Chapter 3: The Reality Of Revenge And Justice

Landar

The next morning was quiet as the Farmer and I left. The massive draft horse that pulled the large wagon was healthy and hale, and easily did its job. We stopped at several farms on our way, meeting the heads of the households in the early cold air, and picking up their taxes and tithes.

We made it to town without either the farmer or myself saying much more then a few words to each other. When the sun finally rose in the sky enough to start warming the air we came to the edge of town.

Lord Desmand, and Father Earl met us, six large bags of coins ready for us. “It's good to see you Fred.” Desmand said, as he and his teenage son deposited the sacks of currency and valuables into the bed of the wagon.

“That's not my name my lord,” Farmer said, smiling at the old joke.

“No, but it was the name you were meant to bear. Besides, it's much better than Farmer. Everyone around here’s a farmer. Can you imagine the chaos if everyone in my fiefdom who was a farmer who didn’t like the name their parents gave them went by farmer all the time? Insanity, chaos. I’d never keep track of it all.”

“As you say my lord,” Father Earl’s voice was frail. His body was hunched over, as if he were carrying something heavy. The weight of his years had finally caught up with him, I was sure. As the last time I had seen him just a few months before at the birth of one of Farmers grandkids he might have been gray haired, but he had stood tall. And had walked the entire way from the village to the farmstead on foot. The man I now saw, whose eyes were cloudy and distant and dramatically deteriorated from that tall, steadfast priest.

No wonder they’re asking for an apprentice to help out. He’s probably got a couple of years left at best. I thought sadly, as I helped Father Earl with one of the bags. I’d never gotten close to the man, preferring to avoid any contract with anything from my old life that might figure out who I was, just in case anyone was still looking for me. But the little I saw, and everything I heard about the man said he was nothing short of duty bound and honorable. Someone who took his responsibilities far more seriously then he did the few privileges his station afforded him all the way out here in the middle of nowhere.

“Alright you’re all loaded up there Fred.” Desmond said, and I saw Farmer shake his head fighting a grin from crossing his face. “You two have a safe trip. Oh, and here’s a list of things to buy if you end up having the coin while there.” he handed me a piece of parchment, that I unfurled and looked at.

The list was empty.

I raised my eyebrows and handed the paper to the Farmer who shook his head and chuckled. “I’ll never get tired of your jokes My Lord.”

“What do you mean, my jokes? That’s a serious list. The wife and I came up with it just last night.”

“But there’s nothing on it,” I protested, confused.

“Exactly! Why would I ask you lot to buy me anything, when I have everything I need in all the world right here? Family, friends, a little coin, good drink, and a fight whenever someone else gets too drunk. Not to mention the hunting. Oh, if you actually see the Arch Duke in person when you’re delivering the taxes, invite him out here to hunt with me. I do it every year, but he never takes me up on it. It's like he doesn’t like hunting anymore, which I know is insane. That man likes hunting like a bird likes flying!”

Lord Desmond kept prattling on for a few more minutes about things that were clearly either absurd or outlandish for another fifteen minutes until Father Earl needed to sit down.

“Oh right. Sorry Father. Let's get you inside. You all take care! May the mother guide you and the father protect you.” With that, the tirade of seemingly endless nonsense from Lord Desmond ceased and we were once again on our way.

“That man is mad,” i ventured as we left the small town of maybe two hundred souls.

“Which one?”

“Desmond.” Farmer chuckled.

“He's not as mad as he seems.” I gave him an incredulous look. “Oh don’t get me wrong boy. He’s mad. Just not as mad as one might think. The last war against the elves did something to his mind you know. Did you know he was assigned here, shortly after you came to us?”

A feeling of cold dread shot through me and I didn’t exactly know why. Perhaps it was our mutual connection to those events. The war had happened, I knew. It had to have happened. People talked about it all the time. Old men told stories, young men wished they had been old enough to join on the march in the tavern every night, as their mothers and wives whispered about those they lost to the fameon and early, harsh winter that had come that year that had killed so many young and old.

It was whispered by some that more had died from lack of food, and shelter, then died in the actual fighting. Something that did not surprise me in the least.

But the kingdom as a whole, and the Duchy specifically had recovered since then. Years had gone by, the dead had been maorned and buried, and the living had moved on. That was the way of things, life had to go on. No matter the loss, the grief, or the pain.

And the people out here in the middle of nowhere, at the far western forested and hilly edges of the western duchy far from the trappings of most of civilization had learned that lesson more keenly than most.

“No, I uh. I didn’t know that.”

“His family has owned this land for a long time. It was a gift from his grandfather for his work during the war.”

We chatted a while longer, and I learned more about Desmond and Earl. While Desmond was new to the area, Earl had come when he was a young man decades ago. But even before Desmond had technically been given lordship over our little area he had visited with his father and family every few years to enjoy the hunting, collect taxes, and see to their duties as minor nobility. He and Earl had been friends for a long while, and the Farmer had always enjoyed the twos company for a night of drinking every couple of weeks during the summer.

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Eventually we settled into a steady rhythm as we traveled, and a friendly silence fell between us. We came to the river that marked our turn eastwards, and stopped for a little while to let the horse drink and rest.

“You know,” Farmer broke the silence as he was rigging the horse back to the wagon. “Desmond is nobility. He’s very strong. I’ve seen him pack a full grown buck like you did, on his shoulders over miles of rough terrain. At the end of it, he was just starting to break a sweat. You though kid, you weren’t doing so much as half of the heavy breathing he was back then.”

“What are you trying to get at?” I asked, as I felt my hands tense, and fall on the familiar feel of the magical ax the dwarves had gifted me years ago that I still held on my hip. I wouldn't kill the Farmer. Not even if he drew a dagger and tried to kill me. But I would defend myself if I had to.

After all, this man, despite all his kindness, knew nothing about me. Not really.

“What i’m trying to get at boy, is leaving you an opportunity to tell me the truth. I asked you last night, and instead of answering me you just put your head to the grindstone. As you always do when faced with a problem. Now, no one's saying working hard to fix an issue isn’t good. Hells kid, it is the only way to fix an issue. But you can’t ignore a man when he asks you a question. Particularly one that might put him and his family in danger. So what is it? You some nobles run away? You killed someone as a kid? What? I need to know so I can help you. Remember what I said? You’re kin. That means, short of you killing one of my other kin, I'm here for you.”

I felt my throat restrict slightly and I cleared my throat to answer.

“I uh, well. There’s a long story.”

“We have a long road ahead, kid. Hop on the wagon, and tell me everything.”

And I did just that.

***

It took the rest of the day to tell him my story. When finally I got to the night raid, and I told him about my failures, I cried. For the first time in years I openly cried.

“I failed them,” I said, as I wiped away tears from my eyes. “They’re probably dead, or worse. And its my fault.”

Farmer just sat there listening. There were a few things, like my origins from Earth, that I kept out of the story. But by everything else, my failures, weakness, and my hopes and fears, I laid out for him. When I was done, and I once again had control of my emotions, he nodded and pulled me into a side hug.

“Good. I knew you were something special. But the Gods themselves sent you to your family boy. You were there to help them. And you did by your own account.”

“Yeah, but I failed.” I said bitterly. My emotions were running rampant, I hadn’t felt like this since I was a teenager. Wait . . .

“You’re a kid. Failure comes with the territory. You’re learning right?” I nodded. “And nothing you did, you did out of cruelty. You were only trying to help. And from the sounds of things, you got caught in someone else's drama.”

I nodded, and sniffed trying to get the burning in my face and eyes under control. I felt better, but the guilt was still there.

“So what are you going to do?” he asked a mix of stern demand and concern in his voice.

“I, I don’t know.”

“Yes you do. I saw it in your eyes the moment I said something about going to the capital with me. You wanted something. What is it?”

I sighed. “Revenge.” It sounded childish now.

The farmer nodded. “Good.”

“What?” I asked, looking him square in the face. “Aren’t you supposed to, I don’t know, try and talk me out of it or something? Tell me how revenge is a journey that will fill two graves, or some other wisdom like that?”

The farmer laughed. “Hells no! Your family was wronged. And from what you've told me you’re not no nobles brat right?” I nodded. “Good. The only justice us peasants get is what the nobles gift us, or what we can take. You ain’t going to find help from some judge or guard. Not for this.” He opened his palm and closed it into a fist in front of himself. “If you want to see something set right then you need to do it yourself boy. That’s the only way.”

I sat there in shock for a moment and realized exactly who I was talking too, and what the world looked like from his social position. He was right.

Back home on Earth, a citizen could legitimately seek remedy in court. But throughout most of human history that was not the case. Justice, real justice if civil rights only belonged for a very small group of people. The highest echelons of society typically. Universal civil rights and enfranchisement was a rather recent invention even back home.

Here, where it might as well have been the middle ages if not further back in time as the system was largely a feudal one was far from even being close to having something like that. My mind went to the memories I had of the few interactions my parents had had with higher ups in society.

And my mind went to the first time I saw it. When I was introduced to Sigvald and the other high priest. The one of the Blue Priesthood, the weasley little rat. He had openly threatened my life, and my sister's freedom just because my parents had thought to ask a question.

It was only because Sigvald and Mother Margaret had taken offense at his slight against their authority, which I was pretty sure was a ruse to protect my family and me at the time, that the man had met any push back for his actions. Even my parents seemed to think it had been a normal reaction from someone of higher power.

Even those few institutions that seemed to give the lower classes some kind of power to push back on the upper parts of society, like the city council and their relationship with the drudges were largely ineffectual and based on the raw exercise of power.

The worst that the drudges were thought to be able to do was to annoy those of higher station. And that only by working together, and being willing to accept what looking back I realized were lots of casualties. I had seen drudges sentenced to be worked near to death, or sent to harsher work gangs, merely for over indulging on the weekend and needing medical care from the free Gray Priesthood clinic.

And I had seen, and turned a blind eye to far, far worse during my time in the city.

Slavery might technically be regulated into near illegality. But the value of a single human life in this society was very very low.

The Farmer must have seen something in my expression harden as the realization dawned on me that what he was saying was true. He cleared his throat and offered some useful advice. “But you have to do it smart. First, you have to make sure that the ones done you wrong, have actually done you wrong. It’d be mighty foolish to walk in and try to attack someone who didn’t even do the thing you thought they did.”

I nodded in agreement. Who knows, things might have turned out alright after I left. Images of my family looking for me hopelessly in the aftermath of the violence the city had devolved into filled my mind for the first time. I had never even considered the idea. But . . . as remote as it was. It was a possibility.

“Second, you need to find an opportunity to do it quiet like. Be smart about it, and find a way to hurt them that won’t bring more harm to you and your kin.” He stared me directly in the eye as he said that.

I get it. I don’t want anyone else getting hurt because of a screw up. I nodded.

“Good boy. And Third, you also have to realize that often us little folks justice? Well, it's pretty small too. That is, if we want to take it, and be alive at the end of it. Do you understand? Find a way to hurt them back, but realize that if you want to survive the ordeal, you might not be able to do everything you want. Got it?”

I nodded. And thoughts of just how to do what he was saying filled my mind.