"Hush, little Jo," Madeline whispered softly to the ten-year-old boy, who couldn't seem to stop crying. His shoulders shook uncontrollably as he mourned the loss of a coin that was meant to buy himself a sweet treat.
Josiah lifted his head and pouted, saying, "But that was my last bit of money. Father won't give me any more," as he sniffed back his tears.
Madeline sighed and squatted down. As she did, her long, thick brown hair swayed, the wind parting to reveal her face, her skin tanned from days spent working at the blacksmith shop owned by her father and also from working in the farm under the burning sun.
She gently patted Josiah's head; his black, short, wavy hair covered his forehead, his innocent eyes now filled with tears.
"Jo, dear, Father would give you something again." Although she doubted that her father would give Jo anything, as he was very strict when it came to money, every penny going back into their wallet was reserved for household expenses.
"If he happens to give you coins and you end up misplacing them, then you would have yourself to blame," but she wouldn't tell Jo that. He was young, and children his age do misplace things. Jo doesn't have to feel bad about the life he has come to know—a life where he could barely eat a proper three square meals a day.
"I will give you a penny, but promise me you will not misplace it," Madeline said.
Jo smiled behind those flushed cheeks. He wiped his eyes, and the glint she had seen in his eyes that morning returned. "Thank you, sister. You are the best."
Madeline laughed and placed the coin in his hands, which he had stretched forward. He gave her a warm hug before dashing over to the street where children of his age were running around.
Jo laughed and waved at him, even though he barely had time for her now. She prayed he wouldn't misplace that coin again, as she barely had any to give him.
"Spoiling your little brother, aren't you?" her father's grudging voice came from behind her, and she jumped.
Her heart nearly flew out of her chest, but she was quick to hold it back, clutching her blue linen dress.
Did he have to scare her like that?
"Father," her voice shook when she saw the anger on his face. He did not look pleased at all, and she understood why, but she couldn't resist the look on Jo's face. The fact that he had tears in his eyes and she would refuse to help him - it would break her.
"We barely have enough to eat, do you realize that, Madeline?" his voice roared with anger.
Madeline bowed her head. She was seventeen years old, and she knew that only if she got lucky and married into a rich home would life be better for them.
And she doubted if any rich suitor would even have eyes for her. All there were were the villagers, the men who could barely work, flirting with her, which was becoming tiring. "I'm sorry, Father."
Her father sighed and walked to her, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Madeline, dear, I do not want you to stop giving to your brother, but this is a really difficult time."
Madeline nodded, meeting her father's gaze. His skin was even more toned, his blonde hair tied in a ponytail that stood erect. His blue eyes, the ones Madeline took after, seemed tired.
"Let's get back to work," he said, heading into the wooden shop with "blacksmith" written on it.
Madeline's shoulders slumped as she followed him inside. Maybe it was because she worked as a blacksmith alongside her father that no wealthy suitor came her way. Not that she needed one, it's just that her family deserved more. They barely made enough from the shop, and most of what they earned each day was paid in taxes to the king.
Sometimes she wondered why the king was so ruthless, asking people who could barely feed themselves to pay the same taxes as the governors and noble men. "The king must be evil," she would think to herself. If only she could set her eyes on him.
However, she had never visited the royal palace, and the king had never visited any commoner, so she did not know him or what he looked like.
All she knew was that he had become king two years ago, after dethroning the previous ruler of their country. No one knew why or what kind of power he possessed, but he had done it in front of the governors. Though rumors suggest that they tried to fight against him, he was just too powerful; they were no match for him.
When Madeline entered the shop, she took the leather apron hanging on the wall and wrapped it over her dress, already wearing her leather boots.
Her father took out a steel sword he had put in the forge and placed it on the metal table. Soon, the sound of the rod meeting the steel reverberated in the room.
Madeline soon focused on work, a skill she had known so well over the years just by watching her father and following his instructions.
Her hand was strong enough to make tools like swords, axes, and shields for knights. Many people have praised her work, and most of them would come to buy just because of her. A few times she had wondered about their intentions, but they said nothing, especially after meeting her father - a big man whom they should be wary of.
However, a year ago, their sales dropped, and she wondered if the new king would never patronize them since the former king usually bought from their shop.
Madeline took out a glowing sword from the fiery forge and placed it in a barrel of water, the steam billowing into the air. The water bubbled as the sword cooled.
"You are getting stronger, my girl," her father praised, as he worked on the steel sword.
Madeline smiled, even though her mother had refused for her to work, she had stubbornly chosen blacksmith work instead of working at the farm, although she does help her occasionally.
"Father, Do we-
"A message to the Blacksmith from the Castle," a man in royal guard clothing barged in.
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