[Flashback] Breathing Life into Earth (Keating)

[Dimitri]

Spring 20, 508 AV

Dimitri made his way back to his dormitory after visiting his parents. He arrived and was about to remove his sword and shield when he saw a note sitting on his bed. He'd never found a note in his belongings before. He broke the seal and opened it.

To Squire Dimitri,

Yesterday as I was doing patrol among the farms outside of the walls I noticed a rundown, decrepit farm. It is both an eyesore and an unproductive waste. There's a tragic story to the family that used to farm that land and many superstitious people avoid the land, believing it either to be haunted. I have noticed no such claims. As such I have a new training for you. I would like you to go there, and get the farm and house that resides on it fixed up so that it no longer looks decrepit. Maybe then someone may finally take it over. So in any spare time go out there and get to work. A patrol guard will lead you to the farm, and I talked to the other farmers and they agreed to let you borrow their tools. So get to work young squire, and be honorable.

Sir Adamal Brinkaas


Dimitri was shocked and excited, hard work that actually benefitted someone other than himself. He put his short bow on his back, his sword on his left hip, and his quiver on his right hip, and carried his shield with his left arm. He quickly made his way out of the dormitory and exitted the main gates. He found a patrol Knight walking toward the farms. "Excuse me sir, I am looking for the cursed farm." The knight gave him the hand signal for follow so he did. When they arrived Dimitri thanked the man and he stepped on the decrepit property, seeing the massive amount of work he had to do.

[Keating Ash]

Keating had not been back long. He came only for a short visit, to see how the farm fared, and ultimately to see if Rose had returned. But she hadn’t and the farm looked decrepit. He was supposed to leave again, but after a few short days, the man found himself pulling thick clump of weeds from the field, as his mind formulated plans for rebuilding. Tirelessly he went after the worst of the weeds, though the endeavour was almost futile. The only thing that kept his large body going was the fact that he loved this land. And to farm it brought him a peace of mind that was hard to find elsewhere. He loved this black soil and the animals too, though they were long gone. Even standing in the midst of the overgrown field he felt at home. More than he had working in any of the seedy taverns or warehouses. He vowed to forget Rose and begin again, one row at a time. His muscles were thick as he pulled at the most stubborn of growth and sweat covered his torso, topped by a fine layer of black dirt. He wiped a gritty arm across his face, leaving a smear of blackness in its wake. Standing straight he bent back slightly back to crack his sore back. His back and chest had a number of scars from barroom brawls he’d been in. Shocking jet black hair was cropped close to his head, and the man, even simply working in the field seemed formidable. But farm work was his escape from the past, much like alcohol was his balm when he began to think about Rose. He looked towards the house with its dark memories and his eyes were slits to look upon the remembered horrors that took place there. That home, Keating vowed, would never be rebuilt! And he would never step foot in that accursed place again.

[Dimitri]

Dimitri didn't notice the man on the opposite side of the fields, due to the rundown house between them. He looked around the field and in all honesty hadn't the slightest clue as to where to start. The field was strewn with large stones and weeds were practically a forest. He decided to gather up the stones first. He wasn't sure which ones to get so he figured he would get anything half the size of his fist and larger. He worked his way in a swath from the house out to the edge of this particular field. While he was close to the dilapidated structure he would gather as many rocks as he could carry, then dump them into a pile next to what he assumed was the old back door. He managed to get most of the easy to carry smaller rocks in about a half acre area. As he moved further out, he would throw the stones back to the house instead of carrying them. Some rocks would land in the pile, others imbedded in the nearby soil, and the ocassional would thump off of the wooden wall.

He finally reached the edge of the field and only had three big obstacles left for this section. The first was a boulder that was round and flat, might make a good table top. He reached down and gripped the bottom of the stone and slowly lifted it. He raised it to about chest height as he struggled under the weight. As he raised it forward, it began to tilt, and he had it standing up on edge. He had two choices, he could roll the stone to house, or flip it. Since his master wanted him to treat this as training, he decided to go with flipping it. He pushed it over and it crashed upon the weedy earth with a dull thud. He then squatted down, and began to lift again, this
time lifting with his arms and legs rather than arms and back. He was able to flip it much easier this time. He looked up at the house and noticed it was still a good distance away, probably an acre. He squatted down, lifted, thud. Squat, grunt, thud. This is what Dimitri did for the next bell until the final thud sounded as the stone was now next to his smaller stone pile. He sat down to relax, not looking forward to the other two large stones.

[Keating Ash]

Keating’s legs were covered in clumps of dark, earthy clods and he worked for another chime without rest, but a sound nagged at his awareness. He could not place the noise; it was foreign in his silent reverie of field and earth, so he continued his work undisturbed. His mind only focused on his two hands and the stray plants that gathered within them. The weed pile grew and expanded as he discarded the leafy rejects along the long rows. It was back breaking work. Pull and throw, pull and throw. After a time, the sound still continued and the man realized it came from near the house. The last batch of weeds in his hand was thrown roughly from him. Trespassers! He would put a stop to this, here and now! Strong legs stomped through the weed strewn field, and then around the house. His eyes peered inside the dilapidated building angrily, looking for the noisemaker. Nothing. Nothing seemed to be in the burnout house. Keating’s fists clenched angrily to be so disturbed. Someone would pay. As he rounded the rubble of the side house, Keating picked up a sturdy board in his thick hand. Still his gaze travelled to the house, and its empty, dark interior, but nothing was to be seen. It might have been an animal, but out in the country you never knew. And he was not about to take a chance, out here alone with bandits or any other unsavoury types showing up on his farm… or in that house! His strides were long and forceful, there was no stealth, or silence within them, and he rounded the second corner only to see a young man sitting near the house. Keating’s whole body, his language and manner was both intimidating and unfriendly. This was his farm! His land! And he didn’t take kindly to trespassers! The board lifted higher in his hand, with arm muscles slick from perspiration. He yelled, his voice deeply penetrating, “Hey you! What do you think you’re doing? Get the petch away from there! Now!”

[Dimitri]

Dimitri saw the hostile man round the corner and begin shouting at him. Yelling like he thought the land belonged to him and not to the Knights. Dimitri knew a duty of the knights was to often put citizens in their place. He really didn't want to, as this man seemed violent. Dimitri slowly got up, and grabbed his shield leaning up against the house and drew his sword and pointed it at the man.

He shot the man with a look of cold, hard ferocity. "I will do whatever I please here. As a squire to the Syliran Knights, I have access to every farm, despite what you may think. Now explain who you think you are questioning a squire as such, and what you are doing here, unless you would like a trip to the Tank." Dimitri shifted into a threateningly offensive stance, eyeing the board in the man's hands. "I strongly suggest you drop that hunk of wood, unless you would like to lose the hands that hold it." He hated having to do this to citizens but it was required of the knights. He gripped his sword and shield waiting to see if the man would comply or if Dimitri's day was about to get severely complicated.

[Keating Ash]

“Boy,” the dark haired man said evenly, his anger barely contained, “best you scuttle on back to your Knights. You and them ain’t got no business here, not on the Ash farm. And I’m Keating Ash, right in front of you. This here may look a pile of shyte to a city man like yourself, but its been in my family for generations. Go back to your walls Squire, and leave peaceful men to their own.” Keating eyed the boy in front of him, and paid special attention to the sword and the shield in his hands. A laugh rang out, but the amusement did not reach his eyes, he’d be damned if a mere boy gave him orders. “And he’s got a bite too! What are you boy? Like fourteen, fifteen years old?” At least fourteen years younger than himself, he guessed. Keating pretended to ponder this and then added, “I’m sure you’ll make a fine Knight, trespassing and threaten’ the helpless. Tell me, have your precious Knights run off all the city bandits and thieves that now they send their young ones out to threaten innocent farmers with loss of limb?” He ran a dirty hand over his cropped hair and pulled on his face, everyone was a meddler. As he moved, It was easy to see the scars that dotted his arms and torso; this was a man who had been in a number of fights over the years. “Boy,” he said again, “You are in the wrong line of work. And I’m too busy for this shyte…” His arm lowered as he turned to leave, though he had not dropped the wooden board. "Go ahead and try to skewer me if you want, or just leave. But I’m going back to my fields.”

[Dimitri]

Dimitri was a bit dumbstruck. He knew people weren't always fond of the Knights. The Knights often had to do things which many thought to be wrong, and sometimes they were. People might appreciate appreciate them more if danger was much more clearly evident. But there was no wars, no fighting. The Knights' name, their prestige, probably protected Syliras more than their strength of arms did currently. Dimitri didn't want to be part of some hate group oppressing it's citizens. And he wasn't.

He decided to do something outrageous. Something so rare, so unbelieveably unthinkable it would stop the man in his tracks. He lowered his sword and shield. "Wait..." He sheathed his sword, and set down his shield. "I'm...," he would prove that there was at least one Knight who could be looked to for help. A Knight for both Syliras and Sylirans. "I'm..." A knight who could follow the rules, the order, and still be his own man. He didn't have to be the intimidating Knight, the name alone does that. "I'm sorry Ser. I was tasked to come and help fix this place up, I was under the impression it was abandoned. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to help you." He stood there looking a bit foolish, but happy with himself. He was after all Dimitri. Not just a squire.

[Keating Ash]

Keating turned around slowly, and the board he held still looked dangerous in his large hand. For a moment the man didn’t say anything, but only looked at the boy with his intense gaze, as if to size him up. He let him stand there looking foolish and young, until finally he said, “It ain’t abandoned if I’m here. Is it?” His presence on this land was solid, almost heavy, as if only by his sheer will alone was this farm held together. Then he tossed the board aside, to clatter against broken memories, and said with a long suffering sigh, “What’s yer name boy? I suppose I could show you what honest work is… if you think you’re up to the task.” He looked out over the pasture, and then to the rocks near him that the Squire had been hauling. A lot of help that. “Forget this pasture. There’s more important work to be done in the back field. It’s not pretty work, but it’s got its own rewards. You can start where I’ve left off, pulling the biggest weeds.” His mind began calculating exactly what could be done with this boy’s help. The gods knew he could use it. Keating’s face was still stern, but his eyes held a new mirth. If this lad wanted work, by Bala he would have it! “Probably not as glamorous as you’re used to… still time to back out.” He laughed, “Come on then boy, we got work to do!”

[Dimitri]

"Dimitri Chenkov." He was starting to like this man. Rough around the edges, sure, but had a good person within. He wouldn't tell the man, but he reminded Dimitri of many of the Knights he knew. He found it humourous that two sets of people could be so different and so similar at the same time. He followed the man to the field, and saw weeds literally everywhere. He wasn't sure where to start, so he went over to the edge of the house. He figured he would simply cut a swath across the field.

Two bells in and Dimitri was covered in sweat and dirt. He hadn't made if far from the house, maybe fifteen feet. These weeds were horrible. He discovered many had little nettles that pricked his hands, not causing damage but were horribly annoying. Then the waxy ones... Those caused his grip to slip, and made his hands sticky. This stickiness attracted dirt, leaves, and other such debris. But of all the thorns, nettles, wax, and insects one thing was more annoying than the rest. Roots. The roots of these damned plants were harder to separate from the earth than a drunk from his first beer of the night. He would pull a weed only to have it separate from the rots. He'd then have to dig his hands and struggle to pull it free. Many of these blasted roots seemed large than the plant proper. His piles of weeds were ever growing as he grabbed a particularly tall flowered plant and pulled hard. He could carry a heavy metal shield for hours, but this weed resisted his efforts.

[Keating Ash]

“Dimitri…” Keating repeated the squire’s name, though he didn’t bother to use it to address the young man. Keating was not used to company here at the quiet farm, and he had no wish to be side by side, engaging in idle chatter about the happenings going on in the city like a couple of school girls. So he made a point of ignoring the squire and going straight to work on the other side of the field where his long arms reached out to pull at the largest of weeds that were on each side of his thick legs. The annoying growth was daunting, but the feel of their roots in his palm was familiar, and the rhythm came back into his hands as they moved as swiftly through the weeds. He made his way along rows remembered from long, long ago, though to other eyes it was doubtful that the earthen delineations between the rows could be seen well. Would Dimirti notice? Keating raised his head from his weeding to check on the slower Dimitri. It was possible he might make out a row of bumpy dirt here and there. But lack of guidelines did not stop Keating from barking at the squire, “Stay in yer rows Boy! Are ya blind as well as a bully?” The dark haired man seemed serious, but it was hard to tell what he thought, he might have been kidding. “Hell! Forget those little weeds too, the plow’ll get those. I told ya, just the big ones!” Then he mumbled, “Fancy Knight skills… my ass.” But Keating went back to weed pulling, soon becoming lost in his own thoughts and memories. And the beginnings of contentment too stirred within him, it was damn good to be back. Funny how he came back to the old farm and he could breathe again. Time ceased for him as the field was worked. It was hard work, especially to those not used to it. Bend, pull, bend, pull, move up two steps, and begin again. The sun beat down upon them, its warmth soaking into the skin to become a burning heat. After a time, the sweat covered man walked over to the boy and clapped him on the shoulder. Keating’s eyes travelled over the field and he nodded, “I suppose that’s good enough. Go ahead and take a break if you need one… and remember I didn’t say nap either!” If the boy took a break, Keating really didn’t care, but if he did there was sure to be some ribbing concerning the stamina of the Syrian Knights. “We’re gonna work on this till dark. Better enjoy it… tomorrow the real work begins.” Keating squinted in the sun to watch Dimitri’s reaction, but was the squire even going to be here tomorrow? “How long did you say you were here?” And as the water bag was offered to the boy, what had looked like a green mark of interlocking roots was very noticeable on Keating’s forearm.