Chapter One: A Peasant's Resolve

A Peasant's Resolve

It's a bright day, the grass is high, the terrain is hilly with sparse trees and many bushes. There is a group of ill-clothed peasants among a small cloister of around twenty shacks surrounded by fields. There is a Longhouse with the name "Knavesmire", which is the community's name, carved into the crest of the door. A good number of the villagers seem to be digging and mining in the more hilly northern part of the area. Some of them are planting carrots and flax in the fields that surround the village the west, east, and south. Right off one of the fields to the south of Knavesmire is a poorly built stable with a dozen horses feeding inside. The day goes on for a while and near the end, people are seemingly growing more and more anxious. There are two men in one of the many fields that are talking. The first one on the upper end of the field, named Fenwin, talks over to the man on the other side of the field, Gold. Fenwin is skinny, with a scruffy neckbeard and Gold, who is named after the yellow colour of his teeth, is tall built and strong with a full beard and long, braided, red hair.

"Rowan back yet?" Fenwin shouts over to Gold.

Gold looks up briefly "Nope." Almost too quiet Fenwin didn't hear him.

"Ugh, he's takin' too long."

"He's probably just delayed."

"Yeh. More'a like trottin' along, enjoying the day 'n' makin' us do his work."

"Well, he is meeting the Baron, we need the metal to survive. It is a serious thing."

Fenwin pauses for a moment and lets out a short scoff and continues working.

As they set back to work, sweating, the men by one of the makeshift mines are annoyed and frustrated, and the few that aren't either at the mines or in the fields are trying to gather lumber from the sparse plains that surround the village, and what few trees there are have grown old and rotten in the recent months. Overall, as the day gets older tension grows. After a few hours pass and as the sun starts to set a horse can be heard from off in the distance, coming from the Northeast of the village. The men at the mine, which are closest to this Northeast side huddle together and grip tightly to their tools. The men in the fields and around the trees gather together as well and start to duck behind the nearest cover. For many moments all that can be heard are the swaying of the trees, the chirping of the birds and, of course, the sounds of a galloping horse inevitably coming closer. The Villagers see a panicked horse running towards them with a slumped over figure on top of it. Most of them sprint towards the horse in an effort to stop it, it takes several minutes to calm it down, when they do they see that it is Rowan, the village elder, on top of the horse.

Rowan's eyes are glazed over and he is motionless, they cut him loose from the stirrups and drag him down. They notice a rather serious puncture in his lower torso, the end of a crossbow bolt can be seen poking out of the injury. The healer, Trida, rushes over and looks him over. She proclaims that he is still alive. And they quickly carry him over to the longhouse

When Rowan comes to, which takes over an hour, Trida is standing over him. He sees Rowan stirring and goes and starts to leave the room.

"...No.. don't.." Says Rowan weakly as he starts to sit up.

"O-of course.. Then.. But your brother wanted to know when you awaken."

Rowan murmurs something, the herbalist ignores it and keeps on talking,

"He's posted men in the Northern hills in case the corsairs show up. And everyone is on edge, some of them are talking of heading South. And-"

Rowan interrupts her, "And?"

"Uh.." Trida answers.

Rowan repeats what he said, only in a more severe tone. "And?"

"P-people are scared, Rowan, with all that's going on. They want to leave. To go somewhere.. safer." The herbalist says in a sympathetic tone.