I look after a long while of looking at the sun pass by, the farm is larger than it was, field were longer, there were different Joraal in the farm fields picking wheat. Looked to the Joraal cabins, Khal`En was in his bed, laid down. Patches of white hairs grew on his fur, he had aged. His milky eye had a dark dot in the pupil, and his other was going blind. He reached under his bed and grabbed his box. It was light, he thought, his son must have taken it.
I looked to the master’s cabin as it was larger in scale, I saw his son taller and almost fully grown, reading the book of legends. He smiled while reading it He spoke to himself while he was reading, it was the legend of Keddreck, the Metal Giant:
“In a far away land, the gods have made their beast of warning, beyond the great passage, there sat monster who hunted for those who were weak, beasts that roamed the land, leaving their prey lost in their mind, but the one that felt no darkness was the kind, nieve giant named Keddreck. In a castle he lived, ruined in stature, but it was his home. He lived in a peaceful place of beauty and wonder, flowers of rarity grew near him and animals of majestic stature roamed his castle. He lived happily and sound, but there was something missing, something that felt odd. He was lonely, although there were animals for him to see and admire, but they did not respond to his say or call. They only roamed as he cried for their attention. He plead to the gods to fill this emptiness, for days he stayed outside of his castle, praying and pleading to them as moss and leaves grew on his shoulders and legs. And there came the day, they answered, a bright light grew above him, so bright and beautiful, it blinded the giant as he tried to cover his eyes to what magic the gods were gifting him. A hand appeared in the light, it covered the brightness as Keddreck could see it was getting larger and larger, until the light was gone, all light. He was given Darkness, a friend for him to speak with, but not see. Voices began to speak to him as he could not see through the darkness. The darkness did not favor Keddreck, they told him he was imperfect, crooked, a mistake. He believed them as his castle was escaped of beauty and life, everything died once Keddreck was near life, the creatures he adored left in fear, the rare plants shriveled and dried out. They gave him a gift, but to many, it was a curse, even for the kindest of beasts.”
A door slammed open, it was one of the guards. “Your master wants you, Khaja!”
“But he’s my adopted father, and my name is Jeramy.”
“You all look the same.” He took a long look at his book. “Where in the void did you get that?!” He said. Jeremy’s breath froze.
“From M`Aiq… The Joraal that sells things to us every week.”
“Hmmm… Never mind, just go to your master.” He slammed the door shut as the lamp hanging above his bed fell two inches from the ceiling. He went out of his room to see maid cleaning the walls and floors. He greeted them as he passed by, walking into the master room where the old man was.
He sat there, face towards the fireplace, holding a glass of wine in his hands. His hair was gone, as more spots riddled his hands and body. He spoke softly to Jeremy, “Do you know why I called you?” A guard enters the room.
“Why mister Higgans?”
He took a swig of his wine, “One of my guards saw you last night,” Jeremy’s eyes widened, “Roaming the fields as you entered that Khaja’s room.” The boy’s brow quivered. “Why are you doing this, my son?”
“Don’t call me that.” The guard behind him shoved him.
“Do you think he is your father? Of all these creatures, you pick the one that is usesless to the plantation.”
“No he’s not!” A guard clubbed his head.
“Don’t you do that, you fool!” The guard backed off as the old man got up from his chair. He picked up his cane and walked to the boy, placing the cane on him as he struggled to pick himself up.“He could be taking advantage of you! He could be trying to start some… Revolution that would get you killed! I can’t have the English Guard arrive and have you shot down as a revolutionary.”
“You aren’t my Noama, and he is too old to be a Khaja Revolutionary!”
The old man sighed as he gestured the guards for something. He gave him a club, with small, wooden spikes attached to. “I thought you would have learned from the last time.” He raised the club as he swiftly beaten the young Joraal. He slammed that club on his body for hours, it was sundown when he was done. A maid walked in, he stopped. “What is it, Jacqueline” He drops the the club.
“The dinner guest have arrived.” His mouth drops as he quickly grabs his cane and grabs his coat on his chair. “Should we get you dressed up, sir?”
“No, my morning coat is fine!”
“But sir, the coat is stained.”
“Not manner, just help this boy up.” She watched him walk by her into the dining room, the boy was out. He was hardly breathing, he looked soulless. His face was full of blood and his eyes covered with by swelling skin. A finger in one of his hands was bent backwards as gaping wounds bled constantly. He looked near death.
“You poor boy. Why is he so harsh on you?” The maid whispered to herself. She carried him as more maids came to help the boy to a bed.
In the dining room was a couple, happily married, with two kids sitting in the table beside them. The wife had a someone else in the oven as she struggled to sit straight. On the table was a large turkey with sides of potatoes and Armonian Daits, baked to perfection as a large jug of Apple Cider entered the table. The old man enters the room. “Well, if it isn’t the newest addition to the wheat business!” He grabs the husband’s hand and shakes it dominantly. “So, how long have you been at this kind of business?”
“Well, we’ve been at it since I was a child. My father owned a brewery before the time of the English Walls.”
“Indeed sir, as for me, my mother worked in a bakery with my father. We sold to the children of the village and we gave to passing soldiers on their journies.”
“Well, you sound like a kind bunch. Please, enjoy as much food as you want, it’s all for you and the drinks are delicious. Each pint made by my maids and my workers outside.” The old man sat in his chair at the far end of the table.
“Lovely!” The wife said. The husband looked out the window to see the Joraal working with distraught faces and wounds on their chest and backs. The old man saw his observing.
“What the matter?”
“What?” He turned away.
“You look… Depressed to say the least. Is something the matter? Is the food not of your liking?”
“No, it’s just the Joraal…”
“You mean, the Khaja?”
“I guess. It’s just…”
“What is it, my friend?”
“They don’t look happy.” A maid offered him a drink. “No ma’am.”
“Well, what of it? It’s not like they deserve such a thing.”
“Oh, nevermind. I guess we are all different.” The old man gave him a stare.
“Do you not have Khaja workers?”
“No, all the workers we have are paid and not forced.”
“They get paid nicely for their hard work.” The wife interrupted. The old man picked up his cane and rested his head on it, giving the husband a cold stare.
“If you do not like such workers you can leave my plantation.”
“No, I don’t feel in such a way.” The old man saw their opinions on the manner of the Joraal. He knew they saw them as humans instead of worthless beings in need of a meaning to their lives. He wanted something to convince them of their misleading opinion.
“No, no. It’s okay. We can meet somewhere else if you like.”
The husband and wife looked at each other. “Do we have anything to be done?”
“I think we need something shipped by twelve.”
“I guess we have to. C’mon children. Say goodbye to the good man.” The children waved to the old man as the husband helped his wife up from the chair and shook the old man’s hand.
“Wait.” The old man stopped them.
“What is it?”
“I never asked you where you are from.”
“Oh, we come from over the wall.”
“The English Wall?”
“Yes, just past it, towards the village beyond the forest trail. Shall you meet with us?”
The old man gave a sinister grin, “Of course my friends. We shall meet by 3 hours after noon from tomorrow?”
The couple agreed as they left his plantation. In his mind stird something evil, murderous. I walked out to see the couple leave as one of their children waved at me. She could have been waving at anyone, but I felt her eyes on me. She had a special gift.