Free The Thief's Tale by Jonathan Moeller

The Thief's Tale
    Jager wanted to be like his father Hilder when he grew up. 
    As soon as Jager was old enough to walk, he accompanied Hilder on his rounds. Hilder was the chief servant in the domus of Sir Alan Tallmane, and the old knight’s halfling and human servants both reported to him. Jager always thought his father looked impressive as he strode along in his black coat of office, his boots polished to a mirror shine, his curly gray hair like a dusty mop atop his head. Humans were too tall, their eyes too small and their features too narrow, but at four feet and four inches tall, Hilder was exactly the right height to command respect.
    “It is an honor to serve, Jager,” said Hilder one day as Jager helped him polish Sir Alan’s silver. The household only used the silver plates and goblets on high festival days, the Festivals of the Nativity and the Resurrection, or when Sir Alan and his sons entertained important guests. “A great honor.”
    “Why?” said Jager. He never tired of asking that question, and fortunately his father never wearied of answering it. 
    “Because Sir Alan is a great man,” said Hilder, “and he is a vassal to even greater men. He holds his lands and the village of Caudea as a benefice from the Comes of Westhold, who in turn holds them from the Dux Samothus Carhaine of Caerdracon, who is himself a vassal of the great and noble High King Utharan Pendragon.”
    “But why is it an honor to serve human lords?” said Jager. “We are halflings. Shouldn’t we have our own lords and kings?” 
    “Because without the High King,” said Hilder, “without his Swordbearers and his Magistri, we would still be slaves.”
    “Slaves?” said Jager with a laugh. “I’ve never been a slave.” He passed a polished goblet to his father, who looked at it, nodded in approval, and handed Jager another one. The humans’ drinking goblets were all too large. Maybe that was why old Sir Alan was drunk almost all the time.   
    “And you have never been a slave,” said Hilder, “because the High King freed us. Long ago our kindred came to this world, Jager, summoned here by sorcery. The dark elves and the orcs kept us as slaves, and the urdmordar raised us as cattle to slake their appetites. Then the High King and his armies overthrew the orcish kings, defeated the dark elven princes, and threw down the urdmordar. In the Year of Our Lord 700, the High King Calegraine Pendragon freed our ancestors, and in gratitude, they swore loyalty and service to the High King's knights and nobles until the end of time. Seven and a half centuries have passed since that day, and it is our honor, our privilege, to continue that service.” He grunted. “Polish the base of the goblet like…that. Yes, just so.” 
    Hilder taught Jager how to conduct the affairs of a noble knight’s household, speaking of their history and traditions as they did. Hilder knew the name of his father, and his father, and his father before him, all the way back to their distant ancestor who had sworn to serve the first Tallmane to settle in the village of Caudea. Once these lands had been ruled by a tribe of pagan orcs, but Sir Alan’s ancestor had driven them into the forests of Mhorluusk, and in exchange for their freedom the halflings had sworn themselves to Sir Alan and his heirs. 
    “We continue their noble work to this day,” said Hilder.
    Jager nodded. His father had been so melancholy after the sickness had taken his mother four years past. But listening to him speak of his work, his devotion to their traditions of service, Hilder seemed like a different man, transformed from a sorrowing widower to a man of high purpose.
    Jager soaked it up like a sponge. Someday, Jager vowed, he would be as trusted and as respected as his father. He would continue the noble traditions of his people, and serve the human lords and knights who had liberated them from the urdmordar. 
    He learned everything his father taught, from how to