The entire walk back to the Silversmith home was silent. Arian slouched her shoulders and kicked a few stones as she walked downhearted, behind her grandfather. Usually, she would eagerly rush to hold his hand as they walked together, side by side but this time it was different. She feared his disapproving gaze. She was stubborn and had moments were she rebelled and her grandfather would always be the first to understand and talk some sense into her but this time he hadn’t said a word after Claudine and Gyllene Goldsmith had left.

They reached the doorstep of the Silversmith house. Her grandfather opened the door and left it ajar, waiting for Arian to enter. The butler announced their return. Martha and Rodger rushed to greet them back, they all stood in the hallway entrance of the house.

“Did you get the documents?” asked Rodger, with beaming smiles.

“How was your little walk, Arian?” asked Martha, glancing down at Arian, who had blood on her mouth and eyebrow. “Oh my! What happened to you?” she asked, hugging Arian. “Who did this to you?” She almost had tears in her eyes.

Arian did not say anything, she was still and quiet, not willing to say a word until her grandfather said something.

“Arian!” exclaimed Rodger, realising his daughter was bloody and her clothes were ruffled like she had been in her first fist fight. “Tell us who did this to you! We will make sure they suffer ten-fold!”

Adam Silversmith glared at his son and daughter-in-law, disapproving of their comments. “We need to have a family meeting immediately,” he said, “everyone, follow me into the family room.” He walked with his hands behind his back as he entered into the family room, waiting for the rest of his family members to follow.

Martha and Rodger gasped. “What? Why?” they asked simultaneously and rushed to follow Adam Silversmith into the family room while Arian slouched her shoulders and walked slowly behind them.

Adam Silversmith sat at the head of the table while Arian stood next to him bowing her head, sulking. Martha and Rodger sat next to each other on the right hand side of Adam.

“It’s Arian,” said Adam Silversmith, sighing heavily. “I witnessed something that no Silversmith should. I know that we have a tedious history with the Goldsmiths and we have kept it to a minimal verbal violence, but for some reason it is escalating,” he said, disappointed. “We must maintain a reputation of integrity and principle living. I will not accept Arian or any Silversmith having angry tussles on the pavements of Cobble Stones!”

Martha and Rodger did not say anything.

“Grandad, I’m sorry. I apologise.” said Arian, in quiet misery. She didn’t look up at any of her family members, just focussed on the wooden floors. “I didn’t mean to punch Gyllene, I know it was wrong. I know you taught me that I should never show violence like that… and I’ll try not too… I mean I won’t ever.”

Adam sighed again, glancing at his granddaughter. “I know you tried, Arian. You always do what I say but it’s the blood of this family that has violence within them. We have always had angst and hatred towards the Goldsmiths, our forefathers had duels with swords and hammers but Arian…” he paused. “I want that to stop, we can no longer be low vile creatures as the Goldsmiths.”

Arian nodded. “Grandfather, I will never fight physically with Gyllene Goldsmith or any other Goldsmiths for remaining days of my life,” promised Arian.

“And you, Rodger and Martha. You also need to make this vow, Arian needs to learn from you two. You are his parents, do not encourage his violent behaviour towards the Goldsmiths.”

“Yes, father,” agreed Rodger and Martha.

Adam sighed heavily, wondering if this family feud with the Goldsmiths would end with the vow made by his family members. “Arian, I will teach you more on the Art of Black-Smithery tomorrow morning, let’s meet after breakfast,” he smiled at Arian and she smiled excitedly in return.

“Yes, grandfather,” said Arian, happy that her grandfather accepted her apology. “I can’t wait.”

Adam stood up and patted Arian gently on the head, he turned to Rodger and Martha. “Get him cleaned up and fix all his injuries and send the doctor’s bill by post to the Goldsmiths. I am going to bed,” said Adam, after he had patted Arian on the head, he left the room.

Once Adam had left, Rodger eyes glistened with excitement. “Arian, what happened? Did you manage to punch that Gyllene in the face?” he inquired.

“I only punched him once,” said Arian, miserably, not willing to re-live her brief disappointing violent minutes. “But he gave me several blows. He kept calling me a small fry, even though I have grown an inch taller,” she complained. “I might not be as big and tall as the rest of the boys at school, but I will be soon enough. I drink all my milk, eat all my vegetables everyday.”

“Of course you’ll grow big and strong,” said Rodger, optimistically. “You’ll learn to swing a decent punch. You know what? We will get you boxing lessons, that will improve your strength and will make you grow taller!”

“Really, dad?” said Arian, slightly happy. “I noticed that every Blacksmith has these muscular big bodies to lift the hammers. You think boxing lessons will help me?”

“Have I ever lied to you? Come here,” said Rodger, hugging his daughter. “We’ll get you cleaned up and it won’t hurt an inch. Doctor Yeats is the best of doctors, he was the doctor who helped your mother give birth.

Martha gazed compassionately at their daughter as Rodger embraced her. They never told Arian that she was not a boy. They had made her believe that she was a boy and let her do all the things boys did. She played rough outdoor sports, played with toy cars and trains, rolled in mud and dirt. Martha wanted her to wear pretty pink clothes and play with dolls and miniature houses but Arian had to be a boy.

Martha sighed, sensing something in her heart prick. She could not continue to lie to Arian. It was time to tell Arian the truth –that she was a girl and should be cautious about fighting and rough adventures. “Before we get you cleaned up,” said Martha, a little nervous. “We need to tell you something.” She walked towards the family embrace and held Rodger and Arian’s hands firmly in each of her own.

“What is it? Mom?” asked Arian, wondering why her mother was so serious. “Is it about the clothes? You should have seen Gyllene! He wore the same clothes as me and demanded I change!”

“That lousy brute,” muttered Rodger, “next time you see him, make sure you give him a good one on the eye.”

“But dad, granddad said I shouldn’t fight with the Goldsmiths anymore,” said Arian.

“Well, of course you should not fight in public. You should do it discreetly where no one can see you. Take some cheap shots,” grinned Rodger.

Martha cleared her throat with somber authority, that Rodger peered up at her and immediately held a serious expression. Something was wrong here, thought Rodger. Before he could identify it, Martha blurted it out.

“Listen, Arian. We must tell you something,” said Martha, rather quickly and nervously. “It’s a secret that you cannot tell anyone. Not even your grandfather. You know the reason why, you aren’t bulkier and probably won’t grow manly is because you were born a girl,” she said.

The room was silent for a few moments.

“What?” croaked Rodger, trying to remember how to breathe.

“What do you mean?” asked Arian, unsure of the words that tumbled out of her mother’s lips. “I’m a girl?” she said, like it was impossible.

“Yes,” affirmed Martha, with a slight look of guilt.

“But…but…” said Arian, trying to gather her thoughts. “The Law of Traditional Blacksmiths Section 4. Rule 3 states that only a male can inherit the Forge and Section 4. Rule 7 states that only a male can be trained as a Blacksmith from the age of 10.”

Rodger finally remembered how to breathe and gasped at Martha, uncertain what to do or how to react at his wife’s shocking news. “Oh, Martha,” he groaned. “Why did you have to tell Arian, now of all times!”

“You mean… it’s true?” said Arian, lifting a quivering eyebrow. “I… I… can’t be a girl…” she said. “The Law of Traditional Blacksmiths Section 4. Rule 3 states that only a male can inherit the Forge and Section 4. Rule 7 states that only a male can be trained as a Blacksmith from the age of 10,” she repeated the rules she had recited earlier.

“What does the Law of Traditional Blacksmiths know,” snapped Rodger, looking at a trembling Arian who was about to cry. He hugged her tightly, trying to comfort her. “We are Silversmiths and you are our child –it doesn’t make a difference whether you are a girl or a boy.”

Arian was numb as her father embraced her. “What…What… do you mean?” she stuttered, her lips trembling but as she spoke the words she realised something horrid. “Grandpa is going to kill me if he finds out,” she said, tears slowly trickling down her pink cheeks. “And the Law of Traditional Blacksmiths is alive! It’s going to burn my existence into ash because of this!” she exclaimed, terrified and teary. “We need to tell grandpa and apologise sincerely to the Law of Traditional Blacksmiths. If we tell the truth everything will be fine,” she said with urgency, struggling to get out of her father’s embrace and desperately trying to grab her parents hands and barge in to tell her grandfather the truth.

“No. No. No,” said Rodger, sternly, holding Arian close. “We can’t have your grandfather know about this!”

“But…but why not?” she asked, pink faced and drenched in tears. She did not really want to hear the answer because even though she already knew the answer, once she heard it, it would make it true.

“He hasn’t known for years, ever since you were born. We can never tell him until he dies,” said Rodger, darkly. “If he finds out, it will be the end of the Silversmiths.”