Birds chirped and the wind whistled through the fields. Odd trees stood here and there although for the most part, it was undisturbed, aside from one man who stood with a proud and optimistic posture. An axe rested softly in one hand as he sighed, smiling a bit as he stepped to the side, quietly announcing to himself. “Timber” Almost as if it listened to him, the small tree creaked and cracked, leaning forward slowly before the thin bit of wood holding it up snapped, letting it fall forward to the floor with a tremendous crash. He chuckled slightly, pulling a rope from his shoulder as he moved over to the end of the log. It didn’t take long for him to find a good notch, looping it around the piece of wood and managing to tie a decently strong knot. “This is gonna be a long walk back huh?” The man picked up the rope, giving it a quick tug before throwing it over his shoulder, beginning to walk and drag the log across the still wet grass.
The slow and monotonous scraping sound had etched itself deep into the lumberjack’s brain after about 10 minutes of walking and now, it was up a hill? He panted and sighed, taking deeper breaths and longer steps. The sight he saw on the horizon, though, managed to instil some sort of hope in him, one sparked by a sense of awe that never got old. Grey walls towered in the distance. It was consistently about 30 metres tall and from behind them only a few structures stood out. From behind the grand stone defences, the only way to get a view to the vast fields outside was to stand on top of one of the few big hotels and mills or to be on, what the man could imagine to be, anywhere above the 2nd floor of the angular, shining castle. He could only imagine the view from its golden peaks. Nevertheless, the city wasn’t where he was headed. No, he was going to sell the wood in the capital tomorrow, for now, he was heading home. His gaze shifted from the grand city down to a small wooden shack, just by the bottom of this hill. Smoke poured lazily out of the chimney and a stack of wood looked like it was about to collapse in the back garden. Reaching the apex of his climb, the boy smiled, turning the log sideways and looking down to it. He used his foot to adjust its angle slightly, changing the orientation here and there before nodding, dropping the rope and kicking it, watching with a smile as it tumbled down the hill. Grass and flowers alike were thrown up into the air, flattening everything in its way until it reached the wooden fence which marked out a garden, crashing into it and letting out a startling bang. He himself jumped as it happened, almost immediately cringing. He stood for a moment, looking down towards the door of the shack. Nothing seemed to happen and after about 5 seconds he sighed, relaxing slightly. That was until… “JACOB!!!”
The man sat at the table, chin in hand as he looked out towards the city that lay just to the east of the little home. Only the sound of whistling filled the room, accompanied by the faint smell of tea as an older man turned towards Jacob. “Want a drink?”
“No Solomon, it’s fine, thanks for the offer.” The old man shrugged, turning around and pouring the steaming liquid from the kettle into a wooden cup. “Well, that’s fair. You were awake long before me so I assume you’re past the point of needing one.” Solomon walked over, seating himself opposite to the boy. “Say, how long did it take you to bring that log?”
“Oh, about 10 minutes, not too long.”
“Well, I must say I imagined it to be longer. I thought your brain was working far slower when you decided to let that log roll. At the very least I’d have thought you would have found a way to reduce the noise. It wasn’t the most pleasant alarm.”
He chuckled, rolling his eyes slowly as he said “Oh shut up.” The two sat for what was only a brief moment, both laughing for what they imagined to be hours, the joy couldn’t really seem to last forever though, as Solomon’s eyes widened, immediately standing up and grabbing Jacob’s shoulders. He pulled him up with surprising force and ushered him over to a closet. “In there, now!”
“Wh-”
“NOW!” Without much more deliberation the boy opened the door, sliding in amongst the mass of coats and cloaks, finding the opportunity to take off his own green jacket in the meantime. Just as he was hanging it up though, he heard the door open rather forcefully along with the footsteps of what was at least 9 men. It was enough to almost cause him to fall out of the cupboard from shock although he managed to keep himself upright. “Ah, hello gentlemen, how may I be of service today? I must say it’s quite odd to see Amarynians around here.”
Another voice began to speak in response. It was booming and powerful, seeming as if it was experienced at taking over a room with only a couple words. “Well, good sir, I have come to your abode wondering whether I was outside the walls of Falchester, the capital of this nation.”
Solomon chuckled slightly, it had become clear to Jacob by this point that neither man was truly being courteous, each hiding a disdain behind polite dialect. “Why yes, this would be our great capital. Pardon my curiosity though, may I ask why it is that armed Amarynian soldiers should be coming and knocking on my door?”
Armed? Well, he hadn’t heard that as they walked in, although the armour had been quite obvious. An image began to form in his head, 4 soldiers stood on either side of his home, their napoleonic armour over the muddy, brown trench coats, each soldier hiding their face behind a uniform, black gas mask. Completing it all was the pompous old prick who stood in the centre, adorned with medals and gold as he had the world’s most formal back and forth with his godfather. “No, no, do not apologise, your curiosity is expected. There is to be a diplomatic meeting regarding the fate of the oasis tomorrow. I was sent ahead to scout and ensure that there weren’t any potential dangers.”
“Ah, well, that makes sense. I can assure you though, this house is just one of an old lumberjack. If that is all, I hope you have a good day, sir.”
“As far as I can tell that is not a lie. It does not seem like you are planning an assassination so we shall be on our way. I thank you for your time, have a good day yourself sir.” And with that, the ruffling of some cloth could be heard, something Jacob assumed to be some sort of hand signals, especially considering the fact that all 9 pairs of feet seemed to leave at the same time, eventually falling to silence as they faded away into the distance. Neither person made a sound, even if only for a moment before the old man sighed, the younger one taking it as a sign to leave his hiding place, looking at the distressed face of his mentor.
