“What is that devil doing?”
“This is gonna bring some bad luck, I tell you. Hiring some beasts to do man’s work.”
“Do we ever learn? Never make a deal with a devil. How many more tragedies do we need to get the idea across.”
“It’s the Plrail family, I tell you, them with their scrawny son. Letting that monster work with men, they’re jarring their reputation. I always knew they were horrible people.”
“Stop pushing, back there! Why is he working on making houses? Just days ago her murdered Thrawl and Tel! ”
“Don’t ask me. Just look at his hands! They look like some beast’s claws or somethin’.”
“They look so sharp.”
“And those abs, goodness!”
“Some dark magi--Wa! Jane! Don’t be tempted by the-”
“What you girls doing, whispering and gossiping about?”
The small huddle of village girls all sprang up in different directions. Some of them fell forward, past the cover of the building, and attracted the frisky attention of the men. In a panic, they all rushed back into the shade.
“Malia! What in Parádeisos light is wrong with you!” one of the older girls said, in a hushed whisper. “You trying to give us away?”
“Give you away for what? Any half-wit, and there are many of them out there in the blistering sun, could see you girls idling about!” she said, lifting a heavy bucket of water over one of her shoulders. Against the pestering of her friends, Malia stepped out and walked towards the construction area.
Malia took joy in the vibrant atmosphere of the village. A few stalls here and there were set up, the townsmen selling and bartering for what few items of value they had. People walked in and out of the village, most of them farmers who were tending to the field down a few hundred meters from the village, and the rest were a mix of lumberjacks and handymen who hauled in raw wood to be turned into timber. Some carts pulled by oxen, and some carried material on their shoulders.
Though death from either illness or monster attacks was not uncommon, the recent tragedy of the Huntsmen and his daughter had devastated the townspeople. Good news, however, had offset the slump.
Houses were to be built as the village began to grow in population, both in birth rates and in migration. The Rojenteem Kingdom was constantly encouraging its citizens to colonize the furthest reaches of the hold with as many stories of wealth and adventure as it could possibly fabricate, combined with a slight reward of rice. In order for the village to grow at a decent speed, supplies from the kingdom had been sent. Food, spices, leather, crystals, and building components came in opulent size, enough for them to last the coming winter. With resources and material, came opportunity and work. Many pounced on the chance of further growing their arsenal of skills, as all the townspeople became part of a town quest. The rewards by the kingdom were by no means insubstantial enough for the entire village to become enlivened by it.
The sound of axes smashing into the hard bark of the forest trees echoed in the near distance. It was a rhythmic tune, a reminder of vigor and strength. It was occasionally interrupted by the rare sound of a giant tree falling to the dry earth, which was followed by a ground-shaking sensation. It was a long and arduous work, and the heat was being terribly inconsiderate of this very fact. It stuck upon the workers as they moved about like a heavy blanket, making the weight of their hammers and saws heavy under their sweat. It was was a hard and unkind sun, bearing above naked skin with unwanted rays.
The people suffering the most, though, were not the men at work, but the women out and about with their heavy set dresses. The shortest of their long skirts went to the tips of their knees, and even that, was looked upon with disapproval.
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“Here is some water, boys, wash yourselves up before you faint. The giddying girls won’t be impressed if you fall dead!” Malia shouted in front of the half-built building.
There were approximately 8 men working around the site, and all 8 of heads snapped towards her, their eyes filled with various emotions, of which included desperation, sorrow, gratitude, and hope. All 8 heads then, once again, in unison, turned with pleading eyes towards an old but tall and buff man, presumably the head mason.
He shook his head in dismay. “Go ahead, wash yourselves. Quickly,” he said with a shrug as he returned his gaze to his papers.
Tools were dropped, and nearly all the men scattered. Only a few took Malia’s offer.
“Malia, it’s so nice of you to drop by!” Braj said, his eyes thinning eyebrows glistening with sweat. He bent down and sunk his hands into the water, splashing his face. “How goes the tannery?”
“We’ve more skins and hides than we can care for!” Malia replied, flexing her arms. Her cuffs were pulled back to her elbows, revealing two sturdy working arms and tough palms with enough calluses to the put most men to shame. She was a well-built woman, grown in labor and hardship, but still had a charm to her feminine figure with long brown hair and big, lightish brown eyes.
Not very much like Braj, whose giggles shook his body hopelessly. He was a tall but weak muscled man, and though they were approximately the same age, Malia had a motherly ambiance that betrayed greater maturity. “That’s great! Tell whenever you need a hand, I got time on my hand.”
“Oh, you silly head, I know you’re caught up with your letters. Making big houses needs a lot of learning, don’t it?”
“Ah...I’ll--”
“Malia! How does it go?” one of the workers said, swooping into the conversation. He placed a friendly hand on Braj’s shoulders, and smiled widely. He was a large man, with a wide body and clearly defined muscles which he barred nakedly for all to see, as his shirt as off and had only left his trousers on. While he was not particularly handsome, he did have a wide jaw and a pleasant smile.
“Jroll, I hope all is well with your mother," she replied, bowing her head politely. "We’re alright on our ends. Takin’ a break from all the smell of beasts."
“She rests,” Jroll replied, his voice dropping for a bit. “A large shipment from the men in fancy robes, ay?”
Malia nodded. “Oddly so.”
“Probably cus’ of all the new adventures that are appearing all over the kingdom. Boosting demand, so we gotta supply. Word is, they don’t die either,” Braj said.
“Don't die? How in oblivion?!" Jroll said.
Braj shrugged. "Dunno, they just come back. Weaker, but they come back. It's as if Lady Death don't even want um'."
Like him?” Jroll started, nudging his head in the direction of a man resting under the shade of the half-constructed building. He noticed their attention, and waved back feebly. He was also in his trunks, and though he also bared his chest, it seemed more to escape the heat rather than to boast of his mediocre body. “Guy seems pretty weak to me.”
Malia lifted her hand to her mouth and laughed quietly, her eyes closing momentarily from the shaking of her body. “Jroll, everyone seems weak to you.”
They all fell to laughter, Jroll more awkwardly so than Malia or Braj, who poked his elbows against Jroll’s ribs. “Careful Jroll, get any bigger and soon enough the village herders will put you on a stake and start milking you.”
“It ain’t my fault!” Jroll said, a tear of sweat sliding from his thick eyebrows. “Carrying and hammering take muscle. You’ll have this hunk of meat, if you did the same work, Braj.”
“You silly jester. Not with this body,” Braj shook his head. “The sickbed and I are eternal lovers. We’ll probably be burned together when I pass away!”
Though Braj had spoken in good humor, Malia’s lips pursed together, and her eyebrows lowered as she glared at him. “Be considerate of Jroll, Braj,” she said solemnly.
Braj stared back dumbly. His face flushed, then, and he bit his lips. “I’m terribly sorry, Jroll, I don’t know how I forgot your mother was sick.”
Jroll laughed, scratching the back of his head. “All is good. Speaking of the stranger, why is he helping cut down trees? I thought adventurers were supposed to hunt down bounty, not be lumberjacks." (4+ author points, 3+ reader points for whoever saw that one coming).
Braj shrugged. “I guess adventures need to eat, too. Gods knows my father is glad to have him, against the towns judgment of him. His magic is helping take trees down faster, and he seems to know a bit of the craft.”
Jroll nodded hesitantly. “I guess he is useful, though I’m not entirely trusting of him. Tragedy happenin’ in the first few days since he’d arrived is suspicious. Hope we don’t get more of them adventurers around here, more trouble than they worth, if you ask me.”
“What does he do? Does he throw bolts of magic at um’?” Malia said, her eyes wide open. Braj began to laugh, but cut it short as both of them stared at him, their faces plain. “I think both of us missed the joke. You wanna explain, if you'll be so kind?”
Braj’s tongue stuttered inside his mouth. Blood rose to his skinny cheeks. “Sorry, you two aren’t familiar with magic. There are no bolts of magic, no lightning bolts or firewalls for normal mages. Someone who could do that wouldn’t be at the edge of the world.”
“Then how does he use his magic?” Malia asked.
Jroll answered. “I cut trees with him, I think I know. Cus’ our axes aren’t the sharpest, it takes ages to cut the trees down. But when the stranger uses his ax, dark stuff covers it. Enchants it, I think. Cuts through wood easier, even if he’s weaker. Sometimes it even explodes!"
“Don’t sound like a mage to me,” Malia said, arching her eyebrows. “Kid could go longer with a sword if he can do that with an ax.”
Braj shook his head. “Either you’ve got good magic or a fighting body and mind. You can’t have both.”
Only Malia recognized the insult thrown at Jroll, who was, ironically, laughing along.