“Kal! Kal, come back here!” He heard her calling after him, and yet, he didn’t stop. He bounded down the steps and out the door of the moldy ramshackle cabin, missing the caved in step at the bottom. Sweet freedom. It was a chilly day, but not so bad if you were directly in the sun. Early spring. He raced across the fields of wheat, fingers spread wide as he dashed through the rows, his fingers only just grazing the stalks. Soon it would be ready for harvest. Kal ran until he came to the end of the world. That is, the fence that enclosed the farm he lived on. Except for the very rare trip beyond that fence Kal rarely left the farm. Arriving at his spot he climbed the fence to look out along the road. Wagons passed. People milled by. Not in any hurry. Not with any exuberance. These things went unnoticed by a boy of seven though. His eyes wandered across the wide road, settling on the failing wall that faced the farm. Once, a long time ago, it might have stood firm. Maybe it was manned by proud sentries. Maybe it meant safety to all those within it’s confines. Today though that wall did little more than keep out a draft. A group of lazing sentries barely watching the passing traffic idly played dice and occasionally pulled from a flask. If you’d asked them, it was so they could ward off the cold. In truth they were far past the point of paying heed to the cold, or much of anything at all. They lazily turned their attention to the franticly waving boy across the road, proudly manning his fence. If they’d noticed him, they didn’t respond.
Kal felt a firm hand on his collar and cried out in surprise as he was yanked down from the fence. The drunken sentries, watching from their table at the gate, let out a loud burst of laughter at the site. Sister Katarina Monwere, his nemesis, glowered at him. She was old, but then when you’re seven isn’t everyone? Her hair was a greying shade of brown but was probably a rich brown color once. She had weathered features, slight crow’s feet and wrinkles, blue eyes. Despite having chased him through a wheat field nothing appeared out of place, though she was a bit short of breath. He’d thought to slip out of his shirt and take off again, but he knew better. She was seething. She used a run-down storehouse on the large mill farm where Kal lived to teach children. She’d kept him after, to scold him simply because that’s what she liked to do. He’d bolted at the first opportunity when she was out of reach and he thought she hadn’t been paying attention. Katarina Monwere was practically a revenant though. If he escaped her today, tomorrow, or the next day she’d simply reappear after that period of absence to exact some sort of vengeance upon Kal. She thought ears were detachable too. Maybe they’d became detachable when he got older. Maybe that was why old people didn’t hear so well. They'd probably detached their ears and hadn’t put them back on right. He hurried after her as she hauled him by the ear, after all, it hurt less if he kept up, and he knew better than to remind her that his ears weren’t detachable yet.
Kal leaned forward in his rickety old desk. It hurt too much to sit back. He’d been given the switch. It was her preferred weapon. “Kal, why did you run off like that?” She demanded as she sat at the head of the dilapidated room. Broken desks and chairs were piled in the corner behind her, some were used to cobble together other desks and chairs later. The rest would likely be used for a fire sometime before the chill left. He let out a long sigh, wistfully looking out the muddied window on the building’s western wall. Her hand uncoiled like a striking serpent, seizing his chin as she jerked his head towards her. He swallowed, hard, knowing anymore defiance would earn him another beating. “I’d rather be an adventurer.” He answered flatly. She tightened her grip on his jaw before releasing him, shaking her head. Her expression did soften a little though. “There isn’t anything at the road end of the road for adventurers Kal. I’ve said that countless times. You know how important learning to farm is, don’t you? What it could mean for you, for the town?” he nodded. “Yeah… I know” he muttered in reply. Three more years of this and he could decide for himself if he wanted to continue or not. He only had to suffer her tyranny for three more years.
She released her grip on the boy’s chin, straightened her outfit and that stern face she usually wore returned. “You can go Kal, go straight home.” With how fast he took off you wouldn’t have known only a short time ago she’d given him the switch. She sighed as she watched him run along the dirt path back towards the plantation building where he’d lived with the other families that worked on the farm. Halfroad. A ramshackle town halfway between the northern provincial capital of Lau Tier and the Western provincial capital of Nine Peaks. In truth, during the days of the Patriarch, it had been a prison camp for rebels. That was over a hundred years ago now. Most of its residents were poor, sick, or outcast. It was a punitive posting given to lesser nobility to settle grievances, or perhaps forgive debts and dishonors. Even the Church of the Twin Pillars gave very little in the way of resources or support to their faithful here. People like Sister Katarina Monwere. As she watched Kal disappear into the setting sun she took a small chain out from beneath her habit. At the end of it was a piece of plated bronze. It was well cared for, the only piece of ‘jewelry’ she owned, and it was engraved. She clutched it for a minute, a tear gathering at the corner of her eye “No, there was nothing at the end of the road for adventurers.” After a few minutes she wiped the tear away and once again resumed her traditional stoic expression. She only had three years left to save him.
Kal felt a firm hand on his collar and cried out in surprise as he was yanked down from the fence. The drunken sentries, watching from their table at the gate, let out a loud burst of laughter at the site. Sister Katarina Monwere, his nemesis, glowered at him. She was old, but then when you’re seven isn’t everyone? Her hair was a greying shade of brown but was probably a rich brown color once. She had weathered features, slight crow’s feet and wrinkles, blue eyes. Despite having chased him through a wheat field nothing appeared out of place, though she was a bit short of breath. He’d thought to slip out of his shirt and take off again, but he knew better. She was seething. She used a run-down storehouse on the large mill farm where Kal lived to teach children. She’d kept him after, to scold him simply because that’s what she liked to do. He’d bolted at the first opportunity when she was out of reach and he thought she hadn’t been paying attention. Katarina Monwere was practically a revenant though. If he escaped her today, tomorrow, or the next day she’d simply reappear after that period of absence to exact some sort of vengeance upon Kal. She thought ears were detachable too. Maybe they’d became detachable when he got older. Maybe that was why old people didn’t hear so well. They'd probably detached their ears and hadn’t put them back on right. He hurried after her as she hauled him by the ear, after all, it hurt less if he kept up, and he knew better than to remind her that his ears weren’t detachable yet.
Kal leaned forward in his rickety old desk. It hurt too much to sit back. He’d been given the switch. It was her preferred weapon. “Kal, why did you run off like that?” She demanded as she sat at the head of the dilapidated room. Broken desks and chairs were piled in the corner behind her, some were used to cobble together other desks and chairs later. The rest would likely be used for a fire sometime before the chill left. He let out a long sigh, wistfully looking out the muddied window on the building’s western wall. Her hand uncoiled like a striking serpent, seizing his chin as she jerked his head towards her. He swallowed, hard, knowing anymore defiance would earn him another beating. “I’d rather be an adventurer.” He answered flatly. She tightened her grip on his jaw before releasing him, shaking her head. Her expression did soften a little though. “There isn’t anything at the road end of the road for adventurers Kal. I’ve said that countless times. You know how important learning to farm is, don’t you? What it could mean for you, for the town?” he nodded. “Yeah… I know” he muttered in reply. Three more years of this and he could decide for himself if he wanted to continue or not. He only had to suffer her tyranny for three more years.
She released her grip on the boy’s chin, straightened her outfit and that stern face she usually wore returned. “You can go Kal, go straight home.” With how fast he took off you wouldn’t have known only a short time ago she’d given him the switch. She sighed as she watched him run along the dirt path back towards the plantation building where he’d lived with the other families that worked on the farm. Halfroad. A ramshackle town halfway between the northern provincial capital of Lau Tier and the Western provincial capital of Nine Peaks. In truth, during the days of the Patriarch, it had been a prison camp for rebels. That was over a hundred years ago now. Most of its residents were poor, sick, or outcast. It was a punitive posting given to lesser nobility to settle grievances, or perhaps forgive debts and dishonors. Even the Church of the Twin Pillars gave very little in the way of resources or support to their faithful here. People like Sister Katarina Monwere. As she watched Kal disappear into the setting sun she took a small chain out from beneath her habit. At the end of it was a piece of plated bronze. It was well cared for, the only piece of ‘jewelry’ she owned, and it was engraved. She clutched it for a minute, a tear gathering at the corner of her eye “No, there was nothing at the end of the road for adventurers.” After a few minutes she wiped the tear away and once again resumed her traditional stoic expression. She only had three years left to save him.