The absolute truth about telling the truth is that it typically leads to dodgy outcomes and sticky situations. While some holier than thou pricks have the luxury of calling a well placed lie morally bankrupt, they have been fortunate enough not to be born as gutter trash. Sometimes a small fib about where you’ve come from can make all the difference when landing a fancy job. For example, Duke of Horvath, when pitted with two options to be his gardener, chose the blind crippled boy from a long lost tribe of nomad warriors over the boy from the village next door with ten years of experience growing the nation's largest turnips. What Horvath failed to realize was that both applications were the same individual who wasn’t even a boy. And while Duke Horvath’s completely unrelated demise a few months later was somewhat suspicious, no one could argue that the variety of roses springing from the estate weren’t immaculate. Those roses would be wilting if not for the intervention of a well-intentioned liar.

It was funny and a little disconcerting how thieves, who wanted nothing more than to chop my body into tiny pieces, now stood by my side and asked me personal questions with genuine curiosity. It was the magic of coins, I supposed.

The journey to the Capital didn’t take too much time, although my calves were beginning to become sore, and the constant talking of the bandits and Azog was making me want to pull my hair out. I was in a terrible mood for good reason; walking in the daylight made my eyes hurt. The comforting shade that came from the forest had been replaced by fields of staple crops that lined the outer wall of the capital. People needed to eat, and food didn’t magically appear from nothing. A richer kingdom could outsource their farming, Nosterdam, however, wasn’t a rich kingdom.

I scowled as Rose opened her mouth one too many times. She was the chattiest of the three bandits and that made her, in my mind, the most insufferable.

“So what exactly do you do for a living where you can hire a strapping mercenary like Azog?” Rose asked.

“It’s none of your business what I do to make my coin. How do you even know that I’m the one paying for Azog’s services?”

“I don’t. That’s why I’m asking.”

“You ask too many questions.” I grumbled.

“And you don’t answer any questions. You’re as suspicious as they come.”

It occurred to me that I needed to come up with a cover story about who I was. I didn’t want to get smited a second time. I ignored Rose’s rude questions over the course of the long walk to the city gates, as I pondered what exactly my backstory should be. I came to the conclusion that it should be something embarrassing; something that is slightly ridiculous and off putting that no one would dig a little deeper into who I was, or deem it worthy to investigate me. Being belittled wasn’t something I was terribly keen on, but if it was what it took to save George then it was worth it.

“Fine. You want to know what I do for a living? Frankly, it’s a bit embarrassing.” I lied. I looked both ways to act as if I didn’t want anyone else to hear me.

“Well, go on?”

“I’m a hole inspector.” I lied. Maybe the job wasn’t too different from a grave digger, but it was always better to base your lies on the truth. I was never a grave digger, but I figured that basing a lie on a lie somewhat close to the truth was good enough.

“A hole inspector? What type of fake job is that?” asked Rose.

“It’s a perfectly real job. If you're digging in a hole, you need to have someone stand over the hole to make sure the hole is being dug right. It would be a horrid outcome if you dug a hole only to find out that it's uneven.”

“Seems to me like that’s a pretty useless job. You could just refill the hole to flatten it out. Man, I hate middle management.”

“My Dad had a hole inspector. He died tripping into a hole,” added Squinty, unhelpfully.

Squinty was right that hole inspectors did, in fact, die in holes. While being a hole inspector was certainly not a prestigious job, they did play a vital role in any hole digging bureaucracy. And while, in numerous people's opinion, bureaucracy is the enemy of efficiency, bureaucracy, through its unholy loopholes, obscure laws, and the misery of waiting in queues, provides much needed order. And without order you have anarchy.

“Now that I’ve told you a little about myself, why don’t you tell me about you?” I shot back at Rose, trying to deflect the nosy girl.

“No, I’ll not do that. When you actually tell me what you do, then I might share little about myself. For now, you’ll view me as a princess.”

“You, a princess? As if, you could be a princess to anything but a single pen of muddy pigs.”

Rose scowled. That was not how you were supposed to talk to a pretty girl. Rose stomped forward full of anger. She still took enough time to avoid the muddy puddles that came from fresh rain. Getting her boots dirty just wouldn’t do.

“Hey, play nice you two. We don’t want to be causing a ruckus right before we reach the city gates.” mediated Azog.

Rose respected Azog’s words so I got some peace and quiet for the first time in what felt like eternity. The serene silence didn’t last long, however. The chatter and yelling of street vendors who stood outside the city grated against my ears. I tried to pull my head beneath my hood. It didn’t work. The merchants sold trinkets of shoddy quality and questionable food to hungry travelers who were probably willing to eat just about anything aside from dirt and maggots. Well, maybe they’d eat the maggots but only the fresh ones, I supposed.

The large arches that led into the city were impressive. I wondered how long it took to build a wall that large. How many workers had heaved the chunks of rocks into place. At least two, I concluded.

“We should’ve gone to the main gate. These tiny side gates are always sketchy,” commented Rose absentmindedly.

“That’s small?! It’s taller than even the largest of Oak trees.”

“Well, you must have been living like a barbarian out in that tiny village of yours. This is the smallest gate in the entire city.” Rose paused, pretending to contemplate. “Maybe leaving the middle of nowhere will be good for you. You’ll learn some manners.”

“Maybe you should live in a small village, so no one can hear your miserable ramblings.”

“What I do is not ramblings! Everything I say is thought out carefully to maximize my dignity and gracefulness. Like you would know anything about being graceful.”

“Well, you’re probably right about that,” I conceded. The way I mucked around with the undead was hardly graceful. It was not like I cared whether or not I was graceful. Well, maybe a little bit. But there were more important things than how others perceived me. I could be graceful if I wanted to, I told myself.

While I was too busy dealing with the existential crisis that Rose had flung on me, both Squinty and Frederick had been promptly paid for attempting to rob us, and left. Squinty left to go join his father’s farm after realizing that robbing wasn’t for him. Frederick claimed he was going to become a priest after having a change of heart. I didn’t believe him one bit and was convinced he was stealing on the other side of the city. That, however, wasn’t my problem.

The problem was that Azog had paid Rose to stick around. I was skeptical that someone like her could lead us to anywhere except trouble.

“Should we get some food? I know the perfect Inn. They’ve got piping hot food, cold beer, and are affordable. ” asked Rose.

“That does sound nice.” Azog commented as he stroked his beard. “Do they happen to have bubble baths?”

“Err, maybe.”

“You’re the tour guide. Shouldn’t you know that?” I asked.

“Well, I’m not an omnipresent god. What’s next? Will you be expecting me to tell you when cows will sprout wings?”

“Well, no. But isn’t it a bit unreasonable to compare flying cows to knowing where to find a good bubble bath. Azog can navigate through the forest like he’s lived there all his life.”

“But that’s easy. You just memorize the different bark patterns. There is no bark in a city,” Azog countered unhelpfully.

“And what can you navigate?” added Rose, snidely.

“Well, fair point.”

“Of course it's a fair point. I’m not wrong about these types of things.”

“Fine, let's go to your Inn,” I conceded.

“About that. If we want a good chance of making it into a nice Inn and a bubble bath, first we need to get past the guards and that’s easier said than done.”

“What do you mean? We’re citizens of the Kingdom. If we were criminals I’d understand, but they can’t keep good folk like us out of the city.” asked Azog.

Rose frowned.

“The sad truth is that they can keep anyone they want out of the city. If you don’t believe me take a look over there.”