B2-Chapter 6: Rejection.

B2-Chapter 6: Rejection.

I was tempted to think it could be worse, but such a mindset was ultimately defeatist in its inception, I had found. Instead, I gazed out over the gathered people and decided I was determined to make this work. A scraggly mix of humans and the odd beastfolk were loosely gathered along the edges of an old field, all turned towards me.

Mostly young adults, a few older fellows. A few days had passed since Ishila had begun to spread word that I was looking to hire farmhands, and this was time enough, I reckoned. They had all been supplied with a time and place. Here and now. After some debate, I had decided to let these men and women prove themselves in the best way I knew how. Through action and dedication.

Morning. I greeted the mostly quiet hopefuls gathered here, my voice a tad lighter than my usual guttural rumble.

Day should be simple, I continued on after receiving no reply. This field needs to be cleared. Everyone who works will be paid for their time.

I left off before revealing that those who proved themselves would be offered a position to stay on further. Mostly to see how they performed without some added incentive at the end. The field in question sat beside an old property not far from my house, one that had come packaged with a much nicer farm just around the bend.

Trees, weeds, vines, and more had crept in and covered the field as time had spurred on the forests advance. Today, that would all be peeled back and returned to its farmable state. It was not an easy task, and that was specifically why I had chosen it.

Perhaps it was me they stared at, or Gol behind me as the great beast lumbered along, barrels filled with tools hanging from either side. Artyom sat atop his head, a dour rider as his mount showed constant insubordination. For the life of me, I could not tell which one would yield first.

Seeing as no one with their wits about them would want to approach Gol, I helped Ishila haul the barrels from their straps and set it all upon the ground. Shovels, rakes, scythes, various cutting implements and more were stuffed into their wooden holders. Everything we could think of and more. A tad over-prepared, even. Better to have a tool and not be of need, than to require it and be lacking.

If you require instructions for specific tasks, or need help, myself or Ishila should be easily found.

Quick and unceremonious, yes, but I was here to do work and find prospects, not chat their ears off all day. There was something difficult to the simple act of crossing my arms and letting other people do my work, I soon found. The urge to take up a sickle and begin slicing vines alongside these men and women flared within. Even as I told myself this was necessary and simple observation would yield better results, I found myself wanting.

I was quickly reassured that these folks were familiar around farms through their actions. Many of them chose efficient, reasonable tasks, with the majority choosing the start around the fields edges. Those there began to hack and trims the underbrush away, creating a physical separation of forest and field. There were those waited and then followed others examples, unsure of what to do. I paid note to not only what they did, but how they worked.

There were those who worked in hard, fast bursts of exertion and rapidly tired themselves, those who moved on at slower, consistent paces. There was no correct way to achieve what was set before them, in my mind. I did not favour one about the other, so long as they reached the end goal.

My eyes settled on one rather brawny lad, a human just barely an adult. His physique did not interest me, but I kept close watch on how he moved. There was something off. He laboured near a group of much skinnier townspeople, yet seemed content to only match their pace when I suspected he was capable of so much more. Him, I kept a frequent eye on as I roamed the fields edges.

One stocky, rather keen individual had already taken command of a small collection and gathered them to make piles consisting of the waste that remained. Stacks of branches, freshly bled greenery, vines and more were piled along the propertys edges, rather than chucked back into the woods. I observed as he moved from one person to another, pointing out specific spots and tasks. Someone who took initiative to organize.

My interest was piqued.

These people seemed to approach me rather than Ishila with questions, I found. There seemed several who were hesitant to ask at all, who would loiter around and hope to copy the examples of other people. Deep in these thoughts, I did not hear the mocking laughter until it was suddenly, painfully apparent. High upon an old tree sat the straw-covered crow once more, a massive specimen that puffed its feathers out in derision.

A flat stare was all I gave it, and a faint thought as to why it had chosen to follow me around. But past that, I found I did not care as to its existance today.

Aside from Sean, there were no others I offered positions outright. There was, however, a surprise.

A tall, slightly plump girl waited at the end of the line, a determined look on her freckled face. She looked almost entirely human, with small buds poking through her hair.

Youre looking to hire more workers, right? She demanded the obvious, to which I humored her a nod.

Whos going to feed them?

That was a very good question, one that I had no overly considered.

Ishila? I asked the orcs opinion, yet she just shrugged. I had cooked for the four of us until now, or just trusted the others to pick up the responsibility when I was busy. This was not sustainable across large groups of people, I had just realized.

If I might wager a guess, you offer a solution to this?

I do. She nodded, determination set upon her features and in her scent. I used to cook for the Rotting Hound in Hullsbretch, was a full camp-cook for the Black Wings of Tatroch and have been doing this for several years.

Mercenary company. Ishila replied to my side-eye inquiry.

And now you want to cook for a farmer? I asked, arms folded. You laboured in the fields all day instead of approaching me.

An observation, not an accusation.

Aye. Had to prove I have mettle and dedication somehow. Opportunitys come up and ive taken it now.

I can respect that. I nodded. Come back tomorrow and well ask you to prove those cooking skills before I make any promises.

Anything she was about to say was drowned in a sea of noise as the forest erupted around us. Wolves howled, animals screamed and the trees shook. There was a moment where i was startled by the cacophony of sudden noise, but these emotions were quickly wrested under control. Hand upon my claymore, I turned to face the evening woods, face impassive.

Although cascades of noise came, there was naught to see. Save for the massive crow upon its tree, laughing down at me.

Forest don particularly want us here. Ishila remarked.

It seems that we are in conflict, then. I returned lightly, hand upon the hilt of my claymore. This land is mine, and what the forest wishes for is of little concern. Should it feel otherwise, I am sure whatever is out there knows where I live.