and serve the king!” Cam said excitedly as Gil was taking an interest in his favorite topic. “They are strong, brave, and get to wear shiny armor and carry the best weapons. And they know how to fight really well.”

Sadly the information Cam had on them ended there. It was like Cam only wanted to be a knight because of childhood fantasy. Gil sighed and thought maybe William would be the one to ask about it. Before he could make any additional inquiries, it was time for Cam to help William gather wood outside.

While being alone was boring, it gave Gil time to process all the information he had gathered over the days of being stuck in bed. From William's stories and Cam’s constant chatter, the world outside his reach started to make more sense. With every new thing he learned, he became more confident his initial assumption of the door he stepped through containing unicorns and dragons was correct.

There were twelve lords in the kingdom of Vale. They each ruled over a part of the kingdom. From what Gil knew of the royal family, they controlled the single largest territory. According to William's stories, the royal province was more prominent than any other in the kingdom. It was also more extensive than the three largest territories owned by the other lords combined. Counting the royal province, there were thirteen separate areas within Vale's kingdom.

What was beyond the kingdom of Vale was unknown, as neither Cam nor William had spoken about it. For now, what he had learned was exciting and mysterious enough to keep his mind occupied. Besides the lords and the royal family, there seemed to be one wildcard in the power structure. That was the holy church, which appeared to be the only religion within the kingdom.

As Gil understood it, the church took in orphans from all over the kingdom. The younger ones were used as manual labor to trace letters for books and other teaching materials. Once they reached a certain age, they would be tested to see any magical or battle abilities they had. Those that did would be separated from the remaining workers and sent to either the Royal Magical Academy or the Royal Knight’s Academy for training.

The church had the largest military in the kingdom, more extensive than the royal family’s. Though William had in one story pointed out that the royal family's smaller army was made up of only the best knights to graduate from the Royal Knight Academy. That made Gil wonder which army was stronger and theorized it would likely come down to strategy if they ever were to fight.

If one of the orphans were lucky enough to show both magic and battle abilities, they would attend both academies. Graduates of both would then become what was known as paladins or magical warriors. William had mentioned those warriors were incredibly tough, having the ability to heal themselves in the middle of a battle.

It’s as if I’m living in medieval times. Of course, here, magic is real, so maybe that’s an inaccurate comparison? Knights, nobles, and the way their wealth is divided lines up almost perfectly. It was a lot of information to process, and Gil struggled with just being in a new body. While he had heard about the magic of the world, he hadn’t heard anything about their technology level. Due to this, he felt confident his view was slanted due to his current surroundings. The larger cities must feature advancements the farms lacked.

Thoughts like these were a constant thing, as he didn’t have anything else to do. Occasionally they would shift over, making him think about his future in the world. Job choices consisted of being a soldier, adventurer, woodsman, hunter, or joining various guilds. Gil didn't find any of those choices appealing, but he also lacked a lot of information about them. Perhaps the only good part about being a kid again is I won’t have to figure that out for a while.

Another oddity the world had was races like elves, dwarves, and beastmen. They could be found in some or most regions of the kingdom. The exception to that was the elves, who rarely traveled outside the city of Kingstown. Elves were known for their magic abilities, while the dwarves were known to work metal and build elaborate stone structures. The beastmen were mostly known for their fierce fighting ability.

William must have been an exceptionally well-traveled adventurer as his stories took place all over the kingdom. More than once, he mentioned far-off places like Kingstown and Dunmore, both of which were supposed to be the kingdom’s largest cities and far away from Brighton. I wonder what the furthest William has traveled is and how he ended up living like this.

All the information ran through his brain, and Gil stored and processed it as best he could. It was hard to make a mental map of the kingdom with measurements like a week’s travel. In addition, he didn't know what all the provinces were called, but he made sure to put each town name he learned into his memory. Doing that helped him paint a better picture during the stories William told.

The other information he had gathered concerned the missing boy known as Gil. That was much harder to learn details about since he couldn’t ask directly. On occasion, he had heard William and Cam talking in secret about him. Through eavesdropping, he had learned the old Gil, before him, had not been fond of outdoor work. That relieved Gil, as he was confident he would have trouble with manual labor.

Since the family thought Gil had forgotten certain things, they did try to jog his memories. They told him all about how active and playful he had been. Apparently, Gil was a curious kid who liked to explore the world around him. Cam had mentioned Gil’s favorite game had been knights and mages. Cam would be the knight, and Gil would take on the role of a powerful mage. I guess, since both of those exist, that makes sense. I preferred being a cowboy when I was a kid, but to each their own, I suppose.

Cam tried to remind Gil about the apples they would eat during the summer. While they were only supposed to eat the ones on the ground, Gil never listened and climbed high to get ones off the tree. Gil liked thinking of the past Gil as being rebellious and doing what he wanted. That would make pretending to be him far easier.

That did very little to quiet the nagging from the back of his head about what happened to the original Gil. Occasionally his anxiety would get the best of him, and he’d worry about being whisked off from his new life to an entirely different one all over again. Gil tried his best to bury those thoughts by grabbing onto every distraction he was offered.

During one story session, William had told Gil that the mage who had saved his life was named Frederick. Frederick lived in Kingstown, which was far to the east of Brighton village. To Gil, the whole story of how he had been saved sounded weird and made up. Then again, everything after the car accident had been bizarre in some way.

William also told Gil if they ever made it to Kingstown, he should stop by and see Frederick. Additionally, he added given the opportunity, Gil should properly thank and take him a gift. All that confirmed Gil’s theory that most people in the land never traveled far from their homes.

Chapter 11: Usual Routine

While passing in and out of consciousness, Gil tried to determine how long he had been stuck in bed. Doing the math was more challenging than it should have been because he passed out each time he thought too hard about it. Determined to complete some simple mathematics, he stuck with it and eventually settled on having been there nine days.

Gil was unsure when he managed to stay awake if it was day nine or ten. That time he felt more rested than he had since first arriving. Gathering his strength, he swung his left leg off the bed and put his foot onto the cold, wood floor.

A moment later, moving his right foot into position, he was ready to stand. With a push off of his bed, he felt successful with a half-smile on his face. If it had not been for some pain still nagging him in his right hip and knee, then he would have been fully grinning. Cam and his father, William, had said to take it easy. However, as Gil was feeling better, he was ready to be out of bed.

When attempting to take his first step, Gil discovered he was walking with a bad limp in his right leg. Not only that but with each step he took, a sharp pain shot up from his knee into his spine. The pain was not as severe as what he had experienced earlier in his recovery, which was a small victory.

Though his body was healed from the carriage accident, Gil could tell the bones in his right leg had not been properly set back into their correct position. Bitterness shot through him as he thought about having a lifelong disability. Yea, thanks a lot, Frederick, the magical Merlin man. You did an outstanding job here.

Gil couldn't get over the fact he was stuck being seven years old all over again. That opened all sorts of opportunities for him to fix mistakes from his first life. However, it was a kid’s body leaving him weak and tiny. Besides the annoying limp, he just knew being so young would come with its own set of problems.

In the short time, Gil had been in the new world, adjusting had been hard. Often he had felt entirely overwhelmed. The fact he had gone from modern conveniences such as cars and electricity to now roughing it like some old-time farmer, living by the sun, weighed on him. If that were not enough, he also found himself concerned with what had happened to the boy named Gil, who he had replaced.

The child’s body came with several issues, such as no longer being in complete control of what he wanted to do. Kids had far less freedom than adults, which was just a fact of life. Being an adult for over a decade to suddenly being a kid again was challenging to adapt to. This is going to be my new life. It seemed unreal, but he knew with each passing day it was true.

“I would like to cook us dinner today,” Gil said.

“You can't; you're too young. Watching the fire is really important.” William replied.

“I promise I’ll watch it closely,” Gil said.
“Not tonight, kiddo, maybe another time,” William said.

“You never let me do anything! I just want to cook for us.” Gil complained, tired of being treated as a child.

“I said no, Gil, that’s my final answer. When you are older, I will teach you how to cook.” William said.

“My name is not Gil!” Gil said.

“Doesn't matter. Even if you were the king himself, you aren’t cooking.” Willaim said. “Cam isn’t even allowed to cook all by himself.”

“But I’m not a child. I can watch a fire.” Gil said. “I'm actually 35 years old, and my name is Kirk Andrews.”

“Still doesn’t matter, Gil. You aren't cooking.” William said.

Gil’s efforts to tell the family who he really was, went over about as well as one could expect. It seemed no matter how often he tried to tell them, Cam and William took everything he said as make-believe. Just as he had suspected, they treated him like the child he appeared to be.

“It’s true, you know, I’m not Gil,” Gil said.

“Sure thing Gil,” William said.

The more he mentioned it, the more William's concern seemed to grow. Gil pressed on trying to convince them of the situation's truth, not allowing them to discourage him. The persistence only made the rest of the family more concerned about his mental well-being. Figuring William was a lost cause, Gil tried to get Cam to realize the truth.

“I’m not from this world, you know?” Gil said to Cam.

“Ok, then where are we from?” Cam asked, wanting to join in playing.

“Well, I’m from the country of America,” Gil said.

“What’s a country?” Cam asked.

“It’s like a kingdom, I suppose,” Gil said.

Cam seemed to take it all in stride as if it were a children’s game. William, on the other hand, seemed to grow very concerned with each passing day. The worry on his face at first alerted Gil he might be getting through to them. That hope was quickly squashed when William instead checked him for fever and made him go to bed early.

William sighed heavily, looking over at his youngest boy. Eventually, he took Cam out to the hall for a private discussion. Though they were trying to whisper, Gil overheard some of what was said. The conversation was about Gil’s recovery and how the horses might have damaged his brain. They even talked about taking Gil to another town for a priest to look him over.

“It’s something we need to watch, Cam,” William’s said in a hushed voice. “If this continues, we may have to seek healing help.”

From then on, Gil was afraid to tell them the truth. It wasn’t clear what would happen if they thought the carriage had damaged his brain. Worried he could find himself in whatever the fantasy version of a looney bin was, he gave up trying to talk to them about it at all. Instead, he focused on settling into his new life as the boy named Gil.

Finally, up and around, Gil’s days were packed from sunrise to sunset. Gil and Cam would pull or carry the tree limbs their father chopped down to the house from the forest. Cam proved incredibly helpful at it, as he was strong enough to move some of the larger logs all by himself. Gil, due to his age and unique condition, was limited to small sticks. That made him feel useless since almost everything he gathered went straight into the firewood stack.

“This piece here is oak,” William said, pointing to the piece of wood Gil had in his hands. “You can tell by the color and the smell of the wood.”

The forest behind the house was full of different trees, and William taught both the boys about them. Cam and Gil’s jobs were to pull the branches William cut out of the forest and into what Gil called their backyard. Once the wood was there, they would sort it by type and usefulness. That was how Gil learned wood came in varying colors from dark to light and densities from hard to soft.

Gil learned their father was more than a typical woodsman, as most others only gathered firewood and sold it. William, however, pre-worked the wood for the craftsmen of the Carpenter’s Guild in the village. That meant after sorting the wood, he would select choice pieces depending on the job ahead of them.

Each day the trio would work until they had reached what their father called their daily order. They would then spend their time in the evenings re-shaping the wood chunks into what the craftsmen in the village had requested. William explained the craftsmen would finalize the shapes they made and use them in various designs.

The wood bits they made would eventually find themselves as smaller pieces of wagons, chairs, dressers, tables, and other finished products. That was done so the Carpenter’s Guild could quickly assemble those items for their customers or make emergency repairs when needed. While the parts were not exciting on their own, the pieces were valuable and required for the various finished products.

So the job the family was doing while not directly working for the Carpenter’s Guild helped the guild immensely. In fact, without their small wooden trinkets, the guild would be forced to make them themselves. That would have delayed all their projects for additional time. Days and maybe even weeks were being saved. That also freed up their more experienced craftsmen for more important jobs.

The tools they used for carving were kept very sharp. William maintained them and made sure they were ready each day for work. Because of Gil’s tiny hands, he struggled to hold them correctly. Several times he had slipped and lightly cut himself.

“Ow, I cut myself again.” Gil said, grabbing hold of his finger tightly.

“It happens,” Cam said.

“How bad is it this time?” William asked, moving over in Gil’s direction.

Gil slowly opened his hand, wincing as he did so. One of the tools he had been using had sliced his index finger open, and blood was flowing freely from it. That was a common occurrence for new woodcarvers, so it relieved William to find it wasn't a more serious cut.

“You need to be more careful with what blade you are using, Gil.” William said as he tightly wrapped a cloth around the wound, “Use the right blade for the task you are doing. See, watch this. That blade was for finer details than you were working on.” While he spoke, he demonstrated the correct manner in which to hold the small thin knife.

“I cut myself a lot until I got used to the blades,” Cam said.

Gil’s wound bled for some time but eventually stopped, and he learned to be more careful when carving. The job he had was to do the rough shaping of the wood. Once he was done, he would hand it over to Cam. Cam's job was to clean up Gil’s irregular-shaped piece.

After the boys were both finished, the wooden piece would pass on to William to add the finishing details. Due to their quality of work, the craftsmen requested Williams products more than those of the other woodsmen. That was because his prework saved them countless hours and allowed them more time to focus on the assembly or finely etched details.

For example, if a craftsman needed an “L” shaped piece of wood, they would come to William with their order, sometimes providing a blueprint of what they needed. These details would list the size, shape, type of wood, and any other necessary instructions. William, with his carpentry abilities, could then deliver it.

“So why don't we just collect firewood?” Gil asked, thinking it would be far easier to do.

“Firewood only gets you a few coppers. The work we do gets us silver,” William said.

“So, what is the monetary difference between copper and silver?” Gil asked.

“There are ten copper coins in a silver coin,” William replied.

“But gathering firewood has to be quicker right?” Gil asked.

“Firewood is best when it’s seasoned. So while it’s quicker to gather, it takes time to dry the wood before selling it.” William answered.

“How long is it seasoned?” Gil asked.

“Depends. Sometimes around here, it can take up to a year, other times just a few months.” William said.

“Oh, I see, so the work we do takes less time and brings in more money,” Gil responded.

Meaning the family’s woodworking fetched several times the price others made by just selling firewood in town. Based on William’s trips, Gil calculated he was making about four silver coins a month, which was far more than the single silver or slightly more he figured the firewood salesmen made in the same amount of time.

Working with wood was how Gil learned about the measurements of the world. Being used to inches and feet, he converted everything to those inside his head. Quickly, he noticed a distinct lack of set uniform measurements across their jobs. Thinking that over, he concluded it was a significant waste of resources. Close enough must be acceptable in this world. Otherwise, I’m sure they would have created a measurement system.

Gil had never really worked with his hands the way he was now. In his new world, he was picking up woodworking very quickly and found it strangely rewarding. From the time spent in the forest and carving each night, he could already determine what type of wood each was and best suited for with almost perfect accuracy. Harder woods he found were more difficult to carve, but he enjoyed the challenge it presented.

Eventually, Gil found he was better suited for and enjoyed working the wood over gathering it. That was primarily driven by his limp, but he also found the carving allowed him to get creative. When he surpassed Cam’s carving abilities, he had made sure to rub it in when they switched places in the processing line. While he had been an only child in his world, he took naturally to pestering his brother.

Cam, always easy going, never took it personally that Gil was better at it than he was. Partly because he didn’t care for woodworking, as he had no interest in doing it for a living. However, his lack of come-backs also stemmed from him feeling guilty for Gil’s injuries, as he had saved him from being trampled by the horses.

Inside, at the kitchen table, was where the trio worked the wood. Larger wood pieces could be supported by a table or a chair, which helped Gil considerably. No matter how skilled Gil thought he was becoming, he couldn’t compare to the years of experience William had. William was much faster and could carve finer details than either of the boys.

Each evening, William would cook the family supper while the boys cleared the table of any wood shavings. William was not a good cook and primarily made goulash. Occasionally, if they were lucky, he would make an over seasoned stew, or they would have roasted rabbit.

Being the only food around, Gil had no choice but to force it down each day, hopeful his next meal would somehow be better. Unfortunately, they never were, and to his surprise, William’s cooking seemed only to get worse as time passed. The only exception was bread, which William could make edible, even if it was flavorless and hard.

After dinner, as part of their chores, the brothers would clean up the dishes and any mess left on the table. Additionally, they were required to clean the cabin, fetch water and bring in firewood when needed. Such tasks in his old life would have been tedious, as he had so many things to distract him. Here those jobs made Gil feel helpful. Somehow, the simple lifestyle agreed with him, and he didn’t mind the chores most of the time.

The work also built up his muscles, causing his frail body to grow stronger. That made getting around a little easier, but his right hip and knee pain never healed. Keeping busy with William and Cam kept his mind from wandering off and allowed him to focus on adapting to where he was.

Once they had finished eating and cleaned up, their father would get out a small book and some paper each evening. With these items, he would teach the boys letters by having them trace a new one repeatedly. That was how Gil learned to read the language for the kingdom of Vale, which used a strange lettering system.

“Work hard on your studies, boys, and you will be some of the smartest kids in the kingdom,” William said.

The ability to read and write in the world was something only a portion of the population knew how to do. For that reason, William seemed to take their studies to heart and was an excellent teacher. Gil had never seen anything like the writing he was tracing before, but he quickly learned it.

It wasn’t clear to him if his fast learning was because of his body’s younger brain or leftover abilities from his world. Either way, almost everything around him, which didn’t require him to do any physically demanding tasks, he quickly mastered. Leading him to learn how to read and write far faster than Cam, which was another thing he boasted about. If his family thought that was unusual, they didn’t bring it up.

Overall, Gil’s new life and constant pattern kept his mind from the despair he had felt in his old world. In some small way, Gil missed his creature comforts from before, like indoor water, refrigerators, and TV.
Occasionally, Gil would think about his coworkers back where he had come from and the life he had left behind.

In those moments, he would wonder how Rachel, Rick, and Ted were doing without him. Part of him was curious who had replaced him at work. I bet Ted got my old position; he had obviously been studying up on market trends before our last meeting. Gil didn’t miss going in every day and found having his work at home felt natural.

Chapter 12: Free Time

The boys would often go to the surrounding homes and play with the other kids during their free time. Jack, Mr. Brooks’ son, lived the furthest away and was the same age as Cam. Standing slightly taller than Cam, Jack had brown hair and dressed considerably better. Gil thought Jack appeared more refined, as when he spoke, it sounded more sophisticated.

Playing with Jack, Gil could tell he had a good head on his shoulders and was very kind. When the boys played with Jack, Gil never felt left out. Jack would slow the pace of whatever they were playing to include Gil purposefully. Normally Jack wasn’t available to play with, as he was an apprentice learning his father's trade at the Carpenter’s Guild.

When left to themselves, they would often play knights and mages. Gil was always stuck being the mage, but he didn’t mind. At first, it had been tough for him to use his imagination to play with Cam, but slowly his ability to do so returned to him.

“Gil, what are you doing? You're supposed to be casting fire magic at this goblin horde,” Cam said, pointing out in front of him to an empty space being occupied by two imaginary goblins he had been fighting.

“Right,” Gil said, trying to focus on the game at hand but finding it hard to do so.

Cam swung a wooden stick, which in his imagination was a fiery sword. Each swing was meant to be at the closest goblin, while Gil finished those further back with fireballs. That activity was exciting, but Gil couldn’t help being self-conscious of how they must have looked. We’re just two kids in a field, fighting invisible foes.
If anyone is watching us, we probably look ridiculous.

The boys' usual playmates were the kids who lived closest to them, which happened to be the Holms’ children. Mr. Holms lived with his wife, Sally, and their three children. They were the closest neighbor the boys had. Often, Cam and Gil would visit to play with Tom, Barry, and Judy. They lived on a large plot of land, which was an apple orchard.

Tom was eleven, a year older than Cam, and except for a few minor differences, the two looked almost identical. Tom and Cam both had blond hair and were roughly the same height. However, Tom’s hair was short, and he was slightly thinner than Cam. The two were best friends and practically inseparable when they went over to play. Looking at how close the two boys were, Gil felt slightly jealous of their friendship.

Barry was eight, and he was best described as the younger tag along with Cam and Tom. Unlike the older boys, Barry had short green hair and was chubby. Being just old enough to keep up with Cam and Tom, Gil could tell he annoyed them. On his own, which was seldom, he was fun. Unfortunately, his personality would change when his brother was around.

Judy was seven, the same age as Gil. The youngest of her family, and the only daughter, she always wore frilly, patterned dresses. Typically she wore her long, black hair tied back with a red ribbon, which caused her light, green eyes to sparkle in the sun. Judy was intelligent and fun to talk with, and Gil enjoyed their time together.

Gil’s limp stopped him from doing things such as running around or climbing trees with the other boys. Due to that, he was left with Judy most of the time. This caused him to know her far better than her brothers. Judy was the only person Gil felt comfortable opening up to about him not being the real Gil. From her reaction, he thought she understood, as they would often talk about what life had been like in the world Gil came from.

Of course, in reality, Judy, much like Cam, just thought Gil was playing an imaginary game. However, she was left in awe at Gil’s ability to make things up so easily about his pretend world. Often she would try to play along with him, to make up her own things within it. Gil would talk about things like flying machines and horseless vehicles and other fabulous contraptions. The world he painted with words was fascinating to her, and she especially liked how people could be what they wanted to be in his world.

Judy was so interested in Gil’s stories because it was far different in how they treated women. Here in the kingdom, they were expected to marry and raise a family. Job options were minimal for them, and the law often ignored them. In Gil’s stories, they were equals and not just second-class citizens.

“Tell me about the people again. What were they like?” Judy asked.

“Men and women had more opportunities to be anything they wanted to be. It was not impossible for women to be rulers or go into skilled jobs like being a doctor.” Gil said.

“What’s a doctor?” Judy asked, not sure what the new word meant.

“A doctor would best be described as a priest, I guess if compared to this world. It's a person who heals others.” Gil answered.

Judy’s eyes lit up because, in the world, they were in the highest level of healer a woman could become would be a cleric in the church, which were not as well respected as priests. Options for women in the kingdom of Vale were very limited. Without magical abilities, special skills or great wealth they would almost certainly end up as a housewife.

Gil could tell Judy enjoyed hearing about all of the things women in his old world could do, so he often talked about it with her. While he understood why women were expected to get married, have children and run the house, he wanted Judy to dream beyond such things. Had his own daughter been in her situation, he would have wanted her to follow her heart, regardless of what others expected.

During one of these conversations, the concept of two people going out on a date came up. Since the first time Gil had mentioned it, Judy wanted to know as much as possible about dates. Gil humored her anytime she asked questions and found it very typical for her to be interested in romance.

“Tell me again about how people would go out together.” Judy requested.

“Well, if you liked someone, then you would invite them out for a fun evening together. During the evening, you might have dinner or go to a movie. Both of those were common for couples.” Gil explained.

“Someday, you and I will go on a date.” Judy said, laughing.

That was not Gil’s first time hearing Judy talk about dating him, but Gil paid little attention to it. To him, it seemed like a childhood crush she would grow out of, and he thought denying her of it would only break her spirit. With time he expected she would grow out of it when she became old enough to date.

Being left with her wasn’t so bad, and he could see she was a bright young lady with a promising future. Gil would occasionally bring her some of his rough wood carvings. He started practicing different carving techniques in his spare time at home and attempted to make several different objects. One of these had been a wooden ring. Since he had no need for it, he had brought it to her and promised to make a better version when he knew how.

Judy loved these gifts from Gil, and they meant much more to her than they did to him. Even the older boys felt his gifts were more than just passing off junk he didn’t need. Tom and Barry would often tease Gil because of it, but he paid little attention to them. Gil knew the gifts weren’t given as a show of love but instead from one friend to another.

Gil enjoyed spending time with Judy. It made him think about how he had missed out on spending time with his own daughter. They would often sit in the shade of a tree and talk about what they wanted to do when they grew up. Judy wanted to be a baker, so she always kept her hair tied back with a ribbon.

Women seemed to be more limited in the world if they came from the commoners' class. Gil envied Judy for knowing what she wanted, as he was far more uncertain about his future. While Judy’s father owned a large orchard, it was almost set in stone she would marry someone and spend her days raising children. That future bothered Gil, who thought Judy could achieve much more if allowed to do so.

While William didn’t often have downtime, he would carve little statues from the wood remnants around him when he did. That was carving for fun, and he had built up quite the collection of creatures over the years. These were usually animals he had encountered during his adventuring days, which he loved to tell stories about. Gil found it hard to believe such wild fantasy creatures existed but was always on the edge of his seat during his father’s tales.

About four months passed of Gil living in the world, and to his surprise, it had gone by much faster than he anticipated. When he had first woken up, he referred to William by his actual name for quite a while. However, he felt as if he were indeed part of their family and began calling him dad over time.

At first, it had just slipped out by accident, but eventually, it became part of his regular vocabulary. To Gil, it strangely felt natural, just like pestering Cam had. Both of these things seemed to happen without him thinking about them. If William had noticed the change, he didn’t make it obvious.

As time passed, Gil grew to respect William, who cared deeply for his family. Gil concluded his father was an honest, hard-working man. Since his years of adventuring had worn on him, he looked older than Gil guessed him to be. The wood chopping kept William’s muscles well-formed, which made him very strong.

Gil and Cam would sometimes hang from each of his arms as he walked around the cabin. During that, William would lift his arms high so their feet would pick up off the ground. From the few other families Gil had seen, he was glad to have become part of that one.

William’s hair, which Gil initially thought to be solid black, was sprinkled here and there with gray. Years of outdoor work had created thick lines along his face and made his skin almost leather-like. Gil’s skin would often bristle when his father touched him with his rough hands.

If Gil had to find fault with William, his new father, while loving towards the boys, also seemed to keep himself emotionally distant from them. Gil wasn’t sure about it, but he thought William might have a deep emotional scar he was trying to hide. No matter what it could have been, it was always clear he would have given his life to protect them.

The entire family worked hard each day, and Gil pitched in as best as his body would allow. About once a week or so, William would take their products into the village to sell. When he went, he did so alone, leaving the boys back at the cabin to finish chores. Gil guessed William was overly cautious because neither Cam nor he had fully recovered from the incident.

When William would go to the village, he always wore his sword at his side, which was the same sword he had worn during his adventuring days. Brighton wasn’t an especially dangerous village, but William, having traveled more, knew danger could be anywhere outside the home. The boys thought he took it with him on purpose, to keep it out of their reach.

Cam was utterly obsessed with swords and would often talk about them for hours. With his non-stop chatter about weapons and fighting, he drove Gil crazy. When he wasn’t daydreaming of adventure, he would talk about someday training to be an official Royal Knight.

“Some swords only have one blade on them, Gil, but most have two,” Cam said. “One time, I saw a battle-axe in the village. It was huge. Someday, I will be a great soldier or maybe an adventurer, and then I’ll afford one for myself.”

Gil could see the mention of Cam becoming an adventurer was not something that pleased William. Of course, Gil had heard the same line repeated by every kid they had played with, even Judy. William never said anything to Cam about it, so Gil figured it must be something he thought Cam would grow out of.

While Gil had no intention of going into battle himself, he did like the way William’s sword would shine. The glint of light off the hilt was like a tiny beacon in Gil’s mind, which made it impossible to lose sight of his father. Anytime he left to go into the village, Gil would watch for as long as he could until the sparkling light disappeared.

Chapter 13: A Trip

William carried their finished merchandise into the village within a make-shift bag, which he had created from a long rectangle-shaped piece of leather by sewing handles on each end. Gil thought it seemed somewhat archaic since it was more of a wrap than a bag but figured zippers didn’t exist there. Together, the trio would fill it with their products, weighing it down far heavier than Gil could have lifted. Once full, William would place one end of the material on top of the other and pick it up by the handles as if it weighed nothing.

On his way out, William would always make sure to turn towards the boys and tell them goodbye. It was usually late afternoon or early evening before William would return from his trips. That left the boys with more freedom and less oversight than they usually had. Cam being the oldest, was always left in charge.

That lack of supervision was something Gil took advantage of at every opportunity. When William was gone, Gil could cook his own food without fear of getting told by William he would burn down the cabin. Using the wood stove in the kitchen was tricky, but Gil had figured it out. Cam had admitted on more than one occurrence Gil’s cooking was better than William’s.

On these occasions, Gil would use items already in the house to make oatmeal, rice, or occasionally grilled cheese sandwiches if they had the ingredients. One time he grilled a steak, but it had gotten him caught as William remembered how much of the meat they had stored. That, of course, led to a lecture on home safety.

While one wouldn’t call him a bad kid, he was definitely mischievous. Cam, however, was a well-behaved child who most people admired. Had anyone known Gil was a full-grown adult living in a child’s body, they may have better understood his behavior. Since no one believed him, though, they just thought he was disobedient and stubborn.

In reality, Gil was more than just a little resentful of being told what to do. Occasionally, that would lead to problems, resulting in Gil getting himself into some trouble. For instance, the adult Gil had a tendency to utter a curse word or two if the situation called for it, and maybe sometimes when it didn’t. One day he made the mistake of using one in front of William.

“Gil, I don't know where you heard the word you used, but it’s not appropriate for a child your age.” William said, dismayed at his youngest boy’s use of bad language.

Gill nodded his head as if to say he understood. It was an old habit from his former life, and he was having a hard time breaking himself of it. Deep down, Gil knew William was right, most of the time. However, it was hard for Gil to behave more like a child his own age when he was far older than seven in his mind.

“Using words like that will give people the wrong idea about you.” William paused here, trying to find the right word. “Not everyone is viewed equally, and first impressions are important. With language like that, some may look down on you, even if it’s undeserving.” William was really struggling for the right words, but he continued on. “That's not someone you want to be seen as.”

The entire conversation would have been laughable to Gil if he hadn’t been on the receiving end. William’s voice could become very stern when he wanted it to, and Gil had learned early he was expected to pay close attention to his words. In the end, Gil promised not to use the word again, and that was that, for the time being. It was also hard for Gil to follow directions like a child when he had been free to do as he wished only a few months earlier.

Early one afternoon, when William had loaded his bag with the wood bits they had made and already started to walk towards the door, he paused. It was much later in the day than usual, but he shouted for the boys after a moment of thought. While he was protective of them, he felt enough time had passed to take them along to Brighton village.

There would be a festival that night in the village, and William thought it would be fun for the boys to see it. Gil had only heard stories of what Brighton village was like, so he was thrilled. Cam, already having been there before, was less excited than Gil but still happy to go.

Quickly, the boys ran to their room to grab what little money they had. Gil had found a tiny bag with a couple copper coins tucked under his mattress that had belonged to the real Gil. Thanking his counterpart, wherever he may be, Gil grabbed the bag and followed Cam. They then met William outside the front door. Once all together, the family headed down the road.

Walking a small way, William instinctively reached down, picked up Gil, and put him on his shoulders. With his legs dangling on either side of William’s head, Gil didn’t mind being held, as he could see further down the road. Cam kept a close distance to William. Gil wasn’t sure if it was because of the accident or just his instincts telling him to.

The family enjoyed the warm sun and a light breeze. It was unclear to Gil if being held was for his safety or because his limp would have slowed them down. Either way, it made the trip seem faster to Gil, and he was thankful for not having to keep up with them.

It was a disorienting experience, but after a moment, he recovered. Having been short for so long, he had forgotten the view changes when you're taller. Riding on his father’s shoulders reminded him, making him feel briefly like he had been transported back into his old body.

“I’m taller than you!” Gil exclaimed to Cam, who now had to look up to see him.

Strangely, Gil took great pleasure in pestering Cam. While his brother never tried to outdo the youngest, the opposite couldn’t be said. That behavior felt instinctual to Gil, and often his gloats came out before he had time to even think about or stop them. I tease him so naturally. What if parts of the old Gil are in me?

There was no true reason for Gil to have been jealous of his brother, so he wondered if it came from bitterness or another leftover emotion from his previous life. Deep down, he was happy to have Cam, as it often made him feel like he really was just a kid. Sometimes he questioned if he was a combination of the original Gil and himself, but he knew the truth was they had lost the real Gil.

On top of William’s shoulders, Gil was the first to spot the village, and his excitement quickly gave way to disappointment. Already he could tell Brighton village was much smaller than he thought it was going to be. If Gil had to guess, he would say maybe two hundred people actually lived there.

Surprisingly with each step forward, Brighton looked even smaller. Being just a group of buildings placed here and there, he felt the stories Cam and the other children had told him must have been lies. To the other kids, Brighton existed as some sort of magical place where you could buy anything and meet anyone.

With the larger population living outside the village, most just popped in for trade goods, food, and other provisions. They had also told Gil adventurers would stop for weapons and armor. That meant the village had skilled craftsmen who could build or patch up anything from armor to wagons.

While it was a trade hub and received several visitors a day, Gil was certain it would be tiny compared to the large cities he had once known. The village, from what he could make out, seemed to have been haphazardly built. The city he had lived in was created using a grid plan, making it easy to travel.

Gil wondered how a town like Brighton could receive large shipments of goods without delays or space constraints. Maybe they only order things in small amounts. If we’re their primary source of shaped wood, then that’s probably a safe bet. Messed up roads or not, maybe there will still be fantasy creatures like Tom and Cam had talked about.

On the village's outskirts, they could now see a small stone building. It was a church and on top of it was a tall steeple leading up to a bell tower. Next to it was a graveyard fenced in with a stone wall made of the same stone as the building itself. A short distance away from the church was another building, which William pointed out and said was the orphanage for the village.

There appeared to be a few people outside of the building, and as they drew nearer to it, they were all able to take a closer look. William eyed one of the people as if he was trying to size up the man. To Gil, it just looked like three people standing out front of a building, though he could tell two of them wore armor and had swords. There was a third person who had what Gil thought to be a tall walking stick.

If they noticed the family, the three people didn't seem to give them a second glance.  They all appeared occupied as if they were rehearsing for a performance of some kind. The person with the staff raised it high into the air and moved their arms about. While the other two seemed to be making fun of that one by doing the same and then laughing.

“That’s a holy knight!” Cam said, pointing at one of the men wearing armor. “Gil, holy knights are the soldiers of the church,” Cam said the last part as almost a whisper, making them out to be something mythical.

“You're almost right, Cam,” William said. “They’re actually a paladin. You can tell by the markings on his armor. The shorter one next to him in the chain armor is a knight in training. The other one is a female cleric.”

“Really? You can see all that?” Gil asked.

“Are paladins really as tough as they say?” Cam asked, over Gil.

“They can be,” William replied. “It’s a trained knight who can heal himself or those around him. They can really make a battle against them go on for a long time.”

“So the knight in training hasn’t been to the Royal Knight Academy yet?” Gil asked.

“No, not yet. He will follow the paladin around for a year or so, and if he survives, then the church will evaluate his skills and determine if he should go to one or both of the academies.” William explained. “The academies are expensive, and they want to get the most out of the money they spend.”

William had sparred with dozens of holy knights and a few paladins during his time at the Royal Knight Academy. Paladins were especially formidable battle opponents because of their healing spells. The knight in training was obviously new at his position and had not yet been to the academy, as he was not issued proper armor. The only reason William knew his position was because he could see at a distance the knight wore a church shortsword at his side.

A church shortsword was just a regular, non-magical weapon, but they all had their hilt made in the form of a botonee cross. The paladin also had a church weapon, but it was called a holy sword due to being the magical version of the church shortsword. Both swords were very similar, except the holy sword had a red crystal embedded in its hilt.

The cleric was a mage of the church, and while technically a higher rank than paladins, they were far less fearsome in battle. To be a cleric, one had to go through at least two years of training at the Royal Magic Academy. The staff she carried marked her to be most likely an earth-powered caster. William was a little less familiar with the magic ranks, but he could tell that much from a glance since he had traveled with mages before.

It was very unusual to see such high-level church officials in Brighton, but their presence had a lot to do with why William had brought the boys with him. It was all for the village Harvest Festival. At the end of the festival, the cleric would bless the crops gathered so the village could harvest more the following year.

“See, the one with the staff is a cleric,” William said.

“What’s a cleric?” Gil asked.

“That's a high-level member of the church just below priests. They both can do healing magic, though. The cleric will bless this year's harvest at the festival.” William said.

The word festival did not go unnoticed by the boys who were hearing about it for the first time. The idea of one brought a smile to both boys' faces. Gil felt relief and newfound excitement wash over him, as the village trip had been turning out to be a dud.

“Neat a real festival!” Cam exclaimed.

“Every year, the village celebrates the harvest,” William said.

“Does that actually work?” Gil inquired. “The blessing part?”

“Depends on who you ask. Some say it does, some say it doesn’t. Still, everyone likes a festival.” William replied.

Moving along the well-traveled path, William smiled. The day would be a lot of fun for the boys, with a night full of festival activities to cap it off. The festival itself consisted of a small parade, games, and food booths. However, the festival didn't start until dark, so they would first complete their other business in town.

As they neared the entrance of the village, Gil saw several people moving around in the area. They all appeared to be going about their usual business. In Gil’s mind, he looked at them and assigned them exciting roles. For instance, the fat man pushing a large cart was a spy from another territory here to gather information. The woman leaning over in the stall was plotting to overthrow the king.

Gil amused himself and made the poor excuse for a village into something far more interesting in these ways. Several single-story buildings were now in view. They were located around the middle of the road up ahead, which Gil assumed was the center of the village.

“That building,” William said, pointing to a building on the far right. “That’s the weapon shop. They sell all types of weapons there. I know the owner. He's the one who helped us carry you to Mr. Brooks’ house, Gil.” William then pointed to the building next to it. “Over there to the left is the armor shop.“

Gil looked down at his brother, who was smiling at the mention of weapons and armor. “What’s that?” Gil asked as he pointed to a larger shop towards the middle of the row of buildings.

“That is one of the food shops. We will have to stop by there later for some goods,” William explained.

Some people were working out front of these shops setting up small tent structures for the festival. The tents were all brightly colored and would line the main street that the parade would go down. Another group of people was picking out places to watch the proceedings, often spreading out a blanket on the ground to set on.

“What are those workers doing?” Gil asked, looking over at the tents they were setting up.

“It’s for the festival tonight. Booths with games and food will be set up for it,” William answered.

Gil smiled and thought seeing an actual festival might be fun. Looking down at Cam, Gil could tell he was just as interested. While they studied the tiny tents, both boys tried to figure out what they would eventually hold. Passing the little makeshift construction area, they pressed onwards.

Chapter 14: Village Errands

Most of the shops they saw had colored banners hung by the entrance displaying their names. Almost all were one story tall, and only a few of them had proper doors. Many of them were nothing more than large tents.

“Jacobs Apparel,” Gil read aloud as they passed a clothing shop. Before he could read the next banner, he caught a strange sight out of the corner of his eye.

In front of the group was an unusual person. The boys had heard their father tell stories of beastmen, and to their delight, there was one right in front of them. Standing human size, he was tall, thin, had animal ears and a tail.

According to the stories William had told the boys, beastmen came in a variety of types. Some human scholars spent their entire lives studying all the various breeds of them. Gil remembered almost every detail of those tales, as he found the concept of cat and dog people fascinating. Now to see such a person was real excited him.

As they moved closer to the beastman, Gil could hear him say, “I don’t think I’m going to stay for the festival. It’s more for the pups anyways.” The voice was gruff and hard to understand, but one could figure it out if they listened carefully.

From the stories William had told, Gil knew, for the most part, they had human-like faces and features: eyes, mouth, and a nose. The different parts were that they lacked traditional ears and often had pointed animal ones mounted on their heads. Watching the man as they walked past, Gil saw his ears twitch and move with the sounds around them, which he assumed gave them exceptional hearing.

Moving back and forth behind the man was a tail, and his body appeared to be covered in a mix of skin and fur. Gil looked at the markings he had, wondering if they could be used to distinguish his breed. Paying close attention, Gil saw his arms and legs moved just like a human’s, and he had five fingers on each hand with what looked like small claws on the end of each one.

The beastman’s fur was brown with red hues and patterned white markings. Gil guessed it was a wolf person or possibly a fox, but it was impossible to determine which it was since he had a human face. It was amazing to think of all the places Gil could have ended up; he landed in a world full of magic and exotic creatures. William had told them Brighton was located on the main route people took to go through the territory. Meaning it attracted travelers of all kinds.

Reeling from the sight of the beastman, Gil couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw another unusual figure. Over to the left, in front of a shop their father had called a leather goods store, stood a full-grown reptilian man. Standing in the sunlight, his scaly skin practically sparkled. Unlike the beastman, Gil knew it was a lizardman right away because his face was shaped like an actual lizard.

Sharp teeth were protruding from both sides of the lizardman’s long snout. The time of day played tricks on Gil’s eyes as it reflected off his scales; at first, he thought they were light green, almost yellow like the man’s eyes. However, as he continued to stare, he could see they were really dark green.

Gil observed the lizardman’s leather tunic seemed more tribal than what the humans in the world wore. Behind the man was a thick tail that would occasionally move from left to right, each movement causing dust around it to rise off the ground. On his hands were long fingernails, which Gil thought might be claws. William had told them the lizardmen were a proud race who believed they were descended from actual dragons.

The trio kept moving forward, passing through a small alleyway between two of the shops. Stepping out on the other side, they saw even more buildings, some of which were two or three stories tall. However, Gil was still too lost in thought about the creatures he had just seen to notice what was around him.

“Did you see the beastman?” Cam asked.

“I sure did,” Gil replied. “But what about the lizardman? He was so big.”

“I know him,” William said. “That was Mondar; he’s a traveler. That's what his people call those who leave the swamps where they live. He and I once were in a adventuring party together. Really nice guy, actually.”

“Where is the swamp he came from?” Gil asked.

“They are way down south at the very edge of the kingdom. There’s a lot of lizardmen tribes down that way.” William answered.

“How many travelers are there?” Cam asked.

“I don't really know. I have seen a few here and there, maybe a handful in total, so I would guess most of the tribe stays.” William said.

That news was interesting to the boys. The group was quiet for a while as they soaked in the information about the lizardmen. Eventually, Gil’s voice returned, and he began asking about the buildings they were now passing. Quickly he became a broken record.

William responded almost every time with, “I don't know what building that is.”

As the pattern continued, William seemed to be getting more than a little annoyed with Gil’s constant questions. However, his answers did change for some of the buildings, which just encouraged Gil to continue. Soon the most delightful smell captivated the family.

“Is that building a bakery?” Gil asked, his mouth salivating from the scent alone.

“Yes, Gil, that is the village bakery. They make and sell fresh bread daily.” William replied.

That was something new to Gil, as he had thought the flat, hard bread William made at home was the only bread available in the world. Now he knew the entire time they could have been buying fresh loaves of real bread. With his mouth still watering, he thought about biting into a soft, fluffy slice. The smell took over his brain and was all he could think about.

Gil’s fantasy of the kitchen table piled high with baked goods was soon shattered as William interrupted. “That building down at the end of the path is the Adventurer’s Guild,” William said. Gil strained his eyes to see what William was pointing at. It was a sizable single-layer building far off in the distance. To Gil, it looked almost identical to the buildings around it, as they were all plain.

“Are we going down that way?” Gil asked, wanting a closer view of the building.

“Not today,” William said.

Gil and Cam both let out a small sigh of disappointment. Their focus turned now to the front of them, where stood a very tall building, which William explained was the Merchant’s Guild. William said inside the Merchant’s Guild was a bank where anyone could open an account to keep their money safe. Gil looked up at it and saw two long, blue banners hanging from it. Each flag featured a gold coin resting on a piece of parchment and a quill.

Across the path from it was a tall multi-story building with two long, tan banners. The edges of the banners were outlined with dark brown, and they were hanging from tall wooden poles. These flags fluttered due to a light breeze, which made the soft sound of fabric rustling.

On both of them was writing, which Gil read aloud as “The Carpenter’s Guild”.

Almost as soon as Gil had noticed the building, William had begun to lead them over towards it. The stairway up to the building's porch had handrails on both sides, which was a feature many of the other shops with patios lacked. To say the building itself was nicer than the majority in town would have been an understatement. The building made the shops on the main road look like little shacks. Gil could tell the building had been professionally crafted by people who really knew their trade from start to finish.

The two doors leading into the building had been expertly carved with a fanciful dragon scene. Gil thought about his own level of carving and his father’s but had to concede it far surpassed both of them in detail. The dragon design was simply excellent, as it was not just woodworking; it was actual art. The door, in some ways, reminded him of the one he had gone through to get into this world, which had been carved like a giant tree.

Remembering that made him also think about the door he had seen that he couldn’t go through. The one that had shown him his wife and child. The thought haunted his mind for a few moments before he shook his head as if to knock the memory out of it, then he returned to his present situation.

William put Gil down off his shoulders, and the trio walked up the stairs. Then he pushed the door open, and they all went inside. The door led them into a large open room containing several tall wooden columns and a table in the center. It was a little darker inside, but soon Gil’s eyes adjusted. Looking up, Gil could see the building had glass windows functionally placed on the edges of the ceiling to let in enough light to see during the day.

On the walls around the main room were large bits of cloth hung up like tapestries. Each piece of cloth had wood of varying shapes and sizes attached. Gil guessed that must be the building's showroom. With the wooden shapes along the walls as samples of the goods, the guild could manufacture. Gil recognized a few design parts as William, Cam, and himself had worked on them.

Sitting behind the long, center table was Mr. Brooks in a chair with a high back. Another man stood next to the table speaking with him. The standing man wore what Gil guessed to be expensive clothes, as they were brightly colored. Gil figured the man was a customer, perhaps a nobleman or a prosperous shopkeeper, ordering some sort of product.

“I’ll need that no later than sundown tomorrow.” The fancy-dressed man said.

“It’s festival day. It’s going to be hard to get it done by then.” Mr. Brooks replied.

“I don’t care about this commoner celebration. I need that order.” The man in the fancy clothes was almost snarling as he spoke.

After their business ended, the man who had been standing turned and walked past them. While he walked by them, he gave them a questioning glance and what Gil thought was a scowl. Once he left the building, though, Mr. Brooks looked up, smiled, and motioned for Gil’s family to approach. William and the boys walked over to the table.

“Jackson, I have the goods you wanted, right here,” William spoke to Mr. Brooks using his first name as he set his bag down on the table. Opening it, he spread out all the products their family had worked on for the last week.

“It’s good to see you up and about, young man,” Mr. Brooks said, looking directly at Gil. “So is the family staying in town for the festival, William?”

“We are. It will be the boys’ first time to see it. After a few errands, we will take a look at what it has to offer.” William replied.

“Unfortunately, I just sent Jack out on delivery, but you might see him tonight as we are going to watch the parade later.” Mr. Brooks said with a smile. Turning his attention to the goods on the table, Mr. Brook’s asked, “Will one silver be fine?”

William kind of smiled and said, “I think this work deserves a silver and two coppers.”

“Really, are you that happy with your work?” Mr. Brooks reached over and picked up one of the wood pieces. Looking it over in his hands, he brought it in for a closer inspection. “I couldn’t go more than a silver and a copper, William,” he said.

It struck Gil as unusual to see his father had bargained for his payment. So haggling is a common practice in this world. That’s good to know, thought Gil.

“One silver and one copper will be fine,” William said.

Mr. Brooks reached towards his neck and pulled up on a leather strap, revealing several keys from under his robe. Using one of the keys, he reached out and opened a drawer on his side of the table. From within it, he withdrew a small ornate box. Placing the box down on the table, he used a different key around his neck to open it.

Standing on his tiptoes, Gil was barely able to catch a glimpse inside the box, but what a sight it was to behold. It looked like a treasure chest as it was filled with copper, silver, and gold coins. From within the box, Mr. Brooks counted out eleven copper coins and placed them on the table. Then he closed the box, re-locked it, and set it back into the drawer.

Closing the drawer, he locked it with the other key before tucking the keys neatly back under his robe. Then he turned his attention to several pieces of paper on the table in front of him, beginning to make a note of something. Gil guessed he was recording the amount he had just paid to William, along with the new pieces they had received.

Gil suddenly wondered how silver coins compared to gold coins. William slid the money off the edge of the table into his hand and placed it into a small leather pouch he wore on his belt. With that, their business at the Carpenter’s Guild was officially finished, and they turned to leave.

“So, how many silver coins does it take to make a gold coin?” Gil asked as they reached the intricate door.

“Ten coppers make a silver coin,” Cam announced proudly.

“Ten silver coins makes a gold coin,” William said, never one to pass up a learning experience for the boys. William looked over at Gil and flipped him the extra copper coin he had bargained for. “Go get yourselves something. I have some shopping to do.”

Gil held the copper coin high and looked at it. It had the image of some old man on the front side and featured a leaf Gil was unfamiliar with on its back. Then he looked over at his brother with a smile. Cam smiled back, and soon they were taking a few steps forward.

“Do you think we could buy some fresh bread?” Gil asked Cam.

“I don’t know. Let’s go look.” Cam replied.

Together they quickly headed over to the bakery, following their noses as the smell grew stronger and stronger. Once they reached the bakery, they burst inside. What Gil had expected and what he saw were two different things. The bakery only seemed to sell loaves of bread.

“Hello, there boys,” came a kind voice from an older woman. “Haven't seen you two in here. I’m Mrs. Olden, and this here is my bakery.” With her introduction, she smiled a semi-toothless grin at the boys.

Mrs. Olden was a larger woman who wore an apron over a simple dress. A permanent smile seemed plastered onto her round face, which felt infectious as the boys couldn’t help but smile back. Some flour had found its way onto her cheek, but it just helped complete her look. Mrs. Olden stood behind a glass counter, where they saw freshly baked bread loaves within.

“How much is a loaf of bread?” Gil asked, looking up at Mrs. Olden.

“A freshly baked loaf is three copper coins, but I do have a couple of day-old loaves, and those are only one copper.” As she responded, she motioned to a small bin housing the older loaves.

“What do you think?” Gil asked.

“I don’t know?” Cam said.

“We should probably keep our money for the festival,” Gil said, nodding his head up and down.

Cam also nodded, thinking that was a perfect idea.

“Let's get the day-old then,” Gil said.

Gil picked up a loaf of the day-old bread and placed the copper coin his father had given them on the counter.

“Thank you, boys, enjoy.” Mrs. Olden said.

With their business done, they headed out of the shop and back to the street. Gil handed the loaf of bread to Cam, who broke it into three equal pieces. Gil and Cam each took one and saved the third piece for their father.

Though the bread wasn’t fresh, it still lived up to Gil’s expectations and was far better than the so-called bread William made. It was fluffy, even if just slightly hard from being a day old. While eating the bread, Gil thought in the future, given the opportunity, he would visit the bakery often.

Back on the street, they quickly saw William and rejoined him. Cam gave him the leftover piece of bread. William took a bite as the group began moving to where the festival would take place. They passed by the shops William had named, and Gil could see the shopkeepers of each store standing or sitting by their entrances. William still wanted to pick up a few supplies, so he led them into a food shop. Looking at all the different things they had for sale, Gil noticed a lack of items for kids.

After all, in the world Gil had come from, you could hardly enter a store and not be crushed by all the kids' merchandise. It was fun to look around at all the goods, but it didn’t take long to figure out a single copper was really not much money. If they had not bought the day-old bread, the best they could have done was three apples.

Chapter 15: The Festival

Looking around, Gil found William had left the store and was outside its doorway, talking with the lizardman Mondar. William spoke to him just like he did to Mr. Brooks in a familiar and friendly tone. Mondar’s voice was deep, and while he spoke the same language, it came out rough.

“There's a harvest festival tonight,” William said.

“I know this. I might stay for it. I’m not sure.” Came the reply from Mondar. The way he spoke caused his words to run together.

Gil’s curiosity longed for him to get a closer look, so he moved behind his father. Closer now to Mondar, he could see him better than he had before. It was amazing being so close to such a strange creature. Mondar’s size was impressive, as he stood about a foot taller than William, who Gil had guessed to be about six foot. From where he stood, Gil was able to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Talons Land has been having another drought,” Mondar informed William.

William nodded his head as if he had already known the information. Gil was more than a little intimidated by the size, appearance, and deep voice of Mondar. Due to that, he only felt safe behind William.

“This little one is yours?” Mondar asked, pointing at Gil.

“Yes, this is my youngest Gil,” William replied, reaching behind him and pulling Gil out into the open.

That time it was Mondar’s turn to just nod as he looked at Gil. Now in the open, Gil felt scared and embarrassed at the same time. From his size alone, Gil was sure Mondar could have eaten him, and the long teeth on either side of his snout only reinforced the thought.

William turned and called into the shop. “Cam, come out here for a moment.”

Cam obliged his father and was soon standing next to William and Gil. Seeming unfazed by Mondar’s appearance, Cam made no attempt to hide. Gil felt some jealousy at how brave his brother was.

“This is my oldest boy Cam,” William introduced. “How are your hatchlings doing?”

“They are well, back in the swamp,” Mondar said. “I need to go see them again; it has been a long time.”

It was impossible to read the emotion on Mondar’s face. To Gil, he was all teeth, but he thought he might have sensed some sadness from the creature when he talked about being so far away from his kids. Gil wondered how emotions in the races like the beastmen and the lizardmen worked.

“It was good to see you again, old friend. This is Gil’s first time in the village, so we’re going to go enjoy the festivities. Take care, Mondar.” William gave him a polite goodbye, signaling the end of their conversation.

“Goodbye, William,” Mondar said, raising his hand in response.

Mondar turned and began walking away, but he stopped and turned towards them after a few steps. Looking directly at the trio, he opened and snapped his mouth shut several times while making a loud gnashing sound. That action had Gil convinced he was going to charge and tear them apart. William just waved as Mondar turned back around and walked away.

“That is how they say goodbye.” Explained William, laughing as he looked down at Gil, who was shaking out of fright.

William and his boys were together once again, so they turned and headed towards the little tents that were now set up. A few of them seemed to be already operating, and a small crowd was making its way past them. Interesting smells of grilled meats and unique spices filled the air, while sounds, which Gil found similar to a carnival, could be heard. The closer they got to the area, the larger the boys’ smiles grew.

While the village had been disappointing at first, Gil grew to like the small-town atmosphere around him. There was fresh bread and now a festival to attend. As they passed by one of the first booths, William stopped. Looking over what was being offered, he bought each family member a skewer of meat and vegetables to eat.

The cost for three skewers was two coppers. William laid down a silver coin and then scooped up the change, which the lady running the booth had placed on the counter. The meat was seasoned with something Gil couldn’t identify, but it was tasty nonetheless. For the first time since arriving in the world, Gil felt truly satisfied by the food he was eating.

“This is really good,” Gil expressed. Looking over at Cam, he could tell by his face he felt the same.

In between bites, Cam managed to reply, “really good.”

Even William had a smile on his face as the family stopped to eat the kabobs. From his vantage point at the head of the booths, Gil could see each tent. There were about ten in total, and they each offered something different for people to buy or do. While ridiculously small by neighborhood carnivals from Gil’s world, it did have an air of mystery and excitement about it.

Someone lightly slapped Gil on the back, and he turned around to see who it was. There before him was Judy and the rest of her family. Tom and Barry quickly went over to Cam to see what he was eating.

“Here for the festival, I see.” Mr. Holms said, referring to the family.

William nodded. “Yes, it’s the boy’s first one. Sally sitting this one out?”

“My wife is a little under the weather,” Mr. Holms said.

“Well, you will have to tell her hi from us,” William said.

Mr. Holms smiled, and soon he and William were making small talk. That left the kids to form groups and head out for the festival booths. Gil and Judy were teamed up together, while Cam, Tom, and Barry made their own group.

Judy was wearing a different dress style than she usually did. It was fancier and more colorful. Gil was sure it was just something specific for the festival. As always, her hair was tied back with a red ribbon.

With permission from Mr. Holms and William, the two groups of kids went in opposite directions, as they usually did. The all-boys group headed straight for the game tents. Gil and Judy, though, took their time to see what each tent had to offer.

“Can we play a game?” Judy asked as she looked at one of the tents offering prizes to those who could put a ring around the neck of a bottle.

“Of course,'' Gil replied, hoping the price wasn’t too much, as he only had three copper coins in his bag.

Approaching the game, they soon discovered it was a copper. Gil laid down the money and let Judy play. Three rings were placed on the counter, and Gil encouraged Judy to take up the first one.

“You can do this,” Gil said.

Judy tossed the first ring; it got close to the neck of the bottle and then skidded off behind it, making a ‘tink’ sound. The second ring she tossed found its mark and landed on the neck of a bottle. The third toss was not even close, and with that, the game ended.

Judy was given a small piece of candy for her prize, which she tried to give to Gil. However, he refused the offer and told her to eat it. Placing the candy in her mouth, she wore a smile as she moved closer to him.

Cam’s group of boys were busy playing a game, trying to hit small targets with something similar to darts. All the boys took a turn as they had been given three darts for a copper coin. Cam proved to be good at the game, and one of his darts found its mark. Tom and Barry’s darts sadly didn’t.

That meant Cam got a prize. He won a tiny, single-bladed knife about the size of an open pocket knife. It had a triangular fixed blade and had been cast out of one piece of metal, handle included.

“Let me see your prize,” Tom said.

Cam handed Tom the small knife, who looked it over as if it were some sort of valuable, lost treasure. Tom had no knowledge of knives, so to him, it was quite the prize. Once he finished examining it, he handed it back to Cam. Taking a closer look at it, Cam could tell it wasn’t very high quality, probably a trainer knife made by an apprentice craftsman. However, the small size of the blade did make it worthwhile for certain tasks.

The group of boys took off running again to see what the next booth had to offer. They repeated the process over and over, making sure they saw every stall at the festival. The air was full of happy sounds, as people were talking all around. There was music being played, which added to the evening’s mood.

The music was being made by a group of musicians with stringed instruments. The path area of the festival was full of people of all shapes and sizes. It looked like everyone in the village had turned out as Gil estimated two hundred or more now in the area. Kids ran about the booths seeing what exciting things each one held.

Many of the kids Gil didn't know, and he figured they probably lived in the village. One of the booths popular with the adults seemed to be serving some sort of ale. The smell of strong alcohol mingled with the smell of food, which reminded Gil of a little hole-in-the-wall pizza place he used to go to.

Some families were moving through the area together, but mostly it just seemed to be a free for all. Kids running wild, and some adults doing the same. The majority of the adults moved over to the spectator area for the parade and talked among themselves. Excitement could be heard around as kids let out screams of joy.

Gil and Judy were taking their time moving from booth to booth. Neither of them was in a hurry, and Gil couldn’t move very fast anyway. The pair browsed each booth, looking over what they offered. Stopping in front of the musicians, Judy took hold of Gil’s hand.

To Gil, it was as if he were taking his daughter to the festival and thought she had grabbed his hand so she wouldn’t get separated from him. In his mind, he was the adult of their group since he didn’t see himself as a child. So when Judy leaned her head over on his shoulder, it was because all the noise and excitement around them had caused her to do so.

Gil wished he had his old body back. If he had, he would have lifted her up, so she could see everything happening all around them. Additionally, he would have liked to have more money than just the copper coins he carried. To Gil, Judy deserved to have a proper time at the festival, and he felt guilty he couldn’t afford more games for her to play.

Judy, however, felt their night was much more romantic. She and Gil were out on a date, all alone. When she grabbed Gil’s hand, she felt butterflies in her chest. Leaning her head over on his shoulder made her feel safe. Together they were listening to the beautiful music swaying back and forth as one. These were in her mind all signs of his affection towards her. Judy smiled as they continued to walk along the pathway from tent to tent, happy to be by the side of the one she loved.

At the end of the booths, where it was a bit darker, they met up with Cam and Judy’s older brothers. The older boys had managed to find Jack during their excursion. Gil gave a little wave to Jack, who was wearing an apprentice Carpenter’s Guild robe. Jack, always kind to Gil, waved back with a friendly smile.

They had all been trying their hand at a game that looked easy but most certainly wasn’t. The group of boys had focused on that particular game as it seemed to have the best prizes available. Things like leather caps and wooden tops, which used a string to activate, were shown off as what the kids could win.

The game’s goal was to drop three thin wooden sticks onto a flat wooden board. Each stick had to land to touch two of the three large red dots, which had been painted on the board. If successful, the sticks dropped would create a triangle shape by connecting all three red dots.

It looked more straightforward than it really was, and Gil quickly realized several aspects of the game made it incredibly tricky. The height the sticks were required to be dropped from, combined with their lightweight construction, meant they would fall like a leaf from a tree if the player was not careful. That would cause the stick to move out of the area of the dots almost every time.

Tom, Barry, and Cam had each failed to win the game when Gil and Judy came into sight. Judy’s brothers, always a thorn in Gil’s side, taunted him to try his luck at the game. While they did so, Cam behind them motioned no with his head, trying to warn his younger brother away from the game.

“Look who’s here,” Tom said, looking over at his sister and Gil.

“Bet they can’t win this game,” Barry said.

“Oh yea, I bet Gil can win; he can do anything,” Judy said, sticking her tongue out at her brothers.

“It’s impossible,” Jack said.

While Gil would have liked to have given them a passing greeting and head back the other way, Judy pulled him closer to the game and her mocking brothers. Gil, now at the game, looked it over. Having noticed the trick already, he watched another kid play and lose, studying as they did.

“So you're going to play?” Tom asked, never one to back down from teasing Gil.

“Of course we are,” Judy said, speaking for Gil.

Once he understood the rules, he reached for his bag of two copper coins, grabbed one out, and moved up to the counter. The counter for the game had thankfully been made low for younger children, so it was the perfect size for Gil. With Judy holding on to his right arm, he picked up the first stick and turned it sideways to its thinnest part.

Instead of dropping the stick as it was presented with the wider area down, he dropped them as he would a piece of paper, so it wouldn’t want to fly all over the place. It was still tricky, as a gust of wind would have made the stick move too far away. By changing how the sticks were dropped, he hit all three dots on his first try. Judy squealed with delight and turned to face her brothers, sticking out her tongue once more.

“I don’t believe it.” Barry said, “I just don't believe it.”

“Just luck,” Tom said, whose original sneer had been replaced with a frown.

“We have a winner! Look, folks, look at our small champion.” The man running the booth announced loudly in hopes others might try out the game.

“Hey runt, you should get the hat,” Tom said, who had been eyeing the leather cap since he entered the game tent.

Gil didn’t like being called a runt, but there was nothing he could do about it. Looking over at Cam, he could see he was smiling, proud of Gil for winning. Since Gil got to choose which prize he wanted, he scanned his options. Spotting some sort of stuffed animal among them, he decided on some kind of strange teddy bear. Honestly, though, Gil couldn’t tell what type of animal it was meant to represent, but he thought Judy might like it.

The entire night had allowed him to feel like the father he hadn’t gotten to be, and he enjoyed that feeling. Judy’s eyes lit up as Gil handed her the prize. With that, the two of them turned and started heading back to where William and Mr. Holms were, as it was getting dark.

“Did you see the stupid thing he got, Judy,” Tom said.

“Yea,” Barry said, sounding more jealous than upset.

Cam’s group followed a distance behind, stopping a time or two to look over the exciting games and food offerings. Of course, they had already spent all their money, so it was just wishful shopping. Gil was happy to have them a distance away as their taunts were annoying.

Soon Gil spotted William in the distance holding a mug of ale and drinking from it. The closer he got to William, the more he could smell the ale, which brought with it fond memories of his past life. Not yet aware of drinking ages in the world, he thought better than to ask for a drink of it. Wish I could have a mug; I bet it’s incredibly refreshing.

Reaching the parents, it was time for Judy and Gil to part ways for the rest of the evening. Judy took the opportunity to finish their date with a kiss, right there, in front of everyone. Gil was instantly embarrassed and confused, as he did not feel that way about Judy. As Gil turned bright red, so did her father, but for an entirely different reason.

“She kissed the crippled child,” Mr. Holms exclaimed, completely shocked.

It wasn’t necessarily that Mr. Holms was biased in any way towards Gil; it was that Gil’s future prospects were very limited due to his leg being the way it was. Judy, being his only female child, had lived a very sheltered life. Gil was simply not good enough for her. Mr. Holms stepped forward and placed his hand on Judy’s shoulder, pulling her back away from Gil.

“Thank you, Gil, for a wonderful time,” Judy said, struggling to hug him as she was being pulled backward by her father.

Mr. Holms’ comment did not go unnoticed, and William was wearing a very stern expression on his face. Stepping forward, William placed his hand down on Mr. Holms’ shoulder, much like he had done with Judy. The only difference was William’s grip was vice-like.

That, of course, caught Mr. Holms’ attention, who now had a look of pain on his face. Letting go of Judy, she moved in closer to Gil to hug him even tighter. Gil, by that time, had recovered from his shock and was trying to loosen himself from Judy’s embrace.

Looking over at William, Mr. Holms, who was definitely not a fighter, managed to utter, “I didn't think this is a misunderstanding.”

As those words reached William’s ears, he let go of Mr. Holms’ shoulder. Trying to steady himself, Mr. Holms hastily checked his body for injuries. Gil managed to escape from Judy and hide on the other side of William, who now seemed to find the entire thing funny. The problem came to a standstill when a loud drumbeat sounded, starting the parade.

“I’m glad you had a good time, Judy, but I think we should just be good friends for now,” Gil said.

Overhearing Gil, Mr. Holms frowned deeply. A crippled child turning down his beautiful girl made everything harder to accept. Somehow Gil saw himself as better than Judy.

Chapter 16: The Parade

The parade was illuminated by lanterns on long poles marking the path it would take. There were also several people carrying long poles walking the pathway with the people in the parade. The lantern light in the darkness cast odd shadows on the ground and made the entire event feel more supernatural than it would have been an hour earlier.

The side of the pathway was full of people, more than Gil had felt were at the festival earlier in the evening. It was an odd collection, as some wore ragged clothing, and others were dressed far nicer. Mondar, the lizardman who William had talked to earlier, was there speaking to some people at the far end of the path.

William reached down and picked up Gil putting him back on his shoulders again. From their position, Gil could see the entire parade from where it started to where it ended. The drum stopped just as three strangely shaped figures came into view. They signaled the start of the parade procession and were three village guards.

The guards were only part-time soldiers, and it showed. Compared to William or the church soldiers they had seen earlier, the village guard looked funny to Gil. While they each had swords, Gil wondered if they knew how to use them. Brighton was not a very big place, but there were only three guards for the entire village, making Gil think it must be very safe.

One of the guards was a short man with a large belly who wore a suit of ill-fitting leather armor. Bits of the man poked out here and there where the seams of his armor were tattered. When he walked, the armor parts stuck out further than the man's arms made a strange flapping sound, almost like a bird. Gil fought back laughter, knowing it was not meant to be funny.

That left Gil to conclude the armor was probably the village’s and not the man’s. With a happy sigh, Gil looked on as another of the guards, a tall, lanky man, came into view. They one wore a metal breastplate, which Gil only recognized because Cam had told him about the different armor types in the world. It was obviously too small for him and left his lower chest wide open to attack due to the man's height. Gil thought it looked like someone had placed a metal object onto a tree and couldn’t help but snicker. While doing so, he tried not to be obvious about it.

Had Gil looked around at the audience, he would not have felt self-conscious, as many around him were laughing out loud. Of course, all the laughter just combined into a general jovial mood. That meant the guards didn’t know if they were laughing at them or just laughing at the excellent time happening around them.

The final village guard, who Gil figured was the group leader, was an older man who had proper fitting armor. Looking to be about a hundred years old, he moved very slowly. Gil thought if given a chance, he could probably have outrun the man. Still, something about him gave Gil the impression he might have been an actual warrior in his prime. Unlike the other two, he carried a large sword on his back instead of at his hip.

“See Gil, that’s a long sword,” Cam said, pointing to the sword the old man carried.

Gil nodded his head up and down to what Cam had said as the next group of people came into view. The guards were followed by several shopkeepers from Brighton. They carried tall poles with signs featuring the names of the shops they operated with slogans like ‘the best place to buy weapons’.

Gil was questioned if the slogans were really needed as several of the shops he saw were the only ones in town dealing with that type of merchandise. Having no competition left him wondering why they were advertising in the parade. Following them were the various craftsmen of the village.

The Carpenter’s Guild came first, and Gil could see Mr. Brooks was part of the group. However, the number of people within it was much smaller than Gil thought worked at the guild. That made him think it must just be the higher-level workers who were marching in the parade. Gil waved at Mr. Brooks as they passed by, and Mr. Brooks waved back.

The following craftsmen group was the Metal Worker’s Guild. The majority of people in the group were shorter, and it took a second for Gil to realize they were actually dwarves. Almost every one of them had a long beard and held a mug, much like the one William had in his hands. While they walked along, they would raise their mugs in unison and take drinks from them.

The next group was far better dressed than the last two, as it was the Merchant’s Guild. While the town's shopkeepers got their own place in the parade, the group differed from how they acted. These were members of the Merchant’s Guild, and they all wore bright blue robes and conducted themselves in a much more subdued manner.

As Gil understood it, the Merchant’s Guild handled all the paperwork for the shopkeepers. They also ran the local bank. That meant they were dealing with the papers and forms, not selling items themselves. They were far calmer and collected, which Gil thought made them act as if they were corporate professionals.

Following the Merchant’s Guild was the Adventurer’s Guild. They were a much smaller group than the one before them had been. Additionally, they were far more lively and colorful. A young, petite lady led the way as she held their banner high.

“That lady there, she's the one who runs the front desk in the guild,” William said. “Pays out the adventurers and posts the jobs.”

Following her were what Gil could only guess to be three adventurers. Gil could see they were similar to William and the paladin they had seen earlier from where he was. They had an air about them one could see from a reasonable distance. Their faces all had cold-looking eyes that seemed unchanging no matter the expressions they wore.

The first one was wearing bright-colored clothes and had some sort of padded leather armor on his chest. Above his head, he carried a spear which he twirled about much to the amusement of the crowd. The spear had a cloth tied to it, which rippled in the wind as he turned it, making a fluttering sound. The movements were fast and entertaining to watch.

Following him was a female beastman. Gil would have guessed her to be one of the cat people. When she moved, it was with elegance humans could not match. The color of her clothes and fur was quite bright. Wearing a tunic of white with green leggings, both of which contrasted against her orangish fur. A tail twitched back and forth behind her, which faded from orange into white at the tip. Completing her look, she wore a basic brown cloth cloak with its hood down. Across her back, she carried a bow and quiver full of arrows.

The last adventurer held a cup of ale just like William did, and he would occasionally stop to swallow some of its contents. Waving at the crowd, he walked with a stagger back and forth repeatedly. At first, Gil thought he was purposely walking funny to amuse the crowd, but a closer look revealed the swagger was alcohol-induced. Across his back were two thickly bladed, curved swords.

“Those are scimitars,” Cam said with a gasp.

Cam’s fascination with weapons is almost a superpower of its own. At the mere sight of one, Cam was able to name what it was. Gil found such things uninteresting, probably because he was too weak to properly wield them. However, it could be significant, so he did his best to remember the name of the weapons.

Next in line was a wagon stacked high with freshly cut wheat. Two large, powerful-looking horses pulled the wagon, and a sign on it read they had been provided by the village stables. Again it was advertising Gil wasn’t sure was needed. The driver was an older man who seemed to know what he was doing since he had to adjust the pace based on the last adventurer. As it moved closer, Gil could see on the back of the wagon, amongst the wheat, sat a village girl.

Gil figured that was the queen of the festival, though he had nothing to back it up. Waving enthusiastically at the people watching from the side, she was dressed in a pure white frilly dress and had bright blond hair running down over her shoulders. The crowd seemed to cheer the wagon on as it passed by them, and Gil joined in as most everyone seemed to be doing so.

“That's this year's fertile harvest,” William said.

Following the wagon were a group of musicians, one of whom was beating a large drum. It must have been the same drum as before, as it echoed throughout the night. The others were playing instruments that looked like a guitar and flute. The drum drowned out the other two almost entirely until they drew close to a section of the crowd. Then if one strained, they could pick out a note or two here and there.

Following them was a carriage carrying the village leader. A sign hung from the carriage door, reading ‘Village Leader’, which was the only reason Gil knew who it was. That sign, unlike the others, was most certainly needed. The leader must have figured he was not much of an attraction on his own, as he had several people with him moving to the sides of the carriage. These attendants threw out hard pieces of candy to the kids watching.

The candy they were giving out was just like the piece Judy had won earlier. Cam reached down and picked up a few pieces of candy from the ground. All of the other children around him were doing the same, several of them grabbing up as many pieces as they could get to.

Reaching up, Cam handed a piece of the candy to Gil. Gil took the candy and tore off the paper wrapping. The candy was hard and not nearly as sweet as Gil had hoped it would be. Regardless, it was not unpleasant tasting, and he sucked on it while watching the rest of the parade. Looking around, Gil could see the other children, including Cam, were also eating their candy.

Following the village leader’s carriage was a man dressed in strange white sheets cut to have jagged edges. It looked like someone had made a very impromptu Halloween ghost outfit. Gil wasn’t certain what that was supposed to represent, but the crowd wildly booed the figure.

“Who is that?” Gil asked.

“That's a bad winter,” William replied before joining in with the rest of the crowd, booing loudly.

Gil nodded his head up and down, understanding and joined in with the action of the crowd. That was similar to something he had heard of in his own world, which was of a character named old man winter, who could wreak havoc on the following year's crops. Gill booed with all his might, finding it fun to do so.

There was a pause in the proceedings until winter made his way to the end of the path. Only then did the next group appear. They were the church representatives, who the family had seen earlier outside the orphanage. Able to look closer at them, Gil could see the cleric really was a woman. With them was a group of children whom Gil guessed to be the church orphans.

The church orphans wore basic clothing and seemed to be a little too well-behaved for children their age. Gil wondered what threat had been used to elicit such actions from them. They were thin, pale, and looked undernourished to Gil, though it was hard to honestly tell.

The knight in training walked next to the cleric, and the paladin walked behind them. It strangely appeared the paladin got the biggest cheers from the audience instead of the cleric. Gil concluded it was because his armor gleaned in the lantern light along with the jewel in the hilt of his sword. While that group sadly made up the last of the parade, it appeared some sort of show was about to happen.

When the wagon from earlier reached the end of the parade, it stayed there while the rest of the people dispersed. That was so the church representatives could bless the wagon's load of wheat to ensure the following year's crops would be fruitful. The woman who had been sitting on the wheat had gotten down and also disappeared into the crowd.

The cleric stepped forward and raised a wooden staff as high as she could. While Gil could tell she was speaking, he could not tell what was being said, as she spoke far too softly for him to hear. While speaking, she hit her staff hard on the dirt three times in a row. Afterwards, a yellow light appeared on the ground around the wagon. The light lit up the area, and yellow sparkles could soon be seen emerging from the ground, where they floated upwards only to disappear a few feet above it.

It was a dazzling light show, and the first time Gil had seen magic in the world. Then the yellow light became too bright, and Gil had to shield his eyes. When the light disappeared, the crowd began to cheer. Their shouts marked a successful end to another harvest festival.

“Well, I hope this next harvest is better than the last one.” A man near them said.

“It’s bound to be, didn't you see all the lights?” A woman’s voice replied.

“That was so much fun. I want to come back next year!” A young girl said.

The orphans then scattered into the crowd handing out small pieces of paper to anyone who would take one. When they were closer, Gil could see his earlier opinion was correct. The children were unnaturally thin and pale. The papers they had were only given to adults, so Gil wasn’t sure what it said.

“Cam, hand me one of those,” Gil requested, seeing most of the people who had received the paper had just tossed them onto the ground as trash.

Cam bent over and picked one up off the ground. Then he reached up and gave it to Gil. The papers were advertising for the church, inviting those in the crowd to a service the next day. Gil could now see why most of the audience had just tossed them. It was interesting, though, to see what qualified for an advertisement in the world.

“Wow, those orphans sure look thin,” Gil said.

“Yea, they only get the necessities,” William said. “The church does not spend much on things; they tend to just take money in. Though if it wasn’t for the church, they would most likely starve of hunger.”

Gil folded the paper up and put it into his pouch with the single copper coin he had left to save it as a memento from his first harvest parade. Overall the day had been very satisfying, and he was happy to have gotten to see it. With that, the festival ended, and everyone began to gather up their things. The dispute from earlier must have been forgotten as Mr. Holms’ family walked right next to William and the boys back in the direction of their cabin.

Gil looked up at Mr. Holms and could see he still seemed upset from earlier. Maybe everything isn’t back to normal. Gil wasn’t certain if they walked together because it was best to keep those you know close or another reason. Thinking it over, the only conclusion Gil could draw was it may not be safe enough to move along the path in smaller groups late at night. Maybe Mr. Holms is scared of wild creatures and knows William could fight them off, he thought, finding the idea humorous.

The road out of the village was very well lit by torchlight from all the families traveling home. Tom, Barry, and Cam all took the rear, while Judy and Gil soon found themselves side by side. The night air was cool and made Gil shiver. Looking over at Judy, he wished he had a coat to give her as she looked cold.

“That was so much fun! I loved the games.” Tom said.

“The salty corn pops were great. I could have eaten three bags of them.” Barry said.

Cam agreed with his friends. As they walked, smaller groups would break apart from the larger one and head off towards their own homes. Causing the group moving forward to do so with less light.

“I wish Sally had been here to see the parade,” Mr. Holms said. “She likes these kinds of things.” Then he grew quiet again, and Gil thought it was probably because of what had happened.

“I’m sorry about my dad,” Judy whispered so only Gil could hear.

“It’s ok, don’t worry about it,” Gil whispered back.

Their walk only became truly dark when they reached Mr. Holm's land, as his family had torches and theirs did not. After the darkness enveloped William and the boys, it didn’t take long for their eyes to adjust to the night. Along their walk home, William entertained the boys by keeping them talking.

“So, what did you think of Brighton?” William asked.

Cam was the first to answer, “The festival was really neat. I liked the games and food.” As Cam said food, he made a happy sound, as if his tummy were full.

“I liked the food also,” Gil said. “But I liked the parade the most; it was really fascinating to see.”

William chuckled to himself, remembering the kiss Gil had gotten before the parade, and wondered if that had something to do with his answer. Opening his mouth, he started to tease Gil about it but then thought better of the idea. The possible trouble it had led up to came back to him, and he frowned, thinking about what Mr. Holms had called Gil.

For the first time, William had realized his youngest son would have a complicated life ahead of him. Cam and himself had accepted Gil the way he was, just relieved the young boy had survived the accident. Tired and worn out, the family went straight to bed upon their arrival home.

Chapter 17: The Fight

The next day when the family woke up, they each had the festival on their minds. Cam had won a knife, which he played with for what Gil thought was hours on end. With William’s help, Cam learned to flip it in his hand and was practicing to get it perfect. That was harder than it appeared, as the tiny blade was not well balanced.

“Look at this, Gil,” Cam said. “This is something I got to show Tom next time I see him.”

Gil looked at his brother and smiled, finding his new trick impressive. The day passed quickly for everyone. Distracted while working, the boys played the festival games over in their heads and saw the parade repeatedly. When their work ended, it was earlier than usual.

“Cam, you go ahead and go inside. I want to talk to Gil alone for a moment.” William said.

Those words set off red flags in Gil’s mind, and he quickly went over the day to see where he had messed up and gotten in trouble. Nothing came to mind that he did wrong, so he looked up at his father, confused. Breathing deeply, he prepared for a lecture he felt sure was coming.

Looking down at his youngest, William had a somber look on his face. “Gil, I want to talk to you about what happened at the festival and what Mr. Holms said.” William kneeled to Gil’s height and looked him straight in the eyes.

Oh, I’m not in trouble, that’s a relief, but why does what Mr. Holms said matter? While Gil hadn’t enjoyed being called crippled, he felt it came out of ignorance rather than hate. Gil wasn’t interested in Judy like that anyways, so he didn’t care what Mr. Holms' opinion of him was.

“Okay,” Gil replied hesitantly, unsure he wanted to have that conversation. William was wearing far too serious an expression, which still made Gil feel as if he were in trouble.

“Your right leg makes you different from everyone else,” William started.

“Yea,” Gil spoke in a hushed tone and looked down at the ground, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

“In some ways, it means you won’t be able to do what they do, but that doesn't define you. You are not just your injury. You are so much more than that.” William's face changed as he spoke, from serious to one more understanding.

Gil was surprised. That was the most open William had been to either of the boys since Gil arrived in the world. Initially, Gil had thought William wasn’t capable of such loving emotion. Gil looked up at his father and managed a small smile.

“I know you’re a bright kid, Gil, and I know you’re going to find your own way. Woodworking probably won’t be your job when you get older, and that’s okay. There may be times you have to work harder at what you’re doing to keep up with everyone else, but I know with that head of yours, you’ll always find a way.” William paused here a moment to let the words sink in.

Gil hadn't thought all that much about his leg or his future in the world. Honestly, he had just been going day to day, worried about surviving and fitting in. Sure he sometimes had pain, but that was the first time he thought about how it might affect his future.

In some ways, he could see Mr. Holms’ point of view. The things people in the world did to make money seemed to focus exclusively on being physically fit. Gil, much like Mr. Holms, just wanted the best for Judy. Had their roles been reversed, Gil might not have wanted his daughter to marry him either, though he was confident he would have approached the problem differently.

“No person can tell you what you are worth; only you can determine that. Words, like what Mr. Holms said, come from fear. He’s afraid of what might happen to Judy if you two were to get together because he underestimates your abilities. Judy and you, well, that’s a talk for when you’re older.” With that, William patted the young boy on the head and stood back up. “Just remember, whenever anyone calls you that, you are more than your limp son. Anyone who only sees that isn’t worth your time or energy.”

With that, the talk was over, and in many ways, Gil was surprised. William had expressed a side of himself he had not yet seen. That talk left Gil wondering about many things, including his leg and his future in the world. William, always the stoic fighter figure with a rough exterior, also had a warm heart. Gil smiled as he went inside to see his brother, somehow feeling more like he belonged in their family.

The people in Gil’s new world traveled by the sun and where it was in the sky, so they often referred to trips based on how many days it took them to arrive at their destination. Since there wasn’t an exact distance measurement, Gil calculated the village was about five miles away from their cabin. From that, he guessed the nearest neighbor’s house was about a mile away from them. However, the Holms’ apple orchard began far closer than that.

The land belonged to Mr. Holms, who was an older man with a round belly. With him lived his three children and a lovely wife, Sally, who would give Cam and Gil baked goods when they visited. In Gil’s mind, those baked goods were the only thing saving his life due to his father’s atrocious cooking. Of course, that was an exaggeration, but Gil really enjoyed getting other things to eat.

Most of the games the kids would play involved running, jumping, or climbing. Gil was unable to do those things, so he often found himself alone on the sidelines. Had Gil been a seven-year-old boy, that might have bothered him, but since that wasn’t the case, he didn't mind. When he did feel like playing with the other boys, he taught them how to play games like tic-tac-toe and rock paper scissors. For Gil, visiting the Holms family was just an opportunity to relax and enjoy time away from his family’s work.

Gil found himself enjoying Judy’s company far better than that of her older brothers, so as time went on, he tried less to play with them. Instead, he and Judy would usually sit outside of her family’s house, talking. Their pairing typically just got Gil teased, but one day it landed him in trouble.

It had started like any other day for the boys, but the workload was far lighter than usual. Finishing just after lunch, they had plenty of sunlight left outside. William checked over their work and sent them off to enjoy some free time.

“Why don't we go over to Tom’s house?” Cam asked.

“Alright,” Gil said.

The Holms' house came into view a short while later, and Cam ran ahead to knock on the door. The kids were available to play outside, and soon Tom, Barry, and Judy were in the front yard with Gil and Cam. That day, in particular, Judy was incredibly clingy towards Gil.

Being far older than the body he resided in, Gil often felt as if he were supervising all of them when they visited. Due to that, he never saw Judy’s actions as anything other than those of a little girl. The older boys ran about roughhousing while Gil and Judy took a seat under a nearby shade tree. It was a pleasant afternoon, with a light breeze blowing over the yard.

“What should we do?” Gil asked Judy.

“I don't know? Why don't you tell me something new,” Judy said.

Gil went quiet for a short time while he thought about what to tell her. “Well, I don’t think I’ve mentioned this game. It’s a memory game where you mention something, and then I repeat it back and add on another thing. Then as it would be your turn, you would mention everything that has been mentioned and add on another word.” Gil explained.

“For instance, when I grow up, I will have a horse,” Gil said. “Now it’s your turn.”

“When I grow up, I will have a horse and a bakery,” Judy said.

“Very good. When I grow up, I will have a horse and a bakery and a house,” Gil said.

“When I grow up, I will have a horse and a bakery and a house and a husband named Gil,” Judy said. “But when you say it, you need to say a wife named Judy.”

Judy was always saying things like that, and Gil was confident she would grow out of it over time. Once or twice he had tried to correct her, but it had led to her being sad and crying. Of the two outcomes, he would much rather accept it than have her cry. To Gil, that was just childhood nonsense, as she was only seven.

Judy, however, being seven, felt their relationship was far more profound than just friends. In her mind, they were destined to be together, forever. Gil was her one true love, her knight in shining armor, and she refused to accept anything wrong that was ever said about Gil.

The older boys had already started a foot race and were racing around the house. It was a pretty long run because there was a fence on one side. Tom and Barry cheated and went over the wall while Cam went the long way around.

“Come on, Barry,” Tom said, helping his younger brother over the fence.

“Won’t Cam be surprised when we win?” Barry said.

Cutting across a small horse pasture, they rounded the corner of the house. Tom and Barry were far ahead of Cam. The ending location of the race was where Gil and Judy were sitting. When her brother’s arrived, they were trying to catch their breath.

“When I grow up, I will have a horse and a bakery and a house and a wife named Judy and a lot of money,” Gil said, continuing their game just as Tom and Barry arrived.

“When I grow up, I will have a horse and a bakery and a house and a husband named Gil and a lot of money and four kids,” Judy said.

While Gil was used to Judy’s declarations of love, her brother’s were not. Since they didn’t spend much time around her, that was their first time hearing it. Unfortunately, her oldest brother, Tom, became very upset and felt Gil was to blame.

“You're not good enough for our sister,” Tom said, moving closer to Gil.

“Yeah,” Barry said, sounding less interested than Tom in what the younger ones were doing.

That led to a fistfight when Tom pushed Gil hard onto the ground. Gil tumbled down and laid on his back. Tom then straddled Gil and began to punch him repeatedly in the face. Gil tried his best to fight off the older boy with his arms but found himself on the receiving end of several fierce blows.

“Ouch, stop it,” Gil managed to get out between the flurry of punches. Moving his arms in front of his face, he tried to take as many punches with them as he could so fewer would find their way to his face.

“Get off of him, you big bully!” Judy yelled as she moved over to Tom and was trying to push her big brother off Gil.

“Shut up, Judy. It’s for your own good.” Tom said, looking at his sister and pushing her down to the ground. Then he turned back to Gil and started punching him in the face again with a sinister smile on his face.

“Yea, you're better than that,” Barry said to Judy as he moved over to her and kept her from trying to push Tom off.

“You're just as bad as Tom,” Judy said, slapping Barry across the face.

Tom, older and more muscular than Gil, had the upper hand, and Gil was getting beat badly. Barry got control of Judy’s arms and held her back out of the way. Gil’s nose was bleeding heavily by the time Cam caught up to the rest of the kids.

Assessing the situation quickly, Cam could tell Tom was beating his brother. “Get off, my brother,“ Cam demanded while trying to catch his breath from the long run around the house.

Cam moved over to Tom and caught him in the face with a right hook. That surprise attack knocked Tom completely off Gil. Judy had managed to free one of her hands and was using it to hit Barry, who struggled to maintain his control of her.

“You can’t do that to Tom,” Barry said, releasing Judy. Going to his brother’s aid, he pulled Tom back on his feet.

“Now we're going to get you,” Tom said, directing the new threat at Cam.

“Yea,” Barry said while hitting his fist against his open hand to make a loud smacking sound.

Together, the two boys moved closer to Cam. Gil looked up at the boys from the ground, finding it impossible to get up. Cam was still breathing heavily from the long run, but he looked over at Tom and Barry with a look of determination on his face.

“Be careful, Cam,” Gil said with a heavy rasp.

Judy ran over to Gil to see how he was doing. Tom, taking the lead, moved directly in front of Cam. Without waiting for Tom to make his first attack, Cam took the opportunity to lunge at him and tackle Tom back to the ground.

“Are you alright?” Judy asked Gil.

“I’m alright,” Gil said, mumbling, not sure he believed his own words. Having arrived at the boy's side, Judy began using her dress to wipe the blood away from Gil’s mouth and nose.

“You know he had it coming, Cam,” Tom said, trying to justify what Cam had seen.

“We aren't going to let him marry Judy,” Barry said.

Cam proceeded to pound Tom, much in the same way he had seen Tom hitting Gil. Barry rushed to Tom's defense and shoved Cam hard off of Tom. While tumbling off Tom, Cam managed to redirect his attention and catch Barry square in the jaw.

The punch from Cam was enough for Barry, and he turned and ran back into the house. Tom got to his feet, wiping blood from his nose with his right arm. Cam and he squared off, exchanging blows whenever they got close enough to each other to do so.

“You and your crippled brother can go to hell,” Tom said, spitting out blood from a split lip.

Those words brought a surge of rage to Cam, who reached out and soundly punched Tom with his right fist. That knocked Tom back onto the ground. Scared by the look in Cam’s eyes, Tom seemed to have had enough of the fight. Hurriedly, he stood up from the ground and took off running into the house. Cam walked over to Gil and looked down at him.

Gil's face was a complete mess, as he had a mix of running and dried blood in several spots. Cam helped Gil to his feet, which caused him to cough up blood. Attempting to stand on his own, Gil almost fell back to the ground, but Cam caught him and wrapped an arm around him for support. Leaning onto Cam, Gil surveyed the land he had been lying on and saw splatters of red all around.

“I’m ok,” Gil said, finding his voice. “I’ll see you later, Judy.” With that, he tried to give her a smile, but his entire face ached.

Cam picked up his younger brother and started towards their cabin without saying anything.

“I’m coming too,'' Judy said, getting to her feet.

Cam looked back at the house and saw a curtain inside close, which he assumed was Tom or Barry cowardly watching them. The walk home was a sad one. Cam was worried about his brother and how their father would react since he had failed to protect Gil.

“Put me down. I can walk the rest of the way.” Gil insisted once the cabin was visible.

Reluctantly Cam set him down, not letting go until he was certain Gil could stand on his own. Taking a step forward, Gil managed to keep his balance. While walking brought him a great deal of pain, he was also worried about how William would react to his condition. Slowly, the three of them arrived at the cabin. Entering, they found William at the kitchen table carving.

Chapter 18: Repentance

William looked over the three and could instantly tell Gil had been hurt. The blood, which had been flowing freely on the walk to the house, had stopped. However, his face was still covered in it. While Gil knew he looked terrible, he felt sure he would be ok with some water and soap.

Gil set himself down on one of their kitchen chairs. William grabbed a rag, wet it, and began to wash off the dried blood. Judy and Cam were covered in Gil’s blood, though neither had been hurt in the fight.

“You got to help him,” Judy said, looking over at William.

“What happened?” William asked, his voice full of concern and anger.

“Tom and Barry beat him up,” Cam said. “I got them off him, but by that time, his face was already bloody.”

“I’m ok,” Gil insisted, taking the washcloth from William and trying to make himself presentable.

“It was all Tom,” Judy said. “He’s the one who did it.”

“Tom told me and Gil to go to hell, but they called him crippled,” Cam said, in disbelief, his friends would say such a thing.

“Yep, he sure did.” Judy nodded her head in agreement.

The fight had just been a misunderstanding to Gil, and he didn’t really want the boys getting in trouble over it. However, he had taken quite a beating over an innocent mistake. It was my fault though, I should have been more careful about what I said. I know how Judy’s family feels about me.

“It’s fine. It’s going to be ok.” Gil said, trying to ease the tension in the room. “I just need to be more careful about what I say.”

“What did you say to start it?” William asked, doubting it validated excusing the fight.

“We were playing a game, and Judy’s brothers misunderstood,” Gil said, trying to smooth things over without getting Judy in trouble.

William was about to ask what he had said precisely when Judy spoke. “He said he was going to marry me, and my brothers said he wasn’t good enough to. Barry wouldn’t let me try to get Tom off of him!”

William’s eyes widened as he put the pieces of what he heard together. Slowly he nodded his head. While he had hoped the parade incident was a one-time occurrence, he could see that was not the case. To him, it was clear he was going to have to get involved. Once Gil's face was no longer covered in blood, William directed the boys and Judy back outside.

They walked back the same way the kids had come, going over to the Holms’ house. Cam noticed the same curtain as before close once they came into view and felt himself growing angry once again. Walking to the front door, William knocked loudly on it.

The property Mr. Holms owned was an apple orchard, which was the largest within the entire territory. Due to that, their house was much larger than the cabin William, and his boys lived in. However, William didn’t find that to be intimidating. Having talked with the king himself, he had the unique perspective that he was no different than anyone else.

The knock brought a smiling Sally to the door. Opening it widely, she looked at the four visitors. Looking down at her youngest, she frowned, seeing the dried blood on her dress. Then looking over at Gil’s multi-colored face, which had already begun to bruise, she saw where the blood had come from.

“Please come in; our home is always open to you,” Sally said. “Honey, I think you need to come here,” she called back into the home as she stepped to the side, allowing all four to enter.

Some footsteps could be heard moving over the hardwood floors. Mr. Holms, who had heard the door knock, was not sure who was visiting the house. Entering the front hallway, he could see William’s family standing there. Examining them, he saw the state young Gil was in, which brought an immediate frown to his face.

“The boys got into a scuffle,” William informed him, getting straight to business.

“Please come in. We can speak in the great room,” Mr. Holms said, motioning for them to enter the room and turning to head that way.

“Judy, you need to go upstairs and change,” Sally instructed in a soft tone.

As Mr. Holms had referred to it, the great room was what Gil would have called a study. It had large bookcases with books and assorted items laying on them. The furniture was nice and looked comfortable. That was Cam and Gil’s first time within the Holms’ house, and they were both surprised at how different it was from their own. Mr. Holms motioned to a seat, and William moved over that way.

Raising his hand, William gestured for the boys to stay where they were standing. Cam was the only one who got the message, so when Gil started to enter after William, Cam lightly grabbed his arm to stop him. The two of them waited in a large, open archway separating the great room from the house’s main hall.

Gil looked around the room and could see plenty of things they did not have. Mr. Holms’ family was much better off than their own. The room itself was large, and the house was not made of logs. It reminded Gil of traditional homes from his own world. A large desk, with a window behind it, sat at the back of the room. The window looked out at the apple orchard.

“So the boys were playing rough?” Mr. Holms asked rhetorically. “Boy’s will be boys, you know.” Mr. Holms said, trying to downplay the event while avoiding looking at Gil.

“Yes, I know. But when it’s two on one, it’s not a very fair fight, especially when one is so much younger than the others.” William said. “Gil took quite the beating in the fight, and I think your boys are smart enough to know he wasn’t able to fight back.”

“I see,” Mr. Holms said.

Did he have to say that part? I couldn’t, but that still hurt. Gil looked over the room and all it had inside it while listening to the two men speak. There were more things in that one room than their cabin had in every room added together. On the floor was a thick patterned rug with red and brown woven throughout it. The walls had been covered with what Gil would have called patterned wallpaper.

“There’s one other matter of the fight I think you should know,” William said, his voice growing deeper to stress his concern. “Cam, tell him what Tom said.” William motioned to his oldest boy to enter the room.

Cam stepped forward as Gil sighed, wondering how long the conversation was going to take. While he wasn’t bleeding anymore, his body was in a great deal of pain due to the fight. Cam’s dirty boots sank into the rug as he moved across it. Once he was in the middle of the room, where Mr. Holms and William were, he stopped.

“Tom said,” Cam paused for a moment, breathing deeply, before repeating it. “you and your crippled brother can go to hell.”

“I see, I see, words exchanged in the heat of battle, I assure you.” Mr. Holms said, trying to stick up for his boys.

“Thank you, Cam,” William said, excusing his son back to the entryway. “Kids only say what they’ve already heard, as I’m sure you’re well aware of.” William began, his tone remaining very serious.

Cam turned and walked back over to Gil while processing the fight himself. Cam and Tom had been best friends for a long time, so he was appalled by what he had said. Gil, however, was paying very close attention to the conversation happening in front of them, as William had taken on the same tone he used for lecturing.

“I had hoped what occurred during the festival would not be a repeat incident. While I understand your concern about your daughter, they are both still children. There’s no need for you or your boys to feel the need to beat up my son because of it. If you have concerns about them, then you need to bring those to me.”

Mr. Holms swallowed hard as he looked at William. Being a pudgy, short man, he felt intimidated by William’s height and muscular form. If they had been younger, Mr. Holms might have been less frightened, but he knew full well William would win if they were to ever fight.

Nodding his head, he struggled to find the right thing to say, knowing William was correct. “You are right. I promise to look into this matter.” Mr. Holms said, trying to sound diplomatic but instead coming off as incapable.

“I’m sure Judy and your boys will have more to tell you when we leave,” William said, feeling as if his words had fallen on deaf ears.

“Judy?” Mr. Holms asked. That was the first he had heard of her being involved, and it caused him to grow far more concerned than he had been before.

Judy was the youngest child and their only daughter, which caused his wife to be very protective of her. Knowing she had been involved in the fight, in any manner, meant he would most certainly hear more about it from Sally. That was troubling news to him, and his face changed from one of superiority to one of fear.

“Yes, it seems like she and my youngest were together when the fight happened,” William explained. “We brought her back with us as she had come to the cabin, but she might have a bruise or two herself.”

“She left the house?” Mr. Holms seemed shocked by the news, as his daughter was not allowed off their property without himself or Sally. It was apparent that while the fight had caused him little concern, the idea of his daughter being involved did. “I had no idea, simply, no idea.”

William was confused as to what to make of Mr. Holms. Initially, he intended to express his anger about the fight but felt he had lectured a small child instead. Of course, things had taken an interesting change, and he wasn’t sure what to say next. Looking over at Mr. Holms, William could see he was far more scared about his wife’s response to the fight than his own.

“Anyway, I thought you should know,” William said, turning to leave the room.

“Thank you,” Mr. Holms said, hardly paying attention as William left, deep in thought as to what he would tell his wife.

William walked over to the entryway of the room. There he gathered the boys by placing a hand on each one's shoulder and moved the family out into the hallway. Back in the main hall, Sally moved over towards them. Smiling, she was carrying a tray of cookies, which she held out to the boys.

“Here, boys, grab yourself a cookie and sit over there on the stairs. I want to talk to your father for a moment.” Sally said.

“Thank you,” Gil and Cam said, always eager for a baked treat from Sally. After grabbing one, they both went and sat down on the stairs.

The steps were a short distance away, but far enough, the boys couldn’t overhear what was said. Gil did notice Sally’s expression changed from a smile to being much more severe. It was clear to him they were discussing what had happened between the boys.

“So the boys got into a fight?” Sally asked.

“Yea, it was all over Judy and Gil,” William said, having keyed in earlier that Judy might be a way to make his point clear.

“Judy told me what happened,” Sally said. “I assure you I will be speaking with my boys, and this will never happen again.”

“Good,” William said, relieved to be getting the reaction he had wanted.

“I will see to it personally,” Sally added, saying the last part loud enough Gil and Cam could hear.

The sweet tone she had used when handing the boys cookies was gone, and her voice now sounded cold. However, as soon as she finished speaking, a smile reappeared on her face. Gil looked over at Cam, and they both had the same confused expression.

“I would be thankful if you did,” William said, giving Sally a slight bow and a smile in return.

With that, William gestured for the boys to come back over to him, and the family gathered, preparing to leave. Judy walked down the stairs wearing a different dress than the one she had on earlier. Looking completely different than she had when they arrived at the house, she moved over to Gil and gave him a big hug.

“I’m glad you are doing better. Thank you, Gil, for standing up for me.” Judy said, smiling.

Judy seemed especially proud of Gil for standing up to her brothers. In her eyes, he had not only won the fight but had been her brave knight when she needed him the most. Gil didn’t feel he had done anything to warrant her thanks but was happy to see her smiling.

Gil felt proud of Cam and was thankful for him fighting Tom. While he had been jealous of Cam and Tom’s friendship in the past, it was clear Cam would do anything for him. Not only had Cam defended him, but Gil saw the makings of someone genuinely heroic.

The family left the Holms’ house and moved down the path towards their cabin. Their experience had been an odd one, but somehow Gil thought they were all the better because of it. The sun was just starting to go down, and it made a beautiful sunset to accompany the family’s walk. Gil’s face was still aching because of the beating he had taken, and he was sure it would be black and blue over the next several days.

“What did Mrs. Holms tell you?” Cam asked.

“Oh, just that things would be taken care of. So no need to worry about anything.” William patted Gil on the shoulder as he spoke. “I am very proud of both of you, and I’m sure things will go back to how they used to be very quickly.”

Chapter 19: Bartering

Before harvest time, Mr. Holms allowed all the kids to eat all the apples they wanted from the ground for free. Gil loved those apples and found them to be the sweetest he had ever tasted. They were so juicy and delightful he found them delicious even when eaten too early, while green and sour.

Gil had a tendency to overindulge on the unripe apples, which caused him to have a terrible stomach ache more than once. Each day as fall passed and the weather grew cooler, the apples would become more red. That was the kids' sign they were to stop eating them, as Mr. Holms would soon sell his harvest.

One day, Tom and Barry came by William’s cabin looking for Cam and Gil in the afternoon. That was unusual, as the Holms’ kids typically weren’t allowed to go beyond their father’s property. However, they had been sent out by their mother, Sally. Cam answered the door.

“Hey Cam, we're here to talk to Gil if he’s around,” Tom said.

Cam looked the boys over and then nodded. Calling back into the house for Gil, he stayed in the doorway blocking the two boys from entering their home. Gil made his way to the door, peering around Cam; he could see both Tom and Barry waiting for him on the other side.

“What’s up?” Gil asked, surprised to see them.

Since the fight, Gil and Cam hadn’t visited the Holms family. Instead, they had chosen to spend all of their free time at their own cabin. While time had passed, and neither Cam nor Gil held any long-lasting resentment towards Tom and Barry, they weren’t sure they were welcome anymore at their orchard.

“We’re here to apologize to you, Gil,” Tom said, looking uncomfortable.

“Yea, we are both sorry about what happened,” Barry added.

Looking at both of them, Gil wasn’t able to tell if they were being genuine or not. Gil understood what had happened far better than an actual seven-year-old would have. Because of that, he didn’t feel their actions fully represented how they felt. Kids parrot their parents, so to Gil, the responsibility of how they acted was on their father. Getting things back to the way they had been would be best for everyone, so Gil pushed past his brother.

“Ok, then,” Gil said, holding a hand out to Tom to shake on it.

Tom awkwardly took his hand and shook as a sign of agreement to put the fight behind them. “It’s also harvesting time. If you two want to help gather the ripened apples. Dad will pay you each a copper coin a day for the work.” Tom said.

“It usually takes a full three days,” Barry added.

It struck Gil as odd Mr. Holms would ask for him, at any price, as he was so weak. Especially since he was offering him the same rate, they were going to pay Cam. Maybe this is their way of providing a truce between our families. A couple of copper coins, and all is forgiven? Gil felt the offer showed how shrewd a businessman Mr. Holms was, and strangely he respected the man for it.

“We’ll have to ask our father, but as long as he says yes, we’ll be there,” Cam said.

“It starts tomorrow. If he says yes, just come on over.” Tom said. “We have to go invite some others, so see you later.”

At that, the two boys turned and ran off towards their next nearest neighbor. With the apology accepted, Gil turned his mind to the opportunity he had been offered. Excited by the news, the boys immediately went to their father to request time off for the harvest. Cam was initially worried about asking William, but Gil saw no downside to trying. Besides, he had noticed they had been getting a lot more free time due to the woodworking season dying down.

“Father, Mr. Holms is offering to pay us a copper a day to help harvest his apples. Tom says it should only take three days for the full harvest. May we help them?” Gil was the first to ask, but Cam was right behind him, just as excited.

Their woodworking had slowed down quite a lot with it being fall, so there was less need for Cam and Gil at the cabin. Additionally, William knew it would be a great help to their neighbor, and he was always one to help others when needed. Due to that, William only took a moment to consider the question before answering.

“Of course you can help them. That sounds like a great way for you both to earn some spending money for when we go to the village next.” William said.

With asking out of the way, Gil’s mind quickly changed to how he could get a better deal. While a copper coin was big money for Cam and Gil, making three or four a day would be even better. Having noticed how people barter with one another, Gil felt he could use that to his advantage. Hatching the plan, he began to work on getting Cam to agree to help him, knowing he could never convince Mr. Holms on his own.

That began an all-day process of nagging his brother. Cam had learned from his father the importance of honesty, hard work, and helping his friends. These values would make him reluctant to agree with Gil’s scheme, so Gil waited until lunchtime to try.

“We can make more money, Cam. I know we can.” Gil said, trying to get Cam to agree to his plan.

“More money? I don’t know Gil. Three coppers is a lot.” Cam said, not wanting to mess up the opportunity for a guaranteed deal.

“Yes, but would you rather have three coppers or a silver coin?” Gil said.

“There’s no way Mr. Holms will pay us a silver,” Cam replied.

“He won't have to. We will sell apples.” Gil said.

“How are we going to sell apples?” Cam asked, growing confused by Gil’s plan.

“All we have to do is get some apples and then sell them,” Gil said

“I don’t know Gil, but we’ve got to get back to work,” Cam said.

With that, lunch was finished, so they cleaned the dishes off the table. Opening the back door, they returned to work once again. While the boys were gathering wood outside, Gil found another opportunity to work on Cam.

“Even William barters with the Carpenter’s Guild, you know,” Gil said, reminding him of the time they went into the village with William.

“Yeah, but we're already getting three coppers,” Cam said with a sigh.

“You need to think bigger. This could get us both a silver coin!” Gil replied.

Cam was not willing to budge yet, but Gil thought he was making some headway. As the day continued, anytime Gil found an opening, he would press the issue as best he could. Done with the work outside, they went back into the house for chores.

“Have you decided yet?” Gil asked.

“I just don’t think it’s right,” Cam replied.

William, having overheard the two boys for the first time, interrupted. “What’s not right?”

“Gil wants to try and barter with Mr. Holms, for less money!” Cam said.

“No, I want to barter for money and apples so we can sell the apples afterwards,” Gil explained.

“I think that’s a great idea!” William said. Both boys needed to learn to barter if they were ever going to make it independently, so regardless of whether Gil’s idea was good or not, he felt that would make a great learning opportunity.

“You do?!” Cam asked in disbelief.

“I do. Bartering is an important skill, and the worst thing that can happen is he says no.” William replied.

Cam thought for a moment before speaking again. “Alright, Gil, you can try to barter. I still don’t think this is going to make us more money.”

“It’s agreed then,” Gil said, putting his focus on the plan ahead.

With Cam now on his side, all they had to do was get up early the next day and go see Mr. Holms. As it was Gil’s plan, he made sure to get Cam out of bed early. The entire way to the Holms’ house, Gil went over his plan repeatedly with Cam to ensure he understood what they would do.

“Ok, so when we get there, let me do the talking.” Gil insisted.

“I don’t think I understand. Are we getting fewer coppers?” Cam said, trying to figure out what Gil was planning.

“No, no, there's nothing to worry about. If all goes correctly, we will make a lot more money.” Gil said, confident his plan would work. “All you have to do is be there. You don’t even have to open your mouth.”

“Alright,” Cam said, still uncertain of Gil’s plan.

By the time they arrived at the house’s front door, Cam had looked over at his younger brother and could see the determination on his face. Gil took a deep breath before he knocked on the door, preparing himself to barter. Mrs. Holms answered the door. Seeing who it was, she invited them inside.

“I would like to talk to Mr. Holms,” Gil said.

Mrs. Holms motioned them over to the study area. Gil took the lead walking over that way, and Cam followed behind. Once they reached the archway separating the great room from the main hall, Gil stepped across the threshold and into the room.

Gil felt confident as he walked up to Mr. Holms. In truth, Gil knew he wasn’t doing anything wrong, as he was sure the offer was in the interest of both parties. Instead, he felt excited about having the chance to negotiate a deal.

“Mr. Holms, sir,” Gil said once he reached the middle of the room.

Mr. Holms was sitting at his desk, looking out the window at the apple orchard. Hearing Gil’s childish voice, he turned to see who it was. Mr. Holms squinted, looking back into the darkness of the room, and motioned for Gil to step forward more.

“Could I talk to you about the harvest?” Gil asked.

“Apples,” Mr. Holms said. “That's one of my favorite subjects.” As he spoke, his eyes sparkled while he thought about them.

“Yes, that's exactly why I’m here,” Gil said. “My brother and I would like to work all three days of the harvest in exchange for four copper coins in total and twelve ripe apples.”

Cam, who was listening in from the archway, still didn’t understand why they offered to work for less than a copper a day. However, all he could do was trust Gil was not cheating him out of a copper coin. Since William had encouraged Cam to go along with it, he felt his father must have understood something he didn’t.

Gil knew in the village, anyone could buy three apples for a single copper coin. Since Mr. Holms was a wholesaler of apples, he sold them at a much lower cost per apple in bulk. That lower price saved Mr. Holms from having to sell them himself. Of course, with the number of apples Mr. Holms grew, he was making a decent profit. Due to that, twelve apples were essentially free and cost him nothing to give the boys.

“That’s what you want?” Mr. Holms asked, stunned by the request.

“Yes, it is, sir,” Gil said, trying to layer on the politeness as much as possible to make the deal go through.

Mr. Holms wasn't sure what to think of the small boy in front of him. Either he was a genius or an idiot. Gil and Cam's willingness to accept less had to be because Gil knew he wouldn’t be able to do the same amount of work as the other. However, the exact request of twelve apples intrigued him. Being a business owner, Mr. Holms had a gambling instinct, and he wanted to see what Gil would do with the apples.

“That's what you want, is it?” Mr. Holms asked again before nodding his head. “Ok, then it's a deal.”

“Thank you, sir,” Gil said, who bowed and turned to leave the room.

Negotiating was all over, and the boys waved to Mrs. Holms from the doorway. Soon they were out into the orchard. While they made their way out there, Cam continued to struggle with how four copper coins and twelve apples were worth more than six coppers. While the apples were good, Cam had had his fill over the last several weeks and didn’t feel like eating any more of them.

Chapter 20: Apple Harvesting

“Gil, explain it again; I still don’t understand,” Cam said, unable to wrap his head around their deal.

“It’s easy. Once we have our apples, we can sell them ourselves to make six copper.” Gil stated flatly, very confident of his plan.

“Twelve apples are only worth four copper. How are you getting six?” Cam inquired. While math wasn’t his strong suit, he knew the numbers weren’t adding up.

“They’re worth four in town, but we’re going to go straight to the customers. They’ll pay us more to save themselves the trip.” Gil explained, a bright smile on his face.

Before Cam could ask another question, they were in the orchard. The apple harvesting consisted of men using long wooden poles ending in a ‘Y’ shape to shake each tree's limb. Then the kids would run around picking up the apples that fell to the ground each day.

There were many kids, several of which Gil had never met. Jack, Mr. Brooks’ son, was even there helping instead of spending the time at the Carpenter’s Guild. Running over to each of the apples, the kids would then run back large wooden baskets in which they were stored. Gil was slow and had to take frequent breaks as the work was hard.

“I bet I can get more apples than you,” Jack said to Cam.

“Bet you can't,“ Tom said, joining the competition.

“I’m in too,” Barry said, never one to be left out from what the older boys were doing.

Gil tried to keep track of how many apples each one grabbed but quickly lost count. On one of his breaks, he had tried to count how many apples it took to fill up a basket. That count came to a rough number of forty-five apples. Cam seemed to be the best at gathering them, but surprisingly, even with his breaks Gil wasn’t last. That honor belonged to Barry, who was just not used to hard work.

Gil could feel the stares of the other children on him when he was sitting at the side and did his best to keep his breaks as short as possible. That made him incredibly self-conscious of his limp, and he wished he could have kept up. The hard work wore on his body, and his shortened breaks didn’t help. After only a few hours, the pain in his back had significantly increased.

In the late afternoon, William would walk over to the orchard to help his neighbor by using one of the long ‘Y’ sticks. It was a lot of fun for him to watch as the children ran around to collect the apples as they fell. It was clear everyone was willing to lend a hand during harvest season, making Gil feel like he was part of a community.

Around dinner time, Mrs. Holms and Judy would bring out small snacks and lemonade for the workers to enjoy. Gil was able to take a more extended break during that time and was incredibly relieved by it. Judy kept him company as he did, which was the first time they had talked since the fight.

“I’ve missed you. Thank you for standing up for me.” Judy said.

“It’s good to see you too,” Gil said.

“Tom and Barry got in a lot of trouble over it, and mom made them swear it will never happen again,” Judy said.

“So they won't let you help gather the apples?” Gil asked, changing the subject.

“No, they won’t. But mom’s letting me help bake you all cookies and bread for your breaks, so it’s okay!” Judy answered.

“I’ve got to get back out there. I’ll talk to you later, Judy.” Gil said, giving her a smile as he stood up.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow!” Judy said, standing and heading back into her home.

The entire group worked well into the evening using lanterns for light. The only time they stopped was when it became so dark no one could see a thing. In the evenings, William would escort his boys home, which Gil and Cam appreciated as the long walk was challenging in pitch black.

The next day the entire process was repeated. Only this time, Gil found himself very sore and in far more pain than the previous day. Gil barely beat out Barry on the number of apples he collected on day two. Working as hard as he could, he only took breaks when the pain became too great for him. At that point, it was about honor, and he was not about to appear any weaker than he had to in front of Mr. Holms and the other kids.

Gil couldn’t help but chuckle at how Mr. Holms had convinced so many children to work so hard for him. It was impossible to get kids up early in Gil’s old world, let alone work for such little money. That made Gil admire Mr. Holms for his ingenuity, as he knew the process likely saved him quite a lot.

Day three proved to be his breaking point, and he found himself having to take far longer breaks than he would have liked. Judy brought him some water during one of them. While Gil was grateful for the kind gesture, he was sure it caused more dirty looks from the other kids. In the end, Cam collected the most apples every day, by a significant amount.

True to what Barry had said, they harvested apples for three days. Mr. Holms remained faithful to what he had offered and paid each kid who had worked three coppers in total. The only exception was for Gil and Cam, who he paid two coppers and six apples each. Exhausted from their work, Cam slept very soundly that night. However, Gil tossed and turned as he finished planning how they would sell their twelve apples the following day.

“You pushed yourself too hard out there,” William said, carrying a bowl of soup in to check on Gil. It was late morning, and Gil was usually an early riser.

“I know,” Gil admitted. “But I had to show them what I could do.”

“Well, you take it a little easier from now on,” William said, checking Gil for a fever.

Williams' actions were all too familiar. They were just like what he had done when Gil first awoke in the world. Gil nodded his head, took the soup, and ate it. I did this to myself; I should’ve taken longer breaks. I just hated knowing the other kids were working so hard, and I was just sitting by the side watching them. Once he finished the soup, he turned over and fell back to sleep.

The next day when the sun rose, Gil, who was already awake, set to waking up his brother. With a little persistence and a lot of pestering, Cam opened his eyes. Once they were both dressed and had eaten, they headed out, apples in tow. Being the stronger of the two, Cam hauled the sack with the apples in it.

“We're going to the Mill, and we are going to sell these apples two for a copper coin,” Gil said, making sure Cam understood the plan.

The mill was a gathering place for just about anyone and everyone. Without refrigeration, wheat had to be milled into flour constantly throughout the year. Big heavy stones inside the mill, which were turned by a passing creek, ground the grain and turned it into flour. The path to the mill was well worn and heavily traveled.

“Why would anyone buy them from us for that price? They can just go to the village and get three for a copper.” Cam asked, unsure of their plan.

“Well, if they buy from us, they won't have to walk all the way to the village,” Gil said.

“It’s not that far away,” Cam said.

The mill was halfway to the village from their cabin, which was about two and a half miles from the town by Gil’s estimation. Anyone living outside the town would be their potential customers as it would save them the extra walk. The additional fee was just a convenience fee they would collect.

On their walk there, Gil and Cam saw many familiar faces. Cam remained confused by the plan, but Gil had promised him they would make more money. Along the way, Gil tried his best to impart some basic rules of salesmanship to Cam.

That was not the easiest thing to do as Cam was almost too honest to sell anything. However, it was essential to their success that he could, so Gil worked with him for the rest of their trip. As an example, Gil tried offering up a pitch to one of the passing people on their walk.

“Hello, today we are selling two fresh apples for a single copper coin,” Gil said to a lady walking by.

“Those apples do look pretty good,” The lady replied. “I’ll buy some.”

“See, that's how you do it,” Gil said after completing the transaction, and the lady had walked away.

Once they reached the mill, Gil sold his apples quickly. Cam, though, had trouble selling all of his. That mostly came from him telling several of their would-be shoppers they could get three apples from the village for the same price. Gil looked over at his big brother, who had most of his apple left.

“Are you selling apples?” A man asked Cam. Gil from his position tried to coax Cam through the sale using motions.

“Yes, two apples for a copper coin, though you can buy them in the village three for a coin,” Cam said, as Gil palmed his forehead while shaking his head no.

“I want two apples,” The man replied.

“Okay, here you go,” Cam said, his tone sounding surprised. Handing two apples to the man, he gave Cam a copper coin. In reaction, Gil raised his fist high into the air and smiled at his brother.

One of the people passing by took an interest in what the boys were doing. That person was Mr. Holms. Connecting the dots, he knew Gil had bartered for the twelve apples to sell them. The businessman inside him smiled proudly at Gil’s ingenuity, and his view of the young boy increased.

Gil was a natural salesman, while Cam had a lot of learning to do. All twelve apples Gil had negotiated from Mr. Holmes sold before lunchtime. That gave the boys six more coppers, which combined with their earnings from the harvest made a single silver coin. Since the apple sales had been so successful, Gil thought up a way for them to make even more.

Quickly he talked his brother into going to the village on his own to purchase more apples to sell and bread for lunch. That time Cam didn’t question Gil’s new plan but instead hastily took off towards the village. Gil found a quiet place under a shade tree and fell asleep while waiting for his brother to return.

Cam returned in what Gil guessed was about an hour and a half, but it was hard to tell since he had been sleeping. Surprisingly he felt well rested from his short nap. Together they sat down and enjoyed their fresh bread before returning to selling apples. While their profit was much smaller due to the price of the apples, they worked hard and had soon made an extra five copper coins.

They continued doing that each morning through the fall and helped their father stack firewood around their cabin in the afternoon. However, as the weather grew cold, the village soon ran out of apples. The colder weather also brought new aches and pains to Gil’s body, making it harder to get out of bed each morning.

The boys' hard work made them both more money than Cam ever had. For the first time since coming to the world, Gil felt like he had actual money. Working together, Cam realized his brother's knack for business was very exceptional.

Chapter 21: Bad Decisions

After winter had set in, William was away selling the last batch of their wooden products. That left Cam and Gil at home alone, with too much free time on their hands. Bored, they were desperate for something to do. While finishing breakfast at the kitchen table, Gil saw his father’s sword leaning against the wall.

William must have forgotten his sword. It was usually kept in his bedroom, where it hung on the wall. The boys had been told never to touch the sword, as it was a weapon and not a toy. William had drilled that into their heads repeatedly.

The curiosity of the forgotten sword weighed on Gil’s mind, and without even thinking about it, he had subconsciously begun moving closer to it. As brothers, Gil and Cam had more than once played with sticks pretending they were swords. They had banged them back and forth, but since Gil was weaker, he wasn’t much of a challenge for Cam. Gil had also watched Cam fight with other kids the same way, yet even then, Cam always seemed to win. It was a game Cam was quite skilled at, and it was fun to watch him knock his opponents down with ease.

Being much older than his body appeared, Gil knew his father was right about it being a weapon. However, he also didn’t feel like he should be held to the same rules as a child. After all, he wasn’t going to hurt anyone with it. Convincing himself to take a closer look would be okay was an easy task. Gil’s feet seemed to move on their own until he found himself right next to the sword. With his mind wandering, he thought about holding it and imagined what it must feel like to be a mighty warrior.

The black leather scabbard housing the sword was thick and attached through a loop to a brown, worn belt. A shiny, gold buckle was fastening it together, which Gil thought was an odd pairing with the belt. The entire set: strap, sword, buckle, and all rested upright against the wall, behind his father's usual seat at the table. Sticking out at the top was the silver handle, which contrasted with the black leather.

Gil put his face up close to the sword’s hilt and saw it was far more intricately engraved than he would have guessed. Inset into the top center of the handle was a large green stone. That might be an emerald. Wondering what the sword cost, he compared it to his surroundings and felt it had to be the most valuable thing in the entire cabin. The more he examined it, the more enchanted he became.

Gil remembered from Cam’s ramblings that weapons with a jewel set in them were magical. Apparently, the stone could be charged with magical energy, which its wielder could then release. Gil wished in that instance he had listened better to his brother, but at the time, he had been focused on making money.

Before Gil knew what had happened, he reached out for it and grasped the handle as best he could. The sword was cold to the touch, and it sent shivers up and down his spine. Balancing it on the ground was difficult for him. Briefly, Gil thought that he saw the emerald glowing.

What if I can do magic? With that thought, he let his imagination run wild and started casting imaginary fireballs all around the room. Coming back to reality with a sigh, he figured it was just wishful thinking and nothing more.

Using all his strength, Gil tried to withdraw the blade portion of the sword from the scabbard. The weight of it made Gil stumble back. Regaining his composure, he tried again, but it was not long before Gil realized the sword was just too heavy for him. Within moments he fell back onto the hardwood floor, the half-drawn sword laying on top of him.

Gil blamed his childish body for his failure. If it weren’t for me being so small, I know I could have pulled the sword out. Gil knew better than to touch the sharp blade, but he had to find a way up. Righting himself as best he could, he stayed cautious. Sliding to the side, the sword slid off of him and onto the floor with a metal clink.

Gil quickly checked himself all over, determining he was unhurt and everything was just fine other than his pride. Cam, having heard the noise, ran from their bedroom to see what Gil was doing. Entering the kitchen, he saw their father’s sword laying half unsheathed on the ground.

“Hey, I’m alright,” Gil uttered, trying to hide his embarrassment.

Cam only glanced at Gil before walking straight to the sword. Leaning over, he picked up the blade, sheath, and belt with a single hand. Marveling at Cam’s strength, Gil couldn’t help but feel envious. I knew there were some things I couldn’t do, but is holding a sword really going to be one of them?

The more Gil was around Cam, the more he noticed Cam and even other kids could do so much more than him. Sure some of it was the age difference, but Gil knew it was more than that. Gil noted to himself that moving forward, he would need to approach his problems mentally. Brute force was just not an option for him.

Cam looked at the sword he was holding, his eyes wide and a smile forming across his face. As long as Cam could remember, he had longed to hold his father’s sword. Single-handed he swiftly drew the entire blade the rest of the way from its leather sheath.

Dropping the belt and scabbard to the floor, Cam grasped the sword with both hands. Gracefully, he began to wave it through the air as if he had been doing so his whole life. To Gil, Cam looked like a true warrior, someone he would not want to battle against.

Just moments earlier, Gil had imagined himself charging into war with a sword drawn high, but now it was clear to him the only knight in the room was Cam. Wondering how strong Cam was, Gil watched as his brother held the heavy sword in his hands and proceeded to swing it about effortlessly.

“Woah, look at this.” Cam let out, with awe on his face, as his blue eyes reflected along the length of the sword. “This is a short sword, Gil.”

Cam had a look Gil had never seen on his face before. Cam was far too serious most of the time, which Gil thought resulted from their harsh environment. During his short time in the world, he felt bad for the children because they didn’t get to be kids. For once, though, Cam was having fun. Gil looked on in disbelief as his brother smiled and swished the blade around.

It would have been clear to anyone in that instance that Cam had an actual gift. As Gil stood there watching him, he felt proud of his brother. While Cam was just a kid, his methods of swinging the sword were smooth and purposeful. Gil wondered where Cam could have learned such a skill since they had never seen anyone sword fight.

Quickly, before Gil had even noticed, his thoughts of Cam turned to envy. Ever since he came to the world, he had felt the need to outdo his brother, but now he knew he could never compete with Cam’s strength. Since Gil was younger, he usually chalked it up to that, but that went beyond age. Gil’s body, broken and weakened, stopped him from ever exceeding or even matching his brother’s abilities.

Furthermore, Cam was such a good kid Gil could count the number of times he had been in trouble on one hand. Whereas Gil was always getting into trouble. There probably weren’t enough hands in the village to count the number of times he had been scolded in the last year. Thinking about that, he might have laughed if he hadn’t felt so disappointed in himself.

Additionally, Gil always felt less than helpful around the cabin. Cam could pull the heavy logs from the forest while Gil struggled to get from the forest to the house. It was clear to Gil Cam’s future was bright, and watching his brother, he thought he would make an excellent soldier. However, Gil’s future was far less clear. What can I even do? I can barely walk around.

Before Gil could come out of his thoughts enough to go back to enjoying his brother’s happiness, he heard their front door open with a loud bang. William had returned and was entering the room. It didn’t take him any more than a single look to grasp what the boys were doing. To say he was mad would not have done justice to the expression on his face. Gil had never seen such a stern look on his father before.

“What are you two doing?” William barked, his voice leaving no room for doubt in how serious he was.

Cam remained off in his own world, likely fighting dragons and winning, as he had not noticed their father's return. William crossed the room in what must have been a single stride. Roughly he grabbed the sword from Cam and knelt, picking up the leather sheath and belt. Standing, he placed the blade back into the scabbard, his brows still furrowed into a scowl.

William put the belt around his waist and fastened it. Gil, foreseeing what was to come, took a seat at the kitchen table. It was clear to him they were about to get a scolding. Their father motioned at the table, and Cam quickly took a seat next to his brother.

Cam was looking down at the table as he became aware of what he had just done. Picking up the sword had come so naturally to him; he had forgotten altogether it was against the rules. Being a well-behaved child, Cam always took his father’s words to heart.

“Cam, you especially should know better. You are the older son, and you need to set a good example for Gil.” William thundered. “Swords are not to be played with, and I know I have told both of you this before. I am incredibly disappointed in each of you. Swords are dangerous; one or both of you could have gotten hurt or killed. What were you even thinking?”

Shaking his head, William felt tired and frustrated. That was the first time he had forgotten his sword at the cabin, and to know the boys had immediately played with it appalled him. “I will talk to you boys more when I return from the village. I want both of you to think over your actions today while you clean the cabin from top to bottom.” Instead of a goodbye, that was all he said. With a deep sigh, he turned and left.

Gil looked over at his brother and saw small tears welling up in Cam’s eyes. That was the angriest Gil had ever seen their father, which made him feel incredibly guilty. Cam had just gotten the worst scolding of his life, and it was all Gil’s fault. Neither of them was sure what would happen when William returned.

Together they worked almost in complete silence. Gil used the time to try and process everything William had said. All three rooms of the cabin were scrubbed, swept, washed, and the boys even hauled out the burnt ashes from the fireplace. That was a job they both despised because cleaning up the ash always caused it to get everywhere, making it a messier job than it should have been.

Gil looked over the cabin while Cam finished carrying the ashes out to the yard to dump them in a pile. As far as he could tell, it was now spotless. With the cleaning done, his mind returned to what he had been thinking about before William interrupted. Gil’s jealousy gave way as he realized how Cam must be feeling.

Chapter 22: William

Willam, who had returned to the cabin to find the boys playing with his sword, wasn't sure what to do about it. They were no longer little boys, and Cam was almost as strong as a man. Having made a promise to his late wife to keep the boys far away from the dangers of adventuring, he had done the best he could.

From an old belt around his waist hung the sword in question. Like the boys themselves, it was one of the few things he had left from his wife, Madalyn. William smiled, remembering how she, against his wishes, had bought it. The sword itself was nice enough, but it was too flashy for William’s tastes. Madalyn had used the advanced payment for their last job to procure it. William bit his lip, remembering how it wasn’t supposed to have been their last, but adventuring was risky, and it had cost them Madalyn's life.

Their payment had been twenty gold coins upfront a piece, and several times worth that upon successful proof, the job was complete. The sword was a master-crafted, magical weapon and had cost her thirty gold coins. William had been quite upset at the time, as she had used ten of his payment without asking. William patted the hilt, remembering how angry he had been.

Without it, he was sure he wouldn't have survived. Not only had the blade saved his life a time or two, but when it was near him, he felt closer to her. William was thankful every day she had bought it for him.

As he made his way into the village, his head filled with heavy thoughts. The afternoon sun warmed him and helped to fight off the crisp weather of late fall. The initial shock at seeing Cam holding the sword made him remember his childhood and how he had done the same thing with his father's sword, though he had never been caught. William thought about the fear he would have had at the possibility of ever being seen and shuddered.

William's father had been much harder on him than he was on the boys. That caused him to take a much calmer attitude when providing discipline, and he had always promised himself never to harm them. Unfortunately, William's father's version of punishment was far more brutal than that of most parents, but William knew it had come from his father's own experiences with adventuring.

Adventuring was not only hard on the body, but it wore on the mind as well. It took a strong person not to run away when the battle began but an even stronger one to walk away when the rest of your party couldn't. William knew firsthand what that felt like. However, he had a responsibility to both his boys and Madalyn to make sure they remained safe.

Yelling at the boys may not have been the most effective use of his words, as he was sure the lesson had been lost. William wondered if he had been too hard on them but knew he hadn’t. The reason why swords were so dangerous still needed to be taught. Having lived by the blade, William knew first hand what one could do.

No stranger to violence and death, he mulled over his thoughts. William was unsure how to teach his boys to respect weapons. Walking further down the path, he concluded what had been done was necessary at the moment. On his return, he needed a better plan of action. Just then, an idea came to him. Maybe it was time to teach them how to use weapons properly.

“Madalyn, please forgive me,” William muttered to himself, knowing she would not have approved.

Had Madalyn still been alive, William knew she would have had a better idea. However, as she wasn't, he had to work with what he knew. Having adventured for most of his life, weapons came naturally to him. That was the only way he knew to make Cam and Gil understand the importance of how weapons should be handled. Learning how to use a sword wouldn’t turn them into adventurers, and they would need to know sooner or later.

Brighton village came into view, forcing William to think about what supplies he would be buying. Once there, he made his way through the town to the Carpenter’s Guild. They were not busy, likely because it was so late in the season, and he was soon up at the table laying out his goods.

Mr. Brooks wasn't there, so William had to deal with another of the guild members. The exchange went about the same as usual, but the guild member was either especially impressed with the woodworking or just far too easy-going to be running the front table. Without a counteroffer, he readily agreed to William's request for a silver and three copper coins.

It was a fact Gil's woodworking was getting better, but still, William thought the man had overpaid. William just shrugged and took the coins. If they could get that deal each time, the carpentry business would have supported the entire family far better than it had in the past. With the coins in hand, William turned and left.

Outside, he saw the Merchant's Guild and moved in that direction. At that time of day, there was a crowd of people coming and going from the building. Working his way through the people outside, he soon found himself in the lobby. A plan had hatched in his brain, and he meant to follow up on it.

William climbed the stairs to the second floor. That was where the bank was located, and he got into a line behind another man. The line moved quickly as people in front of him made deposits and withdrawals from their accounts. Soon he was at the table being helped by a guild member on the other side of the counter.

Mr. Stevens, the local head of the Merchant Guild, looked over and saw William at the bank window. Putting on a pleasant smile, Mr. Stevens headed over that way to greet him. While he was a busy man, Mr. Stevens made it a point to recognize and speak with their largest account holders.

Though no one would ever have guessed it from how he dressed or acted, William was one of those account holders. From the bank’s point of view, his account was the best kind. Since he rarely withdrew money and only made modest deposits, it meant the account was constantly growing.

William's bank account had a large sum in it because it had come from his adventuring days. While it wasn't an enormous account, it was substantial for being at the Merchant's Guild in Brighton. It totaled no less than one thousand gold. Due to that, Mr. Stevens gave it his attention.

“Hello William, always a pleasure to see you. How may we assist you today?” Mr. Stevens gestured with his left hand for the bank attendee to step aside, intending to take over the transaction personally.

“Hello, Stevens. I'm just looking to make a small withdrawal today.” William responded politely, having interacted with the man multiple times in the past.

“Of course, would you like a status update on what is remaining in your account, or could I interest you in any investment options today?” Mr. Stevens offered, clearly trying to remain optimistic, but his tone of voice made it clear he already knew the answer.

“No, thank you, not today. I need to withdraw one gold and five silver, please.” William replied.

Mr. Stevens did his best to hide any disappointment he felt at being declined, which was quickly replaced with curiosity. “That's a bit more than usual sir, is it a special occasion today?” Stevens asked, genuinely interested as William was a unique customer of the bank and a celebrity in his eyes.

Having once been the second in charge of the bank in Kingstown, Mr. Stevens knew good and well how William had gained his money. Additionally, he was one of the few in town who knew William as the dragon slayer. That type of information was something he liked to remember about his large account holders.

William scratched the back of his head slightly before responding. “No, not particularly. Now that my boys are getting older, I'm going to get them each a practice sword while I'm in town.”

“So, are they going to take after their famous dad?” Mr. Stevens asked. “Becoming adventurers?”

“No, nothing like that. It’s just time to teach them to respect a sword.” William frowned. While he knew Mr. Stevens didn’t mean anything by it, the idea was something William was struggling with internally.

By the time William had finished his last sentence, Mr. Stevens had placed a small pouch with the requested one gold and five silver inside it onto the wooden counter between them. “I can't believe your boys are already so grown up. Please let me know if there's anything I can ever help with, have a great rest of your evening, William.”

Grabbing the pouch, William said goodbye and walked back out into the village street. Outside again, William headed over to the weapons shop. Passing through its door, he was greeted inside by the shop's owner and old friend, Galvin.

“Hey William, what are you doing in my shop?” Galvin smiled at his old friend, looking up from behind the counter.

Galvin had run the shop in the village for as long as William had lived in the cabin. Though the shop was small, it offered acceptable merchandise at fair prices. Brighton village fell directly on the main travel route into Talon's Land, the neighboring territory, which brought the shop a fair amount of business.

“Hey Galvin, do you have any practice swords?” William asked.

The odds of him having what William wanted weren't the best, but even small shops like that usually stocked one or two. There weren't very many children in the village, but he knew the other families around likely taught their children sword fighting as well. After all, it was ordinary for commonfolk to carry swords if they lived outside of a village or town.

“Practice swords, huh? That's an odd request. Finally, going to teach your boys how to use one? Speaking of which, how is your younger one? He didn't look good when I last saw you.” Galvin always sputtered out words, not giving William a chance to reply to each question.

“Gil? He's doing much better now. It was kinda rough there for a while.” William replied, pausing before continuing. “They got a hold of my sword, so I think it’s time to teach them how to use one.”

“Uhm, I believe I have a wooden shortsword and then some wooden, elven kinda thing, though I couldn't tell you much about it,” Galvin said.

While he explained what he had in stock, Galvin produced the wooden practice swords from the wall behind him and placed them on the shop counter. William walked over, picked up the wooden shortsword, and studied the quality of it. It was rough and had been used. William determined it suitable enough for a practice sword, and he put it down on the counter. Next, he picked up the wooden, elven sword.

William had never seen a sword like the elven one before, so he practiced a swing and thrust with it. It was so delicate he was afraid he would break it. Sighing, he thought it might be too odd, but thinking of Gil, who was smaller, he decided it might be the correct size. Due to Gil's injuries and age, it was unlikely he could hold a shortsword properly.

Motioning to the wooden, elven sword, William asked about it, looking puzzled by the item in his hand. “What exactly is this thing?”

Galvin let out a laugh and replied. “An elf woman sold it to me as part of a sword set. She called it an elven blade. Real pretty girl, she sometimes works over at the Merchant's Guild.” Not knowing any more than that, Galvin shrugged.

William swung the tiny blade again and examined it. “You said it was a set. Do you have a metal one as well?”

Galvin turned around, studied the weapons hanging on the wall, and then pulled down one of the elven metal blades. Next to it hung an identical one to the one he grabbed. With a high-pitched clink, Galvin placed the sword down onto the counter. William looked down at it for a long moment, contemplating if he wanted it.

Eventually, with a sigh, he reached down and picked up the metal sword. “Whoa, this is a little different than I thought it would be after holding the wooden one.” Right away, William could tell it had far superior craftsmanship for a sword.

The metal blade was thin and had a much lighter steel color than the other swords hanging on the wall. A slight chill ran up William’s back as he rubbed a couple of his fingers across the weapon's blade. That sensation caused him to smile; it was a feeling he knew well.

Only a master-crafted sword with perfect balance gave off that tingle. William’s eyes ran up from the tip of the blade to the hilt, where he noticed several small green gems embedded in it. The green gems told William the sword had magical properties too. Quickly he swung the tiny blade through the air, and it made a satisfying swoosh as he did.

“I'll take the two wooden ones and this blade,” William said, still looking over it.

“The metal blade came as a pair.” Galvin pointed back towards the wall where he had left the second one hanging. “Both would be more, but it'd be a crime not to mention it to you. It was a set, you know.”

Weaponsmiths had a strange relationship with their merchandise, often treating them as if they were their children. Therefore, William was not alarmed by his comment. Instead, he allowed a small smile to form on his face from what Galvin was suggesting. That would not be the first time he had broken up a set of swords, and he doubted it would be the last.

William shook his head no. “One should be fine, for now.”

Galvin nodded his head understandingly. “That will be two gold for just the three.”

“I couldn't go higher than one gold and a couple of silver.” William countered.

Galvin put a hand on his chin and studied the items in front of him. “Normally, I'd bargain with you more, but I can't imagine anyone's going to buy these elven blades from me, not around here, just no demand. How does one gold and three silver sound?”

William nodded his head in agreement, held a hand out to shake on it, and then counted out a single gold and three silver coins. “Would you mind wrapping the wooden ones for me?”

Galvin let out a sound of agreement and wrapped them in plain paper. William wanted them to look like gifts for the boys. Though they had been bought due to the boys getting into trouble, he wanted them to enjoy receiving them and treat them as prized possessions. With the wooden swords wrapped, he placed them into his makeshift bag and slid the elven metal blade into his belt around his waist.

Chapter 23: Growing Up

William was late returning home, more so than the boys had expected. It was apparent his delay was for more reasons than just the sword having been left behind. Their father’s absence made both of them nervous as they waited for him to return and dole out the rest of their punishment.

Gil was apprehensive, and looking over at his brother did not reassure him. Cam had a look of utter defeat on his face. Gil had only known William for less than a year, so he wondered if he could possibly have a dark side he was unaware of.

Knowing he needed to stay calm, Gil found it far easier said than done. The feeling that at any moment, an angrier William might storm into the house and issue them both a severe punishment worried him. These thoughts lingered in the back of his head.

With their done, both boys felt worse than before. Sitting at the table, Gil felt very aware it looked as if they were both slacking. They both looked at one another, remaining silent, forced to face what had happened.

While that would have been free time under any other circumstance, they were now waiting for William to return. Gil suddenly had a horrible thought. What if William doesn’t return? What if he had enough of our actions and just took off? Gil had heard stories of parents never returning.

Gil broke their silence. “What do you think is going to happen to us?”

“I don’t know,” Cam answered, laying his head down on the table.

“He was furious. I haven’t seen him like that before.” Gil said.

“Yea, I know,” Cam said, rolling his head over to the other side.

Both boys became quiet again as the air around them grew heavy. After a long period, the door opened with a loud crash. The boys looked over at it and saw William enter. William’s presence, while relieving some of their fears, brought about new ones. They were about to find out what he had meant when he left.

Putting down a few purchases from town onto the cabin floor, he breathed a deep sigh of relief. It was always nice to be back home. Being kind by nature, William hated to play the gruff and mean parent any more than he had to. However, the boys needed to know what they did was wrong, and it was his job to teach them.

Gil studied Williams' face and noticed the long walk to and from the village must have calmed him down. Their father’s mood was far different than it had been when he left. Though it was still serious, it was no longer a burning rage. William crossed the main room and sat down on what Gil referred to as the couch.

Gil didn’t know the proper name for it, but to him, it was a couch. Located directly in front of the fireplace, it took up much of the living room space. Like everything else in the cabin, it was made of wood. On top of it as cushions, it had two large, straw-stuffed pillows. Similar in design to their beds, the only differences were that it was smaller and had a wood backing they could rest against. William looked at the boys and called them over to him.

Neither boy felt eager for what would come next, so they moved slowly over to the couch. As if dragging themselves to their doom. When both of them arrived, they sat down on the floor in front of William. Eventually, they gathered up the courage to look at him. William’s face was stern, but his eyes were no longer terrifying.

“Due to your miss-step today, I think it is time I started teaching you both a bit of swordsmanship. Make no mistake, this is not a reward for what you did. I expect you to know everything there's to know about swords by the time we finish.” The words were sharp, but Gil didn't feel any malice behind them.

“Cam, fetch over my bag,” William said, motioning over to the bag lying beside the door.

Cam nodded his head, rose to his feet, and walked the short distance over to the bag. The boys were surprised by their father’s words and excited despite the lecture from before. Neither one was certain what was going to follow, but they could feel it was something far different than they had been dreading.

Cam grabbed the bag, brought it back to him, and placed it down on the couch. William opened it, took out two wrapped packages, handed a larger one to Cam and the smaller one to Gil. Each of the bundles had been crudely covered with brown butcher paper and tied with twine.

“Go ahead and open the packages,” William said, trying to maintain a stern expression, but found himself wanting them to rip into the gift almost more than the boys themselves.

“A wooden sword?” Cam asked, who had managed to get the sting off his gift first.

“It’s a practice sword,” William said. “Now, I expect you boys to treat these just like real swords.”

Once both gifts had been opened, they revealed the two wooden swords. Cam’s was a replica of a short sword. It was much like the one their father carried but far more plain in appearance. Cam grasped his wooden sword, easily able to move it about.

“That’s a short sword, Cam, just like mine.” William nodded his head as he spoke.

Gil found in his package a much smaller wooden sword. The small blade in his hands was lighter than the short sword had been. That sword was shorter and less thick, with a slight, upwards curve at the point. Gil picked up the smaller sword and, to his surprise, found he could hold it. I wonder if I could wield a real one?

“Yours Gil is an elven sword. It’s time to start teaching you both about weapons. I picked up these trainer swords for us to practice with.” William said. “This will be your gift for your year's journey, and I will teach you both how to properly use them.”

Gil was unfamiliar with the term ‘year’s journey’, but quickly figured out it was what they called birthdays in the world. Apparently, they were celebrated together, similar to the Chinese tradition of age reckoning from his world. That meant he was eight years old now and Cam eleven.

Oddly he didn’t feel all that different but remembering birthdays in his world, he knew that was normal. Being older made Gil smile until the realization that being eight was not much better than seven sank in. Eight meant he was still stuck in a kid's body.

“Thank you,” Gil said.

“Yes, thank you, father,” Cam said, holding the wooden sword with a big smile on his face.

While Gil hadn’t asked for the sword, he felt grateful for it. It made him feel older as if it had been a right of passage from a boy to a man. At least that’s what he would have liked to think. Looking down at his tiny hands and body, he couldn’t help but wonder if a sword, wooden or not, was a proper gift for an eight-year-old child in the world.

Though their father called them both swords, Gil noticed the differences between the two. William drew his sword and placed it on the floor so the boys could compare theirs to his. Then he asked the boys to put their new wooden swords on top of it.

Cam’s training sword was almost identical in size, width, and shape. Additionally, it must have been very close in weight, as when Gil tried to lift it, he found it was too heavy. Gil’s sword was much smaller, maybe two-thirds the length of a short sword. Looking at it, he felt it would be considered more of a dagger in his world rather than a sword.

“Treat these as if they are true swords, my sons,” William said.

Gil was so excited with the gift he desperately wanted to swing it back and forth about the room, letting his imagination go wild. However, William’s serious face told him that was a horrible idea. Instead, Gil stood there silently with a smile across his face holding his first actual possession in the world.

While both boys would have liked to learn how to use the new wooden swords right away, other things demanded their attention. The family had to get ready for winter. That meant stocking up on supplies and packing the cupboards as full as they could. Any fresh meat that was gathered now had to be split between cooking and drying.

Besides the dry meat, the family would also can goods, things like vegetables and fruits could be pickled to last longer. It was a process the entire family helped with, and soon it replaced the woodworking they had been doing. While not hard, it was time-consuming and meant their sword practice had to wait.

The firewood needed to be piled up high, so all the wood the family now gathered went directly to that task. Soon the stack of wood was taller than William and stretched all across the back porch. There’s no way we’ll use this much wood in one winter.

William opened a large trunk he had in his room and removed from it several thick fur blankets. Additionally, he took out fur coats for each member of the household. Everyone was given one blanket and one coat. The blankets were promptly placed on their beds to provide extra warmth at night. The coats were placed by the front door to be worn when they went outside.

Throughout the year, their cabin had settled, creating cracks between the logs. They patched them with a mud mixture to keep the wind out of the house to prepare for the colder weather. It was a messy job, and Gil was not fond of it. Fortunately, his height meant he was only responsible for the bottom two logs.

Freetime, the little available to them, was mostly spent around the cabin. There wasn’t enough time to go anywhere else as they all had roles to play in preparing for the coming winter. One warmer day, before winter had fully started, Gil and Cam managed to visit the Holms family one last time for the year.

Saying farewell for several months was not a happy occasion for any of the children. At least we are getting to tell them bye until next spring. That final visit was spent running about for Cam, Tom, and Barry. While they were playing knights, Gil and Judy sat under the large tree in their front yard and talked.

“Winter is going to be here soon,” Judy said.

“I know,” Gil said.

“So I guess I won't be able to see for some time,” Judy frowned.

“Don’t worry, winter won't last forever, and then we can be together again.” Gil tried to cheer her up. “Besides, absence makes the heart grow fonder.” It was a saying from his world, but it was something Judy had never heard in her’s.

Such words of poetry were not lost on her, and she thought it over in her mind. That idea served only to concrete the concept she and Gil were destined to be together forever. To Gil, it was just something people would say, and he meant nothing by it. Soon it was time to go back home and work, getting ready for the harsh weather to come.

Cam wore a frown throughout the entire process of preparing for winter, as he often looked over at their practice swords. They sat in the corner of the main room in their cabin, untouched since first receiving them. Gil also felt odd seeing them as they were like an enticement screaming at the boys to come over and play with them. William had made it clear they would only be used after all the winter preparations had been finalized.

The family worked hard stocking up on the things they would need to survive the winter weather. Being so far from the village meant they could find themselves in an awful situation if they didn’t prepare. Gil could tell the days and nights were growing colder, and with the changes came pains and aches to his small body.

Chapter 24: Snow

The mound of wood by the fireplace grew and then disappeared time after time, only to be replenished by more. The weather outside had gotten much colder, marking winter was upon the family. Gil watched as the snow came down from a window, and his father gathered firewood from the massive pile behind their house.

The door opened, and Gil shivered, looking in that direction. William had let in a cold burst of air when he had entered the room. Gil pulled the blanket he had brought into the living room tightly around himself. Ever since the colder weather had set in, Gil's body had been racked with aches and pains.

Gil noticed William’s green eyes were much brighter than usual, and his cheeks were glowing bright pink from the cold. That image of his father made him remember past winters in his world as a child. Winter was beginning in the world, and it would be Gil's first. Based on William’s appearance, wearing a heavy fur coat with a cap, he wagered it to be a long one. William stomped his boots on the floor, knocking off the excess snow that was stuck to them.

“This should last us through the night,” William said as his arms dropped wood onto the floor by the fireplace with a loud thunk. “It's looking awful. I think we are going to get serious snow soon.” The words left his mouth with one last burst of cold air as if it were a puff of smoke.

Gil had, of course, seen snow many times before. Growing up in the midwest, it happened every year. Though in his old city, life would have continued like usual. In the world, with their home so far from town, it was clear they wouldn’t be going into Brighton village anytime soon.

Large flakes were falling from the sky now, and it was fascinating watching them. Gil had learned in school all about snow and how it was just crystallized water vapor, but somehow the scientific facts behind it never did it justice. At that moment, he felt he could have watched it all day piling up on the ground into fluffy mounds.

“Hey, Cam, look at all the snow,” Gil said, excitedly pointing at the window.

Cam, who had just finished his breakfast, came over to the window to watch the falling snow with his brother. What was happening outside reminded Gil of the crazy stories he would have seen about towns getting several feet of snow on the weather channel. They both watched as it quickly changed to smaller flakes, and the intensity at which it fell sped up. Occasionally the wind blew and made eerie sounds as it found minor cracks in the cabin.

For the next several days, the boys spent most of their time watching the falling snow. Over time the little window that had been their vantage point to what was happening outside became covered in a large snowdrift. With their view now gone, the excitement of the snow went with it, and the situation's seriousness set in. Each passing day, the cabin and the outside world grew much colder. Gil could now be seen moving about in the place, carrying a blanket with him everywhere he went.

“Look, Cam, Gil has his blanket again,” William said, poking a little fun at his youngest, who also always seemed to be the coldest in the household.

Cam had taken to calling him Chilly Gilly on account of a blanket accompanying Gil everywhere he went. To Gil, though, the winter cold was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. Even if he was sitting directly in front of the fireplace wrapped in a blanket, he found himself shivering often.

The task of emptying the ashes, which the boys hated, was replaced with sweeping them to the side as the fire had to be constantly going. Gil’s mind frequently thought of how the winter could go wrong, so the fireplace was a constant source of anxiety for him. If the fire ever went out, he was sure the temperatures in the cabin would have plummeted instantly.

Life and death were something Gil found himself thinking about more than he had in his past life. Having gone through the experience once, he wasn’t so worried about it as just aware of how inconvenient it had been. The thoughts he might die and become someone else all over again brought him constant worry.

Periodically through the days, William would come over to the fire and toss a large log on top, causing pops and hisses as the wood caught fire. Sometimes he would take the metal poker and stoke the blaze making it roar with intensity. Once it had stopped snowing outside, the cabin creaked and groaned under the weight of it on the roof. That happened so much Gil thought it was how he would die in the world, crushed to death under a collapsed cabin and a big pile of snow.

Before winter, their large fireplace had roared with such heat Gil had found it hard to set right in front of. Freezing, he seemed to be glued to it most of the time, and the fireplace felt too small for their little cabin. The family joined him when the sun went down, spending most of their evening in front of it.

William and Cam seemed comfortable sleeping in their rooms, but Gil had made their living room couch his permanent bed. Winter was here, make no mistake about it, it had arrived. The large snowdrifts locked the trio inside, and the only time anyone left the cabin was to get more wood for the fireplace. The colossal mound of firewood that had looked to Gil as if it could never be used up was now starting to get smaller.

Eventually, it stopped snowing, and the family could venture out of the cabin into the wet world around them. The snow was so deep the first time they did, it came up to Gil's waist, making it impossible for him to walk in it. Due to that, Cam and William were the only two who made it past the front porch of their cabin.

Once or maybe twice a day, William would send Cam out for more firewood. The measly sticks Gil had felt useless collecting were finally being put to use. While Gil could see they didn’t last long in the fireplace, he was glad to have somehow helped. The winter activities the family did included cooking, cleaning, and studying. These activities helped keep them moving, which allowed them all to stay warmer.

Cooking their meals took up a great deal of the day, as fresh meat had to be gathered, prepared, and cooked before they could eat it. On warmer days, the icicles hanging from the cabin could be seen dripping. On those, William would leave early with his bow to hunt in the woods behind their house. When he was successful, he would bring back a rabbit or some other small game. William, never one to miss a learning experience for the boys, would show them how to clean the animals he had caught.

While Gil was not averse to killing and eating animals, he was not fond of preparing them. Often Gil watched his father and brother cut the fur layer off the game with some disgust. The internal organs and bones of the creature were carefully removed and tossed to one side. That left the pink-colored meat to be used for food. The outer fur was saved to be processed later and made into things like bags and clothing. Of course, when mealtime came around, Gil was far less disgusted by the fresh meat than he had been while it was prepared.

One thing the cold weather outside provided to the family was a means of refrigeration. That was something the cabin itself lacked. They could hang up any unused meat on the back porch and prepare it the next day using the outside. However, they had to be careful of larger animals coming close to the cabin, so the meat had to be hung as high as the house allowed.

On awful days the lack of fresh foods meant they had to dip into their winter supplies. That caused the choices offered to be far less desirable than the warmer weather dishes had been. The family had saved up a lot of food for the winter, but most of it was not up to Gil's standards. Due to that, Gil began to miss the flat crumbly bread he had found rather tasteless from before.

Preserved rations were kept at room temperature, and Gil found almost all of them had a rough chewy texture he wholeheartedly disliked. Of the flavors they had, he had only found one that tasted okay, and that was because it had been made with pumpkin. Unfortunately, they were what they had the least of. Cam mainly seemed unfazed by the winter foods, which Gil thought he must be faking.

“You like eating this stuff?” Gil asked, looking over at his brother, trying to chew one of the mystery jerky sticks.

“It’s food, isn’t it?” Came Cam's half-hearted reply. “I suppose it’s better than starving to death.” With that, he looked over at Gil and shrugged but wore a frown on his face.

Gil almost laughed, watching his brother try to chew the stick with one side of his mouth. It was evident to Gil that Cam was only tolerating the food and not enjoying it. There was a large cupboard in the kitchen housing all of their preserved food. Only when their stomachs were growling did they dare to open it and grab something from inside.

As the winter continued, the cupboard was soon only half full. That made Gil wonder if they would all die from starving to death. While Gil had been known to skip meals to avoid their provisions, he could still be seen eating a piece here and there. Gil looked at the dark, tough stick in his hand on such an occurrence, and an idea came to him.

“Father, why don’t we have chickens?” Gil asked.

William looked surprised by the question because the idea had never crossed his mind. “Honestly, Gil, I’m so used to hunting I just never really thought about it. I’ve never raised livestock before, but I guess chickens can’t be too hard.” Having adventured his whole life, he was used to eating whatever he could find, and unlike the boys, he found the rations to be quite enjoyable.

“Maybe for next winter we could buy some? These dried meat sticks are awful.” Gil complained, waving one around in the air as he spoke to emphasize the point.

“Awful?!” William exclaimed. “Tongue of orc, raw, was awful. Our rations are plenty tasty; if you ask me, you have the fortune of having never starved.”

“Tongue of orc? Raw? Why didn’t you cook it?” Cam interjected, suddenly interested in the conversation. Cam was always up for an adventuring story and liked topics most civilized people would have found questionable.

“My party, I think at that time I was traveling with Gray Claw, no it might have been, the guardians, I’m not sure. It just so happened we were all stuck in an orc cave with nothing to make a fire with. There was no visible way out, and we were all tired from the fight it had taken to get to that point. You see, we had muscled our way into a large chamber of the cave, but the Orcs had circled back around us, blocking off the only exit we knew about. Most of the party hadn’t eaten in days by that point, and our supplies were low. So we had to do something to survive.” William's thoughts seemed to change midway through the story “However, now that I think about it, bat soup was pretty awful too.” William said.

“Wouldn’t bat soup just taste like chicken soup?” Gil interrupted, seeing the story was going nowhere at that point. Where I come from, everyone says bats taste like chicken.

“Well, that’s kind of what we thought too, but a few things were going against us. Those bats, you see, had been killed with a scroll of firewall, so they were a little too crispy. Plus, they were spotted bats, and everyone knows spotted bats taste like vomit.” William had a smile on his face as he looked over at the boys trying to gauge their reaction to the story.

Cam was laughing at the mention of vomit as his humor level was truly that of an eleven-year-old. Gil wasn’t sure if William was telling the truth or a tall-tale, but it did sound pretty awful either way. Looking down at the dried meat in his hand, he took another bite out of it. Gil frowned, almost gagging, because of how over-salted it was. Slowly he chewed with a bitter expression on his face, feeling sure nothing at that point could taste worse.

The salty snack made him thirsty, so he went to get a drink as William finished his story. Drinking the water provided some welcome relief from the taste of salt. Gil returned to the table just in time to hear William’s grand finale of raw orc tongue.

“So there we were eating and becoming sick, only to eat more of it because it was all we had. That pattern repeated itself until we managed to defeat the rest of them and get out of that cave.” William said.

Gil thought about it and figured the story was probably not true. In his mind, he felt his father was telling them a fable he had made up to teach them to be more grateful. While it was a worthwhile message, Gil couldn’t help but think it was lost on people stuck in their situation.

“Chickens are a good idea, Gil. Next time we go into the village, we’ll get them priced, but you boys have to care for them. And of course, we’d have to build them a place to live,” William had brought the conversation back to its original point.

The boys would have agreed to just about anything if it meant better food in their future. Both of them promised to help, not only with the chickens but with the building too. Cam liked physical projects, as he was good at anything requiring strength.

Being trapped inside the house left them with lots of free time, which William made sure to put to good use. Part of their days was spent learning letters and numbers, and Gil seemed to fully understand their written language. They also studied the kingdom and territories within it. In the afternoon, though, they would switch from pen and paper learning to the more physical activity of sword training.

If the lessons were to be indoors, William and Cam would move the couch out of the way. On warmer, clear days, they would take their sword practice outside. Gil found it hard to train if there was still snow on the ground due to his height. Though Gil tried his hardest, he could not get the same experience outdoors as he did indoors. Sword training was far more intense than Gil and Cam had thought it would be, and it always left them exhausted.

Chapter 25: William’s Training

With so much time available during the winter months, William often called the boys over and told them stories. One of the stories was from his time as a student at the Royal Knight Academy. Gil couldn't help but think the story was primarily meant for his brother. Cam seemed to be having a hard time being stuck inside on their long winter days.

As the boys sat down by the fire, William began his story. “I had saved up enough money for my first year at the Royal Knight Academy. I raised money working as an adventurer, saving every gold coin I could find. I guess I was about seventeen at the time. The students at the academy were a mix. There were sons of noblemen, church kids, and those like me, commoners or adventurers who had saved up to attend.”

“Graduating from the academy would almost certainly earn a person the chance to get a contract, be it with the royal family or a lord. Those contracts were, for many in attendance, their ticket to a better life. For me, I was looking to gain as much knowledge as I could to be a better adventurer.”

“The sons of the noblemen who made up easily a third or more of my class had kind of a side thing going on in the evenings. It was a well-kept secret, so I’m sure everyone knew. After curfew, the students brave or dumb enough would sneak into the arena for extra training. Well, that's what they tried to sell it as.”

“This extra training would consist of battles between students, against monsters, or skilled adventurers. It was against the rules but a great chance to learn real combat skills. The kind you can’t learn in a classroom. As such, the instructors would usually turn a blind eye to these activities.”

“The arena itself is huge. It was big enough to hold a hundred-man battle within its walls. The base floor of the arena was white sand. That was the floor my class usually used. The terrain could be changed by dragging out large wooden boards which could change the ground type to anything, stone, dirt, swamp, they trained us to fight anywhere.”

“Now the arena is completely covered by a magical field. Most people don’t know a switch with three settings controls that magic barrier. Each setting of the switch is a level of protection for the combatants in the arena.”

“Magic activated by a switch? How rare is that?” Gil asked.

“Some magical spells can be cast permanently, and then they have to be recharged every so often. That's the way the switch works.” William said.

“Oh, I see,” Gil said, fascinated.

“There are many magical items activated by switches, not the least of which are magical traps,” William explained before returning to the story.

“Now, the first setting of the switch stops almost any damage from happening while fighting inside it. No matter how hard anyone swings their sword, nothing more than bruises and scratches will happen to those in the arena. That's the setting we had been using as first-year students.”

“You could still feel when you got hit, but that was about it. Think of it as the ability to go all out against an opponent without hurting them. The second setting was used for the more advanced and last year students. It allowed for more serious wounds but nothing life-threatening. Things like broken bones and gashes could occur when the switch was on that setting. It was more like real fighting, and there were consequences to making stupid decisions.”

“Medical staff were always around, though, so most students, if they got hurt, wouldn’t be out for more than a day or so when the switch was on the second setting. It was all set up this way to teach the students how to fight. So that when they got out into the real world, they would have already experienced getting hurt and how to avoid it.”

“Now, the last setting was to completely turn off the magical field, which would mean death and severe life-threatening wounds could occur in the arena. This was a setting that was almost never used. Apparently, there had been prisoner death matches at one point, but they had been outlawed for their brutality by a former king.”

“Now Tober and Woodson, two of the students who happened to be sons of prominent noblemen in the Kingstown area, hatched an idea to make themselves some money. They had found themselves on guard duty for the switch.”

“When I was at the academy, part of the students' jobs were to take turns guarding it. Two students at a time were given this assignment. Other tasks like taking care of the student equipment or cleaning up the arena were also given out. The switch was guarded at all times day and night, and they would rotate out after so much time.”

“It was just one of the guard positions the students could be assigned to, as was the front entrance of the Knight Academy. Now guards are just supposed to guard. Not mess with the things they are guarding. That’s one of the reasons two students were chosen at a time for guard duties so one could keep the other honest.”

“Tober and Woodson though conspired together to turn off the damping field entirely. After they did this, they then went about advertising what they had done to the other students. Their idea was to host a huge monster battle for anyone brave or stupid enough to meet up that evening. Tober and Woodson were rich kids, and they were running a betting pool on the side among the other wealthy students.”

“Betting on arena events is pretty common. Fortunes have been rumored to have been won and lost because of arena battles. The bets they were taking were on how skilled their classmates had become. They were going to sit back in the observer area of the arena and watch the battle they had arranged.”

“Now, these un-sanctioned fights were nothing new, and occasionally those setting them up would hire an old adventurer from Kingstown or some beast tamer to bring a monster to fight. This was pretty common, probably happening once a month or so. Of course, disabling the magical protection meant this was a fight to the death.”

“So Tober and Woodson hired some beast tamer they had found in Kingstown to provide the monster for that night. There’s some debate about whether they knew ahead of time what that monster was going to be. At any rate, that beast tamer brought with him a giant centipede. Now I don't have any idea how the tamer got the thing into the city, let alone the arena, but somehow they did.”

“In Kingstown?” Cam interrupted.

“Yes, in Kingstown, and he would have had to go right through the shopping district with it,” William answered.

“Giant centipedes are huge, about the size of five or six full-grown men, just in length. They are also very ferocious beasts who, besides being large, are very dangerous. I don't honestly know much about beast tamers as they are a very secretive group. What I do know is they gather and train monsters of all sorts. Sometimes they sell those monsters for various tasks like fighting, construction, or pulling things.”

“They somehow can lead the monsters around and tame them. It’s truly something to see. Some of them can make even the most dangerous monsters appear perfectly peaceful. Now they don’t have a guild, but they do tend to group up and trade creatures among themselves, or so I've heard.”

“Giant centipedes are a terrifying creature to look at. Their appearance alone has been known to panic people. They have about a hundred little legs allowing them to move quickly across almost any terrain. Large pincers in front of their mouth are big enough to slice a man in half in a single go.”

“They are also poisonous. A single bite leaves a person paralyzed for a long time. So several of us, not knowing what we were getting ourselves into, had agreed to meet in the arena after dark. This wasn’t the first time I had gone to one of these late-night battles.”

“Does the arena have lights?” Gil asked.

“It does have magical lights, which activate in the evenings when it becomes dark enough,” William answered.

“In all, I think about seven students showed up for this monster fight. We were all unaware of what type of monster we were facing off against, and any sensible person would have run away. But, we were all young practicing swordsmen training to be knights, and we all wanted to make a name for ourselves.”

“The ranks of the students participating varied widely. Students are ranked among the others in the same year based on how skilled they are. I was ranked one among the first-year students, and I thought I was really something back then. The most experienced student was a second year, his name was Faulk, he was a rank 6 in his class. He was also a church kid.”

“It was very rare for the orphans to break the rules. If they got in trouble at the academy, the church would always take them out and put them back into the manual labor group. Faulk was either really brave, or it may have been because he was training to become a paladin. Either way, he was there the same as me.”

“All the other students were not especially gifted or talented in any way, and I didn’t know their ranks. So the beast tamer enters the arena with this huge beast right behind him. It was then we all got our first look at the giant centipede. Once the tamer reached the middle of the arena, he released it and turned to leave. So there we are, all facing off against this massive black creature with hundreds of yellowish-brown colored legs.”

“A couple of the students tried to rush it, but the tough outer armor of the centipede deflected every blow they hit it with. With a sweep of the front part of its body, the centipede sent them all flying in every direction. The group of students landed all about the ground with clunk sounds due to the armor they were wearing.”

“Wow!” Cam said.

“From just watching that unfold, I could already tell the centipede was stronger and faster than any of us. After the first attack failed, it didn't take long for a couple of the students in the area to start panicking and running about wildly. That was a mistake as their movements drew the interest of the monster, and it quickly chased after them.”

“Eventually, it came around close enough to me I took a swing at one of its legs. The blow landed, and I managed to cut one of them off. The leftover stub from that leg oozed a bright green substance. With so many other legs, though, it didn’t seem to slow the monster down. At this point, there were only three of us fighting back.”

“These attacks were enough to get the centipede's attention, so it stopped chasing the fleeing students. Turning to face off against the three of us, its front half rose off the ground. One of the students thought the beast's underbelly might be softer, so he lunged in. For his trouble, he swiftly got bit and immediately fell to the ground out of the fight.”

“A giant centipede's poison is strong enough that a single bite can make a full-grown person flop to the ground unable to move. The student had been bitten and stayed on the sandy floor for the remainder of the fight. Faulk and I had to be careful not to lure the centipede back in his direction, or it might have crushed him.”

“There we were side by side, taking turns swinging at the only part of the beast we seemed able to damage. We tried as best we could, managing to take off several more legs. That made the monster move slower than it had before, but we couldn’t seem to break through its body’s shell.”

“Both of us were tired from the repeated attacks, and it was starting to look like the creature would win and finish us all off. I moved in and felt the monster bite me. Suddenly I found myself lying on the ground, unable to move.”

“Terrified and only a few feet from a monster that could devour me in one bite, there I was paralyzed. Fortunately, the paladin, Faulk, made his way over to me and cast some healing spell giving me the ability to move again. Getting back to my feet, we once more took turns attacking and defending.”

“We fought that thing at a standstill for what seemed like forever. Right when we felt like we would collapse from fatigue, Remaris, an instructor and the number one sword in all the kingdom, entered the arena. He walked right over to the wounded centipede and cut the creature right down the middle with a single slash. His blow split the outer shell of the creature, the full length of it. A big splash of its green blood shot out and formed in a pool right under the two halves.”

“Having been caught in the middle of the illegal battle, we were all done for, or so we thought. Remaris, without saying a word, just turned and walked back out of the arena. Not once did he say a thing to anyone. Picking ourselves up and helping those who were hurt, we headed back to the barracks. The next day with so many injuries and the arena being a huge mess with a centipede's body in it, the instructors gave out a lot of punishments.”

“Myself and the others who had been in the fight got off pretty lightly. We were assigned the task of cleaning up the arena. That meant a full day of hard work removing the blood-stained green sand. That required us to pick up the sand and put it into buckets until the ground was all just white sand as far as you would see and not a spec of green was anywhere. The beast's carcass was something to move. It took three of us to pull just one of the halves out of the arena.”

“I don’t know what the academy did with the monster parts, but it was completely gone the next day from where we had moved it to. Even though they were noblemen's sons, Tober and Woodson were kicked out of the academy. Not because they had set up the fight, but because they had turned off the magical protection field, getting so many other students injured and poisoned. Fortunately, no one died.”

William’s story ended there, leaving both the boys with a lot to think about. The stories were always exciting, but the idea of fighting a giant insect made Gil think of lousy B movies from his world. I once saw something like this called Attack of The Giant Spiders or Invasion of The Giant Spiders. Cam had been fascinated by the story and followed every word.

Outside their cabin, winter howled on but inside felt safe. William got up and prepared dinner for the family. Their father soon returned, carrying plates for the boys. Sitting in silence, they all ate in front of the fireplace.

Chapter 26: Swords

The sword studies, which the boys had initially thought would be fun, turned out to be hard work. Gil grew to dread sword training so much he tried to keep William distracted from remembering it. Even Cam, who wanted to become a Royal Knight, would groan when that part of their day came around.

The boys gave the training their all, and both of them were improving. Their lessons seemed never-ending, though, as there were always more moves or grips to learn. The position of where they put their feet was as important as the position of their hands on the sword's hilt. They could lengthen or shorten their stance to move closer or further from their opponent by adjusting these two things.

“That’s a good stance, Cam. You have to keep your legs apart, but not so much you lose balance. Keep your core centered also.” William put his hand on Cam’s stomach to bring his focus to his core.

William, who Gil usually thought of as easygoing, took all education seriously. That dedication to his students made him a demanding instructor. Not only did he expect the boys to memorize new words and equations, but he also worked with them until they knew every sword stance by memory. Their little hands grew blisters from the repeated movements of both their wooden swords and rough pencils.

“Do we have to do sword training again today?” Gil asked, worn out from the last training session.

“It’s so much work,” Cam added.

“Yes, and for those words, you will both get extra training today,” William replied.

Gil quickly learned to keep his mouth shut when it came to their learning. Cam was a little slower to realize what was happening and would often get added assignments. William would drive both of the boys to their limits physically and mentally.

Gil always excelled at the first half of their day while working on words, math, and sometimes on sword fighting strategies. Those strategies involved ways of getting an opponent to make an opening for the attack. These studies also involved how to use the surroundings of the battle to your advantage. They learned to take on multiple enemies at once and to get out of dangerous situations. Notably, they were taught how to defend themselves if their back was to a wall.

Cam, however, dominated during the later part of their day. What he lacked in strategies he more than made up for in raw skill. Cam’s physical abilities and innate sense of swords made him akin to a master swordsman in Gil's eyes. The way he could move his wooden sword through the air and how it made a swish sound when he did was something Gil could not replicate, no matter how hard he tried.

William teaching in that way left both boys feeling a sense of accomplishment and knowing they had something to continue working towards. It was easy to see where each of the boys' strengths lay. That caused him to tailor his lessons to encourage what they were already excelling at and help strengthen their weaknesses.

Gil found all the new information fascinating, but he felt more worn out than when they had been woodworking. Somedays, sword practice became too much for Gil’s weak body, and he would work himself into utter exhaustion. More than once, that meant he had to sit to the side and just watch William and Cam.

“Cam, your swing is not fluid enough. You need to be more smooth when you bring your sword down.” William said, demonstrating with his sword what he wanted Cam to do.

From the sidelines, Gil was confident anyone watching would have been able to see how skilled William and Cam were. They would often move in unison, and Gil started to have difficulty telling the teacher and the student apart. Gil tried his best to keep up with them but found himself unable to match their natural talent.

“Better, Cam, much better. I think you are starting to get it.” William said.

William expected them to learn everything he taught them, and there was a lot of new information for Gil to process. Both Cam and Gil had to explain and demonstrate all the moves their swords could do appropriately. Each blade's position was to be memorized, mastered, and repeated until the boys’ bodies almost acted on their own. That was what Gil called muscle memory training, but William just called it practice.

“Gil, you need to keep going. I want you to be able to make this move without thinking about it.” William said.

It was evident William knew what he was talking about when it came to the weapons of that world. The lessons kept coming with new positions almost every day. Gil felt William would never run out of further information to teach them.

They were indeed training swords and not playing with wooden toys, as William reminded them constantly. That point was further proven by what they were learning. They learned all of the vital parts of the human anatomy to strike and defend.

William even went over how to fight without a sword at all. They could use the same moves as if they had a sword to attack and defend themselves from others. It was all in the movements and timing of them. With William, repetition was key, which left the boys both tired and worn out. Together Cam and Gil did their best to learn all he could teach.

As their hands became callused and used to holding the swords, Gil could tell something had changed. The sloppy style they had both started with, him especially, was now fluid and precise. William could call out a pose or a grip, and the boys could switch to that stance quickly, and more importantly, correctly.

William, who had been nothing but serious up to that point, was sometimes seen smiling as he watched the boys practice what he had taught them. The movements that Gil had once thought he could never master he found he was able to do. Looking over at his brother Gil could see Cam’s skill had not just grown; it had multiplied.

“Good, good, you are both doing good. Keep it up fifty more swings.” William said.

William taught each of the boys differently as each sword had its unique style. Cam’s shortsword could be used as a slashing or piercing weapon, depending on the moves of its wielder. In comparison, Gil’s elven blade was all piercing moves. Unknown to Gil, William stayed up far later than the boys each night to create the actions he was teaching Gil. William had made an entirely new system for the elven blade as he was unfamiliar with how the weapon was supposed to function.

Cam perfected the short sword moves quickly but was often behind in the strategy. Gil, who sometimes struggled with the movements of his tiny sword, was often far ahead in the method of using it. That meant Gil was far less refined when using his blade, but he made up for that deficiency through planning. Cam, though, just tossed the strategy aside and used his physical power and sword skills alone.

William tried to impart to the boys that both were necessary to achieve the best use of their weapons. Gil got it, but his lack of physical strength kept him back and always meant he lost to Cam when sparring. Cam’s skill left him blind to the fact that while he was physically bigger than Gil, their battles were never the quick knockouts they should have been. It was clear William noticed that, and though he never said so, Gil felt he was proud of his quick thinking.

Cam learned several kinds of attacks: Overhead, Mid-Level, and Low ground. Overhead strikes meant he would leap into the air and bring his sword down on his opponent. Mid-level strikes were when he charged into his enemy. Low ground attacks were used to take out an opponent's ability to move on the battlefield. Attacks didn’t stop there, though, as there were several ways to execute them, each with their own name.

The sheer number of attacks the short sword was capable of left Gil's mind-boggling, but from the side just watching, he was able to pick up the basics of how they all worked. Each was similar to one another, yet still unique. Their differences were critical due to the way they affected combat.

As the physical training made his body stronger, Gil attempted to hold Cam's sword a time or two. However, he found after a lot of training, he could barely do so. That left fighting with it impossible. William, for that reason, excused him from learning how to use the shortsword physically but still required him to study each of the moves and the strategy of the weapon.

When able to practice outside, the cold winter made all the blows they received from the swords hurt even more. Bruises and the occasional sprain also accompanied their lessons. The sheer physical exertion of the exercises forced Gil back to bed at one point for a couple of days.

While Gil enjoyed having William as his father, he sometimes found his thoroughness as a teacher confusing. Why would I ever need to know the different types of attacks and stances of the shortsword when I can barely hold one? The shortsword did seem to be a popular weapon because it was easy to carry and seldom got a second glance in places like the village.

The truth was William knew Gil wouldn’t be eight years old forever, and eventually, given enough time, he would be able to hold and wield a shortsword if he wanted. There was nothing more to it than that. In Gil’s mind, however, it was like William was punishing him. The extra work wasn’t much in the end, and Gil excelled at that type of thing anyway.

Some attacks required the swordsman to change grips on the handle to perform them correctly, including a few that made one do so in the middle of their swing. Those were what Willam called bluffs. From what Gil could tell, changing one's stance and hold could be used to confuse or fool their opponent. The goal of such actions seemed to be finding an opening in the other person's stance to allow for a lunge or strike.

Gil was surprised to learn Cam was expected to know the unique moves of the elven blade in addition to those of the shortsword. Having gone through all the trouble of creating a new sword style, William was not about to waste time by only teaching Gil. Instead of the sweeping attacks like the short sword had, the smaller sword's training was mainly thrusting.

That meant all of the actions of Gil’s tiny sword followed the same pattern, which made it easier to learn. That method consisted of pushing the sword forward in one swift motion. The only difference in the moves was the blade's positioning on the target.

Since Gil and Cam had different moves to learn, William would sometimes train them individually. It was during these times he would focus on the weaknesses of each to help their styles. Gil’s sessions consisted of strength and defense training. Whereas Cam’s centered on strategy and understanding when to use the different moves he had been taught.

William often wore his studded hide armor when he was teaching the boys. It was reinforced with metal studs throughout, which provided additional protection without the heavyweight of chain or plate armor. Hide armor was commonly made from strong monsters such as demons, gnolls, or others. Their skins would be used because they were so resistant to weapon damage. The studs adorning the armor were usually made of iron.

As he was William the Dragon Slayer, his armor had been made from the tough outer skin of the Red Dragon he had killed. The studs it had were not iron; they had been made of a scarce metal called enythion, which had lightweight and durable properties. That armor, which had been a gift from the king after the Red Dragon’s death, would have easily been worth ten times or more what his sword was.

William only wore the armor in that instance to allow for a full-contact battle with the boys. They could strike him with their full force, and he would take no damage from them. It had been a while since William had worn it, and he had forgotten how heavy it was. Due to its weight, it made him much slower, which in turn delayed his counter strikes.

William also had an old leather armor suit he had used at one time and had gotten from his father. Though a tad big on Cam, they managed to make it work by adding extra clothes under it. The leather armor was well worn and past its prime, but it still offered a bit of protection even if it was worthless. Gil thought he looked funny wearing so many pairs of clothes under the armor, but Cam wore a massive smile on his face when he was allowed to don it.

Though sparring matches between Gil and Cam were seldom, they did occasionally happen. Of course, Cam was always the victor, but Gil learned to counter Cam’s attacks, and their fights seemed to lengthen over time. The matches between Cam and William were far more interesting to Gil.

William used a wooden log he had carved down to resemble a shortsword. Gil watched in amazement as the fights between the two seemed to ebb and flow. William was so skilled at swordsmanship he could effortlessly adjust his level of fighting to the level Cam was currently at. These matches would sometimes last a long time, and Gil wasn’t sure if William allowed the fight to continue or if Cam was that skilled.

Through practice sparring, Cam developed a smoother elegance to how he carried and used his weapon. William was always better, of course, but as the training progressed, Gil thought Cam was catching up quickly. Over time, as the boys were more used to sword training, Gil noticed their practice sessions made Cam smile.

Chapter 27: Chess

When the boys had free time, they nursed their sore muscles and bruises from the sword practice. Gil usually spent his time woodcarving, as he enjoyed and seemed to have a genuine talent for it. That became one of his favorite things to do when time allowed. Woodcarving had become an obsession for him from watching his father work on spare projects at the table. William's skill made it look easy to create new little animals, monsters, or other wooden objects.

The specialty carving tools Gil used consisted of several small knives. Some of the blades were curved, others straight, and a few had different blades on each end of the handle. William explained these tools were for fine woodworking, and they were the same set the craftsmen in the village used.

William also seemed genuinely pleased with Gil's interest in woodcarving and would often show him different techniques starting with the simple methods first. Gil soon worked his way up from the small knives, and William brought out a set of chisels. Up to that point, William was the only one in the family allowed to use them.

Slowly, William taught the technique of the chisels to Gil and what the various sizes were suitable for. Gil learned to use a gouge, a particular ‘U’ shaped chisel. Each chisel was used to take wood off of their carving, varying in size. The ‘U’ shaped one worked the same way but was explicitly used for deeper cuts in the wood. Gil had to be careful when using them to avoid taking off too much wood or cutting himself.

All the chisels usually required a wooden hammer. William showed Gil how to hit the end of the tool with the hammer to shave off the wood. Gil had trouble using the hammer at first. That was because he had found it difficult to hold both a chisel and hammer, but he was eventually successful with practice. Gil worked his way to more complex carving styles such as relief and chip carving with William’s guidance.

As the winter passed outside, Gil learned the most advanced techniques William knew. Of course, the training did come with a few scrapes and scratches, drawing blood more than once. However, Gil overcame these minor injuries and honed his skills by learning how to use all of the tools his father had available. The practice considerably improved the overall quality of Gil's carvings. William seemed to take pride in Gil's skill, happy to impart information to both boys for their unique strengths.

While Gil was learning to carve, Cam had fallen bored to the winter. Unlike Gil, he didn't have the patience or skill for carving. Cam had his sights set on being a Royal Knight, not a woodworker, and made sure everyone knew. It occurred to Gil his brother was the type to live more on the edge of the unexpected than he was.

William noticed that, and in between teaching Gil carving, he would take Cam aside for extra sword lessons. On occasion, William would even bring out his sword and allow Cam to use it. It was during these times William showed Cam how to properly polish and maintain it. That was only done under close supervision by William, who had made it incredibly clear the boys could not touch his sword without permission.

Gil saw Cam's eyes light up every time William brought his sword out. William seemed to enjoy those times, often smiling, laughing, and telling stories to the boys. As much as Gil and Cam hated the long winter, they both knew these were memories they'd look back on. Spending so much time with their father was a real luxury for them, so they soaked in as much of it as they could.

One winter's day, Gil found himself more bored than usual, so he asked Cam, “What about a board game?” There had to be some board games in this house, at least. After all, what place didn't have board games? Gil soon realized, judging by Cam's expression, their house was the one that didn't.

“Board games?” Cam inquired as if the words were foreign. “What are you talking about, Gil?”

“You know the games people play. Most of them played on a flat board. Like tic-tac-toe, for example, that's a board game.” As Gil replied, he remembered he had been the one who taught the kids tic-tac-toe.

“We could make up a game, but I've never heard of anything played on a board?” Cam said. Of course, Cam wasn't thinking board in the same way as Gil. Cam's vision of a board was just that: a long flat piece of wood.

Gil titled his head in thought and concluded board games didn't exist in the world. An idea came to Gil, and he decided right then he would make a chessboard and pieces. Back in his world, that had been one of his favorite games.

“I'll make us a chessboard!” Gil quickly announced.

“Chess?” Cam perked up a bit at the idea of something new. “Did you just make that up?”

“It's a classic board game,” Gil said, not wanting to take credit for it.

The words classic board game seemed to confuse Cam, who tilted his head to the side thinking over what his brother meant. After a moment, he seemed to shrug and asked, “So how does it work?” Cam had no idea how complicated that question was. All he wanted was to figure out if it was worth his time or not.

“Well, there are game pieces, armies as such, and each player controls one side. They do battle, and one side wins.” Knowing what his brother liked, Gil, emphasized armies and battle.

“Armies!” Cam said. “Tell me more, Gil, how do they battle?”

Gil breathed in deeply, realizing what he had done and how much information the game had to relay. Looking at William at the kitchen table, he quickly asked, seeking help. “Father, have you ever played chess?”

“No, I don't know all the games you kids play,” William said, not looking up from the wood carving he was working on.

Gil ran his hand up the side of his head and scratched his blue hair for a second, trying to find the words he needed to convey the game to Cam. While he did, he wondered if there was no chess in the world. Finally, after a long pause, he spoke up again.

“The game has various military units that move across a board and can be captured by the opposing player's units.” That explanation made the most sense to Gil, but he quickly realized Cam was less satisfied than he had hoped.

Stumbling over his words, he then said. “The game plays out like a small battle between two sides. Each player takes a turn moving one of their pieces. The different pieces have different styles of movement.” Again he wasn't sure he was getting the idea across.

Cam, who was interested in soldiers and battles, grew excited at the idea of that new game. Quickly he started asking Gil a handful of questions. “How does an army win?”

Gil tried to answer the questions as best he could but was quickly finding himself saying the same thing “It’s something you have to see to understand.” Explaining the game without a board and pieces was hard, but Cam agreed to help create it.

Though neither William nor Cam knew what a chessboard was or even what function it served, they still chipped in. William took the opportunity to teach them both more about carving. Their cabin fever was at an all-time high, and the family needed something to focus on. Gil did his best to instruct them, and soon the entire family was working eagerly on it. If only they knew what it was we were working on, this would go a lot faster.

Gil tried to teach Cam all about how the pieces moved as they were making them, and William even seemed to take a passing interest in it from time to time. Gil felt the board game made the winter feel a little less overwhelming to the entire family. A schedule, a plan, and motivation were what Cam and Gil needed inside during the last winter month. Whatever it was, William could see the game helped pass the time, which was a good thing.

Gil looked up to Cam with a determined glare in his eye as he sorted through the leftover wood they had in the cabin. Soon he found a flat piece that was slightly crooked and set to work on making the chessboard. Leveling the wood’s surface, so it laid flat, Gil called it the game’s board. Then he gave instructions to Cam and his father to make the individual game pieces. They spent the next month cleaning up the game’s rough board and shaping the little men.

“Like this?” Cam asked, holding up the game piece representing the king. It was just a tall, skinny block of wood in its current state.

“Make sure he’s the tallest,” Gil reminded as he looked over at the piece of wood Cam was holding up. “The king needs to be the tallest piece on the board, followed by the queen.”

Cam went back to work smoothing the king piece down. Once the shape was usable, he began to mark the tiny grooves on the top for the king’s crown. Gil would go back over the piece later and do the fine detail as Cam’s carving was rough at best. While Cam started on the individual parts, Gil worked on marking the lines for the squares on the board.

After he scored them, he began to run the lines with the tiniest gouge cutting deep grooves into the wooden base. Keeping the lines straight was hard work, but Gil took his time and managed to make it look decent enough. Their work took well over a week to get the game into a rough stage where one could tell the pieces apart.

“See this Cam?” Gil asked, holding up the finished king piece he had just detailed. “It’s the king, and he can only move one space in any direction.”

“Only one space?” Cam asked, in disbelief the king seemed to be so limited.

“Yep, now the queen can move as many spaces as she likes in any one direction,” Gil said, proudly holding up what would be a finished queen game piece.

“Are you sure you don’t have them backward?” Cam asked. The thought of the king only being able to move one space was hard for him to wrap his head around, but the queen being able to move further didn’t make sense to him.

“No, it sounds like Gil knows what he’s talking about.” William interrupted, amused by his oldest boy’s reaction. “When I was at the royal castle, the soon-to-be queen did seem to hold more power than his majesty.”

William remembered a particular visit to the castle in his past where he and the king had been interrupted multiple times by the soon-to-be elf queen. The king’s reaction at such interruptions contrasted with how he reacted when it was one of his advisors. William smiled, thinking about how that had been one of his more pleasant visits to the castle.

Cam sighed and slowly nodded, though he wasn't sure what his father was saying was true. Having no one on his side in the matter, he pushed aside his concerns to play. Besides having not yet played the game, he felt it might make more sense later. Cam turned his focus back to one of the pawn figures he was trying to smooth out.

Since the entire family helped in its construction, they soon had a rough chess set sitting on the table. Cam and Gil spent the next week playing against each other more than finishing the remaining game pieces. The knight figures were especially roughly shaped, and they had to be careful when moving them that they didn't get a splinter.

The game was playable even in that state, and Cam slowly began to understand it more each time they played. However, since Gil knew more about it, Cam was losing every time, driving him crazy. That led to them playing chess almost every night after dinner.

Cam was determined to beat his brother at chess, but before they could finish their fifth game of it, something clicked in Cam's head. Suddenly he could see just how much of a genius Gil was. While sadly, that made the game of chess far less attractive to Cam, it also made his admiration for his brother grow. With the board game no longer being something Cam wanted to play, he spent a great deal of time staring out the small window at the cabin's front.

Gil looked over at Cam, who was constantly looking out at the vast white-covered woods. Watching him made Gil guess his brother was dreaming of running about in the green grass again, playing with the neighbor kids. Gil hated to see his brother in such a state but wasn't sure how to help him. Winter wouldn't last forever, and Gil hoped as the warm weather returned, so would his brother’s smile.

Chapter 28: Spring

As winter wore on, Gil’s skill at wood carving increased even more. By late winter, Gil was so skilled at wood carving that he surpassed his father’s woodworking ability for the first time. It was a carving of a bird that did it. Gil had seen one outside the window and had free carved it as best he could. The bird resembled a robin though Gil wasn’t sure what the proper name was for them in the world.

Unknown to Gil, the bird was a sign spring would soon be there. Additionally, he had heard it rumored to signify a dead relative looking over those left behind in his past life. Is that the real Gil? I really hope he’s somewhere safe. I wonder what world he went to. Gil, of course, had chosen to carve the bird as it was the only one around, and the colors made it an intriguing subject.

When he showed his father what he had made, William held the figure and turned it around in his hands a few times. The quality of the bird statue was exquisite, and William could see his little boy’s skill matched some of the Carpenter’s Guild members themselves. Somehow Gil had managed to carve the figure’s eyes in such a way they looked perfectly smooth, just like the bird’s own eyes had looked. It was something to behold, and William was reluctant to put it back down on the table.

William looked over at Gil with a smile and said. “You have captured the bird within the wood. I haven’t seen carvings this good except at the Carpenter’s Guild and even then only by their most skilled members.” William nodded his head up and down to drive home what he was saying.

Gil, his youngest boy, was showing such promise as a woodcarver. William, who had been more than a little worried about Gil’s prospects, saw maybe his fears were a bit exaggerated. Previously he had told Gil he might not have a future in woodworking, but that was becoming less true.

Looking over at his father, Gil saw he was smiling. While he wasn’t sure he could match William at every type of carving, he was at least at a similar level now. Gil could turn shapeless wood into unique trinkets and toys, and he did so often while stuck inside.

While it had been a fun way for Gil to pass the time on the cold winter days, he seriously thought no more about it. Thinking he would need to work to survive at some point seemed odd, as he had already been down that path once before and saw where it led. The mere idea of working for someone else again made him very sad. While that life had been what he thought he wanted in the past, his new life, with its slower pace, was far more suited to him.

Thinking about the Carpenter’s Guild workers, Gil wondered if that might be something he would want to do as a full-time job. The thought of making carvings for someone else, though, made the idea far less desirable because then it would be work and no longer a hobby. What he had done, he did because he wanted to, not because he had to. Besides, his mind kept telling him it was silly to think about such things when he was only eight years old.

Gil’s thoughts were interrupted when Cam groaned. “There is nothing to do.” Cam plopped his head onto the table, making a loud thunk.

Gil turned his attention to his brother, “We could always play chess.”

Cam lifted his head off the table and looked at his brother with disgust on his face. Though it was all play, the expression did send a slight shiver up Gil’s back. “There is nothing fun to do,” Cam growled.

Gil managed a meek smile, and both of them let out a little laugh. While initially, the snow had excited the boys, they had long since gotten over the sight of it. All the snow did was keep them trapped inside the cabin and cold. Gil looked over at his brother and let out a sigh, feeling genuinely sorry for him. Cam seemed to be taking the imprisonment far worse than he was.

Luckily, it was not long before it began to warm up outside, and birds could be heard singing in the mornings once more. Spring was quickly approaching, and the snow was melting off more with each passing day. Gil took the time to finalize the chess game design by smoothing off any rough pieces with some sandpaper.

The sandpaper in the world was not as efficient as Gil remembered from his. It was functional, though, and with enough passes, it made the roughest game piece smooth. Gil wasn't exactly sure what caused the paper to be coarse, but it looked like a mix of ground-up bark, small pebbles, and seashells.

When Gil was done finalizing the project, he had produced something nobody in the kingdom would recognize. Gil had finished up the last little details, and a newly crafted complete chess game sat on their table. Proudly, once finished, he showed off the board game to his family. William smiled, and Cam seemed to like the final appearance, though he refused a game when offered. Up to that point, William had little interest in the actual project, but he found himself becoming curious about it with it finished.

“What's this piece, again?” William asked, holding up one of the pieces and twisting it around to admire the woodworking quality.

“That's called a rook or castle piece,” Gil said. “It can only move up and down the board or across on the same row.”

William had seen the boys play the game many times in its rough shape, and at first, it had just seemed like a silly kid’s toy. Today though, he had become bored himself as it was too cold outside to hunt. Looking over the pieces, he could see various types, and each of them appeared to have a unique movement pattern. In some ways, it reminded him of the battle maps he had studied at the Royal Knight Academy.

“Would you teach me how to play?” William asked.

“Of course,” Gil said.

William took to the game surprisingly quick, faster than Gil would have thought, and ended up being an excellent opponent. The strategy of the moves seemed to interest him as he crossed the board with a bishop knocking out one of Gil’s pawns. After a couple of learning games, Gil lost for the first time in the world.

The fact Gil had lost the game seemed to interest Cam, who came over to the table to watch their next one. “You beat him,” Cam said, his eyes open wide in amazement. That was something Cam thought might be impossible.

Winning brought a smile to William's face, and Gil could see he enjoyed the feeling of being victorious. After another game, which Gil had barely won, William suggested Gil write down all the rules for chess. That came because he thought Gil had cheated. The fact was Gil had just castled his pieces, a fair move, but one unknown to William as it was so uncommon.

Gil thought the idea of writing down the rules was a good one and set about doing just that. Having an official record of how to play would help in the future to avoid William or anyone else from feeling slighted. Since the moves were written down, the family could also teach others to play without Gil’s help.

That was as much of a reason to record them as any in Gil’s mind. In truth, he was getting tired of teaching the game to his family, and in hindsight, Gil wished he would have written the rules down sooner. It would have made for more fairly played games with Cam, which might have stopped him from getting so upset about losing. Gil was eventually dubbed the best player in the house, having lost only twice to his father.

Gil took great pride in being the best player among the group and made sure to point out the fact to Cam when he could. It wasn’t that he was trying to rub Cam’s face in it, but instead to emphasize he should work a little harder on their strategy lessons. Cam didn’t seem to mind since it seldom got a reaction from him. With William now knowing how to play, it opened up Cam and his father to play each other.

Gil was happy to see Cam had not entirely given up on the game of chess. Cam was the weakest player in the house, and Gil could see he was not very fond of chess for that reason. With all three of them playing, though, Cam’s abilities at the game improved.

With each day that passed, it was becoming warm enough for the family to take trips outside their home more frequently. William was once again able to go out hunting, and he decided to bring both Cam and Gil along with him. When they traveled outside, they would all wear thick fur coats over their usual clothing to help protect them against the brisk winds.

William began to teach the boys how to use his bow, but they all had to take turns using it since the family only had one. I might be able to make one of these, thought Gil as he examined the bow. The hunting bow was made of a curved, darkened oak shaft. William taught the boys to hold the bow correctly and how to sight in their target.

Once again, Gil found himself the worst of the group, as he was just too small to perform the actions required accurately. Able to only drawback the bow about halfway, his arrows flew too short a distance. Gil thought his aim might be better than Cam’s, but it was impossible to honestly tell.

Cam could draw back the bow fully, and with practice, his arrows soared high through the air. The warmth had brought out the animals, and fresh meat was soon a regular dish again. Better food helped increase the spirits of everyone in the cabin, and Gil was happy the harsh winter was finally over. One day, Cam was even able to hunt a rabbit on his own with the bow.

Gil’s next project was a smaller version of the hunting bow William used. That was so Gil could have a bow his size. The one he created, while less than perfect, was workable. Since he had custom-made it, he even incorporated a slight design modification to the bow to make it more like one he had used once back in his world. That smaller bow didn’t have the hunting bow’s penetration strength, but it did allow him to shoot arrows a little further.

During the few times he used it, he found several things he would change if he made another one. Looking over the design, he could see it could be enhanced by making it larger and using stiffer wood for the string area. Overall though, Gil didn’t like using a bow as he didn’t have the strength. For that reason, he had no intention of making anymore. Cam used Gil’s bow a time or two but was too strong for it, eventually breaking it.

One far warmer day, the entire family made a trip to the mill to get some fresh flour for baking. As they stepped out, Gil breathed in the air of spring. Before beginning down the road, William reached down and put Gil on his shoulders, just as he had when they went to the village. With that, the family was off on the path to the mill. They saw several of their neighbors along their trip, and Gil was happy to be seeing faces other than William’s and Cam’s again. Strangely Gil was even looking forward to William’s flat, tasteless bread.

Not long after, the family began to go back into the forest and gather wood once more. William started to teach the boys the proper way to chop the trees down. Gil was too small to hold William's axe, but Cam was able to use it. Together, the family cut and carved the wood into various shapes, which William soon started to take back to the craftsmen in Brighton village.

Chapter 29: Toys

The trio sat around the table and shaped the gathered wood into various orders their father had received. Gil’s winter carving experience made him faster and more precise than the year before. Due to that, Gil found he had extra time to work on his wooden projects. The latest was a toy knight, complete with a removable shield and sword with a horse for the knight to ride.

The chessboard project had given him the idea when he was working on the knight pieces. Gil found he could make a hole in the soldier’s hands, much like that of a building block playset he had played with back in his world as a child. In that way, the knight’s sword and shield were removable from the knight’s hands.

The knight he was working on had movable arms and legs. Each piece that made up the knight was designed to fit perfectly when the knight was assembled. While not as fancy as Gil would have liked, the design used a simple wood pin system. That made the arms and legs move up and down independently of each other. While he had carved it more to see if he could than anything else, it was the most complicated wood carving Gil had created.

The knight’s horse, which Gil had not yet completed, did not articulate. It was just a basic carving modeled after the animal carvings his father made. However, he managed to make it the right size for the knight to ride and added intricate details to the horse’s mane.

Gil sighed, wishing he had at least made the horse’s head move. Overall, the design of the toy figure was promising and led Gil to think of lots of various uses for the skills he had developed through making it. That opened the possibility of making wooden items that could bend and move in multiple ways.

Figures that move and more practical things like the outer parts of a pocket knife were now possible. Gil looked over his work with a feeling of satisfaction. While he could see areas for improvement, it was a long way from his previously rough carving skills. Finishing some minor touches, he set it back on the table and headed off to clean up for the day.

Then fate took control because Gil had left the poor knight and his horse on the table. In a hurry to get back into his routine, William was not paying attention as he rushed to put all of the wood carvings into his make-shift bag. Usually, the boys would have put the finished products into the bag for him, but they were all adapting to it being spring and had left them on the table instead. Thus, William scooped the knight, horse, and all right up with the other wood bits to take to the guild.

Gil discovered long after William had left for the village. It was a minor mistake, and Gil didn’t think it would bring him any trouble. Without phones, he didn’t have any way to tell his father about the tag-along knight. That did leave Gil disappointed he couldn’t finish his figure until after his father returned from the village.

Sitting down at the table, he took the time to start some checker pieces. Taking some rough wood, he smoothed it off and added some surface detail to it. Gil worked on them until they fit neatly together and could be stacked up one after another. However, his heart wasn’t in work, so he quickly gave it up and walked over to the window. Looking out at the road, he sighed, wishing he had the horse to finish.

William, completely unaware he was carrying a stowaway toy knight with him, traveled to the village the usual way. Entering the village, he found a small area selling livestock over to the right. Making his way over to it, he soon found himself in front of a filthy-looking man with birds in cages behind him.

“What would the cost of some chickens be?” William asked the man.

“Hens are two copper coins, a bird, a rooster only one.” Came the man’s reply.

“Are they hard to care for?” William asked, having never raised any animal.

“Nah, mostly take care of themselves, see’n you got a good safe pen for ’em.” Came the man’s reply.

“Thank you, it’s something I will have to think about,” William said.

Not yet ready to make the purchase, he headed back out onto the street. Quickly, he made his way past the main shops and down an alleyway leading to the Carpenter’s Guild. Having arrived, he made his way into the building. Once inside, he let out an inaudible sigh as he saw a merchant ahead of him finishing up an order.

“You don’t have anything else to choose from? I need something new for my shop.” The merchant asked.

The merchant was an older man with dark-colored skin, a big fluffy gray mustache, and bushy eyebrows leading to his utterly bald head. That baldness was somewhat covered up by a black cotton hat he wore. The rest of his body was hidden under a bulky blue robe, accented with gold trim along its edges. The robe only stopped at his ankles, leaving his worn sandals exposed.

The majority of the Merchant’s Guild members wore blue when working, much like the members of the Carpenter’s Guild wore brown. These colors told all those around they were members in good standing with their various guilds. That merchant was dressed nicer than some other merchants, and William had seen him here before. Because of that, he knew that particular merchant liked to take his time at the guild, so he settled in resting back on a nearby wall.

“Just what you see,” sighed Mr. Brooks, apparently tired of the merchant’s questions.

“You know my customers are always looking for something new.” The merchant replied.

Brooks sighed again and did something quite out of the ordinary as he motioned for William to bring his goods forward instead of waiting like he usually would. Willam moved over and placed his make-shift bag onto the table. Opening it, he started taking out the wooden goods for Brooks to examine. The merchant turned his attention to the contents of the table and quickly spotted the mistakenly included toy.

“What’s this here?” The merchant asked, holding the toy knight in his hand.

“Oh, I must have picked up one of my son’s toys,” William said, embarrassed by mistake, as he realized for the first time the stowaway was there.

“I’ll take that one.” The merchant said as he studied the knight. Spotting the horse and the knight’s weapons on the counter, he proceeded to pick them up as well.

That action, of course, caught Brooks’ attention, and he looked up from his paperwork to see what the merchant was babbling about. Putting the paperwork to one side, Brooks could see the merchant was holding some sort of figure, but he couldn’t see it clearly because of how small it was. Pushing his head forward, closer to the toy, it came into focus, and he could tell it was a carving of a knight and horse.

“I’m sorry he’s not really for sale,” William said, watching as the merchant studied the quality of the figure while placing the tiny sword and shield in the knight’s hands.

“I suppose a silver couldn’t persuade you?” The merchant asked, reaching into his pouch and tossing a silver coin onto the table. The glint of it sparkled in front of Williams’ green eyes.

Without another word, William swiped the coin from the table into his hand. William knew Gil would be disappointed, but a silver coin was the value of all the wood pieces he had brought. Even for William, getting a silver coin for just one wood figure was too good to pass up.

Brooks, now interested, looked intently at the figure. “Let me see that,” Brooks said, reaching over the table.

“Alright,” The merchant reluctantly handed it over.

Brooks’ composure was calm on the outside, but he was very excited by the woodworking quality. The way the pieces fit together and their ability to move fascinated him as he studied the toy. Previously he had seen designs similar, but never one made so sturdily. That one had been made to be moved repetitively, which was odd as these types of carvings were usually collectibles to place on display.

Brooks thought of all the designs he had seen, knowing they were almost exclusively in the houses of wealthy nobles. It was easy to see why the merchant was interested in it. Those carvings were always off-limits to being touched and examined as most of them were fragile. They were statues, not toys so that one was unique. Brooks gleefully moved the arms and legs of the knight up and down, excited by the toy.

William almost laughed at the sight of two grown men playing with a child’s toy. However, the silver coin he had gotten told him the toy was something very unique. Eventually, Brooks placed the knight back on the table, and his face changed from one of happiness back to the stern look he usually wore while working.

“This is an excellent piece of craftsmanship,” Brooks stated. “Did you, by chance, make it?” Brooks directed the question to William.

Brooks had not managed to keep the stern look on his face while talking about the toy, and his new expression gave William the impression he was more than a little impressed by the wooden knight. “No, Gil, my youngest created it. He has become quite the talented woodcarver over the winter.” William said, with a proud grin on his face.

“I could give you two silvers for it, William,” Brooks said, still touching the figure on the table. Brooks’ response had brought him back to reality, and he realized if the figure walked out the door, he might never be able to see it again. As he spoke, though, he remembered he was bidding against one of his customers and looked understandably uneasy about the offer. Fidgeting in his chair, it was clear Brooks knew it was in poor taste.

Knowing he had cheated himself out of a silver coin, William frowned. To William, honor was the measure of man, and he couldn’t turn around and sell it to Brooks without losing some. That meant he couldn’t trade the knight for any amount of money to anyone aside from the merchant.

“No, I already agreed to one silver,” William said, disappointed by his haste in taking the coin.

Brooks frowned, knowing the merchant had bought it by all rights and dropped the matter. The merchant scooped it back off the table and turned towards the door, content with his purchase. As he left the Carpenter’s Guild carrying the knight, horse, shield, and weapon, a big smile was on his face. The merchant felt confident he had a buyer for the figure immediately. Brooks watched as the merchant disappeared with a look of sadness on his face at having lost the figure.

It wasn’t that Mr. Brooks wanted to sell the figure to some noble. Instead, he had just wanted it for the design work. It was an exciting method of making the wood movable to emulate a person’s arm. Though he knew similar techniques, the one he was looking at was simple and looked far more robust.

It took a few moments for Mr. Brooks to compose himself and get back into a business mindset. Once there, he turned his attention to the other bits of shaped wood on the table and calculated a fair price for them. “Gil was able to do such fine work? Maybe you should consider signing him up for our guild.” While he had let the figure slip away, maybe he could net the figure’s creator for himself. “I’m serious. The work on that figure was better than what our entry-level craftsmen can do, and they have been trained.” Brooks explained to William, as convincingly as he could manage.

That was a big surprise for William, who had not thought that deeply about Gil’s woodworking. Gil was only eight years old, and that seemed a little young for a guild internship. William bit his lower lip, unsure what to say, as his mind thought about little Gil and all he had been through. “I’ll keep that in mind,” William said, looking back over at Brooks.

“Oh, I hope you do. That was very excellent work.” Mr. Brooks tried to gauge William’s reaction to what he was saying. William didn’t look interested in hearing any more about it right now, so Mr. Books turned his attention back to purchasing what he had brought instead.

Brooks already had the shop’s money chest out and counted out a silver and two copper coins to put on the table. In his mind, William mulled over the fact Gil could create something two adults had wanted and for such high prices. The toy figure was amusing to him but not groundbreaking like it had been to the merchant and Mr. Brooks. William looked down at the money and slid it to the side of the table, placing it in his leather pouch.

William, with his business done, slowly turned and headed back out of the guild. As he walked, he thought about Gil and his woodworking ability. Once he reached the street outside, William’s mind went from what had just happened to how he would have to break the news to Gil that the toy figures were no longer his.

Of course, Gil would be a little upset since he was not finished with the horse yet, but a silver coin was a silver coin. Willliam sighed, wondering if what he had done was right or wrong. It was not easy raising the boys on his own, and he wasn’t certain what Madalyn would have wanted him to do in that circumstance. Just then, his nose caught the scent of fresh bread, and he looked up to see the bakery ahead of him. Instantly he remembered how much Gil had enjoyed it on their last trip.

Changing his direction, William stopped by the bakery on his way past and bought a loaf. It was his hope the food would make the news a bit easier on Gil. Paying for the bread, he turned and headed down the main street towards home. William was still going over all the details of what had happened. As if practicing a speech, he muttered to himself, “That’s the spirit, my boy, well done.”

Deep in thought, he was unaware of what was happening around him, so he was shocked when a sudden hand found its way onto his shoulder. Immediately his old instincts kicked in, and his expression turned from contemplation to be very serious. William’s right hand went to the grip of his sword in a flash as he swirled around to see who had touched him.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to startle you.” The merchant said. It was the same man who had bought the figure. “My name is Roland, and I would like to meet this boy of yours and get a contract on that knight figure.”

An actual merchant contract had not even occurred to William. While he had heard of them from his days as an adventurer, he knew they were rare to come by. Such an endeavor could be real money, not just a silver coin, but actual gold coins. A smile quickly formed on William’s face as he relaxed and gave simple directions to their cabin. That way, Roland could meet Gil, and they could talk about business matters.

Contracts of several kinds existed, with merchant contracts being the rarest and guild contracts the most common. However, William’s business with the Carpenter’s Guild was not under any obligation, and William or the guild could at any time stop buying or selling. William liked it that way as it meant freedom in his eyes. The guild liked it because it meant flexible prices for them depending on the quality of the work.

“We are just a little bit outside of town, a little ways off the main road here,” William said, motioning in the general direction of the cabin. “Feel free to stop by whenever you have the time, Gil would love to talk to you.”

Roland took out a pencil and paper and, with William’s help, sketched out a rough map of how to get to the cabin from Brighton’s main road. “I think I understand,” said Roland. “I’ll try to stop by as soon as I finish a business matter to the north of here in Donden.”

With that settled, Roland and William parted ways, each taking off in the opposite direction. William turned his attention back to how he would tell Gil the news but found himself more excited about it. That was a big deal, and he felt Gil would understand the idea of a merchant’s contract.

Stuck back at the cabin, Gil once again found himself bored. Sure, he was making wood carvings, but he missed the wheeling and dealing he had done with the apple business in the fall. With that so far away, he had nothing to do, and as much as he hated to admit it, there was a bit of satisfaction, and a sense of accomplishment came with making money. It was just now spring, and he would have to figure out another way or wait for the apple season to begin again.

Gil returned to the table and decided he would work more on the checkers without the knight’s horse figure to finish. Since we already have the chessboard, checkers will be easy to complete. Plus, I think Cam will appreciate how simple the rules are. They were far easier to create, and he was several checkers in when Willam returned from Brighton.

“Gil, I have exciting news for you,” William said, almost immediately after he had entered the cabin.

Gil looked up from the checker he was shaping to see the smile on William’s face. The faint smell of bread caught Gil’s nose. William moved over to the table where Gil was sitting.

“I accidentally took the toys you were working on with me into the Carpenter’s Guild,” Started William. “They were a big hit, and a merchant there wanted to buy them.”

Gil frowned, already figuring out what was going to come next. It was at that point he knew William had sold them to the merchant. Meaning he wouldn’t get a chance to finish off the horse.

“You sold them, didn’t you,” Gil asked, though it came out less as a question and more as a statement.

William, half relieved he didn’t have to be the one to say the actual words, responded with “yes for a silver coin, to a merchant named Roland.”

Gill sighed and thought the matter over. Understandably he was a little upset about losing his figures. However, he reasoned his father had done the right thing selling it for a silver coin. Gil, if placed in the same situation, would have happily done what William did.

“You should have seen them, Gil, two grown men playing with your knight figure. It was something to behold.” William smiled, adding, “I even stopped at the bakery on the way home.”

The fresh loaf of bread was a nice touch, and even though Gil figured it was a bribe, it was suitable for him. “Sounds great. Let’s have some bread then.” Gil said, replacing the frown on his face with a smile. While the expression wasn’t entirely accurate to how he felt about it, he didn’t hold a grudge towards William for his decision.

The bread was broken into three pieces, and Gil smiled as he ate his. “Hey, did you ask about chickens while you were in town?” Gil asked, remembering they had talked about them before.

“I did, and I think we should be able to get some after we have set up an area for them,” William answered.

Chapter 30: Agreements

Gil knew he could always make another wooden toy knight, having created the first one. Besides, he had a couple of ideas on how to make a better one. However, thoughts of creating a new one vanished as William told him the rest of his news.

“That merchant, Roland, might want to make a merchant contract on your toy figure,” William said, trying to make it as casual of a statement as he could.

“What’s a merchant contract?” Gil asked.

“It is a contract so he can make and sell those figures in his shop,” William answered.

To Gil, it meant he would sell the right to manufacture the knight he created for a price. That news excited Gil far more than the silver coin his father had gotten from the knight, as it allowed him to think about what his knight figure was truly worth. Unsure of the economy in the world, he did know how much the merchant had paid for the figure. Going off that, he figured the contact amount should be worth several silver coins at the very least.

“How much do merchant contracts bring in?” Gil asked.

“Well, it depends on the product, I suppose,” William replied. “I have heard of some going for lots of gold, though.”

“Gold?” Cam exclaimed, far more interested in the conversation now.

“Yes, but that’s only what I’ve heard. I’ve never personally had a merchant contract.” William replied, trying not to get the boys’ hopes up too much.

Gil remained quiet, processing what his father had said. While there hadn't been a definitive answer, it did mean what Gil had thought was a reasonable price might be too low, and it was terrible to start a negotiation with a low figure. Doing so would only lose him money, as the merchant would creep the amount lower as the contract terms were finalized. It was far better to open with a high amount, even if it was too high. These kinds of thoughts were all Gil could think about.

The news of the contract was just the thing to snap him out of the doldrums he had been in. Now he found himself excited and busy at the very possibility of one. Contracts had terms, which meant he could help dictate them, so as the rest of the night passed by, Gil tried working out the various agreements for the sale of the figure. Gil found it hard to sleep that night as his thoughts about the toy negotiation kept him awake.

Making a contract for something he created was serious business, and in no small way, it made him feel his actual age rather than that of his body. All the possibilities of the ways the contract negotiation could go made him smile. It was almost like he was back at work finalizing a contract for half a million pounds of carrots. Only this was better because it was a negotiation with him, for something he had made, not for a company he worked for.

The next day arrived, and they each began their regular routine. Father cut the trees while the boys dragged them out of the woods and sorted the lumber. Gil was confident at any moment, the merchant would arrive with the contract.

The waiting was killing him, but he knew if the product was good enough, the other party to the deal might try to dampen expectations with delays. Such tactics were to be expected if one had a good enough item to sell. As usual, as late afternoon arrived, each of them found themselves back around their small table, working on the various wood shapes. That time though, William was sketching something out on a piece of paper.

Gil snuck a peek at what William was working on, but he couldn’t make heads or tails of it, as it was an unfinished design. Going back to his carving, he figured William would tell them what it was once he finished. It was hard for them to focus on their work, making their evening go by very slowly.

Cam imagined all the ways he would spend a gold coin if he had one. William tried to distract himself from getting too excited for Gil by working on a separate project. Gil was still trying to determine a reasonable starting price, which was difficult when he didn’t understand the actual value of gold coins.

Once William was finished with what he was sketching, he interrupted all of their thoughts. “This is a design for the chicken coop we will be building soon.” As he spoke, he pushed his drawing into the center of their table.

Gil looked the paper over. While the design was only roughly sketched, he could see it would work well for the family. Especially if it were only a few chickens they would be caring for. “I think it looks good,” Gil said.

Cam also looked at the sheet of paper. However, his expression was confused as he didn’t seem to translate the drawing into a three-dimensional object. Turning his head to the side, he asked, “This is a chicken coop?”

“It will be,” William replied, looking over at his oldest boy while he reached out and messed up Cam’s long blond hair.

The afternoon passed them all very slowly, but once it was dark outside, Gil felt certain the merchant wasn’t coming that day. That news caused him to feel disappointed, and he wore a frown the remainder of the night. Gil only finished up a couple of checker pieces during his free time, as his heart wasn’t really in it. The elation he had been feeling before quickly turned to a sour pit in the bottom of his stomach. What if the knight wasn’t good enough? What if the merchant changed his mind?

Questions of what if this and what if that filled Gil’s tiny head as he sighed deeply. If the night before he had barely slept, it was safe to say he found no rest at all that night. Gil tossed and turned, worried about imaginary problems that were far too crazy to ever be true.

The sun rose the next two days, and the family repeated the daily tasks just as they had the first day. Gil was of almost no use in his worn-out state, and by the evening, he was basically sleepwalking. After dinner time, William and Cam were at the table playing a chess game while Gil was half working on a checker piece, yawning.

The anticipation he had been feeling quickly turned into bitterness, as he felt with each passing minute the merchant wouldn’t come. Though it had only been three days, it had felt like a lifetime to Gil. Just about ready to give up on the whole thing, he laid his head down on the edge of the table and closed his eyes.

Within moments a loud knock came at the cabin door. William rose from the chess game and walked over to it. Opening the door, he saw Roland and stepped back, inviting the merchant inside.

“Hello all, I am Roland, a merchant with shops in several territories,” Roland explained. “Sorry, it’s so late. I was tied up with a last-minute business transaction, you see.”

Gil knew at once that must be the merchant William had talked about. All of his tiredness fled and was replaced with newfound excitement. The impending business made him bounce back instantly from the edge of despair.

“Ah, this must be the boy, here,” Roland said as he walked over to Cam, grabbed his hand, and shook it vigorously. “Your woodwork is most excellent, my boy, most excellent indeed.”

Gil watched it take place in horror, wide-eyed. While he wanted to shout at the top of his lungs that he was Gil, he couldn’t find his voice. Making matters even worse, the event was followed by a long, awkward silence.

William grinned big, finding it more than a little humorous, making him slow to correct Roland. “That is Cam, my oldest boy, and this is my youngest, Gil. He is your woodcarver.” William corrected Roland, half laughing at the confusion while he patted Gil on the shoulder.

Roland squinted a bit and looked Gil up and down. “Oh, I see, hmm, sorry about that, my boy,” he said as he reached out and tousled the blue hair on top of Gil’s head back and forth. William offered the merchant a chair at the table, and he gladly sat down.

That hair tousle is going to cost him more. Thinking the toy had been made by Cam had already been disrespectful, so his childish greeting only made it worse. Gil put on a serious business face and felt ready to bring his a-game to the meeting.

“Pick up the game, Cam, so our guest can sit at the table.” Instructed William.

Cam went over and began to gather up the pieces of the chess game. That action caught Roland’s eye, who had never seen such a thing before. “What’s this you have here?” Roland asked.

“That’s another of Gil’s inventions. It’s called chess. Gil calls it a board game.” William replied.

“Hmm, a board game, do tell me more,” Roland said as he inquisitively picked up a pawn.

Roland’s shop catered almost exclusively to wealthy nobles. As such, he was always on the lookout for something new and unique. Since he was well-traveled, having gone far and wide all over the kingdom of Vale, he was surprised to find such a unique creation.

“How does it work?” Roland asked, moving the piece around in his hand to examine it from every angle.

“It’s a game for two people,” Gil answered. “Imagine if you were on a battlefield with two opposing armies, equal in strength facing off. That’s the idea behind the game.”

Roland’s eyes widened. Gil’s words appeared to have interested him further. “So it’s a strategic battle?” Roland asked, who was very quick at understanding new things.

Gil had added a little extra pizazz into his quick explanation of the board game. It hadn’t been intentionally added, but he had upsold its description since he genuinely enjoyed the game. Regardless of the intent, Roland was intrigued by what he had heard. Gil groaned slightly, realizing his mistake and how it would delay their negotiations.

“Yea, sort of like the toy knight figure you bought, this piece is called a knight,” Gil held up the piece looking like a small horse head. “It moves like so,” demonstrated Gil.

Gil, hoping to get to the business matters at hand, mentioned the toy knight to steer the conversation back in that direction. Looking over at Roland, he could see no business would be conducted until the game was thoroughly explained, so he took his time to show how each of the pieces moved across the board.

The merchant was fascinated by the concept and seemed to hang on to Gil’s every word. “So this piece here is called a knight, and it moves like so? How odd.” Roland said, moving the piece about the board.

“What’s odd is how the queen piece can move further than the king piece.” Cam interrupted, having never gotten over it.

“The game focuses a lot on protecting the king rather than taking him into the battle,” William added.

“Oh, I think that makes sense. I’ve met several kings and queens, and the queen is often doing much more than the king.” Roland answered back, seeming to appreciate their extra insight. “Of course, if you ever meet one of them, please don’t tell them I said so.” At the last part, he winked at Cam before returning his attention to Gil.

“Yes, this one is a lowly pawn, while he only moves a single space at a time and only forwards,” Gil said, steering the conversation back to his instructions. “Though if it does make it across the board, it can be swapped for any piece, usually the powerful queen.”

“And this?” Roland asked, holding up the bishop piece.

“Ahhhh, that’s a bishop. They can only move diagonally on the same color spot on the board where they were originally sitting. Of course, they can move as far as they like.” Gil said.

“Hmmm…“ Roland nodded as if he understood.

“This one here is the rook or castle. They too can move as many spaces as they like but are restrained to forwards and backwards or left and right only.” Gil was starting to realize that was not going to be a quick discussion.

“Like this then.” Roland took the piece and moved it about the board as Gil had described.

“Exactly,” Gil said. “Maybe you should try a practice game with Cam?” Gil gave the merchant the rules he had written down to aid him while playing. Though, he felt like Roland was catching on far quicker than Cam or William had.

“What?” Cam asked while giving his brother a bit of a frown. While he didn’t hate chess, he had been beaten enough times that he no longer enjoyed the game.

“Roland would like to learn how to play, and I think you would make a perfect opponent for him,” Gil said, trying to encourage his brother. “Roland’s never played before, though, so maybe take it easy on him.” The last part was said as a joke but intended to convince Cam he’d likely win.

Chapter 31: Strategy

Roland took the paper and quickly read it over. Cam was not very good at chess, and Gil knew that. Cam had been beaten in a game of chess by his father earlier that very evening. While Cam was getting better at the game, he couldn’t think more than a single move ahead. For that reason, Gil wanted Cam to play Roland. Not only because Cam would likely win, but because it would be a far closer game than if William or Gil had played.

Using Cam as Roland’s first game partner was a strategic decision for Gil, as he could watch how the merchant reacted to the game. It was in Gil’s mind a test to see if Roland was a worthy business partner. Things were going slower on the toy knight figure than he had hoped they would, but chess might unveil a weakness Gil could exploit.

Obliging Gil’s request, Cam sat down opposite Roland, and soon a game was underway. The merchant was proving to be a far better player than Gil had suspected him of being. Especially with Roland having just learned the game only a few minutes before. Cam, however, who had played Gil and William many times, did win, but barely.

“I won?” Cam asked, in shock at such an outcome.

“Yes, you did, but it was Roland’s first time playing,” Gil said.

Gil’s words took the victory right out of Cam, who had been feeling proud of himself. Roland seemed delighted at how the game turned out and clapped his hands together. The merchant’s actions brought a smile to Cam’s face, and he laughed.

“Thank you for that game, young man,” Roland said to Cam. “May we have a rematch?”

“I think maybe you should play my dad,” Cam said. Having only barely won the last game, he was hesitant to try again.

“Well, what do you think?” Roland asked, looking over at William.

“Sure, we can play a game,” William said.

William stepped in to take over, and Cam breathed a sigh of relief as he stood up. Surprisingly, the merchant seemed to have a genuine knack for the game, and William barely beat him. That was surprising to Gil, as William was far better at chess than Cam.

“Ah, you have won,” Roland said.

William smiled as Gil explained the house rankings to the merchant. As the game creator, Gil was the best in the household. However, his father was getting a lot better, which meant their games were far closer. Roland listened, captivated by the game.

“I want to buy this,” Roland said. “How much?”

“I don’t want to sell it,” Gil said.

“I’ll give you two silver coins for this game,” Roland countered, looking over it in awe.

“It’s not for sale,” Gil insisted, wanting to move past the chessboard and on to negotiating the toy knight.

“How about a gold and a silver coin?” Roland asked, unfazed by Gil’s refusal.

Gil sighed, Roland was going to keep upping the price, and he had to figure a way to shift the topic back to what the business meeting was supposed to be about. “I can’t sell this one,” Gil said. “I will make you your very own game of chess. I don’t want to sell this particular one as my entire family helped me create it.”

“I see,” Roland said, disappointed but understanding of the sentimental ties to it.

With the discussion of the chessboard done, for now, William interrupted, standing, “Go ahead and pick up the game, Cam.”

Gil then took the empty seat across from the merchant as Cam cleared the chess set from the table. William moved over and leaned against the wall, intending to stay at the back of the conversation, as he knew he could always jump in if needed. Gil had shown himself to have a good grasp on money, having drawn up the apple deal the fall before.

Finally, with the matter of the chess game temporarily settled, their attention could turn to the knight figure. That was what Gil had been preparing for, and he was ready. A slight grin appeared on his face as he waited for Roland to open the offer.

“I want to make the toy knight figure in bulk and sell them exclusively through my shops.” Began Roland, looking over at William, seeming to think he was who he would be negotiating with.

“I think you should talk to Gil about the knight as it was all his creation,” William replied.

Roland looked confused. William, the only adult in the room, was instructing him to negotiate with a small child. Typically, that arrangement would not have been acceptable to him. Roland didn’t feel a child would understand the finer details. However, the entire night, starting with the odd board game, made him reconsider.

Looking directly at Gil, Roland spoke again, “To allow me to do that, we need to work out a merchant contract.” Roland wasn’t sure if he should use smaller words with the boy or not, and he sighed.

“I am only a little familiar with the concept of a merchant contract,” Gil explained. “It’s my understanding that it’s an agreement that would outline all the transaction details. Listing such things as your ability to sell the product, make more of the product, and where that product could be sold. Is this all correct?”

Roland was noticeably taken aback by Gil’s understanding of the complicated concept. “Yes, that is, uhm, correct.” Roland stuttered, growing more confused as the night continued.

In Gil’s mind, the concept was not unlike a transfer of copyright from his world. It would allow Roland to make and sell the figures in exchange for money to Gil. Based on that, Gil wanted to make sure the contract was as favorable to him as possible without hurting the merchant. It all took him back to his days at the office, renegotiating food contracts, and the comfortable feeling of it made him smile.

“I feel five gold coins should be sufficient so I can make and sell the toy knight and horse figures.” Roland offered while looking over at Gil. It wasn’t clear to him what Gil was thinking, as he wore a somber look on his face.

An offer having been made, Gil had put on his business face. It was a stern expression that would deny the other party any knowledge of what he was thinking. Gil hoped his young face could pull it off.

William’s eyes lit up at the mention of five gold coins. It wasn’t that William was greedy; he was far from it. Gil would almost certainly have a tough life ahead of him with his damaged leg, and William had become more aware of that over the winter. The money would make life much easier. Looking over at his youngest boy, sitting on one side of the table opposite the merchant, a look of pride came across his face.

“I do have a minor issue, and that is the fact I already sold the figure I had,” Roland said.

“So I,” Gil pointed to himself for emphasis, “would need to make another figure for you?” Gil asked. That detail was not an issue from Gil’s side of things, as he had a couple of changes he wanted to make to the design anyway. However, he knew that fact could play out to his advantage in the contract terms.

“Well, yes,” Roland said, looking down at the table, having realized the same thing. That was a weak spot in the contract negotiation, and being an experienced merchant, he knew that. Reaching up, he scratched his head, wondering if Gil was also aware of it.

Gil seized on that and leaned forward. “It will take some time to make the new figure. Since we are doing that, we should add another figure for the knight to fight.”

“Another figure?” Roland smiled. While he thought that having lost the original figure would hurt the deal, the child wanted to make even more figures and add them into the agreement.

“Of course, making more figures will take some time,” Gil said. Regardless of the actual amount of time it took, that strengthened his position in the negotiation. “Due to this, I think four gold coins and 10% of each sale made would be better for me.”

It was a fact he didn’t have a product unless Gil made another one, and he had no idea how long such a thing would take. Roland took his time to think it over, but he already knew he would accept the offer. While he had initially been confused about why William had not helped his son negotiate, Roland now fully understood. Frowning, he recognized the tiny child in front of him had beaten him. Nodding his head slowly, he finally spoke. “Okay, I think those terms are agreeable.”

With that, he stuck out his hand to the small boy. Gil leaned as far forward as he could, grabbed Roland’s hand with both of his, and shook it. The slight frown on Roland’s face turned into a smile as he became amused by the young boy across the table from him. That new little business partner had driven a better deal than many of the professional merchants he dealt with.

“So you will make one articulated knight with weapons, a horse, and one enemy. After that, we will finalize the contract at the Merchant’s Guild, as we will both need to sign the final terms. So I shall return to pick you up after the new figures have been agreed upon. Then we will have to travel to the Merchant’s Guild in Brighton.” Roland said.

Gil nodded his head up and down, having a much better understanding of what a merchant’s contract was. With the business matter all complete, Roland stood. The contract terms were all laid out, and Gil had work he needed to start.

Once Roland had left, life inside the cabin returned to normal very quickly.

“Why did you take four gold coins and not the five?” Cam asked.

“Oh, it will be more money in the long run,” Gil replied, looking over at his brother, who seemed stunned at the amount of money they had just been discussing. Cam looked jealous, which was an incredibly rare sight on the young boy. Somehow that made Gil happy.

“You can buy dozens of swords with that kind of money, Gil,“ Cam said, thinking of all the things he would buy if he had four gold coins. “I could buy knight armor and a shield and maybe even a horse.”

The fact Cam had just listed off the very things his brother had been making miniature versions of did not escape Gil. It was ironic, but it also just served to reinforce the idea his figures would be something almost any kid in the kingdom would want to play with. Gil just shook his head in wonder at all the things Cam was saying.

Then Gil turned his gaze up at his father, who had a great big smile on his face. Feeling genuinely happy, he breathed deeply. Having gone from just a few coppers to gold, he felt an enormous sense of accomplishment.

“It's about time for bed, boys,” William said.

That night, Gil was finally able to get some long-deserved sleep. Having created and sold the first action figure ever made in the world, he felt proud of himself. With the new deal terms complete, he was sure to sell even more. Gil's dreams were full of automation and magic being used to recreate his original figures in mass production.

Chapter 32: Figures

As his free time permitted, Gil began work on the new toy figures. Starting over from scratch was both a blessing and a curse. It did allow him to make several rough designs for the parts of the figure before deciding the direction he wanted to go in, but it also meant he had nothing to look at as a finished product.

After several failed attempts, Gil finally settled on the one he liked. With that decision made, he began working in earnest on the final figure. The entire design was a compromise between what looked good and what was practical for a toy. As such, it pushed Gil to his limit talent-wise.

The design Gil finally settled on was made so that the craftsmen could more easily reproduce it. That was done by making them slightly less detailed but keeping all the original features intact. One of the significant changes he made was to add a slight swivel to the knight's midsection. Overall he was happy with the new design and thought it was a far better end product.

William looked over at his youngest and could see the project he was working on was a big one. Even at Gil's skill level, it would take someone a month or longer to complete working only when possible. That left him torn between stepping in and helping out or letting Gil figure it out independently. William eventually decided to stay in the back, available if Gil were to ask for his help.

About a week later, Roland stopped by the cabin to check how the work was proceeding on the toy figures. That wasn't because Roland didn't trust Gil. It was just that he wanted to get the figure in hand to be reproduced as soon as possible. Roland was also a shrewd businessman, so he knew it was good to check up on his future investment with so much money on the line.

With the business matter all settled from Gil's point of view, he found the visits more nuisance than helpful. While he understood Roland's point of view, he also was the one doing the physical work. Having Roland looking over his shoulder while he did it was bothersome because Roland liked to ask questions about everything.

Roland wanted to examine everything, hold it and fully understand the design. The problem with that was Roland was not familiar with wood carving in the least. That forced Gil to stop what he was doing and explain to Roland what function every piece of wood did. In Gil's eyes, Roland was just in his way.

Additionally, all Gil could show Roland at that point in the design were the parts that would eventually fit together. Thus far, all that was done was a pair of legs, which had been assembled for the knight. It was less than exciting and not something a business person wanted to show off at a meeting. I wish he would just let me focus and quit interrupting me.

“So this piece will be part of the figure's arm?” Roland asked, twisting the small wooden piece in his hand.

“Yes, that's the forearm of the figure. Each piece has to be made separately so the figure can move properly.” Gil replied.

“Marvelous, it's simply amazing. So this is attached to the tiny wooden ball piece to make a movable arm?” Roland, at least to Gil, was stating the obvious.

Eventually, Roland left, and Gil hoped he wouldn’t make these surprise visits a regular occurrence. The progress on the new figure was taking far longer than Gil had thought it would. To get the figures done as Roland wanted, he would need more time during the day to work on them.

Leading Gil to bring the matter of needing more time up to William. It was hard for him to accept he had misjudged the time he would need to finish the toy figures, but delays did happen in business. Being far more experienced in wood crafting, William was already aware it would be a problem, and for his part, he was very understanding.

“I’m going to need more time to work on the new figures,” Gil told his father. “I just don’t have enough free time during the day.”

“I see,” William said. “I suppose I could excuse you from the first part of the workday. You would still be expected to help out in the late afternoon, though.”

Gil nodded his head at the response. “That would help.”

Due to his limp, Gil had never really thought of himself as much help in the mornings anyway. It made sense to him he wouldn’t be needed at that time. However, since his woodcarving skills had improved, they needed his help to complete the family’s orders in the afternoon. Gil understood and didn’t want to put his family in any financial hardship over the contract.

At first, Gil thought Cam might be jealous of him skipping the morning work session, but Cam liked going outside so much he didn’t mind. It even seemed like Cam strangely pitied Gil because of it. However, Gil was happy not to be outdoors doing the heavy lifting and instead be left alone to work on the wooden toys.

When Gil had finished the rough knight figure, Roland once more popped in for another surprise inspection. Gil was not any more pleased about this visit than he was about the last, but at least he had something to show. Perhaps seeing the finished knight will convince him I don’t need his supervision.

“How is it going today?” Roland asked.

“The knight figure is done and over there. I still need to finish up the details and the weapons for his hands.” Gil said.

“I see,” Roland said, lifting the knight off the table. Looking it over, a splinter from the rough wood found its way into his thumb. “Oww, that hurts.”

“Yea, I haven’t smoothed him off yet, be careful,” Gil replied, reaching out to take the figure from Roland. Gil was more worried Roland might get blood on the figure than he was about Roland’s thumb. Grabbing a piece of cloth from the kitchen, Cam handed it to Roland.

“Until the wood is smoothed down, it can be rough on soft hands,” Cam said.

“Have you started on my chess game yet?” Roland asked.

“No, I can only make one thing at a time. You want these figures done first, right?” Gil asked.

“Yes,” Roland said, disappointed as he had wanted the chess game as soon as possible too.

“Can I borrow the instructions for the chess game to make a copy of them?” Roland asked.

“Sure,” Gil replied. “Cam, can you get those?”

Cam moved over to where the chess game was and brought it back to the table. Looking through the pieces, he found the instructions and handed them to Roland. The entire family was now very familiar with the game and no longer needed them to play.

“So, have you thought over the terms for a contract for the chess game yet?” Roland asked.

Gil was still hesitant to make a deal for the chess game, partly because it wasn’t his idea and because he knew it had massive potential for sales. Roland seemed oblivious to this and often would continue to make offers for the rights to the game when he visited. How can I sell something I didn’t create?

To get Roland out of his hair, Gil said, “How about six gold coins for the chess game and 25% of the final sale value.” Gil figured Roland was not about to spend that much money.

“I think four gold coins and 10% of sales is far more reasonable.” Roland countered.

“The chess game takes a lot more work to make and should have a much larger audience than the toy figures,” Gil said, looking up from the figure he was working on.

Roland sighed, knowing they had once again reached an impasse about the board game. William, who had been watching them from the side, was torn between the gold coin amounts Roland offered and Gil’s reluctance to budge on the price of the chess game. However, he didn’t feel it was his place to step in and demand Gil make a deal for the game. After all, William considered the deal Gil already had for the figure to be an excellent one.

Roland, knowing he would have to be satisfied with just the instructions for the game, finally left. Gil let out a breath of relief and kept working on the toys. If he would just let me be, I could get these completed faster.

For the enemy to the knight toy figure, Gil designed a dragon. William seemed strangely uneasy about Gil’s choice of a monster but nevertheless helped Gil with the creature’s design. William was just happy to help as Gil had insisted on doing all the work himself up to that point.

The dragon’s head and neck were made to move up and down, allowing for many different poses. There were wings on the dragon’s back that could also be moved to make it look as if it were flying. Gil took the time to detail it to look as if it had hundreds of tiny scales.

These features took a couple of tries to get just right, especially the wings. Originally they were too fragile and would break off the figure. It was only with William’s experience, Gil solved the problem. In the end, he was incredibly proud of the dragon’s design, liking it better than the knight.

The articulation of the figures was what Gil was most proud of. Gil made the sword and shield for the knight figure out of a harder wood, which took him more time to shape. The reason being it made them far tougher and less likely to break, which was important since they were so small. Using the same trick William had taught him for the dragon’s wings.

As Cam wasn’t working on the building process of the figures, Gil had farmed out the rough shape of the last few checkers to him to do in his free time. Gil would then do a few touch-ups on the round shapes Cam had formed, as time permitted. By splitting up the work that way, they could complete the family’s checkers game.

“See the pieces. They can only move one diagonal space next to them towards my side,” Gil said.

“Like this?” Cam asked.

“Yes, Now if you get one to my back row, it will become a king, and then it can move forward and backwards,” Gil said.

“Hmmm, ok, but what if one of your pieces is in the way?” Cam asked.

“That’s the best part of this game. If my piece has an empty square behind it, then you can jump over it and take my piece.” Gil said.

“Ok, so can I jump twice if there is enough spaces?” Cam questioned.

“Yes, in fact, it’s a good way to win the game,” Gil said.

Cam seemed to take to the game of checkers, most likely due to its more simplistic rules. Checkers required far less strategy than chess did.  “I beat you again, Gil!” Cam said with a big smile on his face.

Gil groaned, but he wasn’t upset, as he didn’t see checkers as much of a game. That made him care far less about who won and lost than he did with chess. For him, the interest in playing was almost entirely focused on trying out the pieces to make sure everything was smoothed off and working well.

Cam was the best in the family at checkers, beating William and Gil every time they played. Eventually, he found himself in the opposite position he had been in with chess, as neither Gil nor William wanted to play.

Over time all the small accessories for the figures were complete and ready for Roland to look over. Cam had made some simple suggestions for the armor design and weapons on the toy figures. Cam knew a great deal about those areas, and Gil had found his brother’s advice helpful.

“Hey, Cam, I think I’m done,” Gil said, with the figures laid out in front of him.

“Let me see,” Cam said, moving over to the table. “These are cool.” Cam reached over, picked up the knight figure from the table, and moved its legs and arms about. “I like it. You did an amazing job!” In many ways, he was just as proud as Gil at how the figures had turned out.

All that remained was for Roland and Gil to sign the contract over the figures, which would require Gil to go into the village. Gil was anxious to get it signed and have the deal finalized. Unfortunately, the one time Gil needed Roland to check-in, he was nowhere to be found. You can’t leave me alone to get them made, but you won’t show up now they’re finished. I wonder if he’s in Brighton or off making other trades?

About The Author

Kathy Rose

Kathy is from the Midwest and started writing before she could read. One of the earliest gifts she remembers receiving was a kid’s desk with a light table for tracing, which she used to trace full pages of books. While dystopian novels are her favorite kind, she is drawn to all genres of fiction and thinks the ideal way to spend your afternoon is outside with a good book.

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