Max felt the weight of his situation bearing down on him. He didn’t know how much longer he could survive. A small flock of birds had nearly killed him, after all, and now he was facing an angry farmer holding a weapon that would likely do far more damage than a peck or a scratch. To make matters worse, he had no idea where he was or where he would even go if he tried to run.
The thief pushed down his instinct to run and chose to face the angry farmer. Maybe he could convince the farmer he was no danger to him. Maybe the farmer would even help him understand where he was.
Max put on a brave face, but inside he was quaking. He took a deep breath and stood up straighter, stiffening his resolve. He hoped that he could successfully deal with this angry farmer the same as he might if he was dealing with an angry dog. Show no fear, and hopefully the beast would back down or at least act more rationally.
He checked the farmer’s stats again, and the table of information emerged from the dust swirling around the man who angrily brandished his wooden farming implement above his head.
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> Name: Common farmer
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> Status: Angry
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> Attack: Wooden rake
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> Threat level: Moderate
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Seeing that the threat level from the farmer was only moderate should have given Max some comfort, but his health was so low already that even that would be enough to finish him off. In fact, Max was feeling so weak, he feared he may even succumb to a few harsh words.
“Sneaking into my crops. Knocking down my scarecrow,” The farmer muttered, his breath ragged from running across the field. “I ought to take your ugly head off.”
Now Max was offended. Ugly? Him? He didn’t think of himself as an Adonis by any means, but he had always considered himself relatively good-looking, especially compared to those mafia goons he was usually around. Not that any of the girls back home ever paid much attention to him. He just hadn’t found the right girl yet, but he knew he would someday.
The farmer had certainly noticed him though! The awkwardness of the situation was at the front of Max’s mind. He was acutely aware of the itchy burlap sack scratching his skinny behind, tickling the back of his neck, and making him feel extremely uncomfortable, but he’d much rather stand there wearing an old sack than nothing at all.
“My apologies. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how I got here.” Max tried to charm the farmer with a polite apology, hoping to cool his anger a bit. “In fact, I don’t even know where here is.”
Max started to feel more anxious about not knowing where he was than about the angry farmer he was confronting. He was utterly lost and no idea how he’d gotten there. He didn’t know if the strange machine had transported him or if the gangsters had stripped him naked and dropped him in a field to die.
The farmer came to a halt within striking distance of Max. The man’s red face was partly from anger but mostly from the exertion of running across the field.
He scowled at Max. “Why did you break down my scarecrow?”
“I woke up in the middle of your field with nothing on. Completely naked.” Max tugged the burlap sack on his chest. “I borrowed this from your scarecrow because I needed something to wear.”
“What kind of game are you playing, running around my field naked? I swear, I will never understand you townsfolk.”
“I’m not from the town, and I don’t know how I got here. Can you tell me where I am?”
The farmer was slowly regaining his breath, and he stepped forward menacingly, waving his heavy wooden rake at Max. “You’re in my field, and you have ruined my scarecrow.”
The farmer stepped forward again, and Max braced himself for battle. His fingers tightened on the staff, and he watched carefully as the farmer approached, waiting for the precise moment the farmer came within striking range of his staff. Max was going to land the first blow and hoped it would be enough to chase off the farmer.
The farmer abruptly stopped advancing and looked down on the ground. He poked the ground with his rake and then looked up at Max, his face a picture of surprise. The thief glanced down to where the farmer was poking, and he saw one of the dead crows.
“Did you kill this Death Crow?” the farmer asked, looking between the Death Crow on the ground and Max. He wore a look of surprise on his face.
“Yes, I did. But only because they attacked me.” Max pointed at the scratches on his shoulder and neck. “I think they were trying to kill me.”
“You think they were trying to kill you?” The farmer said, looking even more puzzled. “You mean there was more than one?” The farmer started looking around.
“Yeah,” Max replied hesitantly. “Six in all. The others are back here.” He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb.
“These Death Crows have been plaguing me for months.” The farmer lowered the rake and came closer, leaning on it slightly. “You’ve saved my crop, young stranger. I thought I’d be stuck with them until the end of my days.” A smile spread over the farmer’s puffy red face. He reached out a hand to Max. “Come with me, young man. Let’s get you out of that dirty old sack. It’s the least I can do to reward you for ridding me of these infernal birds.”
Max followed the farmer through the sea of wheat and then into a meadowland of rich green grass with small colorful flowers scattered throughout. They passed a solitary, fat milk cow chewing the lush meadow grass and continued on until they came to the farmer’s house. It was a low, whitewashed cottage with a thatched roof, a thin wisp of smoke drifting from the stone chimney. The farmer pulled open the simple wooden door and stepped inside. He motioned for Max to follow him into the gloomy interior.
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“Come in,” he called out. “Sit down at the table.” The farmer pointed at a simple table in the middle of the dark cottage. He disappeared through a curtain-covered doorway and reappeared with a small bundle of clothes a moment later. He set them down next to Max and indicated with a nod and a smile that Max should get changed. The farmer turned his back and stirred a black pot that was hanging over a fire in the stone hearth, giving the thief a little privacy.
Max took a pair of pants off the pile of clothes the farmer had given him. They were a dark color and made of soft and light material, fastening in the front with laces. He pulled them on with an audible sigh of relief and laced them up before pulling the burlap sack off over his head. The thief grabbed the whitish shirt the farmer had brought and found it was made of a light material similar to the pants, also fastening in the front with laces. The sleeves were puffy and made him look like a pirate, but it was so much more comfortable than the scratchy old sack that he didn’t care one bit.
There was also a tight black vest that he put on over the shirt, making Max feel like he was cosplaying a medieval brigand or something. It would be a great outfit for the next costume party he got invited to. The last thing in the bundle was a pair of shoes that were little more than slippers made of leather. They were infinitely better than walking barefoot, though, and he happily pulled them on. The slipper shoes were soft and comfortable, and they made his feet feel like he could walk a hundred miles in them. Of course, they would probably be the first thing that got destroyed once he started walking because they were clearly made for comfort over utility.
He looked around the room for his stats and found them in the smoke above the fire. By now, Max had figured out that thinking about what he wanted to see would make it materialize somewhere. The challenge was figuring out where it would show up. He focused on his inventory and saw that it had updated.
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> Inventory:
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> • Light shirt
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> • Light pants
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> • Soft boots
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> • Burlap sack
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> • Staff
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The farmer glanced over his shoulder to make sure the young man was dressed then took a ladle and filled a wooden bowl with steaming broth from the pot. “I was just about to eat when I saw you attacking my scarecrow,” the man explained as he offered Max the bowl. “Here, try my stew. It’s not as good as my daughter makes, but I think you’ll find it’s tasty enough.”
Max took the bowl, suddenly realizing how hungry he was. His stomach gurgled at the promise of food, and he ate greedily. The stew was absolutely delicious, and he tipped the bowl up and finished every last drop. As he placed the bowl back on the table, he could feel his health recover.
“That’s so much better than McDonald’s,” Max said, looking at the farmer.
“Who is this MacDonald? Is he from around here?” The farmer refilled Max’s bowl. “I don’t think I know them.”
Max gazed around the cottage, feeling like he was in one of those open-air history museums he’d visited as a kid. “So, where is this place?”
“You really don’t know where you are?” The farmer looked at the young man questioningly as he placed a fresh bowl of soup on the table. “This is the county of Bright Meadow.”
“What state is that in?” Max asked.
“Oh, we are in a very good state since the new king took over,” the man said happily. “The Kingdom of Breamor has never been more prosperous.”
“King?” the thief exclaimed. “You have a king?”
The farmer laughed. “Did you take a knock on the head from those Death Crows? Every land in Eveirea has its own king.”
Eveirea?! Max had never heard of a place called Eveirea, but he had never been much for geography either, so that wasn’t entirely surprising. He absently wondered about his health and saw the steam rising from his bowl of soup twist into a stats window.
His health had returned to full, the bar filled with a bright green color. He no longer had any injuries, and more importantly, felt fit and healthy once again.
“I need to find my way home,” Max said, turning his attention to the farmer. “Thank you for the soup and the clothes. Is there any way I can get a ride into the city?” At this point, Max didn’t care what city. He just needed to get out of the countryside and find somewhere familiar so he could get his bearings and find out where he was.
“Finish your soup, and then I’ll point you toward town.”
Max greedily ate until his hunger was banished, the farmer sitting opposite him puffing on a long thin pipe. Once the thief had finished, the farmer led him outside.
“The town of Burke lies along that road.” The farmer pointed at a road passing near his cottage, a road that was little more than a dirt track.
The sun was still high in the sky, and there was a chill in the air. The fresh set of clothes seemed warm enough, and Max decided there was no reason to linger any longer. He gripped his staff tightly and made ready to head off to town, hopefully to find a bus or a train that would take him back to the city.
“Thank you again for taking care of the Death Crows,” the farmer said. “You have saved my little farm. I have no right to ask any more of you, but if you are going to town, would you please deliver a letter to my daughter? She runs a laundry business in the middle of town.”
The man scribbled a quick note and sealed it with a blob of wax. “I just want her to know the good news that the Death Crows have been vanquished. It’s all in the letter. Look for the washer house on the main street in Burke.”
Max took the letter and pondered everything he had experienced since waking up naked in the field. The quaint farm, the funny clothes, and now this old-style letter.
“Of course, I’ll take it to your daughter.” Max turned the letter over in his hand. There was no address, only a name. Meg.
Max furrowed his brow and shook his head slightly. Everything is so strange here!
He shrugged and dropped the letter into the burlap sack and tied it to the end of his staff then set off down the road in the direction the farmer had sent him.
The road passed through fields and meadows, and Max had a powerful urge to check his phone while he walked. Unfortunately, he no longer had his phone or literally anything else he had possessed before breaking into the secret laboratory. The thief supposed it didn’t matter anyway because he was sure there’d be no reception around here.
Max walked on, carrying his staff over one shoulder, the burlap sack hanging from the end. When the road climbed upward, he removed the sack and used the staff like a hiking pole to help him with the climb. As he crested one of the taller hills, he caught his first glimpse of a town in the distance. Tall chimneys peeped up over the horizon with gray wisps of smoke rising into the clean blue air.
The town was just across a field to his left, maybe a mile away, two at the very most. The road, however, wound around and over several hills before eventually turning left and down toward the far end of the town. It would take him through several extra miles of hilly terrain, resulting in hours of additional walking.
Surely, the thief thought, it would be much faster to simply take the direct route and walk across the field straight into town. The field didn’t look that big, after all, so Max stepped off the road and onto the grass. It was soft underfoot, and although the grass came up almost to his knees, it was easy to walk through. He took several steps away from the road, heading directly for one of the chimneys of the town, then he paused.
Max looked back at the road, considering the wisdom of leaving the established pathway, and then he gazed across the field. With a shrug, he turned toward the obvious shortcut and strode off across the field. If the going got too rough, he could simply turn back and continue following the road. Worst case, he’d have wasted a little time. The possibility of saving several hours of walking was worth the risk, he thought.