The journey home felt like an eternity. The family of three plus a dead father traveled with a caravan heading down the same road for extra safety. Venia was elated to find out they'd have extra travel companions and was disappointed to learn she was the only ten-year-old among them.

As the wooden, horse-drawn wagons creaked and wobbled down the dirt road, Venia spent the time counting wagons, counting arrows, counting barrels, counting people and villages they'd passed, counting trees and wild animals, counting potholes and every time a wagon wheel got stuck in one, and she counted how many times strange men would offer their condolences to her mother, then ask for her hand in marriage. Twenty-two times, she counted.

It took four days to reach Graval Estate from Selestos, according to Venia's count. Graval Estate was the land where Venia grew up. It was a humble territory in the Kingdom of Vanaham and was enfeoffed to the lowly Lord Titus Graval, who used most of it as farmland.

Venia's family were serfs, which meant they weren't paid money for any of their work. They weren't even allowed to leave the estate, at least not while Lord Graval was there. The only reason they managed to make it to Selestos for their father's and Borcha's deaths was because Lord Graval had been out on a campaign and his wife, Lady Mathilda Graval, would take charge of the estate. Lady Mathilda was too kindhearted for Lord Graval.

When Lord Graval would leave for political assemblies or military campaigns, she'd share his wealth with his peasants. She'd shower the village with food and clothes. She'd raise the families' rations and buy supplies she didn't need. She'd change laws, put on plays, and decorated the town and castle with signs painted with inspiring poetry. In other words, she would undo all of Lord Graval's hard work.

Venia liked her.

Venia could see Castle Graval up on Graval Hill as they rode through Graval Forest on Graval Road to Graval Town. His castle was the most magnificent structure in the entire estate, which isn't to say much. It was built mostly out of wood and quarried stone carried in from neighboring lands, and it had a great, lazy portcullis that would screech and groan every time it had to be opened.

Venia did not like Lord Graval one bit. He was a pompous and proud man who was quite a brilliant tactician. House Graval had a long lineage of exceptional tacticians, and each Lord Graval who ever lived had one great victory under his belt. The Lord Graval whom Venia lived under, Lord Titus Graval, still had not yet achieved his one great victory. Though he had played key roles in winning many skirmishes, he'd yet to impress his liege, King Tarvos, enough to grant him more land to expand the influence of House Graval.

This bothered him to his bones. Before the war that started the famine, he'd spend days pacing his castle, thinking up ways to incite some sort of conflict that he could easily resolve. It was no help that the realm had experienced the longest period of peace of any nation in history. The reason for this peace was an alliance that had formed between the five largest countries on the continent, Niscea. The alliance was simply called The Confederation, and it was getting in the way of Lord Graval's ambitions.

"How are we supposed to gain more power and land if we're not allowed to start any wars?" He asked his wife, Lady Mathilda, while pacing around in his garden one day.

"I already told you my idea," she said as she sat in the shade of her pavilion, reading a book and not even sparing him a glance.

"No," he answered sternly. "I'll be the laughingstock of the whole country. I'll disgrace my ancestors. My legacy would be ruined."

"I don't know why you even ask for my help," she shrugged, looking up for a moment.

"I wasn't. I was just thinking out loud," he explained.

"Well, go think somewhere else." With that, she dug her nose right back into her book, which was some romance about a lady who had been married off to a lord she didn't love.

"It's just that musicals are a little useless," Lord Graval said in a soft voice, kneeling beside Lady Mathilda and placing a hand on her shoulder. "Nothing against your liking them, but we're talking about politics here, and politics needs strong men and action, not sing-songs and men in tights prancing around a stage."

"They're working just fine down in the Imber Isles," she protested.

"Oh, they're all crazy down in the Imber Isles anyway," he said dismissively.

"Think about it. You could be the very first lord in all the world to try to bring about world peace through art and open discourse," she passionately protested.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

"People don't listen to just anyone's words, dear. They listen to men of great renown, who have proven themselves on the field, in court, and in bed," he said with a wink

"You'd better get on with it then. You're fifty-three and haven't managed to do good in any of those things," she said with a wave of her hand and walked away.

Lady Mathilda was from the Imber Isles deep in the seas of the south, from a prominent family in Alnum, the capital there. The Imber Isles were a far more liberated people than Vanaham, who remained traditionally feudal and boring. She longed to spearhead the movement for world peace through her poetry. She'd written several scripts for plays and musicals that would surely melt the iron heart of any warmongering king, and this era of peace was perfect timing for her to spread her philosophies, writings, and other artistic passions.

Of course, as history took its natural course and the peace times ended, war broke out over a border dispute between Vanaham to the east and the Hillands to the west, and with war came famine. Not just any famine, but the famine. The famine that killed Venia's father and younger brother. The famine that would change everything.

Venia wasn't sure why, but her mother began treating her differently. Rona had always been a little tough on Venia, so she could grow into a strong, dependable mother one day, but this was different. She'd lecture Venia relentlessly over little things, like eating too fast or too slow, forgetting to tie her hair up when she worked in the garden, and not setting the table according to the table-setting standard established in some book written by some writer from some far-off country they'd never see.

Rona's temper became short-fused, and she'd even explode at Thomas on occasion. She'd begun paddling Venia for more severe demerits, such as feeding the dog too much food or miscounting a harvest.

Thomas would try to comfort Venia by telling her their mother's been through a lot and just doesn't know how to deal with it all, but it only made Venia wonder why she had to take it out on her. After all, Venia thought, she's done nothing but try to help her mother. Why does she deserve to be yelled at all day?

"It's not fair," Venia said one lazy afternoon as she sat beside her father's grave beneath a large oak tree. She pulled at the dead grass on the ground and cooed, "Mama's been awfully hard on me since you died. Lord Graval lowered our rations again too, just like he did when Borcha died. Maybe that's what's got her so angry. Maybe she's just hungry. She goes to town all day and won't tell anyone where she's going or where she's been. Thomas and I must do all the work on the farm now. Thomas says we can't make this month's quota and mama's stressing out over that too. I'm considering lying about our harvest this year, papa. It might make her feel a little better. We're just not good farmers like you. I wish you were still alive."

Thomas would see her sitting in the shade beneath the oak talking to their father's grave. He wondered to himself what their father would do. He remembered how their father snuck out after Borcha's death to go hunt for quail in Lord Graval's forest. This was illegal, of course, but they managed to eat well that night. That is what Thomas did. He went and managed to catch a quail for dinner that night and put a smile on Venia's face. Rona, of course, was cross.

"I cannot believe you'd do something so stupid, Thomas," Rona said sharply as she stuffed a forkful of quail in her mouth. "Venia, maybe, but you?"

Thomas swallowed before answering, "I'm sorry, mama, but I'm sick of eating grain and tea. Aren't you? There are only so many ways you can boil cabbage."

"You should be thankful we even have that," she replied. "Think of those poor folks downtown who have no land of their own."

"This isn't exactly our land, ma," Thomas rebutted.

"No, but that garden out back is keeping us all from starving to death, so you should be thankful," she said quickly. She started eating faster. "Now, no more talking back to me."

"I'm sorry, ma," he started, "But Lord Graval's taking food from that garden too. You know math, so you can figure out that there's no way we can survive the next winter with our little ration."

"Don't tell me what I know, young man!" She snapped, pointing her fork toward Thomas.

The look she shot was so deadly, even Thomas had to look away for fear of being turned to stone. Rona composed herself, sat up straight, and turned to Venia. "What about you, Venia? What good have you done today?"

"I fertilized the garden, ma'am," Venia replied with her eyes looking down at her plate of quail and cabbage.

"Is that all?" Rona scoffed.

"She also cleaned the house and plucked the ticks off Geoff," Thomas interjected. Rona looked around and saw that the house, indeed, had been cleaned. However, what she didn't know was that it was Thomas who cleaned it. "What about you, ma? What'd you do in town all day?"

"I told you, I'm trying to find some merchants we can invest in," she explained.

"Invest with what? We have nothing, ma."

"No more questions, Thomas. I know quite well what I'm doing."

"The consolation gifts!" Venia exclaimed excitedly. "Why aren't we talking about those? We could use those to trade and survive the winter."

"If they even get here, you nit," Rona said. "Your father was buried three months ago. Three! Not even a letter is yet to come. The roads aren't safe. You should understand that already if you'd only pay attention."

"Take it easy on her, ma," Thomas defended Venia.

"We have no father, Thomas," Rona shot back. "You're the man of the house now, and you're old enough to be levied. What will I do if you leave and get yourself killed in some stupid battle for some selfish lord?"

"You'll have more consolation gifts to look forward to," he said with half a smile.

"Don't you—" Rona choked up and began sobbing. Thomas and Venia looked at each other, unsure how to handle this. Thomas stood and placed his arms on her shoulders, and Venia pulled her seat up and held her mother's hands.

"It's just you remind me so much of your father, Thomas," she managed to say. "And Venia, you remind me so much of myself. All I want is for things to be different for you. I want my son back. I want my husband. No matter what I try, I can't do anything but hope you turn out better than your father and I."

Thomas and Venia exchanged a quick, knowing glance with one another, then a knock came from the door. Geoff emerged from beneath the table and began barking and wagging this tail, pointing his nose toward the front door. Thomas nodded to Venia.

"I'll get it," she said, then patted her mother's hands and stepped over.

When she opened the door, she was greeted by a courier who was dressed in rags that were slightly finer than her own. His were white, though a little dirty, and had sleeves that went down to his elbows. He must've been about twenty years old. He was rummaging through his satchel when Venia greeted him.

"Hello, mister. Who are you?" She said.

"I'm Jon, courier from Malavon," he said as he dug around in his bag. Rona and Thomas perked up when they heard this.

"Why would you come from so far?" Venia asked curiously, hoping for some big surprise. Malavon was a large city on the northern coast of the continent in the lands of Coldfyre. By now, Thomas and Rona had made their way to the door and stood just behind Venia.

"Special delivery," the courier said lazily. "You guys had a lot of deliveries coming this way, so this one was tossed in."

Venia's face lit up.

"A lot of deliveries?" She inquired.

"Tossed in?" Thomas asked. "What do you mean 'tossed in?' Was it not meant for us?"

"Here it is!" The courier exclaimed when he finally found the right envelope. "This letter ought to explain what's going on."

Rona took the letter and read it aloud, "To whom it may concern: I hope you like my booby. Sincerely, the previous owners." She checked the backside of the paper to ensure there wasn't anything else they'd written. There wasn't.

"Okay, what the hell is this?" Rona asked.