Chapter 41: The Farmer And His Family

Chapter 41: The Farmer And His Family

1 Month Before Kadras Ascension

Two Months Before New Voidling Incursions

Rural Western Duchey, Kingdom of Mankind

Landar

I heard the twigs snapping almost lazily as my prey moved towards the clear meadow I had been watching for the last two hours. Watching and waiting. The cold of early winter was biting against my skin in a familiar way that clouded my mind with dark memories. I took deep, slow breaths to shake them, and refocused on the hunt.

This will finish topping our meat stores off, so I wont have to go back out once the snow gets here. I shook the thought away, I had to focus. I had been on my way back to the Farmstead from town, having completed another shipment of reinforced nails for the blacksmith when I had heard the mating call. It was late in the season for a bull to be in rut, but it wasnt entirely unheard of.

First I heard the scraping of metal infused antlers on stone tree bark. That had been the first sign the Farmer had taught me to look for, or rather listen for. Then, I heard the heavy breathing, and frustrating chuffing. That had been the second clue. And if the noise was anything to go by, it was going to be a major haul. The buck must have been massive to make so much ruckus all on his own.

That made me look for the closest blue grass meadow, a Copper Tip Deers favorite food source. Once I found it, all I had to do was wait.

My bow was strung, my hand crafted arrow loose in its draw and the arrowhead gleamed with its mana hardened obsidian black tip. That had been the first real gift I had given back to the Farmer and his family after they had rescued me that winter all those years ago. The stronger, more easily maintained hunting arrowheads. Something they would never have been able to afford on their own, and I was able to provide it to them. Making the Farmer and his sons hunting trips that much easier that winter.

The memory made me smile a little. The pride I had felt at giving back in a real, tangible way, was still there. Healthy as ever. Sure, there were darker memories behind it. But that one? Being rescued by the farmer and his wife and children? That had been a good one.

Walking out of the city while it was still on fire like I was a zombie, my shoes were quickly eaten up by the road. My bare feet were cut to pieces by the cold, nearly frozen stones at first. Why I didnt stop and fashion new ones, I wasnt sure. I still didnt remember everything that happened, or exactly how I got out. But I had been on the main road south, with cut up bloody feet as the first snows fell.

And they kept falling.

Winter came exceptionally early that year, and I was hardly the only one fleeing south. Fleeing the violence the city had degenerated into.

Enough, I told myself, shaking my head in frustration. The past is behind you. Leave it there, until you can do something about it.

That had been the mantra gifted to me by the farmer's wife, Wilma. She was a kind hearted woman, hard working, and tough as cold stone when she had to be. But she was warm as a good fire after a long winter trek on the road most other times.

Her husband, Fradel, a weird name if anyone ever heard one, preferred to simply be known as The Farmer most days. His mother had been a drunk and a whore, according to town rumors and she had meant to say Fred when he was born but slurred the words so badly the gray priest who had helped with the birth wrote it down wrong.

But the man had built himself a home, scraped together a barely producing farm out of rocky land no one else wanted, and then convinced Wilmas father to let her marry him.

The two had a truly intimidating number of children at twelve. And those were just the ones that had survived so far. There had been others, lots of others, according to gossip in town. Life out here in the middle of no where, far from any large city and off the main road ways was dangerous and difficult. To say the least.

They lived modest lives, if by modest you meant third world levels of poverty and food insecurity. But they were all of them, hard workers. Most of the children were old enough to help out around the farm, and so the house, which had been a small one bedroom, kitchen, and storeroom smaller than my family's old apartment back in the capital had been, had grown over time.

Now, it had seven rooms. Most with two or three kids to a room. With the oldest children having their own small cabins on the rather large farmstead. The land was piss poor for farming domestic crops. But it was rich in wild berries, game, and other sources of food. Making hunting and gathering far more reliable then planting and harvesting. Something the entire family, including myself for the last several years, was constantly at work doing.

Roots, berries, hares, and a type of pheasant like bird that was as stupid as Quail in mating season but faster on the ground then it was in the air were common stock. Which was saying something. It was far more effective to lay traps, then to actively hunt most days.

But the farmer kept working. Kept tilling his crappy fields, and removing boulders and stones from them each and every year. The meager crop they gathered in was always more work than it was worth in my estimation.

Gets easier every year, the old man insisted. But I wasnt so sure. It was back breaking work. I was sure the man had cut his own life span in half from just how much he . . .

The buck stormed out of the underbrush and into the center of the meadow. Hot breath streamed from his nostrils as he angrily took in the scene. He was breathing heavily, and still clearly under the affects of his yearly musk.

Well, hes not as big as I thought. But, hell do.

I pulled the draw string as quietly as I could and waited through the bush. I gave myself a few seconds, breathing steadily to slow my heart rate, and steady my hands. I activated my mental journal, and confirmed just what I was looking at.

Copper Tipped Deer

Male

Apx. Weight: 295lbs

8 point antlers

Potential uses: Meat - Food. Sinew - Draw strings. Antlers - Knives and other basic tools. Bones - Glue and other forms of adhesive.

My Mental Journal ability had expanded dramatically over the last few years as I improved on the enchantment. Now, it acted more like a wiki. I still hadnt figured out a way to make it automatically pull up information, which meant I had to search for it in the mental constructs database. But, that database was growing every day.

When I got there they were boiling the canned meat, the last step in the process.

Good kill Landar, the Farmer said. You did well boy.

Thanks.

Yeah not bad, John said, he was Gwen's husband. Broad shouldered and strong, but much shorter than the rest of us there. Though that wasnt an entirely fair description, he was average height after all.

Right through the lounges and cracked the spine. A very clean kill. Im surprised you had to use your ax. Gregory, Marthas husband said. He was older than John, but not by much. Mirroring the sisters own relationship.

Why dont you two lads go inside and help finish setting up for dinner. Me and Landar can watch the water boil, and clean up. The Farmer said, and his two son in laws agreed and went inside to help their families with dinner duty. So, where did you find him?

About the midway point between town and home.

And your legs arent shaking. Even a little. He gave me a scrutinizing gaze. I knew you were a strong lad, but that? Thats beyond normal. I opened my mouth to say some explanation but he shook his head. It dont bother me none Landar. Just dont piss into the wind and tell me it's raining. You were what, eleven winters when we picked you up? Your feet all bloody and your body nearly as blue as the ice you was bleeding on. Even then you were strong as an ox. And youve only gotten stronger since.

He shook his head, clearly annoyed by the topic, and took the pot with the six jars in it off the small fire. Look. Whatever trouble you got into back in Vlane, youre kin now. You understand? Kin lad. That means you can tell me anything short of murdering my own blood, and I'd have your back. But if I were to ever take you back there, Id need to know I wasnt putting my blood at risk. Understood?

My blood ran cold. Return to Vlane? After five years? The capital of the western duchy was a place filled with haunting memories. And a burning desire for revenge that even now, I felt calling me.

Out here in the middle of nowhere, I felt content. It was peaceful despite all the hardship and toil. Magic wasnt a major part of life, and what little there was of it either came from the local Dwarven smiths the town traded with for ore occasionally, or the Grey Priesthood.

And Father Earl was a good man who didnt ask any questions of no one. He knew enough to not spread around a confession like gossip, or to speculate on things best left to the Gods eyes and ears. At least, that's what the Farmer and Wilma said whenever he was brought up.

I had avoided the man as much as possible. Pretty much the entire five years I lived here. The only time I had said so much as a full sentence to him was when I first arrived, and the man had treated and healed my feet with a simple spell.

Even that much magic seemed to exhaust him.

I shook myself. I was trying to avoid what Farmer had just said.

Im sorry sir. Did you say return to Vlane? Why? We have everything here, dont we?

Boy, do you know why I was in Vlane in the first place? Gods know I hate that place. Stinks of desperation and rot.

I thought about it, and realized I didnt know. I shook my head.

I was dropping off our towns tithe and taxes. Father Earl is too old to be making the trip yearly. So, every year one of us towns folk get sattled with the duty. Taxes to the Duke, and Tithes to the Grey so we can keep Earl around. This year, well be asking for an apprentice to come back with us, so Earl can start training the next one. Hes thinking he might not have long left. And im the only one with a wagon large enough for the tithes, taxes, my fat ass, and a couple of passengers.

What about the Crawlers? Dont they have that covered wagon?

Farmer nodded. Aye they did. Was a good sturdy thing too. But they got hold up by some bastard highwaymen a few months ago. Lost the wagon, but thankfully the horses showed back up on their farm a few days later. Half starved, but alive. They rebuilt, and have a wagon again. But it aint nearly as large as mine. And the Teetles lost their father last winter, so they cant take it. Theyre too busy just trying to keep things running. And there ain't no one else in town, save Lord Desmond, that old half crazy coot, who has horses strong enough, and a wagon large enough. So . . . im going.

When? I asked, realizing hed need to leave in the next few days if he was going to make it back before the deepest snows.

Tomorrow. If this storm lets up. If it turns into a blizzard, then first week of spring. It's a few days to Vlane, and a few days back and I cant be doing that in deep snow.

I take it you want me to go with you? he nodded as he finished putting the last jar away in the pantry. Because John and Gregory have wives, and I dont have anyone to care for other then myself. Just in case, im expendable.

I wasnt angry at the idea. It was practical and honestly, morally right in my view.

There's some sad sense in that, true. Hell, I'm in the same wagon. Im just an old man who cant work nearly as hard as he once could. But theres more to it. Youre also nearly a man grown, Landar. It's time we start introducing you to people. See about, well, see about finding you a woman so you can start your own family.

I must have looked shocked, and the edges of his mouth crept up into what for him was a wicked smile. I once thought itd be Martha, but she was too old for you anyway. And then for a minute or two there, Wilma and I thought Gwen might make a good match. But, shes not as inquisitive as you are. Always tinkering with things, and people. Trying to make them better. No . . . you need someone who can handle your . . . Well, to be blunt lad, someone who can handle you. Without either breaking your spirit, or being broken by it.

Right . . . can I think on it tonight?

Yes lad. Give it a took think, and well talk in the morning while I prepare the horses. Tonight, eat, have a good time. Visit with the family, and get to bed early. First day of winter, or on our trip to Vlane, well need our rest for tomorrow.

He left me in the workshop, and for a few minutes I stood there considering his words. Finally, I made up my mind and headed to the one place on the Farmstead that was truly mine. A place I'd had made for me nearly four years ago.

I entered the light winter storm, and headed towards my forge.

The Copper Tipped Antlers, all eight points worth of them, in my hands.