Joenal Farmer had always considered himself a gentle man. “Put in the work, reap the rewards" wasn’t a saying to him; it was a lifestyle. He’d tried to instill that attitude in his daughter, and for the most part, he thought he’d succeeded.
There was no substitute for hard labor, and it paid off in the end. It was, perhaps, somewhat naive but… well… that was why he’d married a pessimistic, mercenary, former heir to a destroyed duchy.
Every level comes with a scar, as the saying went. Atrinaska had a lot of scars.
He liked to think he lightened the burden on her. He knew he did, in fact, while she kept him firmly planted in the soil. They balanced each other perfectly.
He was quick to forgive, and even slower to anger, while Atrinaska could hold a grudge for a decade, and her rage burned hot and hard.
He spoiled Mera rotten. Building the girl her own room when she was only twelve was practically unheard of, but for his little girl, no price was too high. No earnest request too much. He’d put in the time, buying lumber from Travis and labor from the hunters when game was scarce, and hands were idle. In the process, he’d become great friends with Korlotom and Irena, as well as their stouthearted little son.
Mera repaid him by learning to tell stories, and eventually the simple donations she earned at the bar had paid off the project's expenses entirely. She went on to start commissioning tables, benches, pots, and pans for that outdoor lab of hers. Working to afford what she couldn’t make herself.
The work at the bar wasn’t the same as growing crops, but it was difficult not to respect it when it brought in coin. Whoever heard of a fourteen-year-old making silver coins?
His Elmerina did, though.
And by the gods, some of her stories… He didn’t know where she came up with them, but they moved him in ways only plays in the big cities had ever managed before.
In spite of his spoiling, he’d somehow managed to raise a wonderful, if impulsive, daughter. Stubborn and stupid maybe, but honest and brave as well. He was proud of her, even if he wished she’d just run away the moment her idiot of an uncle had mentioned the draft.
Maybe he was being hypocritical, but he didn’t care. It was irritating when the things he’d taught her to believe bit him in the ass.
Pay homage to the lords who could raise armies in your defense. Respect the men fighting in distant lands for your right to a peaceful life. Love and protect your neighbors, for they will surely love you in turn.
Mera had learned these lessons well and taken them to her heart in a way that warmed him every time he thought about it…
…Except now.
The moment he realized the brigade was under attack, he wished to god he’d have taught her to be a selfish little asshole and damn the consequences. If she had, maybe they wouldn’t be in this mess.
“Mera!” He screamed the moment he heard the dragon’s roar.
He rushed to the wagon with all the pepper paste she’d been assigned to, but he didn’t see her there. Again, he found Reid, not at the girl’s side.
“Stupid boy,” he sneered to himself. “Why wasn’t he with Mera?!”
Then again, had he done any better?
He was beginning to doubt that Reid was good enough for his girl. That was doubly irritating now that the two of them seemed to actually be acting on the subtle pushes he and his wife had been giving them the last few years.
Knowing his daughter, she was likely right in the thick of things, and it was going to get her killed. Hand on his scythe, Joenal turned towards the front of the brigade.
He took off at a sprint toward the front, his gut telling him where Mera would most likely be, and immediately he was forced to dodge large clumps of soldiers. Soldiers were screaming and charging up the road, while just as many were fleeeing in the other direction.
Mera had rarely left his sight for more than a few minutes in the last few days. He’d been determined to be there the next time something awful happened to her, so it seemed almost expected that the moment he’d turned his back, she’d be both gone from the wagon and a dragon would attack.
His initial instinct was to run, but he would burn to death before he left his daughter behind.
He couldn’t really see what was going on up front, but he suddenly began to hear warcries from further ahead. Screams and the distinct flashes of magic rippled in the air.
Then the dragon appeared. The creature was terrifying enough, but the woman astride it absolutely baffled him.
Clear as day, a woman was saddled onto a spot between the dragon’s neck. From his vantage he could see her as her mount descended and let loose a breath of fire that raked across the road and presumably, hundreds of his fellow soldiers.
“Oh gods,” he breathed, his heart seizing. Where his mind froze, his body reacted.
He reached into his pocket and snapped the signal rod Atrinaska had given him. She could take Mera to safety, but for her to do that he’d need to find her.
He was a few years past fifty. His legs no longer supported him like they used to and his arm had lost the dominant power of his thirties and forties. His back ached every day as the labor of the farm became harder.
None of that mattered as he dashed down the hill. Mera would be up there. Called by his idiot of a brother, or perhaps that high bannerman she’d met in town. Maybe even the fucking general himself.
Goblins appeared within the ranks, but he didn’t have time for them. He swung his scythe and was horrified by the ease with which its sharp blades severed flesh and bone. He needed to be at the front. He needed to be in the thick of the enemies. That was where he could use his talent best.
‘What if she’s already hurt? Or worse?’
The thought came unbidden and it fueled him. That wouldn’t happen. He was going to find his daughter, kill every fucking goblin and troll that even thought about laying a figner on her, and then he was going to get them alll out of here.
How had they been ambushed in broad daylight? How had a fucking dragon gotten the drop on them? Wasn’t the leader of this brigade one of the generals of the entire border rift?
Atrinaska might rightfully hate Maulander’s dead brother, but Joenal found an unusual contempt growing in him for the man himself, as his steps ate up ground like a man twenty years younger.
He sped around the bend, dashing around troops who were still dazed, or frozen between fright and flight reactions, only to shriek in alarm as a horse heading in the other direction at a full gallop nearly barreled into him.
The rider turned the horse, dodging him at the last minute, and he skidded to a halt, staring after her in shock as she kept going without a backward glance.
“Mera!?” he screamed.
For a brief moment, he was offended. Then, he beamed. For once, thank all the gods, Mera was running away from danger! She might’ve forgotten her own signal rod but that wouldn’t matter. He’d snapped his own near the wagons where it seemed his daughter was going!
Atrinaska would find her, and finally she’d be with Reid.
That meant he was safe to go and fight the army of fucking trolls that had appeared out of no where to ambush an entire brigade.
He took a moment to eye the surprisingly mundane tool in his hands. No targetting limitations was a double-edged sword. He’d need to be right in the middle of the enemies, to make sure he didn’t accidentally hurt any… any?
Right… in the middle of the enemies?
He’d been about to run off toward all that magic, and all those monsters, and that dragon just moments ago. But Mera was safe. She’d run away for once! He didn’t give half a fuck if the army lived or died. Especially not Maulander, that blind bastard.
Blind to his brother’s evil, and blind to ambushes as well it seemed.
Blind.
“Being blind wouldn’t be good,” he murmured.
He felt suddenly dizzy. The world was spinning. He needed to get to Mera. Or he needed to get to a bunch of enemies.
Well, that seemed dumb. Foolish, as Naska would say. It had taken him forever to get her to stop talking like a noble and live a little.
She was so wonderful. He let a dopey grin cross his face as he thought about how she used to be. Her passion for trade and her magic. Awful self confidence. The woman was a treasure who'd thought herself a pebble. Who cared if her brother's talent had been Mythical?
The rift was terrible, of course, but for Joenal, it had granted him everything he’d ever wanted. Without the rift, he’d never have married her. In fact, he’d probably have been executed for so much as looking at her. But now, they were a family! Him, Naska, and little Elmeri–!”
“Oh Gods, Mera!” he shouted.
He turned and began walking towards where Mera had gone, wondering how she’d managed to get on a horse. He hoped she hadn’t stolen it. Stealing was wrong.
Unfortunately, his legs seemed uncooperative all of a sudden, and he tripped on a stone. He screamed as his face smashed into the dirt.
Something was wrong. Very wrong. But he couldn’t seem to figure out what.
“Mera… I’ve got to get to her…” he breathed.
Slowly, he began to crawl back toward the wagon, his scythe forgotten in the dirt.