Old Henry swung his hoe with all his might, sweat from his hard labor continuously dripped down as he saw the ridges of soil in front of him turned over one after another, seeds scattered among the mud that soon sprouted, growing into wheat seedlings.
Old Henry wiped the sweat from his brow, looked up at the brilliant sunlight overhead, and could not express how content he felt.
After so many years of anxiety, he could finally live a few peaceful days.
Like millions of other nameless farmers in this world, Old Henry's daily work was to farm—harvesting grain, and yet such a simple task proved as perilous as hanging one's head at one's waistline, with mountain lions, grizzly bears, wolves, giant spiders, Murlocs, Trolls, Yetis, Brigands, Mountain Bandits, and even Dragons all attempting to make a meal out of farmers like him.
The Nobles would never miss a chance to collect taxes and requisition grain, but if danger arose, they would simply disappear without a trace.
