"Jisil, bring Xavier here. Please" the general manager said with a pout and a small shake of his head to the wide eyed administrative assistant, while dabbing at his polkadot tie with an absorptive kerchief.

An awkward silence ensued as I stood stiffly, hoping for this little fiasco to blow over. Four women around the boardroom table continued to speak designs and launch plans in hushed tones.

It was only a moment before a bulky man wearing a suit that didn't fit him well at all waddled in and slid the glass door shut behind him. I felt both disgust from my dream and jealousy from myself as I watched him chew on the remainder of a piece of cake.

"Boss!" He said, in a gruff voice, while still chewing. Mother would not have approved.

"Please escort Mr. Ivers out of the building, Xavier," the general manager said, glancing at me only a moment before returning his attention to his purple shirt and tie.

I felt anger and outrage well up in me, but only in that dreamlike way you could feel something strongly when you didn't understand anything that was going on.

"Fuck you."

My glare swept over the other girls in the room, all looking at me as if I were crazy.

"Don't you see that this is just going to fail again? All that work Carrie did on the consumer reactions and all the array development we did on the visuals scrapped for that ."

"Mr Ivers," the manager spoke again apathetically, "we do not have the credits to make that kind of investment. The board has decided on a tried and true method for this year's campaign."

He looked kind of like Saul, except with spiked white hair, no biceps and a receding hairline. Saul would never wear clothes that colourful or let his body get so weak.

"Tried and true method? Sure, putting your array designers in miniskirts instead of letting us do our job. Don't you guys-..."

The me in my dreams stopped talking suddenly as he looked at the sister he called Carrie at the other end of the table looking at me with sad... no, pitying eyes.

"We are here for the corporation, Mr. Ivers. And that is why you will not be back here tomorrow."

I felt some of Sam's humiliation and anger as he turned away, slamming open the glass door.

"Mr. Ivers, you won't be needing that virsphere anymore."

I ripped something from my wrist and threw it at him before leaving

The fat man, Xavier hustled me towards a door into the sky.

I felt a pang of panic as my feet walked right out of the wall and into thin air, but I stood there suspended as a series of golden icons flashed above the closing door.

I sat up suddenly as I woke up in my room.

I had gone to sleep tossing around in bed. I didn't like that man who came yesterday at all.

The way he spoke to mother, and how his guard twirled his sabre. I didn't know who Viscount Ikburr was, but I hoped the peddler didn't return with him before father came home.

I had to get stronger too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fortunately, we didn't hear anything more of the peddler before harvest time when father returned with another lord.

The two carriages came bumping down the gravel path to the manor and Simila and mother took me outside to greet him.

I didn't actually see Lord Jemson, as he was called. When father got home he threw me into the air and hugged mother before bringing us inside.

"Who?"

“Jikod, he was Riddith's helper out at the mill.”

My parents were talking about the incident from a month before. Not that I was interested.

“Poor man. There was an old beggar in Bridgewater I was always scared of when I was little. But mother told me he had not always been like that. He had gone through a curse of cyclic pain too. Even if he gave that peddler some old grains, isn't that too much?

“He did not. Riddith is in charge of the grain shipment. He would not have let a shipment get sold filled with weevils. You know him even better than I do.”

“What? Then...”

"The peddler appealed to Viscount Ikburr. I didn't have a choice." Father answered, annoyed. “It was that, or his hand. At least there's a chance he'll recover...”

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Saul gave me a pat on the head and then tickled Brendal, who Ivian was carrying beside us.

“Why Sivis? Could you not have asked your si-”

“Enough of this. What's done is done.”

"Tilvrade, how has your training gone? Do you want to show me in the yard?"

Saul asked me and started pushing me out of the room.

I was happy to leave. I hardly even remembered what they were talking about and it sounded very serious and boring.

“Yeah! I got a lot better while you were gone. I can even do the parry father showed me with the reversal.”

As we went out back though, we met Sir Barker who was just coming from the forest, probably because of word of father's return.

"Saul, you're back," he hailed and father's knights clasped wrists happily.

"Sir Barker, it is good to see you. The lord will want to talk with you. He promised Viscount Phrans your support next spring."

"Oh? What is Birbeck up to?"

"It's Count Niles, apparently. The company Viscount Phrans heads was offered some sort of contact and Count Niles thought they should invite you to help with the guards' training. It seems your old lord still remembers you, but I don't doubt he'd be surprised by how you have retired as a craftsman.

"Lord Niles, really? Those were different days. I better go inside and hear more then."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Something was up. It was obvious because of the sly smile on father's face on the horse overhead of me.

I just didn't know what.

It had been another month since he had returned, and last night, the first snowfall of the year had occured. Father said before taking me towards Olwick that instead of bringing Crion to the manor, we would go train in the longhouse in the village.

He also told me I should put on one of the coats that he brought back for me from the capital, and mother was there at the stables to wave us off.

I saw the longhouse as we were coming out of the woods. It was not on the road, but on the other side of a field that reminded me of the lawn in front of grandfather's palace.

"My lord," one of the villagers nearby bowed and mumbled when he saw father ride down the road.

He was repeated by two dozen other villagers creating a bit of a buzz through the green.

It seemed the villagers were all lining up today, some of them with bags or chickens and sheep and others holding a pike or bow.

I didn't miss the glances that contained a bit of resentment as father rode past them and dismounted, carrying me into the longhouse. But no one said anything, and many more smiled at us than frowned.

It was warm inside, a big fire burning in the hearth.

Saul and Mr. Barker were sitting just inside the open door talking with the queue of villagers. Mr. Barker actually stood up and started peering into a bag that was presented to him.

The men who brought pikes or bows with them and sometimes their families would stay in the longhouse sitting on the tables that were set up in one corner. There was an older woman there who helped pour mugs of beer or cider. In the other half of the hall, Byl was shouting at a group of men, leading them through a drill with the pike.

It was the first time I had seen people with pikes. I thought everyone just used the sword.

Father and Saul, and the guards in Gristol, even Byl and Vis senior from the village would carry a sword. For that matter, Crion was a swordsman too.

Didn't father bring me here to duel with Crion?

"Father... what's going on? Why are there so many people?" I asked him as he brought me over to where the old steward was sitting at one of the tables with another man in an officious coat.

"It was the first snow this morning. I thought it would be good if you came to see the payment of the dues."

I figured that dues meant taxes. Sam had to do those too. Except it usually involved virtual numbers and documents sent over the virsphere network.

Father greeted the two men and took a seat at the table, placing me beside him, "Good morning Gregrick, Lord Jemson. Is everything going well?"

"My lord!" Gregrick exclaimed, his cheeks looked a little rosy. "Good harvest this year. First snow came late too."

Father put me on the bench and took a seat beside me.

"Rare to make it here on the day of the collection. I'll be able to pass back through Ibbergreen and Valeford on the way back though, which is convenient."

"The late snow is good for us, but inconveniences you on the collection round, doesn't it."

"As long as it doesn't snow in too much this early. You really are in the middle of nowhere, aren't you Lord Feles."

"What do dues have to do with snow? And why is everyone holding pikes?" I asked, not following the conversation at all.

"Huehuehue," Gregrick wheezed out a laugh. "The young master is learning early. Seeing the workings of the fief already?"

"Tilvrade, the snow marks the end of the harvest and the beginning of the hard winter months ahead. Everyone needs supplies and the dukes are collecting their own provisions for winter balls."

"And they're holding pikes because we have to fend off the shriekers," Gregrick said solemnly, but not without another sip of his drink. "We're just glad your father and Sir Valedon are back during the winter to help set up the patrols. Had a hard time of it before they came."

Valedon was Saul's family name that he chose when he became a knight.

Father nodded at Gregrick in acknowledgement then gestured at the men shouting and stabbing the pikes into the air in front of Byl.

"There are many ways the villagers can pay their dues. Even more important than the gold or livestock, we need any able bodied men to protect Olwick from the shriekers."

I had heard about the sweeps and the shriekers before. What I really wanted to know was about why they weren't practising the sword.

"But why pikes? Crion has a sword like me."

"Only knights, guards and mercenaries wield swords, Feles boy," the dues collector said, speaking to me for the first time. "Takes too long to train a man how to use one. Did you say you already have a sword?"

The man leaned forward, interested in my answer.

"Hehe. I'm already practically a knight. I'm going to surpass father and Saul someday." I told him with my nose in the air.

"As you say, the sooner they start the better. It takes a long time to get good with a sword," my father responded with a roll of his eyes. The frown in his eyebrows meant he probably wanted to talk to me afterwards though...

"Quite true. Still, he seems a bit young. I suppose a knight is a good station if the fief falls through."

There was a slightly awkward silence as father tried to figure out what the tax collector meant. Maybe I shouldn't have been quite so honest about my talents. Father and this man came back together on the road, but it didn't mean they were friends.

Then a question popped into my mind, wondering about something mother had said in the past.

"What about grandfather? Doesn't he go back to his castle during the summer? Are there no shriekers there?"

If we came back to Olwick to help defend the village, then why didn't grandfather do the same?

"Mmh, that is a bit more complicated. Your grandfather is the duke, he oversees all the counties and fiefs in Efeles."

I didn't really see how that was relevant, but father continued, "his manor in Fort Efeles is protected by his knights who stay there the whole year."

So basically, rich lords went to their manors to enjoy the countryside, poor lords went back to brave the winter perils. Poor father.