The night of my arrival, I found myself unreasonably tired by my journey home. I’d taken the time to unpack, bathe, and help Mawna in the kitchen. I was overwhelmed by a sense of belonging and peace – to be home again, to be in a place that was completely incomparable, no matter what wonders lay in the world beyond.

And so, I slept better than I had in a very long time, strong in my conviction that the beautiful, cozy farmhouse I grew up in was unlike any other place in the universe. I suppose all people feel the same about their homes. Memories of a generally rich and happy childhood overwhelmed my mind as I awoke with a peculiar excitement to a familiar melody.

With the coming of the sun, the morning ringers would sing their song – our song, which my great-great-great grandmother had taught them. Perched on our windowsills, the morning ringers would usher in the day. This morning was no different, I realized with a content sigh.

I sat up and stretched my arms, looking through my window pane to see the morning ringer that stood there. My favourite had always been Eldo, whom I’d named when I was a little boy. How beautiful he was, with his fluffy lavender plumage that was always just a bit too ruffled, and his red, elegant beard like a tiny lance. I would wake up to Eldo every morning, grateful for the fact that he had chosen me – of all the members of my household, and of all the other morning ringers, he would come to me always.

Only, it wasn’t Endo that came to me this morning. In fact, my beautiful and loyal Endo had been replaced by another of his choir – a morning ringer of magnificent blues and greens which I recognized as Valetin, the one who sang my father awake almost exclusively. Perhaps it was simply my imagination, but Valetin was not quite the ringer I remembered him to be. He sang half-heartedly, the tune coming quickly, and did not look into my window during the song. Then, when it was finished, he flew away, back to the old tree in the garden they called their home.

Valetin, I realized, was heartbroken. My father’s death had left a deep scar in his heart, and while morning ringers lived to see many generations of family come and pass, it wasn’t often that a morning ringer would attach itself to one particular member as Endo and Valetin had done with me and my father. At the very least, Endo knew that I was not dead; that I had simply left. Valetin knew that my father was long gone and buried. Forever chained to the family they served, morning ringers could not simply up and leave; he must have been quite lonely in his grief and sadness.

Perhaps I should have come home sooner, I thought with a twinge of guilt. Perhaps I should have cared more about everything my father had left behind, and less about the high-flying dreams of the hustling and bustling city. Though he could not speak, Valetin’s behaviour had made it very clear that I had some work to do.

It was the least I could do. After all, I had nothing better to do with my time. I was here for the long haul, and it seemed there was much to be taken care of. I rolled up my sleeves and slipped out of bed.

Breakfast was a small, trifling thing that morning. Mawna had explained the night before that she only stopped by the house once a week in order to clean and keep everything in order, and the food she brought was often for her own lunch and dinner on those days. It was simply luck that I had returned on the very day that she was at the farmhouse going about her business. She didn’t feel right, she’d said, living here all alone with the whole family gone, and she certainly wouldn’t listen to reason when I tried to tell her that it made more sense for her to be here to take care of the home while I was away.

Regardless, she’d given me my dinner, cleaned up at some point in the night while I lay dozing on my bed, and disappeared to whatever abode she called home nowadays. I didn’t have much stocked in the house, but there was some jerky I’d found in the pantry and dried tea was always present in our home, given that my father enjoyed withering his own tea and producing different mixtures from the herb garden he kept behind the house, just outside the kitchen door. Tea and jerky it was – at the very least, it was delicious, but I needed to purchase some supplies soon or that jerky wouldn’t last the rest of the day.

I spent most of that morning traipsing around my father’s farm – my farm, now – and taking stock of everything. Mawna had taken care to ensure that everything remained the way it was in the running of the farm, as my father had instructed her to do so before his passing. Between her and Kasir, the garden gnome, everything was well in order. I wanted to speak with Kasir about the farm itself, but he wouldn’t be awake until dusk, and so I had no choice but to survey the land myself.

Or, I would have, if it hadn’t been for my grumbling stomach. It seemed that jerky alone was not enough to sate my hunger. Off to the village I went, with whatever few gold, silver, and copper coins I still had to my name safely tucked into my leather coin purse. Surely they were enough to purchase basic food supplies, and when I was finally running the farm as it should have been run, I could make use of a little of the produce while selling off the rest of it. After all, my father’s farm had always been quite prosperous. It was now my duty to return it to its former glory.

The walk to the village center was short and entirely uneventful. I walked by hardworking old Idel, whom I’d waved to in passing. Idel was an old friend of my father’s father, and somehow he was still energetic enough to work his fields with gusto. Never once did he miss a day of work out in his farm, and while his land was small and his children had all moved on years before I’d left for the city, the man continued to ensure that the farm brought in a respectable profit. It couldn’t have been easy, doing everything as a one-man show. My father had had the benefit of enlisting the help of the gnomes he’d inherited from his father before him, as well as my help, while I’d still been living under his roof. As far as I knew, Idel had never bought a gnome, despite how well they aided in garden and farm work.

The village center was nothing more than a cobblestone square with a fountain in the middle, around which were located the various premises I’d come to know like the backs of my hands. There was the Smithy & Forge, where anything metal could be made, fixed, and repurposed. More often than not, this was where one went where they wanted their teapot mended, or a frying pan made. Anyone with a horse would also drop by for horseshoes.

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Beside it was the Knight’s Blade Bakery, named after a visit from a renowned knight so long ago now that there was nobody left alive who remembered it – or, for that matter, who had received the story from those who did. All of the bread, buns, and cakes in the bakery were decorated with a seal bearing the figure of a proud and noble knight, raising his glinting sword to the sky.

And there was Morton’s Goods, the sole grocer’s in the village, and the only place to find such supplies as candles, sweets, quills, paper, baskets, soap, ink, cloth pins, coffee beans, sugar, salt, and so many other bits and bobs that it made the place look quite cluttered. I remember as a child how overwhelmed I’d be when stepping into the shop, my gaze dragging over all of the offerings on the shelves. They even had vegetables and fruits for those who did not grow them themselves – mostly people who lived here, in the village center, above or near their shops.

Then there was the apothecary, the inn, the feed store, and the clothing store. If all of this sounds relatively minimal, that is because it was. The town was simple, bare, and didn’t have much more to offer than the community its residents fostered. Here, one would not even find a post office; whatever mail sent to us would find its way to Lisanne, and every now and then people with business in the nearby town would drop by their post office to check and see if anyone had been sent something.

It was early enough that some of the shops still hadn’t opened for business yet, but, as fortune would have it, Morton’s Goods was always the first shop open and the last shop closed in the village, and today was no different. I took a deep breath to prepare myself for what lay within and stepped inside. A chill of nostalgia ran down my spine at the little trinkle of the bell above the door. Morton the Sixth stood from where he had been crouching behind the counter organizing something or other and offered me a wide grin of a smile. I suppose, looking back, that alone should have been enough to make me wonder.

“Good morning!” he greeted me with a chipper tone, causing me to pause, frozen in surprise. “Welcome to Morton’s Goods. What can I do for you today, young man?”

For the smallest moment, I stared at him, waiting for the recognition to twist his expression, but it did not happen. Ah – perhaps he simply doesn’t recognize me. I cleared my throat. “Good morning,” I said, not particularly eager to remind him who I was.

As a child, I’d stolen a few candies from his store when he wasn’t looking, and I’d been reprimanded for it quite strongly by my father, who’d found me out almost as soon as I’d returned home. While I’d brought everything back and apologized shamefacedly to the store owner, Morton the Sixth had never quite forgiven my misstep. Ever since that incident, he’d scowl and watch me with suspicion whenever I stepped into the shop.

Still, it isn’t as though I am so very different when I left the village for the city, I thought. He should still remember me.

Well, if he didn’t know who I was, I was in no hurry to do the work for him. “I’m in need of some supplies. Mind if I use one of your baskets?”

“Certainly,” he replied, pulling a basket up from behind the counter and handing it to me. “Take your time!”

“Thank you,” I said, and began to make the rounds, pulling items off the shelves and setting them gingerly in the woven straw basket. Peach confiture, peanut paste, coffee beans, and a few other items I thought perhaps I might need. Since the garden had been taken care of while I was away, I didn’t see the need for vegetables or fruits; I was certain there would be some to grab when I returned home.

It wasn’t until I set the basket on the wooden counter and paid for everything that Morton the Sixth had quipped: “No candies in your pockets this time?”

He said it so easily, so good-naturedly, that I knew he wasn’t accusing me or harboring any suspicion. Nevertheless, it felt off-tune, for him to joke about a matter that had bothered him enough for years after the fact that he had always watched me like a hawk whenever I’d stepped foot in his store. I blinked, wondering if I had even heard him correctly.

“Er – no, sir,” I replied uncertainly. “Not this time.”

Morton the Sixth chuckled and shook his head, then pushed the goods towards me. “Well, then! I hope you have a good day, son.”

Son? Hope you have a good day? Had Morton the Sixth suffered some kind of terrible head injury while I’d been away? Had he suddenly found enlightenment and wanted to forgive those who had wronged him? This man was completely different from the Morton the Sixth that I remembered from before I’d left the village.

Slightly unsettled by this, but not entirely averse to it, I decided to accept his good humour. “Thank you,” I said, taking hold of the basket. “I’ll return this basket to you as soon as possible. Have a good day!”

I was still thinking about the incident long after I’d finished my business in the village center. Basket full with the supplies from Morton’s Goods and freshly baked bread rolls from the Knight’s Blade Bakery, I was on my way back home when I passed once again by Idel’s little farmhouse. This time around, he was near the fence, and I paused for a short time to speak with him.

Idel, too, seemed in good spirits. In fact, everyone I’d met or passed by in the village center seemed quite happy and carefree, too. Perhaps these were the benefits of country living. Perhaps they had always been this happy – and I had been, too – and it was my time in the fast city that had made all the difference. The contrast now was so stark, I was beginning to honestly wonder why I’d ever left at all. I should have stayed here and apprenticed at the Knight’s Blade Bakery.

“Good to have you back, Brieuc,” Idel told me as he leaned against his property fence. “Last I’d heard, you’d left for the big city! How’s that coming along?”

I set my basket of goods down beside me. “It went well, for a while,” I told him honestly. “I quite enjoyed it. But the city’s expensive, and competition can be quite fierce – and people quite fickle – so I suppose some rough weather was to be expected.”

“Ah, all’s well that ends well,” the old man said with a big grin. Behind him, a little girl stepped out of the farmhouse, her white overalls blinding in the sunlight. She giggled, then looked at me, then giggled some more. “What a joy it must be to be home!”

“Yes,” I replied. “It has been quite lovely.” The giggling still hadn’t stopped, though the girl had moved on round the side of the house and seemed to be crouching down, examining something – an insect, perhaps. I couldn’t see what was so funny, but children will laugh at most anything. “Who’s that young lady?” I asked, nodding towards her.

“Ah – that’s Lily,” Idel said, glancing towards her. “My eldest son’s daughter.” She sprang up and ran off behind the house, laughing all the way. “Came to live with me after her parents passed,” he went on, turning back to me. His smile never left his face.

“Oh – Idel, I’m so sorry,” I said, shocked. “I – My condolences.”

He waved a hand. “Oh, well,” he said with a content sigh, then chuckled. “Both in the ground, now.”

“...Right,” I said, shifting uncomfortably. Not the reaction one expected, but then, one never knew what to expect from a grieving person, did they? Nevertheless, something about his reaction seemed to put a chill in my bones, and I decided that it was high time I got moving. I picked up my basket. “I should head home,” I told Idel, and took my leave.

When the familiar sight of my ancestral home popped up, the relief flooded my body. For some reason that I couldn’t quite explain, speaking with Idel had left me nervous. I hurried into my house and tried my best to forget about it all. After all, there was quite a lot of work to be done.