Troublemaker

There once was a man with many skills. He wandered from village to village and from town to town, gathering the very best he could find, and hiring them in his service. You see, he aimed to one day be the greatest merchant in the land, with the most talented workmen in his employ.

He had a knack for finding the things men were best at and afterwards refining their skills to perfection. While he himself could do many things well, he wanted many men to do some things flawlessly.

One day he came upon a town. They had smiths and fletchers, leatherworkers and brewers, apothecaries and tailors. He had heard that many fine craftsmen lived here, so he set himself to finding the very best to bring into his fold.

He visited the smiths and assessed their skill. Truly, some were masters of their art. He visited the tailors and was astounded by some of the embroidery he saw. The fletchers' arrows flew true, the brewers made the best ales and wines, and so on.

But over the days he spent in town, visiting shops and forges and the like, he kept hearing complaints. Whenever he saw a piece of intricately forged steel - that had been sadly misshapen - or a batch of perfectly tipped arrows - all broken at the shaft - or a cauldron of herbs - being thrown out - he always heard the same complaints: it's that boy.

Inquiring further, he found out that a local boy had a habit of getting himself into all sorts of trouble. "He means well" they said "but has little to no skill at all. I've had him sent to the shop next, lest he ruin my business."

And on and on. Praise there was, as well, yes, Skill in this, skill in that, but untrained, unpolished, just not worth the effort. Until he reached the lower of the craftsmen, who could say nothing ill of this boy. Yes, he would make mistakes. But so had they all.

So the man found out where the boy lived and journeyed there. He found a small farm. From afar, it did not seem like much. But as he drew closer, he saw all sorts of marvelous things. Water pumps leading to irrigation ditches, animal enclosures secured with intricate locks, chains wrought firm, thatched roofs on barns, things one wouldn't expect from such a meager stead.

And as he arrived at the front door, the farmer stepped out and, without even saying hello, asked "What's he done this time?" The boy looked out from behind his father's elbow.

"Nothing yet," the man said with a smile "but he will."