The bright morning light shone through the cracks of the walls of the damp, abandoned stone house. Godric, who was still weary from not getting enough sleep, had no choice but to rise and start his day. The young man groggily dusted himself, stretched, and set out to fetch his trusted sickle from the lead farmer's tool shed. It was harvesting season, and it was a bountiful one compared to previous autumn moons.
This was enough reason for Lord Mikhael of House Polifio to throw the biggest celebration his subjects had ever seen on the night before. The townsfolk were overjoyed of course. For Godric however, this meant more work to be made, as most of the workforce responsible for the harvest were still drunk off their asses and sleeping soundly in places only they would know.
'We can always do it by midday, you know. Lord Mikhael's a kind fellow anyways!' Godric remembered a friend merrily shouting this to him during the festivities as he danced the night away and gulped down his ale like he was dying of thirst.
"Damn that fool," Godric muttered to himself as he headed off to the fields. "Lord Mikhael might be kind, but the guards are surely not. It'll not be my fault if he gets carried off and whipped."
The lad's words were true: Their liege lord was a kind and generous individual, but he was easily manipulated by a few if not all of the members of his small council. It did not take a genius to see how he was being exploited and played like a puppet, so much so that even a simple farmer boy like him could notice it just by observing how he behaved during the festivities.
He wondered if he was also a puppet--that the Divines themselves were pulling the strings, with him taking part in a performance that would ultimately lead him to an unknown fate. Godric was so lost in thought regarding this mundane possibility that he failed to look at where he was going and suddenly bumped into something hard.
He fell back down to the ground to the sound of heavy metal crashing at the same time. Godric knew that metals were only found worn or used by the soldiers or the local blacksmith.
He panicked, and all feelings of weariness disappeared as a sudden rush of adrenaline coursed through his body. Godric had no time to check which was which--he quickly got up to his feet and sprinted in the other direction in the fastest manner he could muster.
"Godric!" a strong, yet gentle voice cried out. "Calm down! It's just me." Godric stopped to look behind him, sweat building up on his forehead. The morning light cast a shadow on the figure so he squinted until his eyes adjusted to where he could see who it was.
"Divines take me, it's just you Wyatt," Godric let out a sigh of relief and calmed himself down as Wyatt let out a hearty laugh. "I thought I was a goner then and there. Sorry if I seemed a bit lost." He apologized, as he wiped the sweat off his forehead.
"Don't mention it," Wyatt replied, offering his hand for Godric to grasp as he helped him up to his feet. "What's gotten you all muddled up in the head and a bit off this early?" he continued. "It's supposed to be the biggest harvest in forty autumn seasons they said!" Wyatt exclaimed as he picked up the scattered weaponry and armor on the ground and placed them back on the cart.
"Aren't you at least a bit excited about that? We'll be having feasts upon feasts for this, my friend!" Wyatt then let out another laugh, which made Godric chuckle since there was truth to what the blacksmith's son said.
"I'd agree with you on that," Godric smirked as he helped Wyatt clean up the mess he started in the first place. "This place might also have never slept after all the madness last night." Godric eased up a bit after remembering moments that stood out the night before and let out a laugh.
He couldn't help himself. "Your name day is also coming up is it not? Father told me all about it," Wyatt asked him. "Technically speaking, yes, it is," he replied, but in a sad tone as there was a bit more to his name day.
Godric remembers from Wyatt's father that the two of them were born around the same year the infamous rebellion started about twenty-three summers ago. Wyatt's father, a blacksmith of great renown, was respected by everyone who had fought on either side as he played a crucial role in providing the weapons and armor that anyone desperately needed during the war, and for his part in defending Rosetown from a surprise siege by a squad of royal soldiers and loyalists. He took no side and only did what he thought was best for the people.
His father lost an eye in the process, but that never hindered him in his skills in smithing for it was his hands that remembered how to create lumps of metal and ore into art. Because of this, Godric could say that Wyatt had lived a decent enough life being known as the son of a hero, a true man of the people, but the same could not be said for himself.
Just as the war slowed to its final months, he was spotted and picked up by Wyatt's father, who just happened to be near the riverbanks of Rosetown. At the time, he was fetching fresh water to clean wounds and wash off dirt from spare cloth when to his surprise, found Godric lying in a basket, neatly wrapped in white cloth and crying from the sound of war and screams in the distance. The smithy took pity on him and carried him back to camp, deciding to take Godric to town to keep him safe and under the farm hands' protection.
"Oi!" a shout snapped Godric back into reality. "What's going on here?" An authoritative voice asked. The two lads turned and quickly recognized Walter, the obese and prideful son of one of the crooked guards that Wyatt and Godric knew all too well. He was notorious amongst his peers as he would use his father's status and position to gain favor from those who were older than him, and abuse those who he saw were beneath him.
If ever there was a living manifestation of a demon that could walk underneath the morning light, Godric thought, Walter would easily fit the description. "Well, if it ain't the orphan and the pampered son," Walter said in a blunt, mocking tone as he neared the duo. "Off to no good today, eh?" He continued.
"Good morning to you too, Walter," Godric replied, staring at him with a tired look, clearly not in the mood for his antics. "Oooh. What's with that stare, farm boy?" Walter replied, annoyed as if he was insulted.
"Don't you have something better to do such as harvesting 'em crops? Be a good lad and do your job so we won't be starving to death." The fellow now slowly walked up to Godric with a fist clenched up, clearly ready for a fight.
"Now lads! Ease up, hahaha!" Wyatt suddenly interjected between the two and quickly pulled Godric back a distance to talk with him for a bit. "Give me a moment with this sucker, all right?" asked Wyatt as Walter let out a satisfied nod of approval.
"Listen here, Godric. Do not pick a fight with that idiot, especially now." Wyatt whispered as he locked his arm behind Godric's neck. "Everyone, and I mean everyone is still hungover from last night," Wyatt continued. "And trust me when I say you do not want ta' pick up a fight with the head guard's son, whose father might be more screwed up than this one is."
Godric looked back at Walter, who was busy rummaging and looking through the weaponry stack for something. He then gave it a thought and finally reconsidered. "Okay, okay. You're right," replied Godric. "Let's just say we don't want any trouble and be off."
The two then walked back up to Walter who was somewhat preoccupied by the cart Wyatt was assigned to bring back to the local forgery. "Hey--hands off, Walter." Wyatt rushed to where the head guard's son was. "You might be the head guard's son, but you're still a civilian. You know the rules. Civilians aren't to carry weapons in Rosetown unless you're carrying a permit or if is necessary." Wyatt continued, clearly strict about following the rules and respecting his father's work.
"But what if I do need a weapon to protect myself? Like, for example, this dagger right here." Walter replied as he revealed a steel dagger encrusted with a ruby beneath its hilt, a work that was clearly of fine craftsmanship.
"What if someone..were to say, rob and threaten to kill me if I did not hand over my goods?" he continued as he eyed the dagger, clearly expressing interest in the weapon. "How much would this cost, Wyatt?" he then looked at the smithy's son.
"I'm sorry, but that ain't for me to decide," Wyatt replied as he began preparing the horses for the ride back into town. "If you want, go ask my father, but I'm sure he wouldn't be willing to sell it since you don't have a permit on you, nor are you a guard." he continued.
"C'mon, it'll just be between us." Walter then proceeded to pick out a handful of silver coins from his pouch, catching the attention of the two.
"Woah, woah. Where'd you get that much?" Wyatt immediately asked him. "It's amazing what benefits you get being the son of the head guard," he replied as he let out a wink and mischievous grin. "So, what do you say?" Walter asked Wyatt, who was somewhat conflicted and seemed to think about the idea.
"Seven circles of hell, do not even think about it, Wyatt," said Godric as he smacked his friend in the shoulder. "You'll be getting into serious trouble with this!" He continued, clearly concerned for his friend's safety and reputation if the townsfolk knew about the possible exchange.
"Stay out of this, farm boy!" Shouted Walter in an annoyed tone. "If you want your weapon, go grab a shovel and while you're at it, dig a hole and bury yourself in it. It's where you belong after all, deep in the dirt, just like your seeds and crops!" Walter continued, clearly goading Godric into a fight, to which the lad was already ready as he swung a left fist onto the obnoxious demon-spawn's nose out of anger, breaking it in the process.
"Fucking brat!" Shouted Walter as he stumbled back and hit the ground hard, clearly surprised that someone would have the guts to step up to him. "You broke my fucking nose! I'll get you for that!". Godric was ready for a fight when suddenly, Wyatt pulled him away from the possible fight and quickly motioned him to get on the cart.
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"Bloody idiot! Get on up there and let's go!" Wyatt motioned Godric to move. "I'll drop you off to where you intended to go and we'll just explain this to the authorities later." he continued as he quickly got up on his seat and commanded the horses to go full speed into town, leaving the bloodied face Walter on the road by himself, still spouting all kinds of profanity at Godric.
"What, in the seven hells, were you thinkin'?!" Wyatt shouted as the cart rushed across town and passed by a few of the townspeople, with the morning breeze blowing up his messy auburn-colored hair. "If you sold that dagger, the both of us would have been in trouble!" Godric replied to his friend.
"You know how he'll abuse his power even more if he gets a hand on a weapon. If you accepted that silver and he got caught, he'd easily create some story saying that you were illegally selling weapons and convinced him to buy one." He continued to explain as he looked at Wyatt with a concerned look.
"He'd get off easily with the help of his father and a couple of bribes, but you--you'd potentially be losing almost everything." He explained as silence separated the two.
Despite the pace they were riding at, along with the mass of weapons, armor, and materials they had--the silence was the tone that caused the most noise. This continued until they reached the forgery near the town hall. "Listen, Wyatt. I'm sorry for earlier," said Godric, finally breaking the deafening hush that was separating the two. "No, no. He deserved it," replied Wyatt with an apologetic tone.
"You were right back there. I shouldn't have even considered doing so in the first place," he continued as he maneuvered the cart to the back of the forgery. "That swing was still unnecessary though. You'll have a target on your back now." The blacksmith's son warned his friend.
"I know, I know," Godric replied as he helped carry the heavy cargo. "Thanks for the ride, Wyatt. I'll just be walking the rest of the way from here," Godric said as he motioned toward the beautifully abundant field. He marched on the dirt road until he finally reached the tool shed. He slowly swung open the oak door to find his trusted sickle propped on the wooden corner of the small shed.
"Well..." Godric said as he clutched the tool firmly in his hand. "Time to go to work."
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The farm boy worked and toiled throughout the entire day under the heat of the sun, only stopping once every few hours to catch a quick break and refresh himself. He carried numerous sheaves of wheat and stored them neatly inside the warehouse for the others to work with later on.
Hours had passed, and soon Godric found himself lying underneath an oak tree, exhausted from harvesting and carrying wheat and other vegetables all day. A few moments later, he spotted a few of his fellow farmhands nearing the farm, getting ready to continue the work that Godric had already started.
"You're welcome!" Godric shouted at the incoming group in a tired and sarcastic voice. "Wow, thanks for making our work easier lad!" one of the farmhands replied. "I'll be sure to put in a good word to Lord Mikhael for ya!" the farmhand continued as the others applauded Godric for his effort.
"Take a rest, we'll handle things from here." The leader of the group shouted as they dissolved toward different parts of the farm to work on their tasks.
Godric after an eventful morning, followed by hours of hard work, lay down to get a well-deserved rest. "Finally," he exclaimed. "Some well-deserved sleep," Godric said as he found himself a nice spot to lie down. However, It didn't take long for the peace to break down, for a few hours later, Godric heard angry shouting in the distance.
"Where in the seven hells is that farm boy?!" Walter's voice was distinguishable: a deep and coarse tone which Godric found incredibly annoying. "We've got an unsettled business, you and I!" the head guard's son roared as he looked for any sign of Godric. Godric then stood up and saw Walter stomping along the road, his nose already clean but visibly broken.
The lad saw that he was brandishing the dagger he had attempted to buy from Wyatt earlier and based on what had happened earlier in the morning, it did not take long for him to realize that he was in deep trouble. He sprinted across the field, attempting to hide from Walter, and thought about evading him for now and running back into the town to ask for help from Wyatt.
The plan failed miserably, however, as the lad tripped and fell, dropping right across the dirt path in the middle of the field, where the brute spotted him. "Seems like the Divines have blessed me," said Walter with a menacing tone. "You're going to pay for what you did," he continued, pointing to his damaged nose. "Also, I feel like a broken nose is not going to be enough, so maybe I need to step it up a bit, to remind you and all the others about who you're messing with."
He then pulled out the dagger from his side belt and pointed at Godric with the weapon. "I spent the entire day, thinking about how I should punish you, and I feel like a few slashes and stabs should do the trick," said Walter as he fiddled with the steel dagger. "Not to worry farm boy--it'll be over quickly."
Walter then swung the dagger with reckless abandon toward Godric, which Godric dodged by a hair. He picked himself up from the ground as Walter screamed and attempted another strike, this time with an attempted stab to his shoulder, but Godric was quick--as he managed to step inside and close the distance, catching Walter's arm which held the dagger.
This stopped the attack, and the two boys were caught in a brief contest of strength that favored Walter. "You're an annoying little pest, you know that do you?" said Walter as he wrestled for control with Godric over the steel knife. "Yes, I do. For all that weight you're lugging around--I assumed you'd be stronger than this." Godric shot back with a smirk on his face. He then kicked Walter in the stomach which made his opponent groan in pain.
This angered Walter to the point where he dropped the dagger and pushed Godric back with such force that he fell to the ground with a hard thump. Walter then walked towards Godric and cruelly stomped him multiple times on his stomach and chest. The young lad, beaten and bruised, coughed up blood as he scrambled to get his bearings while Walter cackled, picked up the dagger, and stopped to prepare for his next attack.
Godric scanned his surroundings, looking for anything that could defend him. He tried finding the other farmhands but found none were present. A thought then crossed his mind.
The toolshed. He thought to himself. The boy then stood and ran towards the shed, attempting to find something to help him in this situation. He could hear Walter's laughs and garbled insults echoing behind him.
"Is this all you got, farm boy!?" Walter yelled. "If so, then I'm disappointed!" Godric entered the shed and realized that for the first time since the confrontation, he was helpless. Nothing here could help him against a dagger and a person twice his size, especially in an area as small as this. He thought. He examined his surroundings and thought about the possibilities to no avail.
It didn't take long for Walter to catch up and enter the shed, steel dagger in hand. "I told you it wouldn't take long, farm boy," said Walter as he gave Godric a cold stare. "Because of what happened today, I'll make you disappear. Not to worry, as I'll be burying you right next to these crops of yours," he continued. "At least in that way, you'll finally be of use for generations to come, as fertilizer, of course." Godric, although fearing for his life, was seething at the statement.
Is this the end for me? He thought to himself. Am I to die in this shed, alone? These thoughts raced through his mind as he began to accept his tragic fate while Walter clutched the dagger, ready to strike him down when something caught the brute's attention.
"Godric!" Wyatt's voice cried out. "Are you here?! We need to hide you from Walter--he's gone completely mad!" Godric, out of instinct had snapped back to reality, blindly reached out for a tool he saw out of the corner of his eye, and closed his eyes as he swung it at Walter, hoping it would give him time.
A grim silence consumed the room. A few seconds later, Godric heard a strained noise, followed by a loud thump on the floor. He opened his eyes and to his shock, found Walter, lying dead in a pool of his blood--the dagger still clutched in his hand, and with a sickle buried deep in his neck. Godric was repulsed at the sight and vomited as he fell to his knees.
Fear and anxiety slowly started to consume him--he had never killed another person before, and he never wanted any of this to happen. He pulled the bloody sickle from the corpse it was lodged on. He had hated Walter, but never to the point where he wished death upon the lad. He sat back against the wall and stared at Walter's dead body, wondering what to do with this mess. Soon after, he heard Wyatt nearing the shed. "Godric! There you a-" Wyatt paused in horror.
"By the Divines, what happened here?" Godric had no response to his friend's question.
"Godric, tell me what happened," Wyatt asked his friend who was comprehending what he had done. "Godric? Snap out of it!" Wyatt smacked him hard in the face, strong enough to rouse Godric from his haze. "I-I killed him, Wyatt.." Godric finally spoke with a shaky voice. "I-I didn't mean to--I swear I didn't mean to." He continued as he slowly stood up, shaking.
Wyatt helped his friend outside the shed and explained to Godric what had happened in town while he was away. "Walter had rushed into the barracks after entering the town and alarmed the guards about what happened earlier," said Walter. "He spread this false story about him seeing the two of us smuggle some weapons for ourselves from the cart I was carrying earlier, using the dagger as evidence," Wyatt then glanced at the dagger that still rested on Wyatt's lifeless hand.
"He then went off and said that he stood up against us and that we punched him in the face then ran off like nothing happened, but not before he was able to snatch the dagger away from us."
Godric could not believe the situation he was in. He already knew that they had a rough time reasoning out what had happened earlier--but knew that with Walter dead, the townsfolk and the guards had all the reason to believe Walter's side of the story. He knew that he was to be executed for murder, and to make things even worse, Wyatt would also be punished as well. He wanted to think and ask Wyatt what they should do, but the duo's discussion was cut short as they heard the march of town guards on the main road. The two knew they were in trouble and had no time to hide Walter's body.
"Run," Wyatt motioned toward Godric.
"What?" replied Godric with a surprised look on his face. "Run, Godric, far away from here where no one knows you," said Wyatt with a determined look in his eyes. "I can still have a chance to explain what went down here, but you don't." he continued. "If the guards catch you here after hearing that false story, you'll be executed on the spot."
"I can't just leave you here, Wyatt! This is my fault we got into this mess," exclaimed Godric. "There has to be another way we can both get out of this unscathed." he pleaded with his friend. "There is no other way Godric!" Wyatt shot back at him.
"Run across the river and into the woods now!" The sound of the town guards were closing in, and soon enough, the two heard shouting in the distance. "There they are! Get them!" the head guard shouted. Wyatt, left with no choice, eventually clutched Godric's clothes and pushed him towards the direction of the river.
"Run! Now!" Wyatt screamed and pleaded with his friend.
Godric then turned, and with one last look at his friend, ran. He hated himself for it. It was the most cowardly thing he'd ever done, and he knew he'd never be the same after this day. He ran and ran. His strength was already spent, but he knew he couldn't stop now. Eventually, he reached the great river and began to cross the raging stream, feeling the cold water throughout his body.
Hours later, he reached the outskirts of the forest. He looked back and in doing so, could no longer see the city, the farmlands, and the abandoned, stone house he used to call home. What greeted him instead was the light of the first autumn moon, signaling his new life which would start as he entered the mysterious forest. He took a second to say a few prayers for Walter and Wyatt.
Godric took some time to take in everything that had happened. Eventually, the young man took a deep breath, composed himself, and armed with nothing but a bloodied sickle, entered the forest and into the unknown.