The day of the harvest festival is one of joy for the people of the Warren. It is a day on which we celebrate the end of the rainy season as well as our bountiful harvests, but more importantly, it is the day that we observe the night of wildharvest.
Tenzin Dravenor.
Mayor of the Warren.
Sector 12, Ragnarok.
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“Here’s your payment for the week.” Evaris said as he handed four silver coins to Aodhán. “Also, you don’t have to work for the next few weeks; it’ll be a while before we start planting again.”
Aodhán sighed blissfully. “Thank you, Evaris; you have no idea how happy I am to hear that.”
It was the day before the festival, and coincidentally, it was also the last day of the week, which meant it was payday. Evaris had been the last to pay, and as Aodhán made his way back to the house, he mentally counted the amount he’d gained in the past month.
So far, he’d gained a total of 84 silver coins, but after paying for each week of sword lessons, he only had 81 silver coins left, which was still an enormous amount compared to what the average citizen earned.
Preparations for the harvest festival were in full swing as the farmers had harvested all their crops, and he could see farmhands transporting produce back to their employers barns or silos.
Paper decorations littered the street, and bold signs written in dark brown and black paint covered almost every available wall. Aodhán thought the decorations were hideous, but the villagers loved them.
Merchants crowded the streets, showcasing and advertising various goods. Aodhán had passed this area before, but now that he had a little money, he wanted to buy something for himself.
He made his way to a stall that displayed various 'magical’ jewelry on one corner of the street; it was sectioned into different parts, displaying rings, pendants, bracelets, and even necklaces.
A burly merchant stood by the stall, and when he noticed Aodhán’s attention, he grinned, revealing teeth yellowed by the constant chewing of spring beet.
“Yes, son, you’ve come to the right place.” He hollered in greeting. “No one in the Warren sells quality stuff anymore, you know, corruption and all. But I am different; all I sell is of the highest quality.”
“Is that so?” Aodhán asked with a curious smile, and the merchant sniffed.
“Truly, check out this beautiful silver ring; can’t you just feel the magical energy coursing through it?”
“Hmm.” Aodhán couldn’t sense even a speck of energy within the ring, but he obliged the merchant. “I guess. It’s also quite beautiful, but I would prefer a necklace instead.”
“Oh.” The merchant chuckled. “You have a very keen eye, son; the necklaces are the highest quality in all of the Warren.”
“Of course.” Aodhán focused on the section containing necklaces, and his gaze was immediately drawn to a golden necklace designed with tiny black runes.
Aodhán touched it and realized that he could indeed feel a small amount of magical energy emanating from it.
“Ah, a beautiful one.” The merchant pitched. “It’s origins can be traced to the desert clans in the northern part of the Calodan kingdom.
“That far?” Aodhán asked, shocked at the distance the necklace must have traveled, if the merchant was telling the truth.
“Perhaps even farther, but that was as far as I could trace it.” The merchant replied before he suddenly remembered. “Oh, it comes with its own pendant as well.”
The merchant rummaged through a dirty brown bag, searching, and a moment later, he brought out a golden lightning bolt pendant. “Now it’s complete, and if what I’ve heard of your abilities is correct, then it suits you perfectly.”
“Perhaps too perfectly.” Aodhán muttered as he attached the pendant to the necklace, and it almost seemed to glow to his senses. “How much is it?”
“Well, because you’re such an esteemed figure, I shall give you a discounted price and sell this very magical necklace to you for a single gold coin.”
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“What!” Aodhán exclaimed. “Are you crazy?”
“There’s no need for such language, truly, but because of who you are and what you’ve done for the village, then I shall cut down the price by half.”
“50 silver coins is still a ridiculous price for a trinket.”
“A trinket?” The merchant frowned. “I assure you that this is not a trinket but an extremely valuable magical item. It is definitely worth 50 silver coins.
“Then I’ll just have to return it.” Aodhán replied and handed the necklace over, but the merchant refused it and asked.
“How much would you like to pay then?”
After much haggling, Aodhán finally bought the necklace for 5 silver coins, which was still a ridiculous amount to pay for the necklace, but he was fascinated by the energy emanating from it, and besides, he could easily afford it.
“Nice doing business with you.” He said to the merchant, who replied with a pained expression, but as he turned to leave, the neighing of a horse caught his attention, and he turned to see a troop of soldiers marching through the village.
Unlike the soldiers already stationed in the Warren, these ones were decked in shining silver armor that covered almost every inch of their bodies.
There were a dozen of them, but only one, whom Aodhán assumed was their commander, rode on a horse while the others walked; still, they managed to look down on the villagers as if staring down from high thrones.
All of them were awakened, and although Aodhán couldn’t get an accurate reading of their cores, he felt that they were all stronger than the soldiers stationed at the barrack.
People whispered as they rushed to make way for the arriving soldiers, their expressions that of fear, confusion, and anger.
“Why have they arrived so early?” One woman whispered to her neighbor as they quickly cleared their goods from the road, lest the soldiers kick them away. “Surely it hasn’t been a year yet.”
“It’s only been six months since they arrived last.”
“What do you mean six months?” a farmhand hissed. “We had just planted the corn on Master Cairan’s farm when they arrived last. “I saw them myself, marching through this very street.”
“Nay, it is longer than that; it should be six months by now.”
“Still, this is unheard of!” another woman whispered, interjecting herself into the conversation. “Another recruitment in less than six months?”
“I tell you, this war is simply a waste of life and resources.” The farmhand replied in a harsh whisper.
“The situation of the war must be dire if they are resorting to such measures.” A man pointed out with a shake of his head, but the farmhand glared at him.
“Who cares about the damn war? Whether it be the Calodans or the Sundogs that rule us, I tell you, the Warren will still remain unaffected. The only change we’ll see is the uniforms of these blasted soldiers.”
“I just hope the mayor can at least convince them to wait until the harvest festival is over.”
Aodhán listened to the whispers of the villagers, and as the troop passed by, some began to follow behind them. Aodhán followed too, wanting to know what would happen next.
The soldiers ignored the barracks opposite the Areli tree, but their eyes shone as they felt the energy emanating from it. They stopped before the barricade, though, admiring the tree for a moment before their leader suddenly turned towards the mayor’s office.
….
The mayor’s office.
Second lieutenant Tyrus Hadjen smiled at the mayor as he walked into the office with the skinny scholar in tow. Tyrus wasn’t particularly large himself, but he was muscled and bulging in all the right places.
He was only twenty-five, but his core emanated a pressure that was roughly between the 15th and 16th tiers. He ran his fingers through his coppery blond hair as he sat down and said,.
“I would say long time no see Tenzin, but even I know that it hasn’t been long enough.”
“Why are you here then? What is it you want this time?” The mayor asked.
“What I always want, Tenzin, is to recruit your people.”
“Well, then you’ll be leaving empty-handed, as none of the awakeneds in the village are up to the standard age.”
The lieutenant sighed before producing an envelope, sealed with red beeswax, and handed it to the mayor.
“I bring sad news, Tenzin; the official age of recruitment has been reduced to 16; I do not like this either, but my father—the commander—insists that I do not return empty-handed.”
“Has the war council gone insane? Sixteen-year-olds are children!”
“According to the war council, sixteen-year-olds are awakened and can therefore contribute to the war.”
“They are barely trained, Tyrus; they will be like sheep to the slaughter.”
“You think I don’t know that? I’m only following orders, Tenzin; I do not have a choice.”
The mayor stared at Tyrus in dismay before he massaged his temple and asked. “How much time do we have?”
“Six days, that’s all I can give you.” Tyrus replied, and after a moment of silence, he added. “I’m sorry, Tenzin, but orders are orders. We shall camp outside the village so you can enjoy your festival.”
Immediately after Tyrus left the office, the mayor let out a deep breath and asked. “Darwyn, what are our options?”
“There is nothing we can do but inform the villagers of the latest developments, preferably after the festival.”
The mayor sighed once again and said, “Gather the council; they’ll be dying to know what this was about anyway.”
….
When Aodhán got back home, Unrid had already been summoned to the council meeting, and the rest of the family was speculating on the situation as they were having lunch.
“It has to be a serious matter; if not, the mayor wouldn’t call for such an urgent meeting.” Aldric pointed out, and Synové agreed.
“True, at least not this close to the harvest festival.”
“Is the festival going to be cancelled?” Aodhán asked. He’d heard many of the villagers speculating about the possibility on his way back home. The festive air had soured after the news of the army’s arrival had spread, and even when they’d left to camp outside the Warren, the villagers remained unsettled.
“I doubt things are that serious, but it is possible.” Synové replied. “The most important part of the festival is the Wildharvest, so that’ll hold regardless.”
“Oh, right. How are your preparations going, Daruk?” Aodhán asked.
“Terribly.” Daruk replied with a condescending sniff. “Like I keep telling my mother, I’m not a hunter.”
“You’re not required to hunt anything, honey, just to survive the night; hunting is a plus.” Synové replied.
“Everyone hunts, mom; telling me not to hunt is like telling me to fail.” Daruk argued.
“I doubt there’s anything left to hunt anyway, not after the last expedition.” Aldric chuckled.
“It’s been three weeks since then; they’ll still have to be careful.” Aodhán pointed out.
“I’m just so curious as to what the army wants this time.” Synové grumbled, and in this manner, the conversation continued.
It was evening when Unrid returned from the meeting. His expression was grave as he walked forward, grabbed Daruk, and hugged him.