[Daltina Outskirts] Harvest Moon [Farming Basic Training]

[Arken Lancaster]

TS: First Cycle of Immanis, in the Season of Spring, Era II of the Celestine Mandate, Era XIV Post Fractum, the Second Era of the Regency of Milo L'Evienne.

The sun was high and a cloudless blue sky stretched out over him as far as the eyes could see. A good day for the harvest – or so he was told. The young noble wiped the sweat on his brow with the back of his palm, if he was to guess it was probably close to noon.

As fair as the climate was in the Lordship of Tersidon it was unusually hot even for spring, already most of the farmers were forced to take a break as to avoid falling due to heatstroke but as it was Arken didn’t nearly spend enough time on the fields to do his share of the work and he wanted to make up for lost time. After all, as a noble it was his duty to serve the people – and not the other way around.

It annoyed Arken to no end on how most nobles dismissed his ideals and beliefs as childish or foolhardy. He could remember something that happened a long time ago, back when he was much younger. He along with a few children of farmers were playing with kites, it was a simple game really. Whoever’s kite was flew the highest would win a small pouch of sweets, something that Arken was rarely ever treated to and so he was just as eager as the other children to win the prize. It was then that a young noble brat who happened to be passing by with his retainer saw them and in an act that surprised both the Lancaster child and the other children, the noble brat snatched the string of one of the kites from a young girl.

He could remember asking the boy what he was doing and in response he was pushed down on the ground. The noble brat thought Arken was a peasant, not surprising since at that time Arken had been wearing a borrowed shirt, his having been thoroughly soaked with sweat.

Arken smiled remembering what happened next. He punched the boy, was cheered on by the other kids and then was punched by the retainer. Of course at this point the other farmers had seen what happened and had intervened. When all was said and done he was brought to his father to explain and receive punishment.

‘Still, I’m proud of you. I probably would’ve done the same.’

He remembered those words that his father had spoken just as he was about to leave. Arken loved his father very much, everything he had learned up to this point, save sword-play he learned from that man and now that his father was away he would have to be the man his father was and keep things in order for him.

“Arken!” came the voice that snapped him back to reality.

Blinking, the young Lancaster found himself looking down at a golden-haired milkmaid. She was tugging at his sleeves for some reason. “Y-Yes?” he piped.

“We need your help at the storehouse.” she told him, her eyes downcast.

Arken nodded muttering a soft affirmative. “Right! I’ll be right there, just let me get these sacks to the shed.” Adjusting the heavy sack of potatoes on his shoulder the young noble noticed a straw hat on the ground. Bending down and picking it up, he dusted it off on his slacks and promptly handed it over to the milk-maid who was blushing furiously.

She brought the tip of her fingers together, her eyes shying away from his. “Thanks… Err… Later then.”

And then she broke off into a run leaving him with his sack of potatoes.

“Weird.” Arken said before going back about his business.

[Arken Lancaster]

"So, tell me, what are we doing here?" he asked her, bending down a little so that he could see her face. The milkmaid was looking at a bunch of fertilizer sacks with a contemplative expression on her face. It was almost as if she was counting and upon closer inspection, she was. The girl was counting with her fingers, calculating how much more fertilizer they would need to use after the harvest moon.

"You see," she said, not pausing with her mental arithmetic. A surprising feat for someone without formal education, but then again, Arken knew that commoner were anything but stupid. "After the harvest we have to have the land ready for re-seeding, so we have to allocate for how much fertilizer we'll-" she bit her thumb, a look of concern fluttering over her face. "We're short five sacks, I'll have to tell the chief about this."

The chief, was an old man in his forties. He was a man with greying hair who sported a buzz cut and he hardly ever shaved. He has a large jaw, hard eyes and a scar that traced down from his eyebrow to the lip. While the old man had told Arken that he was nothing more than a farmer who had some schooling, the young noble had doubts. This mad was much more that what he was letting on.

Arken placed a hand on his hip and leaned over the girl, a mischievous expression on his face. "So why'd you call me here anyway?"

The girl's cheeks flared red and she elbowed the noble in the stomach. "I needed someone to carry the sacks for me."

"Oh really?" he stared at her, an eyebrow arched up a little. The girl pivoted around on her heel to face him, she planted a finger on his chest and had the most adorable expression of anger he had ever seen on anyone's face.

"You're not exactly doing anything useful sir Arken." she spat not bothering to hide the irritated edge in her voice. The young noble was caught back a little, he was starting to think that maybe getting too close with the peasants while it did have some advantages wasn't a good thing in itself. Then again, it was mildly amusing, this reversal or roles. The servant was giving the master instructions and he couldn't help but smile at the absurdity of it.

"Point taken, let's get started out." Arken clapped his hands together and his arms reached out for a sack of fertilizer. He brought it to his shoulders in one swift motion and looked at the milkmaid who for reasons he couldn't fathom stopped moving altogether. "So where's the horse?"

The milkmaid blinked repeatedly, shaking her head as she did. "Horse, w-what horse?"

"Well, i'm sure we have a cart and a horse to transport these sacks with," it was then that he felt his stomach dropping a few notches lower. ",right?"

The girl bit her lips, she feet shuffling behind her. "No..."

"A mule then?"

The girl began scratching her head, her eyes avoiding his as she struggled with the words. "It's all downhill from here... we have the cart so I supposed." the voice died down in her throat and she was visibly distraught by now. "You see, somebody needed the mule and I thought it would only be for a short while..." she suddenly bowed, her face hidden beneath her bands. "I'm sorry." she chirped.

Taking pity on the girl, the young noble forced a laugh. "No, don't think too much about it." he looked at the other sacks feeling a certain sense of dread as he did so. "I'm sure I can manage something this light."

It was an obvious lie but he supposed, perhaps if he pushed himself hard enough it wouldn't be a problem. And so, the next few candlemarks were spent hauling sacks back and forth from the storeroom to the fields. At least that was until he heard a derisive snort from somewhere behind him.