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 their 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 pushing. 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. “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 held her hand tightly, trying to reassure her that he didn't 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’s taxes,” 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 centimeters 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 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 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 CobbleStones 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. “I can’t lie on the records just to save the Silversmith 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 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