I've got 20 acres

[Harold Fleabottom]

The afternoon sun was scorching hot up in the sky as the man kept cutting down the crops with his scythe. While he and Artyom had managed to gather some the day before, there was still a lot of crops to gather before they could make some bread and butter, along with distributing some to the neighbors and having his own son go to the neighboring city to sell the leftovers. He wiped some sweat from his forehead as his granddaughter followed him from behind, picking up the things he cut down and then placed them into a basket of sorts. She was already carrying two.

His back stung ever so slightly, but he resisted the pain and kept on working. Lately his back had begun to hurt whenever he crouched down at all. Maybe he was getting old? He loathed the thought with a smile as he returned to cutting as they were getting done with the crop row. He still had some kick in him! He could just feel his spirit returning to him as he kept cutting, once in a while stopping so that his granddaughter could pick up the crops he cut as he wiped more sweat.

Once they reached the end of the crop line he turned around, patting her on the head. "Aight' Nora, ya go and take those to yer ma'. I'll just... Sit here fer a moment and then join ya, ay'?" She smiled to him for a moment before nodding as she then begun to skip across the field towards their house. He held his brave smile until she was out of sight as he then practically collapsed to sit on a nearby rock, letting out a groan of pain. His back was hurting so bad at the moment.

Was he becoming old? He was, he knew so already. Each Sundays training had gotten harder and harder, and he could not even swing a scythe without some back pains anymore. He had multiple times thought about retiring from the field work, but he just... He needed to be of use. So, he'd keep going. For the sake of his children and their own children.

[Jule]

Her expedition into Etruria had been a bust, and with nothing to show for it either. Ultimately, she had given up on her search for the elusive Green Wraith. Hitching a ride with a group of jesters that had been turned around at the holy country's borders, they had finally come to a stop in... Laus? Santuraz? She couldn't remember. All these states looked exactly the same: wine country. Regardless she was ecstatic for the ride home, and in the ensuing weeks came to regard the fools and players like extended family. She had nowhere to go anyway, with her father out of the picture.

But right now, in the middle of the endless acres of farmland, she was lost. While the minstrels were in town getting supplies, she had foolishly wandered off again and into some poor farmer's lands. That was what, an hour ago? An hour sounded right. Hot and sweaty and hungry and... as Jule was, the girl pushed forward. She could see the village square's message board now, and shuddered as she broke into a panicked jog. "Foreign Girl, Found Dead in Field - Please Retrieve". The exit couldn't be much further, right?

Like a whale breaching the sea, the kid exploded from the sea of crops with a bang of grain and stalks into clearly trimmed land, but she wasn't too picky about her new digs with croptown behind her. In front of her was more of the same, yes. But it was clearly populated! Unless the man sitting on a rock next to her was the result of some artist trying to be deep by making a statue in the middle of Gaea knows where. And the housings not far off were some wild hallucination. ...Hay fever? Hahah.

Pa always told her "Stay wary of strangers" but she wouldn't get very far by sticking to her guns and playing it safe, now would she? "Uh, sir? Pard'n me? Do you live here? Ooh. These weren't your crops, w-were they? I'm sorry, I got lost aand I.. just wanted to find the inn.." she stammered, lowering her head in shame.

[Harold Fleabottom]

Just as he was about to get up and head back to the house, something burst out of the field. Wazzat a... What's it called... Durgon?! Wazzit a durgon?! He was just about to swing his scythe in panic as the durgon suddenly spoke. Eh? That didn't look like a durgon. Durgons were big and menacing, or so his grandpa had told him when he was but a young little sproutling. What he saw was a little girl, maybe a bit scrawny, just standing there. He released the frown from his eyes as he kept his eyes on her. Hm.

She didn't seem dangerous, or sound dangerous. She promptly apologized for the crops she had ruined (there wasn't that much ruined, to be honest) and she just seemed a bit scared. He for once decided instantly to abandon doubts about foreigners or the like; this girl just couldn't be too dangerous. And besides, he had training. He could kill a man! Sure he could, he had been training to do that for years. That surely ensured that he could do it. All the trainers had told him so.

He offered her a friendly enough smile as he raised his hand as a sign of peace. "Heh, don' mind that there crops, ya only ruined a few. We'll manage." He nodded once as he stroked his chin. "Well, tha' town ain' tae close tae here, lassie. An' it'll become dark before ya can get there, I reckon'." He nodded once more as he rubbed his chin more, his braided beard brushing from left to right as his hand swiped against it. "But eh. If ya really need sum' protection, I guess we could stuff ya in that there grain storage." He nodded to her, pointing to the distance where his house could barely be seen.

[Jule]

The girl looked to the sky, rubbing her eyes of the tears that welled up. And it wasn't so late! She knew a thing or two about the sun, and it was barely past noon with hardly a cloud in the sky. And she distinctly remembered departing when the sun was still rising upwards. The old fogey was either a creep or going blind - whatever he was, Jule hadn't figured it out yet. "I can't stay the night mister," she interrupted, taking a breath in relief that he wasn't mad about his crops. "My r-uh, family. They're leaving tonight and they all said they were gonna meet up at the inn by nightfall. And they'll leave without me, I'm sure! They're in a real hurry to get somewhere. But, um, thanks for the offer."

She craned her head as far as she could in every direction, but no dice. The only hint towards the village's whereabouts lied in a small path leading from what must've been the mentioned grain storage, and over the hills until it was out of sight. One had to wonder how she managed to get herself so lost in the first place, with her inability to mask a trail. The girl may have forgotten to pay attention to where she was going, but there's no excuse for wandering into several acres worth of farmland when the only thing in the world to distract you was your thoughts and the sky.

"I've got an idea; could you show me how to get there? Or even take me there yourself. I'd be fine on my own, of course - I've got a weapon and I can use it and everything. But I have no idea how to get there, or where to begin. Or even, just taking me a little bit of the way there." From what she had gathered from her romp around the globe, farmers would do most any task like this for a bit of gold. If he said no, she could either try to do it herself(bad idea), or try to bribe him with a bit of money. Tipping was the right thing to do, right? If this old guy - who upon closer inspection, was indeed the owner/farmer around here - took her at least halfway, she'd make it worth his while. Only if he was nice though. She didn't want to pay someone for telling her old man stories for what could very well be hours on end.

[Harold Fleabottom]

Oh, so her family traveled a lot? That explained a lot, they could be one of them merchant types. Ya know, went around the world and just sold stuff? Yeah, he had met a lot in his time. They always liked homemade bread, he found. Paid a good penny or two for it too! Although he had nothing to sell, he might as well help her to them. Or maybe they were something else, he should ask later. He offered her a quick nod. "Eh, it'll take a while to get there is why I was worryin' 'bout the time 'ere..."

"But, wot kinda person would I be if I didn' help, ay'?" He laughed. "I might as well jus' stay at the local inn fer the night after this. Jus' give me a second to go and prepare fer the trip, ya can go and wait near th' pathway, ay'?" He nodded to her as he then begun his leisurely stroll towards his house. While it was early now, the walk could take a long while, and what with his horses out along with his son, they had no fast way there. Except if luck favored them, but he was not keen on the idea.

As he entered the house he was met with the sight of Nora and her mother, Adaleine, as they were seemingly discussing something. He quickly informed them that he would be going out to town for the night as he then quickly gathered up a backpack, his spear, and some bread. Just in case.

[Jule]

As much as she hated waiting, Jule paced back and forth along the path, anxious for the greybeard to come back. Even if the players and her weren't family, there were few people in this world that could be your friend, your ride, and your promise of a hot meal. Such a cozy existence. It almost made her forget about finding a master to teach her. But then, an epiphany occurred. The man had a scythe with him, right? Scythes were kinda like sickles, and sickles... were like swords! He had quite a few years under his belt; maybe he could be a warrior champion living under cover now that his glory days were over! Pshh, nah. That was just the imaginings of bored mind kicking into overdrive. Still, he carried it with his shoulders squared. Like he knew a thing or two about scything, or whatever the term was. Harvesting? Either way, The teen resolved to coerce him into a spar if they had to stop and take a break.

Eventually she plopped down in the middle of the road, and pulled out her "weapon" for an inspection. It was a sharp, twisted piece of metal that she'd spent hours sharpening on whatever she could find. But it wasn't a sword, and that made her pout. The crew of players she rode with were armed to the teeth, thanks to one - an aunt twice removed, was it? - adequate smithy among them. But they wouldn't give her a weapon to defend herself with, and she would feel bad about just lifting one from them. They'd done so much for her already, even if Jule was not much more than a stray to them. And not to mention, it would be pretty obvious one was gone, if their daily checklists were any indication.

Ah-hah, there he was, coming back now! "What kept you?" she huffed. "Oh, your family must be in that house if they weren't out with you" It was tough to resist the urge to get mad for taking so long. But old men, even secret warrior old men needed to take their time walking. Back problems and stuff. "N-nevermind that. This is the way to the town, right? You're sure about that? I don- it wouldn't do to accidentally take the ...long way 'round."

[Harold Fleabottom]

He smiled to her at her concerns about the long way 'round as he let out a tired chuckle. "Believe me, girlie... If we took th' long way, th' woul' jus' be going 'round the whole Elibe. This is the fastest way." He nodded to her a bit as he held his spear like a walking cane. It was made from tough oaken wood, and the tip of it was old, bruised iron. He had used the spear rarely in actual battles. Spars were rare around here, partly because everyone knew eachother and just didn't wanna ruin their farming hands.

"We'll be there b' late evenin'. I'll stay at the local tavern fer the night, as long as we get yer to yer family, ay?" He kept the gentle smile as he nodded to her, beginning their walk. It'd take a long while, so he did his best to make himself feel comfortable. He leaned a bit forwards, making it seem like he was hunched over as each step he took was stern and long, the butt of his spear hitting against the dusty road with each step. He swiped sweat from his forehead once more. While he was still a well enough built man, his old age was getting to him.

"So, wot does yer family do anyways? Are ya them... Travelin' merchant kinda people, hm? Or maybe yer some entertainers or somesuch?" He tilted his head at her. Time went faster if they talked while. He was sure of it.

[Jule]

Oh, he traded his scythe for a pointy walking stick. Wait, no. That was a lance. Even with her sparse knowledge of combat she knew the basic types of weaponry. As for the more exotic creations Elibe had to offer... She had heard tales, but seen little more than her original travel companion's blunt weapons. Jule stifled a giggle with a coughing fit when she remembered trying to pick up Karen's mace for her. Goood times. It was too bad the Sister was creepy - and also vanished from the face of Elibe - she really coulda learned a thing or two before leaving besides 'how to look like a proper lady 101'. It was for the best that she left, though.

"My family? Oh, that's easy. They're ta-uh, trraveling performers. They do a lot more than just that, though! Weapons, music, t-tailors, notary, mercenary work, cooking, all sorts a stuff. They're like a town on wheels." And in a sense, they were. The majority of the travelers were one big group of family members spanning the globe. But there were a few outliers with all sorts of backgrounds and stories with them. "The only thing they don't have is a lot of gold; it's kind of tough to support so many people, traveling all over and defending from bandits and muh-monsters, but they - we get by just fine." She silently hoped that there wouldn't be any requests from the greybeard to perform tricks on the way into the town. She was much better at busting a lock than busting a move.

"Thanks a lot for the help, by the way." she answered him bashfully, taking note of his hunched state. The pickpocket couldn't get a proper read on him. He had a cool beard and a spear, yet his walking looked painful with every step he took. Was he REALLY the old spearmaster she fantasized about? Pshh, c'mon Jule. Of course he was. What kind of ordinary farmer ever used a spear for a crutch? She'd just have to pop the question to him herself. There was no sense in waiting for a wish that would never be answered. "Uh, mister... Huh. What's your name anyway?" Oh god, did he say it before and she forgot?? "I should go first: my name's Jule."

"What I was gonna ask was, are you just a farmer? Or do you know anything with your spear that you've got there?"

[Harold Fleabottom]

He laughed at the idea of a town on wheels. "Never heard o' tha' before, bu' it sounds interestin'." He nodded to her, the smile gracing his face as it grew a bit wider. She seemed like a good enough kid, what with being polite enough to grace her time with an old man like this slowing her down. "An' don' sweat the help bit. When ye have worked th' fields with others for yer whole life, ya begin to realize the value of givin' even a lil' helpin' hand, ay'?" He nodded in a sagely manner as he kept taking his steps.

He raised his eyebrow at her question about if he was "just" a farmer. "I wouln' call it jus' being one, missie." He laughed in a rather lively manner as he then slowly nodded at her. "Eh, I guess'. I have military trainin', as does every man' an' manlet in this lil' town." He stroked his chin. "Been trainin' fer'... Lessee 'ere, I started when I was a lil' pup..." He counted with his fingers, but never got past five as he lost count. "A long time is wot am getting at, ay'. Each and every sunday."

He held a stern face during the little talk, seemingly not interested in it. "'S jus' what them big shoes people tell us ta do. Duty an' all that, glory to Lycia an' blah blah blah." He shook his head. "Our duty's on the field, A' say. Altho' handlin' a spear has gotten me pretty buff, ay'?" He grinned, flexing his free arm.

[Jule]

"It's big and lively. Days with them are never boring. Too bad most other places can't even touch on what it's like with them around. I wish Elibe wasn't so full of trouble, though... Like how I heard that there was giant lightning storm on the plains not too long ago in the last town we were in." The thief reminisced the weeks they spent traveling from the edge of Etruria, into Sacae and to Lycia, and felt all the sadder at the realization she wouldn't stay with them much longer. Then she realized that the greybeard had overtaken her, and threw the mental baggage away when she caught up with him.

"You wouldn't call it 'just' being a farmer? I would! Look at all those crops, and your cottage, and, and... I bet you've got a pretty wife and kids in there too, and animals maybe? I haven't seen any out in the fields, 'cept for maybe a hare. You're friendly enough to be 'just' a farmer, too." He was pretty kind for any old man out in the sticks. She knew a geezer or two that could talk your ears off with all sorts of jaded nonsense. Well, used to know. And the weekly training answered why he was carrying a weapon so casually, anyway. Even Jule was hesitant to pick up a blade for the first time as a child in Ostia, but holding something to defend herself was second nature to her now. How ineffectual she was at fighting was another matter entirely; she knew how to hold a sharp object and went from there.

"But you DO know how to fight, right? D'you think you could teach me some of your moves? I'd love to know the secrets of old guy-fu that you've got locked away in your head. I know a bit myself, but most say I'm not "old enough" to know how to fight." She refrained from mentioning how she preferred locks to lancers, but judging from his hard expression he was getting an inkling of just who she was to begin with. Or he was in pain. Who knows? And speaking of who's what, the old guy still hadn't told her his name! Friendly? Maybe. Senile? Starting to think so. "Never thought of the army like that, but my pa, since he's - I mean, he's... He's not a part of any country so I guess he never would of gotten drafted anyway."

[Harold Fleabottom]

"I can believe tha' at th' very least." He nodded and smiled at the thought of a huge family of sorts traveling across Elibe and just having some fun. It was a noble concept, although something that would not ensure a safe life. What if someone got sick and they were on the road? Back at the farm, they at least had a constant safe haven' and stuff. Oh well, he was sure that they had their own ways of dealing with it. He thought about her other words for a while as well, stroking his chin and beard in thought.

"Eh, I more meant the "just" a farmer in... Just what ya said." He nodded to her. "I thought ya meant with "just a farmer" earlier there as sumway of sayin' of bein' a bit useless." He laughed heartily, clearly not too insulted by the thought as he rolled his shoulders a bit. They creaked loudly. "But ay'. I've got a wife. And a few kids. And some grandchildren." He smiled to himself as he swiped his forehead once more, pride radiating from him as he mentioned the topic of his family. "They're dang important to me, eh?"

He then thought about the next issue. Her interest in his fighting skill and her wanting him to teach her. "Guy-fu?" He tilted his head with his eyebrow raised for a moment as he tasted the word in his mouth. Was it the hip and new thing to say? Oh well. "I've just got basic soldier trainin', girlie. Not very impressive, but..."He shrugged. "If ya consider it worth it, I could try ta pass on some tricks by talk."

[Jule]

An "Oh" forced its way from her lips, dripping with disappointment. She really thought she'd hit the jackpot for once! But no dice. "Aren't farmers supposed to be weak and boring, though? That's why they have ladies and lords and knights in shining armor to protect them from monsters and bandits. You're telling me you guys fight for yourselves?" She couldn't ever imagine being a farmer was the life for her. Day in and day out, take care of crops and animals around the clock, have a huge family to take care of... Jule guessed that while there were some benefits to the lifestyle, they were all outweighed by how uncurably boring it got. Kinda like the life of a tailor, go figure.

"And I'll take what tips I can get, mister old-timer guy. It's um, dangerous times 'round these parts. Did you hear about O-Ostia, and Laus? And, and! You get more ideas to use when you learn from more than one person - that's what my sister says. Different places have all sorts of different fighting styles. When you put them all together and mix and match, you get something that's unique an' all yours. That's how I see it anyway." That wasn't to say she had ever been in a fight. But she was sure she'd have the chance to punch someone's lights out, someday.

Brushing the hair from her eyes, she glanced back at gramps behind her. Boy, he was a lot taller than she realized. And quite beefy. Though it was no wonder, since the dude was how old? 80? 90? Old enough to forget his name at the very least. Now that she thought about it, mister soldier boy kinda looked like her dad, if he ever decided to give up taking care of his hair and let it run wild like his. Out in wine country, hair wasn't something you need to worry about, she reasoned.

[Harold Fleabottom]

"Hah!" He laughed out loud at her claim about farmers being weak. "We can be a bit borin', ay'." He nodded his head, still laughing. "Not many mind the talk o' farmin' day in day out, girlie." He stroked his chin as he then pumped his hand in the air, showing that he had gathered some muscle there. "But weak is somthin' ya cannae tolerate in the fields, ay'? If yer weak, ya can't farm good. When ya can't farm good, ya either try an' become a priest or ya die and starve." He kept the goofy smile, although it slowly died down.

"I know a few who suffered that there way, girlie." He looked down, a bit sad. He remembered it quite well. "My wife was not someone whom I first was supposed tae take t' bed. I had another." He stroked his chin a bit. "She was always a bi' weak. Scrawny, eh? The fancy schmancy priests told us thae she was cursed by daemon's of th' high and told her parents she shoul' jus' be left." He laughed uproariously at that. "Bu' she kept goin' and goin'. She was feisty like a fire, yet weak like a cloth string. I loved her, ay'?" He tilted his head.

"An' then she wen' and died. Her body jus'... Gave up." He flopped his hand back, shaking his head as he turned his eyes to her. They might have been a bit judgemental? Maybe a bit, although he tried to soften it up with a smile that just came up as rather pathetic and sad. "Weakness ain' somethin' that runs wild out here, girlie. Before it can breed like that there rabbit." He bit his lower lip. "It jus' goes an' flops down and dies." He turned his head away from her, still chewing his lips.

He stayed quiet after that, preferring to not answer the followup questions yet.

[Jule]

"I dunno, if you're as strong as you say, is there anyone that's tougher than you? You're, ah, you're gettin' old and all, and you said you have kids and everything." Farming still seemed easier than he described as well, but Jule decided not to press her luck by prodding like that again. If only just for a moment, his face turned to a tumult of several emotions - none of which she could describe. Anger? Sadness? He could've been holding back a joke he'd suddenly remembered, for all Jule knew. But she could tell a pained face when she saw one.

"I-if it makes you feel any better, my mom died a while ago, too. In... After we all ran from Ostia when it fell, the - th-th' demon dogs got to her. And then, and then she just couldn't go on afterwards. 't Broke pa's heart." As it was, she was also pressing tears back with every breath. What had happened afterwards, again? Her dad tried to pick himself back up - start a new business, even - when they fled to Bern, but he found a bottle and that was it for him... On second thought, she should really stop remembering right about now.

"Ah.." The young girl didn't want to dwell on the past more, but it was hard not to when it was just her and her thoughts left to their own devices.

"An', an' since you've got a new honey now and some kids you've gotten over it right? You're a farmer and you believe in ghosts and spirits and all that I'm guessing. So, your old girl's probably always looking after you from the great big Beyond. That's what Etruria says, anyway." Jule herself didn't know if she believed in a higher power or not; she could understand if her new old man friend was on the fence about it too.

[Harold Fleabottom]

He kept silent as he listened to her own troubles, the pathetic smile still on his face as he let out a grunt once she silenced. "I..." He bit his lip ever so slightly as she brought up the point of having a new wife and children. "I do... I do love 'em. My wife's one of th' greatest things on earth, an' my children and grandchildren are m' stars in the heaven." He coughed ever so slightly, rubbing his face. He felt something coming from his throat, but it stopped. A little pain on his chest. It went away soon.

"Bu' love does not fade, hm?" He laughed for a long time at that, although it broke down to a sigh. "It just never does. For th' times alone at night, one goes down t' memories, an' then th' missing comes an'... I believe ya, with yer situation, realize what I mean." He nodded to her as he wiped some sweat from his forehead. "Altho' am sorry t' hear about yer loss. Ostia was... Where wazzit from here, to th' north?" He tilted his head before shaking it. He had no reason to try and determine where it was.

"Bu'... Enough 'bout sad things, eh? We're here to live, and when livin' ya better not constantly wallow on th' dead. Take yer own time for 'em and all, ay'?" He nodded to her, raising a thumbs up to try and see if she would cheer up a bit from that.