The Forgotten Prophecy

Chapter 13

Matthew was woken by a huge banging from outside. For some reason, the smith at the camp had taken on the daily responsibility of rousing the soldiers by making the loudest noises possible. It didn't matter if the whole camp was asleep, he had a schedule to keep to.

Matthew groaned and stared up the ceiling. He had the day off. During the last couple of weeks, he and Peter had achieved the impossible. They hadn't ripped each other's throat, and that was a miracle. He couldn't recount a period that long when they would stand the other, or even have conversations without threats or cursing.

He had to a admit that she often fascinated him. He was curious to discover what was hiding behind her secretive eyes, how she ended up hiding amongst the army's men. She was a puzzle he was desperate to solve. Many times he would stand there studying her, trying to learn more about her, but she was always watchful around him and would shut herself off.

He didn't know why he wanted to get closer to her. For inexplicable reasons, he felt his mind traveling back to her, a frequent mishap that was followed by his swearing at her ability to cause such a brain malfunction. There I go again, he sighed. He had gotten used to it by then.

Sitting aimlessly on his bed wouldn't help much, so he got up and put on some clothes before going outside. He was fortunate enough to not share a room with another soldier, thanks to his prowess in scaring people off. He exited the barracks and went on to have a nice walk around the city.

The weather was unusually good, with the sun shining brightly in the blue skies, and the people flowed out their homes to enjoy the rare phenomenon. Matthew tried to contain his laugh when he saw a fellow soldier being attacked by some feral kids who wanted to climb on his armour. He didn't dare to interfere and quickly changed direction.

He decided to take the main street of the city. He was about to head east, towards the palace, when he saw something familiar from the corner of his eye. He looked closer, and saw it was Peter walking briskly, her mouth set in a hard line. He thought she looked cute when she was thinking.

'Where are you off to?' he asked her.

Peter was taken aback by his sudden appearance, and glanced at him, surprise written on her face. Matthew smiled at her reaction.

'To George. My sword is in terrible shape.'

They had made such a big progress that she didn't glare at him every time he asked her that kind of questions.

'Ah, yes. I'd like to see how that will play out,' he said in a dry tone and followed her.

Strangely enough she didn't object, and the two of them walked to the smith of the city. His leg had completely healed; he didn't limp anymore, but a constant feeling of tiredness he couldn't justify had taken its place. Even then, Matthew managed to keep up with her hurried pace.

The smith's workshop was located in the south part of the city, where other workshops for weapons could be found. Matthew heard the familiar clattering sound of metal and smelled the melted iron that would soon become a sword or a shield.

Peter and Matthew arrived at the blacksmith. The truth was that neither of them liked him. However, his skill in crafting weapons was still unsurpassable. They entered the small yard of the workshop and entered the stone building.

'Hello? George, are you here?' called Peter in the empty room.

'He must have gone outside.'

'We will wait, then.'

Matthew started looking around out of curiosity. The place was a bit dark. It had a desk with stacks of paper on it, a big fireplace with metallic tools that must have been used for heat treatments, water tanks for cooling off the hot metal, shelves and boxes where the weapons were displayed. While he walked around, he accidentally stepped on something on the floor. He looked down and saw a small toy.