12: Wealth
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Jorgen apparently lives in a place across town. I am speechless when I see it. It is much larger in comparison to my own house. In addition, there are glass windows. Metal form a neat pattern that holds small circular glass disks. It is incredible distorted to look through, but still, glass windows. When I enter I also see that there is a wooden floor, in comparison to the old packed dirt one. And there appear to be more rooms. In the old house, one room was parent's bedroom cum kitchen cum living room, one room as the children's bedroom and that was it, but here, we have stepped through a small room at the entrance to see something that is only kitchen and living room, as there are no beds. It's like it's a real house, I catch myself thinking.

"Oh welcome, I thought he'd get you as he wanted" A woman is greeting us. She has brown hair and eyes, and seems to be younger than mother.

"I'm home, dear" Jorgen says, walks up and kisses her. Is she?

"Please to meet you, Yod" She says to me. "I'm Hannah, Jorgen's wife" This age difference. Jorgen must be at least twice her age. Must be one of the perks of being so productive for the village.

"Pleased to meet you" I say in a quiet voice "My name is Yos, not Yod". PANG! Another hit over the head. This is getting real annoying.

"It's "pleased to meet you, LADY" Yos, get it already" I seriously don't get the rules for this. I think I have seen my mother talking to others quite often without a form of address. "Now come, I'll show you your room"

It is pretty small, maybe 100 square feet, but that is only in comparison to the old world. As signified by the only bed in here, but the comparative luxury speaks for itself. In comparison to my old bed, which were straw and hides for all bedding, this one clearly had a mattress and a soft looking cover. Jorgen is like, really rich in comparison to my old family.

"You can do whatever today, but if you go out, make sure you can find your way back here. Be back for dinner at the latest. Tomorrow, you start your new life" I simply nod, not daring to speak as to get it wrong again and another hit over the head. I spend the time running of course.

Dinner is also delicious when I return. I didn't see the cooking take place, but I think maybe spices are used. There is also much more vegetables and fruit in it, compared to mother's. Is meat only the low class diet? That's kinda bizarre. There are still no good source of starch though. No potatoes, bread or rice. I wonder if they even exist in this world?

The next day, after a delicious breakfast, Jorgen is taking me slightly outside town. "Run back and forth between here and that tree, as fast as you can, as long as you can" is the order I receive. Well this is a pleasant surprise. I start dashing with all my might. So far, I have mostly been keeping a reasonable pace when running, in order to not get too developed with my muscles before I am fully grown. Excessive excercise cause trouble for young ones.

So I am surprised. both at just the speed I can reach and how long I can keep it up. I feel like I am going maybe 15 miles per hour, and I can keep it up for almost an hour, a feat a 5 year old shouldn't be able to accomplish. When I am tuckered out and sprawl myself on the ground, Jorgen has a big grin on his face "Splendid" he says "That's some good legs you got there"

He picks me up from the ground, and fetches a wooden sword and shield from a sack he brought with him. "Alternate between swinging the sword and bashing with the shield, put as much force in it as you can, and keep going as long as possible" I kind of consider denying, as the amount I want to train my upper body is limited, but as I think about it, I can already feel the back of my head hurting.

As I start following orders, I am constantly corrected, and eventually he also gets me to alternate my swings. Overhead, from the side, stab, repeat. And with the shield, bash and slice. Almost another hour passes, before my arms feel too heavy to move. I wonder if I did well? Jorgen, at least, has a beaming smile on his face,

 

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