“Salutations, good sir!”

A jubilant man with shiny, vibrant red hair that draped down from his head in a bowl cut and a warm soft smile across his face approached the barn, calling out to Brixton. The man was wearing a large bishop’s robe made of white cloth adorned with golden lining; the robe was so large it obscured anything the man had on underneath. As he waved his hand in the air, the sunlight sparkled off the surface of golden rings that adorned each of his fingers.

“Hey there!” Brixton called out. “How can I help you friend?”

“My name is Arthur Ward. I come as a member of the Armistice Order and a representative of the World Ox.” Arthur bowed at a 90-degree angle.

“No need for all the fancy stuff,” Brixton said. “Name’s Brixton. What brings you out here?”

“I had business in this chapter’s capital. While there I heard that you were renting this place out. Am I correct in that assumption?”

“That’s right.”

Arthur reached underneath his robe and started rummaging around.

“Are you some kinda bishop?” Brixton asked.

“No, not at all,” Arthur said, chuckling. “The robes are merely the ambassador’s uniform.”

“Never seen a member of the order wearing one.”

“It was removed as a requirement decades ago. I just wear them because it gives me a chance to flaunt these fancy robes.” Arthur pulled out a scroll, tightly bound with a thin rope; dangling from the rope was a bright red wax seal of a lotus flower.

“Sorry, I don’t recognize this emblem.”

“Ah, that makes sense, you don’t see too much outside legal documents or capital cathedrals,” Arthur said. “It’s the universal symbol for the Armistice Order. Each of the petals represents one of the sects.”

Brixton took the scroll. As he unfurled it, his eyes scraped the contents quickly, his pupils bouncing from side to side, but as he continued reading they slowed. Then they shifted back up to the start of the scroll, and went over it once again, even slower.

“That’s … a lot of gold,” Brixton said with a heavy sigh. “With all due respect, this place ain’t worth that much.”

“Nonsense.” Arthur sounded personally offended, as if Brixton’s comment was in regards to Arthur’s land and not Brixton’s. “The chipped paint on the barn, the carefully tilled ground, it’s obvious this place has been well loved. This place carries memories, and it is what we carry that determines worth, such is the teaching of the World Ox.”

“This place carries something other than memories. The land’s cursed or poisoned or some other nonsense. Regardless, nothing can grow.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Arthur said, waving his hand dismissively. “Once a real bishop arrives we should be able to fix that issue. And even if you don’t sell the land, I’d be more than happy to see if I could get one down here. Free of charge, of course.”

Brixton smiled. “Seems I got good luck with people today,” he murmured under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing. Just considering the offer. Both of them.” Brixton looked past Arthur, longingly at the barren land, and the rotting barn

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“Pardon my intrusiveness, but it seems something is troubling you.”

“My kid is studying over at Aethereon to become a mage. Maybe you saw him while you were there,” Brixton said.

“Perhaps I did.”

“He’s a smart kid, but gets a little nervous. Sometimes he forgets to eat, so his mom got worried sick. She ended up going up to stay with him during his studies. I decided to hold down the fort. Told my boy he’d always have a home waiting for him back here in Wishmoore.”

Arthur smiled comfortingly in silent affirmation of Brixton’s choice.

“It got a little lonely, but they wrote often. Sadly, mom got ill. She felt so ashamed of herself. She was there to take care of her son, only to have him stuck taking care of her. Now, he’s a bright kid, but that sorta stuff impacts your studies a fair bit.”

“My blessings to her. I’m sure remaining at home is difficult.”

“Thank you,” Brixton said. “And, I wouldn’t call this place home, not anymore. I always kept holding onto this place, but it never felt like home after they left. I guess it really is true. Home is where the heart is, and right now both my hearts aren’t here.”

Brixton took one long look at his barn, the initial coat of paint he applied when he was just a kid riding on his father’s shoulders now cracking away. “I’ll take the gold. I wanna see my family. Let them know everything will be okay. Without them, this place doesn't mean anything. You can have it.

“There is a group that’s rented it out for tomorrow night, but after that the schedule is open. There was another group of three that stopped by earlier asking about their friend’s wedding, though they honestly seemed more interested in me than this place.

“The one I walked with kept asking questions about tomorrow’s event, so I doubt they’re actually planning for a wedding. Just let me get everything out, and it’s all yours after tomorrow.”

“This place must mean a lot to you,” Arthur said. “Giving it up for your family, it's admirable.”

“Eh, just doing what I think is right, same as everyone else.”

“Because we are mortal, there will come a time where the weights we carry are too heavy for us to continue, and so we must leave one behind. In such times one must consider the value of their burdens, and understand it is not the heaviest that must be continued to be shouldered, but that which we can least afford to let go of, that which we desire to bring with us, that which we wish to see move forward, that is the burden we must continue to carry as we press forward.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Brixton asked.

“A quote, from our holy scripture. I enjoy it. Though I admit the language is a bit archaic. Also, I’d be lying if I said I fully understood it myself,” Arthur admitted. “Please take all the time you need before you make your final decision. I’ll spend some time in the city, and return to you once I begin making preparations to depart.”

“That’d be great.”

As Arthur walked away, Brixton continued to stare in disbelief at the contract in his hands. After re-reading it for the dozenth time, he finally tucked it away in his pocket. Once he did, he noticed that Arthur had left a nearly a foot-deep impression on the ground where he stood while talking to Brixton.

Brixton glanced up at Arthur, who simply smiled and waved back—a gesture Brixton quickly reciprocated.

Arthur suddenly came to a stop as he felt something ting against his feet. Arthur glanced down into the grass. Hidden by the grass, illuminated by sunlight, was a tiny golden locket attached to a snapped chain.

“Excuse me!” Arthur called out to Brixton. “You said a group of three stopped by earlier. Did one of them happen to have a golden locket?”

“Yeah, it was this boy, spiky red hair, not as shiny as your hair more matte, with a ton of pockets and a big backpack.”

Arthur bent down and grabbed the locket from the ground. “Are they around?”

“Doubt it.”

“I see,” Arthur said, staring at the locket. Not even the slightest temptation to open it crossed his mind. “You mentioned one of them expressed interest in tomorrow’s event, is that right? Any chance they’ll be there?”

“He seemed pretty curious about it, so probably,” Brixton said.

“Good to know. Thank you!” Such a simple locket wouldn’t be worth more than a few gold pieces. However, Arthur could feel it was worth much more than that. It was an intense burden for its owner, one that shouldn’t remain lost. Perhaps, he felt, that it was some sort of sign; to stumble upon such a tiny trinket in this vast field of grass was quite unlikely.

Arthur smiled as he slipped the locket beneath his robes. “It’s a good thing I decided to stop by.”