Brad II
---00---
Brad opened the door to his family's cottage and found his mother stirring a cooking pot over the fire. She was dressed in a roughly sewn dress that she had proudly boasted that she herself had made. The smell of meat, herbs and vegetables filled the kitchen room. "Welcome back, Brad. I thought you would be out their longer for today?"
"Um… yeah. I had some help."
"Really. Did the Bran's lad help you o- ahhh!"
His mother turned around, and her dull brown eyes widened in shock, fear and confusion, as she let out a shriek of surprise. Brad could understand why, after all, Jaxon stood awkwardly by the door dressed in his full iron plate. Thankfully, he had the grace not to show off his diamond sword like the knight had done with the farmer earlier.
Thank the seven for small mercies.
"Hi!" Ser Jaxon wave a pale hand, and smiled enough to show his white teeth. However, his greeting went unanswered, as his mother's eyes turned between Jaxon and Brad. Her body was tense, and she looked like a scared rabbit, ready to run away in fright. Trying to ease the situation, The farmer patted the iron-clad shoulder of the knight, and gave his mother what Brad thought was an easy-going smile- knowing him, it was probably more nervous than confident.
"Mother, this is ser Jaxon. He helped me out with the fields. He had already ploughed the land and planted new seedlings."
"R-really. Then you have my thanks, ser Jaxon. I don't have much to coin to pay you with though." Brad could see his mother eyes turn to the corner of the room, where they hid a pouch of silver stags in case of burglary or an emergency. However, the crops of wheat would go for more than what was inside that pouch, so it was only right to off a reward- that was what was probably going through his mothers mind. "I can part with a couple silver stags, i-if it pleases you good ser."
Knew it.
"Nah, all good in the hood. Brad said he'll give me a mug of water."
"Are you sure that you don't want some ale instead. It's from the local alehouse, and they serve the finest ale in south of Casterly Rock."
"Too young, I'm afraid. Ask me in a year's time."
So, his mother found a spare wooden mug, filled it with water from a bucket that had been filled with water from the stream just a couple hundred metres north of their family cottage. The two of them sat around the small wooden table his father had made over five years ago, the wood showing its age with chips and ale stains.
They talked for a little bit, with his mother interrupting every now and then to ask a random question. She asked him where he had come from (Australia, he had said) and how long he's planning to stay in their small village (undecided, he uttered as he finished his mug of water). He was offered a place to sleep for a couple of days, as just a mug of water wouldn't do for the help he had freely given.
The knight rubbed the nape of his neck and accepted, saying that he would harvest the wheat once more during the coming days. He doubted that the wheat would grow so quickly, despite the magical prowess Ser Jaxon had showcased. However, Brad was happy that his new friend would stay for a little while.
Ser Jaxon asked him where he could purchase some sheep, and walked out the door, humming that same song he had hummed whilst he harvest the wheat. "He's a strange one, Brad." Brad's mother uttered, giving the stew a final stir before tapping the wooden spoon against the metal edge of the pot.
"I know. That's why I like him." He wouldn't tell his mother that he had been absolutely terrified of him just a couple of hours past. It wouldn't do to be seen as a craven, the farmer had a reputation to uphold. He tipped his mug upwards, and swallowed the last of his ale, before slamming it against the wooden table like his father had taught him. He kind of wished that his father was sitting beside him, instead of wasting away in his straw bed.
Now I feel like shit.
He asked for another mug of ale, and his mother obliged- a small frown upon her lips.
Bruce I
---00---
Bruce tended to lambs and sheep. He sheared his adult sheep once a year and sold the wool to either travelling merchants, and a few sheep went to the butcher whenever his funds were tight. He didn't sell his sheep to anyone outside of those two stereotypes, especially a stranger dress in iron plate. Why would some hedge knight want to buy a couple of sheep anyway?
"I told you no. Leave."
He had been herding his sheep, leading them to greener pastures when this plain-looking asshat decided that he wanted his sheep. Well, he can't have none. Those sheep were his- they're mine I say!
"Come on, Bruce. I can call you Bruce, can't I? I'm willing to pay top-dollar for three sheep."
"I don't know what a dorllah is, but I aren't selling nothing. Fuck off."
"No need to be rude. I bet that this will change your mind," in his hand was a large nugget of gold. The sight of it rough golden surface sparkling away in the late afternoon sun made Bruce's heart hammered away in his chest. He loved his sheep, but he loved money even more… and a nugget of gold was worth much more than even a couple dozen of sheep. "I heard from Brad that you sell the best sheep around, so naturally, top-dollar sheep should fetch a top-dollar price, am I right?"
What a fool, Bruce thought as he reached out to grab the gold, his mouth dry with greed. "Yes, yes. I remember what a dorllah means now- these three sheep are yours."
"I changed my mind; can we agree on five."
"Sure, sure. Five is fine."
"Might want to hold onto the rest of your flock, mate." Then hedge knight warned as he pulled out a small bundle of wheat from thin air, and Bruce's herd of prized flock of sheep began to follow- the five he had sold and the rest he hadn't. He yelled out, and whistled, getting his ugly mutt to herd the pissed-brain sheep away from the fool and his bundle of wheat.
It took a lot of effort to do so, but by the time the sheep had returned to nibbling at the grass, the five sheep that the knight had purchased were a long way away, following the fool down the dirt path like obedient bitches after a handful of scraps. "Maybe I need to buy a bundle of wheat. Would be a hell of a lot cheaper than feeding your useless ass." Bruce uttered as he looked at his mutt, who had the grace to whine and turn his beady eyes towards the ground.
Herald I
---00---
It was dark out, and Herald led his group of thieves, thugs and bandits down a steeping staircase- stone above their heads and crunched stone steps underneath the feet. They were thirty in all, and Herald was their leader. In his hands was one of the small rectangular torches that hung along the stone every couple of metres, giving light to an already lit up tunnel. The torch didn't burn, as one of the dumber ones of his brigade of thugs had unwisely decided to tap his index against the top of strange object.
It spit out a spark of flames every couple of seconds, with a flume of smoke trailing above it for a few metres. However, the tunnel of free of any smoke, so Herald had told his group of take as many of these magical torches as they could carry. He held an iron dirk in his spare hand, ready to face whatever wizard had conjured these torches… and perhaps tell him to make more for his group to sell.
What kind of wizard builds a hole in ground. Don't they normally build grand towers? Herald thought as
he led the group of bandits down the cobblestone steps for a couple of hours. They soon found themselves in an even larger tunnel, with smaller tunnels branching from it every couple of metres like a great underground tree.
It looked to be some sort of mine, and as they explored, they found large gaps in the walls, connecting to another small tunnel next to it. There had been large holes upon the roof, and the floor- and right behind the staircase they had come from, the brigand of bandits found another that lead down a couple metres below the one Herald was currently on. Only, this one was had a short, large tunnel, and not as many smaller tunnels that branched off it.
"Boss, over here." One of his men shouted, his voice echoed against the stone walls of the unorthodox mine, but yet it held excitement. "There's a chest here." He followed the sound of the voice, which was hard within the mine, but eventually he found the guy who had shouted. He held a large iron ingot in his hand, and inside the chest was even more metals- a shit load of iron, coal and copper, and to his disappointment, only a couple ingots of gold. There were more metals in here than could possibly fit, so this entire mine was the work of a wizard, Herald pondered.
It was more money than he could spend in a life time, but Herald knew that whoever had dug out this mine, had most definitely stashed more than what was in the chest far away. However, carrying a chest full of iron, gold and copper too far wouldn't be possible, so the loot rested only a short way away. There was a small hamlet that rested just a couple kilometres away, and most likely held whatever goods the wizard had bought there. Greed was set ablaze within his heart, and Herald shouted, drawing the attention of his men towards himself. "We'll use this iron to make armour from a nearby smith, and in a fortnight, we'll pillage the village east of this mine. Who'll follow me!"
"I will!"
"Me too!"
"To riches!" Herald screamed as he pointed his iron dirk towards the stone roof, and his men scream his words back at him. Their voices echoed and meld together into one greedy screech.