Here is the rest of the prologue.
“Ricard, the horses need waterin.” Lises voice raised over the fields, Mischel in her arms. Her loose fitting clothing showed to the world that she was not eating her fill, the baby in her arms needing more then she. The ears of corn stood up in rows, waiting to be harvested. The autumn sun shown through the clouds, bathing the world in light.
Ricard slowly walked to the stables, his body glistening in the sun. Reaching into the the pocket of this trousers, he slowly pulled out a piece of cloth, and wiped the sweat from this forehead. Even though not more then two and twenty, he was already loosing the the long black hair that he had been known for growing up, the pattern of a horseshoe forming on his head. Knowing that he had more work to do, he slowly walked from the field, nodding at his wife and daughter.
Without a word, he made his way to behind the barn, where his well stood by itself. Buckets littered the grown around his feet, and the smell of manure hung in the air. But, wasn’t his life the way he wanted it to be? Or was there something more that he was missing? Questions that he thought would never be answered, as he loved his farm, and his wife and daughter even more. Using the muscles only a man of the land can form, he slowly brought up the well bucket, and sighed. It was going to be another hot autumn, he knew, and that meant that winter would be harsh. Sickness and death would descend on the farms once again, and the priests and healers would be unable to do anything about it.
As the water bucket rose to the top of the well, Ricard frowned. There was something not right about this day. Somehow, he knew that his life was about to change, but in what way? The air was normal, the sky a bit harsh, but nothing he hadn’t seen many times in the years he had been alive. As many farmers, he wasn’t sure what day of the week it was, or even the month, just that he had to get the planting done.
Watering the horses as his wife reminded him to do, he couldn’t but help to think. What was so bad about this life? He fed the locals, and made a small amount of coin in the process. He had friends, even if he only saw them every so often. But, most importantly, he and Lis finally had a daughter. Even if it wasn’t their own flesh and blood, Mischel was the best thing that could happen to them. And there was nothing anyone would be able to do to change that fact.
Finally noticing that the harshness of the day was at a end, he made his way into his home. Nothing much, one nice sized room for visiting, a small kitchen for cooking, and the room he and his family shared. The outhouse could be closer, but it was time to move it anyways. The only thing he really missed about living in the city was the books. A bit different then most that lived in this area, Ricard knew his numbers, and could read in three languages. That’s not to say that he could speak those languages, but he could read them. This gave him an advantage over most of the populace, as they had to bring letters and documents to him to read to them. Not that he charged most of them, but that did mean that he got to visit more often then not. One day, he would be able to afford to build his own library, and hire a tutor for the village children. Both of those ideas were out of his hands at this point, however. He and the blacksmith, Igor, wanted to build this village into what was lost years ago, the town of Hillsbrad.
“The corn should be coming off the husk soon.” Ricards deep voice always seemed to boom throughout the small house, but there was little that he could do about that. “The young horses are almost ready to be broken in. I’m thinking about hiring Gorens sons to do it again, as they seem to be able to break even the most evil of beasts.”
Lis nodded to her husband, happy to take a back seat to the day to day matters of the farm. A city girl by birth, she had taken to being a farmers wife easier then anyone thought she would. Then again, most thought that the farm would fail in a few years, not last as it has.
Ricard reached into the one expensive item they owned, an icebox, and pulled out a slab of bacon, and started a fire on the cooking stove. Pork, beef, chicken, turkey, most vegetables, and flour, all they needed was grown on the farm. The workers got paid in food for their families, but that was what they wanted.
“Husband, don’t eat much today, you promised to met Migel and Felix in the village tavern tonight.” Lis’ voice was as soft as the day they met, but there was something there. And Ricard could not place it. He glanced at his wife, and saw a piece of paper sitting on the table. Not uncommon in this home, this paper was a bit different. It held the crest of his family on it, something he had forsaken years ago.
“The armies are moving again, am I right?” The silence that came from Lis was all the answer he needed. Leaving the food still cooking, he grabbed is traveling coat, and stormed out of the house.
