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Arian Silversmith pretends to be a boy to continue her families' Blacksmith... In the city Terram, two wealthy Blacksmith families are at war with eachother. The Blacksmith Industry has a fortifying law known as the Law of Traditional Blacksmiths which states that daughters, girls or women are unable to inherit a Forge nor become Blacksmiths –it must be the first male born but Arian Silversmith defies the odds and pretends to be a boy to continue her families' legacy... Will the Law of Traditional Blacksmith accept Arian as the true heir of the Blacksmith Industry?

Fantasy / Humor
Hsien W Lou
Age Rating:

Chapter 1: ‘The Hierarchy of Peace’

Before Aliens landed on Earth and claimed land rights over the non-existent City of Raines, eons ago the City of Raines was known as Terram. Terram was governed by a Royal House known as the MollerFrackers. The MollerFrackers were arrogant and devious Kings and Queens that had ruled Terram for thousands of years. They introduced and implemented a governing system known as the Hierarchy of Peace, which shook the very soul of a Terram civilian.

The Hierarchy of Peace kept the Terram civilian up nights and caused them continuous internal turmoil, there wasn’t anything more terrifying and sinister than peace. It made everyone terribly comfortable and forgetful of previous torrential events –like wars, peanut butter on toast – it gave a false impression that everything was safe and well, which was exactly what the Royal House of MollerFrackers would have everyone in Terram believe.

The Hierarchy of Peace had policies that consisted of pink teddy bear punctuation marks and heart-shaped doodles that gave off the false impression of peace. There was a statement within the Terms and Conditions that declared that The Royal House of MollerFrackers would rule for eternity, which in retrospect, is a decent amount of time for royalty. Another, subtle and heart-shaped condition within the Hierarchy of Peace was that new taxes would need to be developed for the better of Terram and its’ civilians. Thus, there were taxes for almost every action that creatures of Terram made –if creatures walked, there would be a Walking Tax; if creatures talked, there would be a Talking Tax.

As the years went on, the taxes became more structured and gained two main categories –Basic Taxes and Advanced Taxes. The Basic Taxes were applied to everyone, they included Eating Tax which was 0.01%, Sleeping Tax which was 2.3%, Standing Tax which was 0.1%, Walking Tax which was 2%, Talking Tax which was 0.2 %, Shouting Tax which was 2.1%; Cursing Tax which was 2.5%.

As soon as a child was born, it would be given an identity document that allocated the list of Basic Taxes that would apply to him or her, but since they couldn’t afford their Basic Taxes due to their tender young age and incapabilities of having proper employment, the costs would be transferred to their parents until the child turned sixteen and could start working. Once a child advanced to the workable age, the Advanced Tax applied to them. Advanced Tax included a heightened percentage of Basic Taxes and higher- level actions such as Working Tax, Horse Riding Tax, Marriage Tax, etc... The lowest tax was the Eating Tax and the highest tax was the Complaining Tax against the Royal House of MollerFrackers which was at a heart stroke 85%.

Thus, with all the new taxes and increased percentages of tax that the governing system –The Hierarchy of Peace brought, the creatures of Terram suffered quietly in fearful peace. Many of them tried to keep their taxes to a bare minimum by trying their upmost best to be polite to their enemies and keep their internal complaints and rants to themselves.

Others tried not to have any children and most of them, tried selecting the necessary taxable actions such as eating and working and avoiding sleeping. This strategy worked for three weeks but then people began to get irritable and angry, and they snapped and cursed at each other with all sorts of vulgarities that triggered far more expensive taxes which they had previously attempted to avoid.

But of course, there are such families that do not care about the expensive tax rates of the Hierarchy of Peace, such as the Silversmiths and Goldsmiths. These are two popular and wealthy families in the settlement of Cobble Stones, they have been in the Blacksmith Industry for centuries. They are known as Masters of Blacksmiths –experts in tools and crafts and abide by the founding law known as the Law of Traditional Blacksmiths.

The Law of Traditional Blacksmiths is a code of conduct with uncompromising rules and conditions that protects and secures the ancient chemical processes of heating and forging.

The Law of Traditional Blacksmiths looked like a simple scroll of paper but all the Blacksmiths who were worthy to be called Blacksmiths knew that the Law of Traditional Blacksmiths was alive. It burned the names on the scroll, of those who qualified to be Masters of Blacksmiths and those who had finally mastered the Art of Black-Smithery. When these Blacksmiths died, the Law of Traditional Blacksmiths would burn their names off the scroll and incorporate the soul of the once living Blacksmith within the scroll.

The Blacksmith Industry abided and was fortified by the Law of Traditional Blacksmiths, they followed, worshipped and respected the traditional ways, competitions, rituals, festivals listed within the scroll. One of the mandatory rules in the Law of Traditional Blacksmiths was that the heir or inheritor of any Black-Smithery would always be the first born male in the family –never ever a female.

The heir would begin training in the special art of casting and forging at the age of ten, this allowed them to understand the reason and production to create such high quality metallic items. The Art of the Black-Smithery did not only consist of hammering hot metal, it was more of a magical occurrence.

In order to be a proficient and outstanding Blacksmith, one needed to be able to foresee and design the finished metallic piece, and understand the chemical boundaries and compounds of metals before and when they were melted, and then one needed to comprehend the different temperature levels and chemical concentrations, and quality of oils and water when the metal was hardened.

But, although one understood the complex variables of creating quality metallic items, there was a magical element that could be applied by a Blacksmith. A Blacksmith could recite a chant and the words chanted would come to life, fortifying the metallic object being forged but this enchanting magic was solely ignited when the Law of Traditional Blacksmiths accepted the first born son of a Black-Smithery and inscribed his name on the scroll.

An eternal tattoo was formed on the wrist of the Blacksmith, verifying that the Law of Traditional Blacksmiths had acknowledged him as a qualified apprentice to become an official Master of Blacksmiths. Although, taxes increased and new ones were formed in Terram and Cobble Stones, the Law of Traditional Blacksmiths remained inflexible as the day it was founded.

And so it begins, like any other average day in Cobble Stones, the sun shone in the bright blue sky, horses trotted along dirt pathways, creatures hustled and bustled giving life to the settlement, trying their best to be polite and maintain their tax rates to a minimum and there was just another vulgar quarrel between the competitive Blacksmith families of the Silversmiths and the Goldsmiths in the market.

They hated each other, ever since the first taxes on iron metal forging had been issued. They were extremely skilled in the Art of Black-Smithery and were the two competitive leading Blacksmith businesses in Cobble Stones. Hence, they were always trying to outshine, outclass and outmanoeuvre each other. Instead, of avoiding the expensive taxes such as Shouting Tax, Cursing Tax etc. both of the families went out of their way to unleash all the shouting and cursing vulgarities that they could think of whenever they happened to encounter each other.

“What brings you to the market?” spat Zerrin Goldsmith, glaring disapprovingly at Rodger and Martha Silversmith. His wife Claudine Goldsmith stood next to him, holding their giggling baby boy – Gyllene Goldsmith. Zerrin Goldsmith had inherited his family’s Goldsmith Forge ten years ago which was built on the opposite road of the Silversmith Forge. He was a fifty year old man, with a bulky, strong frame. He had golden hair which was fading white on the sides but his smooth face and muscular body made it seem like he was ten years younger.

“Why do you ask?” retorted Rodger Silversmith, glaring back at Zerrin Goldsmith. Rodger Silversmith like his nemesis was fifty years of age but instead of a golden mane on his head, he had bright silver strands. He was a short shrewd man who had inherited his family’s Silversmith Forge twelve years ago. Two years earlier than when Zerrin Goldsmith inherited his family business.

According to the Traditional Law of Blacksmiths, the average age of inheriting the business was sixty as this was the age when a Blacksmith had mastered all levels of metal heating and forgery. Thus, inheriting a Blacksmith business at such a young age demonstrated exceptional skill and maturity that was fairly rare in the Blacksmith Industry, and both Zerrin Goldsmith and Rodger Silversmith had achieved this, making them the youngest Masters of Blacksmiths. But the two year gap between them, placed Rodger Silversmith as the youngest Master of Blacksmiths and Zerrin Goldsmith as the second youngest which meant that Rodger Silversmith’s skills were much more noteworthy and this increased the Silversmith Forge status.

“This is a market! It’s public property, not your hovel of a house!” Martha Silversmith spat back at Zerrin. Martha Silversmith was a forty year old woman. She had plain brown hair and was fairly tall compared to the average height of the other women in Cobble Stones and even taller than her own husband. She had married Rodger Silversmith when she was eighteen but unlike Zerrin’s wife who had also married at the age of eighteen and was able to conceive four girls and one boy, Martha struggled to conceive throughout her married years. She was told from her family Doctor –Doctor Sutherland that she had a five percent chance of conceiving. She had wept nights and mornings and in her desperation, she had gone to numerous fortune tellers, shamans, priests all over Terram, to help her in her plight to denounce Doctor Sutherland’s diagnose but they all sadly revealed, she had no hope of getting pregnant.

She was infertile.

But this year everything had changed, a miracle had occurred. She had been feeling eerie and ill – vomiting every hour and everywhere, she stepped her foot in. Her husband noticed and grew deeply concerned. He advised and dragged her to visit Doctor Sutherland and it was such a fortunate visit because Doctor Sutherland revealed that she was in fact pregnant!

As soon as she found out that she was round and pregnant. She rushed back to each and every one of the shamans, fortune tellers and priests who had predicted her eternal infertility, and smugly humiliated them. They had all apologised profusely and prophesied her baby would be a strong healthy boy and this made the entire Silversmith family content.

“Don’t speak to my husband like that, Martha!” cried Claudine with contempt. She cuddled her baby boy closer to her chest. “You’ll upset my baby boy!”

“Are you the only one with a baby boy?” retorted Martha, condescendingly.

“Of course not! But unlike you I have had several children,” said Claudine too sweetly that it came it came out spiteful. “Giving birth is a tough business Martha –especially when you are old and never had one before.”

Martha was unsettled by the comment, usually she would immediately retort back with an insult of her own but this time she stood silent, biting her lip. Her fists were clenched to her sides as she thought nervously about Claudine’s words. Ever since she had gotten married into the Silversmith family, she was pressurised by her parents and in-laws to give birth to a baby boy.

The legacy and reign of the Silversmith Forge depended on her and she had tried and tried but every month she had her menstrual cycle and the Silversmiths were disappointed but she was more than disappointed.

She was devastated.

She knew the Silversmiths loved her, they liked her fierce loyalty but they continuously compared her with Claudine Goldsmith, who popped out babies like a light switch. When she was about to accept the fact that she could not have a child and that perhaps Rodger should find another wife, she had discovered she was pregnant and the Silversmiths loved her even more.

But, the truth was she was already forty and had never given birth before. Her body was weak and aging, her joints and bones hurt and sometimes when she felt the baby kick, she lost all her strength and wanted to collapse. She heard the gossiping and rumours about her that spread through Cobble Stones and Terram. Many of them said that she was no longer young and her time for childbirth had long past and she would lose her life or her baby while giving birth.

But, Martha was a Silversmith and she had her pride. She held her chin high in spite of the rumours. For seven months, she pretended to be unfazed by the intimidating glares and dark comments and walked the streets of Cobble Stones with a self-confidence that only a true Silversmith mother had. She convinced herself all she needed was her husband and the delightful approval of the Silversmiths.

She would give birth to a healthy boy and no-one could stop her –not even Claudine Goldsmith’s comments.

Martha was about to retort with a smug insult but she heard her husband defend her instead.

“Old or young what does it matter?” snapped Rodger. He had a low tolerance for Goldsmiths, especially when they insulted his wife. “My wife is having our first baby and it’s a boy!” he exclaimed with beaming pride. “Didn’t you have to have ten daughters before you gave birth to your son?”

“Ten!” exclaimed Claudine, aghast. “I only had four daughters before I had Gyllene here.”

“Four or ten, it’s all the same if it isn’t the first,” said Rodger. “We will have our first son and he will be called Arian Silversmith like my ancestor who founded the Silversmith Forge,” he delightfully smiled, holding his wife’s hand. “He will continue the Silversmith family name and be the best Blacksmith since my greatest grandfather.”

“Do my ears need to bleed of your disgusting history,” spat Zerrin, turning green at the beaming expression that Rodger had. “Arian Silversmith was never a worthy Blacksmith!”

“Zerrin Goldsmith, you dare insult my outstanding ancestor!” exclaimed Rodger, furiously.

“My ancestor Shiney Goldsmith has insulted your ancestor until his dying breath, why wouldn’t I do the exact same? The Law of Traditional Blacksmiths states that the past must be continued to the present,” said Zerrin, smugly.

“What do you know of the Law of Traditional Blacksmiths?” snapped Rodger. “Your name was inscribed two years after mine as a Master of Blacksmiths, obviously the Law of Traditional Blacksmiths holds me in higher regard than you and you should be aware that my son will continue this!”

“Hah! Two years means nothing! I’ll show you my son will be inscribed and acknowledged by the Law of Traditional Blacksmiths before yours!” said Zerrin, adamantly.

“We will see about that! It’s in the Silversmith blood to be acknowledged by the Law of Traditional Blacksmiths earlier than average –You will see it for yourself Zerrin, my son Arian will be the first Blacksmith anointed at the age of THIRTY!”

“That’s if he doesn’t die, stillborns happen often to aging wives,” said Claudine, with unpleasant sweetness.

Martha gasped.

“How dare you curse my baby?” said Martha, dangerously. Her motherly instincts kicking in. “I will fight you tooth and nail and ensure that you Goldsmiths are exiled from the Blacksmith Industry.”

“And how will you do that?” asked Claudine, incredulously.

“I will show you with my fist!” yelled Martha, about to punch Claudine square in the face but before she could she felt her baby kick. Hard.

“Martha?” asked Rodger, concerned about the sudden change of colour on his wife’s face. She was rather pale. “Are you alright? You were using your fist to honour the Silversmith name but you stopped midway?”

“Arghh,” screamed Martha, answering her husband in pain. She rubbed and stroked her stomach as she felt her first contraction. “I think it’s the baby,” she said, after the pain in her abdomen ceased.

“Is it time?” asked Robert, uncertain. He glanced at his wife’s face, then at her stomach then on the floor. There was a some watery fluid on the ground, it seemed to becoming from his wife’s dress.

Martha followed her husband’s gaze and she smiled in nervous excitement. “It’s the baby, it’s our son. He is ready to fight in this world to bring delight to the Silversmith family.”

“Oh, my,” said Rodger, panicky, moving his head frantically in all directions while he helped his wife stand. “Someone call Doctor Sutherland! My wife is having our baby boy!”

There were loud terrifying screeches and shrieks, echoing through the house of the Silversmiths. Martha Silversmith lay on her master-bed, screaming in pain and sweat while she concentrated on giving birth. Rodger Silversmith frantically paced to and fro on the wooden floors of the bedroom, trying to keep his sights off of his wife’s face and the painful birth of his son.

Doctor Yeats Sutherland who was Rodger’s best-friend and best-man, stood near the side of the bed, assisting in the Silversmith’s childbirth. He could barely see the head of the new Silversmith trying to reach for life.

“Push, Martha!” instructed Doctor Yeats Sutherland. “Push with all your might.”

“I’m trying for Terram’s sake,” screamed Martha, red faced and hot. “Arian Silversmith, you better hurry out! Your mother cannot take this anymore!”

“Bloody hell, Martha. Don’t scold the boy, he hasn’t even been born properly yet,” said Rodger, exhausted from fright.

He paused his frantic pacing and glanced at his sweaty, shouting wife. She looked pale and frail as she tried to avoid the suffering and concentrate on giving birth to their baby. He turned away, too terrified to watch the process of childbirth. He never knew childbirth was a nasty process, there was slime, there was sweat, there was blood and there was something that resembled a tiny head coming out of his wife. “Yeats! You better hurry up and get my son born and my wife well!” he screamed, trying to subdue his fright with anger.

“Are you threatening me? Rodger?” said Doctor Yeats Sutherland, rather calmly. He had witnessed and delivered countless births, he was a professional at this, there would always be screaming and pain from both parents to be. He was an authorised Doctor in Cobble Stones who recorded baby births and issued out their birth certificates and identity documents with the applicable Basic Taxes.

“Of course I am!” said Rodger, hotly. “What husband and father would not threaten a Doctor in this situation!”

“I’m doing the best I can,” said Doctor Yeats, analysing if the head of the baby boy was coming out or back into the womb of his mother. “She needs to push harder.”

“You need to stop telling her what to do and do your job!” exclaimed Rodger, dreading his wife’s screams of pain. “Aren’t you the baby-birth-whisperer? I’ve heard countless rumours about your skill of childbirth. How you guarantee 100% painless childbirth!”

“Oh, that,” said Doctor Yeats, far too calmly like he was stalking a stroll in the park and commenting on the good weather. “Remember that’s the slogan you suggested for my Doctor’s Practice. Baby-birth-whisperer: Doctor Yeats. A 100% guaranteed painless childbirth. It’s what made me so popular.”

“Why did I ever think of that stupid and outrageous suggestion,” groaned Rodger. “It’s ALL false advertising!”

“This is rather funny,” said Doctor Yeats, itching to chuckle when he thought about the past event. “I told you that exact same sentence when you suggested that slogan but you assured me that it wasn’t false advertising at all. You smugly told me that it was what the public wanted to believe, if they wanted to believe in the 100% painless childbirth guarantee for their pregnant wives then they should, and we shouldn’t stop them thinking otherwise. But the fact remains that the 100% guarantee is only related to the Doctor – the Doctor who is a man and cannot get pregnant. I remember you laughing deceivingly as you made a comment of how stupid the public were.”

“What the Terram!” cursed Rodger, frustrated that he was fooled by his own trick but more upset at Doctor Yeats for consenting to the trickery. “Why did you agree to deceive the public? Have you no shame? How do you look yourself in the mirror and smile?”

Doctor Yeats laughed in humorous disbelief. “You are the one who said shame doesn’t understand money and you said, you would end our friendship if I didn’t choose this slogan. You know what the Royal House of Mollerfrackers say, the sun rises and sets every day in Terram and never changes.”

“What does that even mean?” spat Rodger. “And why are you accusing me!”

“Damn you, Rodger Silversmith, you recommended Doctor Yeats Sutherland because of the FAKE 100% painless childbirth guarantee that YOU came up with!” yelled Martha, angrily as she finally understood he was the cause of all her pain and suffering. “I’ll never forgive you!” she grunted out, feeling another painful contraction.

“Martha, it isn’t my fault,” said Rodger, softly and innocently. He rushed to her side and urgently held her hand tightly, trying to reassure her that he did not do anything wrong. “As you know, Martha. Doctor Yeats Sutherland, is a good friend of mine and HE needed the business, HE assured me that HE would take the best care of you. I was also fooled Martha,” he stressed the ‘HE’S’ as he spoke convincingly.

“I’m not even charging you any fees for my services,” said Doctor Yeats, monotonous, well aware that Rodger was trying to strategically blame him. “We have been close friends since childhood. And when I gave you my quotation and breakdown of cost, you asked me in disbelief how could I charge you! And commented that friendship is priceless,” Doctor Yeats mimicked Rodger.

“Damn you, Rodger!” shrieked Martha, pulling her hand away from his soothing grasp. “Why would you do this? Did you just want to save on costs? But… I don’t understand, we are rich. We can afford half of Terram’staxes,” she said dismayed, staring sullenly at her husband. “Why would you do this?”

“Martha, I’m so sorry,” said Rodger softly whilst he glared at Doctor Yeats with a ’this is the end of our friendship look’.

Doctor Yeats shrugged, he was used to Rodger’s childish death glares. They might intimidate the King of the Royal House of MollerFrackers but not Doctor Yeats who had known Rodger’s shrewd and manipulating ways for years.

“I don’t know why you would endanger the birth of our baby for a free service, haven’t you gotten over your penny-pinching ways?” asked Martha, miserably.

Robert was horrified at his wife’s disappointment and immediately wanted to make everything better. He had never seen her brown eyes so saddened. “I’m awfully sorry Martha, but Doctor Yeats… he is definitely the best,” he said, trying to reassure her. He caressed her hand and looked at her with fierce love. “I would put my life on the line on his skills.”

Martha sighed, losing her anger as she experienced another contraction, the pain in her abdomen heightened. “Arghh,” she screamed, squeezing Rodger’s hand in the process. “I don’t know if I can do this,” panted Martha, tired and in more agony than before. “Maybe I am too old, maybe Claudine Goldsmith was right, I just have no proper experience on this,” she cried, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Never!” said Rodger with vigorous resolve, clutching Martha’s hand. “Those Goldsmiths are never right! What do they know about you Martha? Do they know you were the fastest runner in school? Do they know you were school president every year? Do they know that everything you try out the first time is always a success?”

“But… this is different,” said Martha, staring deeply into her husband’s eyes

“It isn’t any different!” he said with passion, wanting her to understand her worth. “Do they know that you never gave up on anything in your life? Do they know you have always been my courage? The things I have done, I could have never done without you! I will never let you agree with a Goldsmith about anything especially when it’s lies about you! They don’t know anything about you that’s why you don’t need to believe a tiny doubt of that filthy Goldsmith,” he said adamantly. “I’ve known you since you were twelve years old and you were the bravest girl and the only woman who deserves to be at my side. You are better than a Goldsmith! You must never berate yourself or compare yourself to such filth. It’s below you.”

Martha tried to smile warmly, her heart radiated with joy at her husband’s words.

“Shall I tell you a secret?” said Rodger, tightening his grip on his wife’s hand.

“What?” she asked, hesitantly, wondering if he was going to confess more of his lies.

“I lied to you when I told you about the first day I fell in love with you,” said Rodger.

“What?” growled Martha, her heart shaky.

“Remember when you punched Zerrin Goldsmith on the face when you were twelve years old?”

“Ah, yes,” she replied, trying to prepare her mind for his confession of lies whilst she was in the process of giving birth.

“That’s the day I fell in love with you and knew that no one else would do,” said Rodger, smiling. “And I know, you will do fine. You and our baby will be fine. You have the courage to punch Zerrin in the face, you definitely have the courage to have our baby.”

Martha returned his smile and took one last courage breath and pushed with all her might, praying that their baby would be perfectly healthy.

“Good job, Mrs Silversmith,” exclaimed Doctor Yeats, lifting the crying baby in his arms. He quickly weighed and measured the length of the new-born baby. “I am here to announce that your baby was born on in the month of Spring and is 50 centimetres long and weighs 2 kilograms. Congratulations, Silversmiths on your new baby.”

Martha and Rodger were relieved and overjoyed staring lovingly at their bundle of joy in Doctor Yeats arms.

“Erm,” said Doctor Yeats, slightly pale when he glanced down at the new-born baby.

“What’s wrong?” inquired Rodger, quivering his words.

“Is he missing limbs?” asked Martha, concerned and pale with worry.

“Well,” paused Doctor Yeats, trying to find the words. “It’s just that –“

“It must be his limbs! Which one is it? His arms or legs? He needs to have two arms to continue the Blacksmith business!” said Rodger nervously. He shut his eyes, frightened to look at his new born child.

“It isn’t anything like that,” said Doctor Yeats, wondering how to explain the matter.

“Then what is it? What’s wrong with him? Why is your face all troubled and scary?” asked Martha.

“There isn’t anything wrong with her,” said Doctor Yeats, hinting subtly at the baby’s gender.

“Thank God!” exclaimed Rodger and Martha simultaneously, “As long as he –“ they both paused and gazed intensely at each other for a second then turned to Doctor Yeats.

“Her?!” they exclaimed, instantly traumatised with shock, despair and some other feeling that just could not be explained in a situation like this.

“Yes,” confirmed Doctor Yeats, “you have successfully given birth to a baby girl.”

“No!” exclaimed Rodger and Martha. “It isn’t possible! All the shaman and priests predicted that this baby was a BOY!”

“They also predicted that you couldn’t fall pregnant but I told you both there was a five percent chance that Mrs Silversmith would be able to conceive, ” said Doctor Yeats, giving his ‘you shouldn’t trust crystal gazers’ look. “Well, I have to record baby Arian’s birth and gender and applicable Basic Taxes,” said Doctor Yeats, placing the new-born baby girl in Robert’s arms and gathering the Identity Document and Birth Certificate for the new-born. He sat down on the nearby desk and took his pen out and began recording the details of baby Arian on the documents.

“You can’t do that!” said Rodger, dumbly gazing at the crying baby in his arms.

“Rodger, what are we going to do?” cried Martha, whimpering in the bed. “I don’t know if I’ll ever have another baby. What will your father say and the Blacksmith Industry?” She began to panic, her face turning pale. “We won’t be able to carry on the Silversmith name and will be ruined.”

He held his baby girl, trying to balance her weight in his arms in all directions to keep her from crying. “Well, we can’t have that,” responded Rodger, finally finding a comfortable and suitable position in his arms, Arian liked. She giggled at him, her silver eyes big and round and happy. An idea crept into his mind as he was mesmerised by her happy, excited face and seeing him. “I have the best solution. Arian here, is our baby boy!” he declared his solution.

Martha was confused. “No, she is a girl. Just look at her,” said Martha, gazing at Arian. The baby had pink rosy cheeks and plump lips like a girl and even though she wanted a boy, the Silversmiths and the Blacksmith Industry wanted a boy. Martha smiled at her baby girl with so much love that it was enough to face the Silversmiths and the Blacksmith Industry with the truth. “Rodger, you must be delirious because of the shocking event. She is a girl, we must accept it. There is no way we can hide this.”said Martha, with strange motherly confidence. “We have to admit she is a gift and a girl to your father and all the other Silversmith elders. It is impossible to hide this.”

“But we can,” said Rodger, feeling the love of fatherhood as he held Arian in his arms. He was getting used to her in his arms. “We can definitely hide her gender from everyone. Can’t we baby Arian?” he asked using a baby tone and his baby nodded, smiling widely.

“We can?” inquired Martha, thinking on the prospect. “What about the Law of Traditional Blacksmiths,” she asked, finding the one problem to the solution. “It’s alive, you said it only chooses males who have the genuine desire and worth to become Blacksmiths.”

“The Law of Traditional Blacksmiths must be bent slightly. How can the Law not accept our cute baby?” asked Rodger, filled with love for the bundle of joy in his hands.

“But what if –“

Rodger cut Martha’s doubts off. “Our baby’s gender will never be discovered. If we treat her as a boy, the Law of Traditional Blacksmiths will do the same!” he said, convincingly. He stared deeply into Arian’s eyes and he believed all the problems that hovered in the room and in the future were non-existent. “Everybody in Cobble Stones knows we are going to have a baby boy, the only people who know the truth are you, me and Doctor Yeats. And believe me Doctor Yeats is not going to tell anyone the truth.”

“Rodger that is insane, it goes against my profession!” said Doctor Yeats, pausing his writing of the birth record. He was about to write female in the gender section of the Birth Certificate. “I can’t lie on the records just to save the Silversmith Forge legacy!”

“Yeats!” exclaimed Rodger in disbelief. “Don’t you remember who paid all your family taxes and your education to became a successful Doctor?”

Doctor Yeats sighed, a troubling sigh and had a look like he had no option but to accept the proposition to deceive.

“We have been friends since we were six years old,” said Rodger, dramatically. “And you know me and Martha have been struggling to have a baby, this might be our only one,” he said, easily guilt tripping Doctor Yeats. “This is a favour I need not as a Doctor but as a loyal friend.”

Doctor Yeats slouched in his chair and sighed again but more heavily. “Alright, but this is the last indiscreet favour I do for you, Rodger,” he said, knowing he was lying. He recorded the gender as male in Arian’s Birth Certificate and then signed it off with his seal.

“Welcome to the beautiful world of the Blacksmith Industry, Arian Silversmith. My only son,” said Rodger grinning from ear to ear, as he held his daughter in his arms. Arian gazed up at her father unsure what he was saying but she giggled in return.

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Tine75: Tolle spannende Geschichte🥰freu mich schon auf den 2ten Teil😍

gamer281: Ich bin eine mega große Leseratte und es ist daher nicht leicht mich für neue Geschichten zu begeistern, aber diese Story hat es mir echt angetan. Vielen lieben Dank, mach weiter so.

Beatriz Selene: I like the way the writer wrote the novel, it keeps you want to read more and more.

marilyn: Wow....I can't believe everything that has happened so far. It's so interesting and intriguing

marilyn: It's awesome to hear about all these shifters finding their fated mates. I can't wait to hear more about them. I also want to hear about the cubs. And for Daryl to find his mate.

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