His sparkling blue eyes locked onto mine, and the long strands of white hair fluttered down. His face was angular, and his unfeeling, heavy gaze settled. “What were you doing, Ashy?” Duke Birchigold’s deep voice asked, resonating in the carriage. His hand, cold as ice, rested on my forehead.

  His tongue clicked. “You don’t look all right,” he continued, letting his hand slide against my face and down to my chin. He raised it to look at my soft lips.

  He was tall—so tall—and his slim muscles contributed to his dashing figure. It looked like he ran, not just lifted hay bales throughout his entire youth. His clothes were black and gold like dawn’s first light on the fields, contrasting his snow-fair skin. He smelled like cedarwood—an exotic tree I had only read about in my books.

  I heard the rumors: he was a vile, vicious man who had beaten his slaves and sent his bastard children home hungry. But the concern in his eyes toward me—a [Farm Girl]—from a [Lord] made me understand—know—he was a good person.

  “Duke... Birchigold...?” I panted, feeling a cough in my throat. His hand touched my shoulder, and I felt a warm, radiant glow. My insides calmed, and I could feel the blood flow through my veins. I was warm.

  “That bastard? I’m hurt, Ashy.” Adrian’s voice rang out, breaking me out of my reverie. I got up—not in a carriage, but resting on the mattress. To my side, with his dirty brown hair and boyish face, Adrian stared at me.

  His glowing hand returned to his side, and he offered me a smile. I blinked in confusion, looking to where I was. And more importantly, to what I was smelling. My nose twitched in the air—onions, carrots, beef?

  “You look so scrawny, Ashy. Have you been eating well? I always told you, you can come over if you’re feeling peckish, you know...” he continued. His other hand—covered in leather—stroked my forehead. Instinctively, I moved away.

  “Addy, why are you in my house?” I finally asked, hesitantly standing up.

  “Careful now, I found you unconscious outside...” he said, his hand moving off my head and to my arm. I accepted his help and got up. My head was spinning, but I didn’t feel too hurt.

  “Right, I was farmin’, Addy,” I responded, getting to my feet. Adrian rose first, helping me up. I leaned on his shoulder and craned my head to not hit the ceiling. I looked down at his brown eyes with utter confusion. “Why are you here?”

  “’Cause I heard you were back for a few days, and you don’t even write or come see? I heard your pa passed away, and your ma died to Dragonpox, so... I wanted to see how Ashy was doing owning the Hart Farm.”

  I looked him over. He was different and similar to how I remembered him. I was still taller than him, and his dark brown hair was kept unkempt and messy. But he had—well, not grown—into a man, his body stronger with work, and more importantly, he wore armor.

  I used [Inspect] on him.

  “You could just ask, Ashy...” He frowned, but I ignored him.

  Ordo-Inquisitis plate armor? silver longsword? blessed shield? I was almost scared to look at what I knew was going to be there.

  “Addy, please don’t tell me you’re a—”

  “Not yet, Ashy. Still in training. Stationed here while I go through my paces.”

  [Paladin]. A hero class. Not just an adventurer, but a [Hero]. I stared at him with... I don’t know the words. You know when you raise a prized heifer and bring her to a competition, thinking the milk is gonna be good? But the boy next door, since his dad actually loved him or something, buys him a cow and it’s just better?

  Yeah, that.

  I sucked in a breath. He, for his part, laughed. “Glad I came when I did, Ashy. You seemed worse out there than when we went down to the river and you—”

  “Adrian.” I said it curtly and to the point. He stopped talking and shifted his attention to me. “Why are you here?”

  “Your ma told me to look after ya.”

  “Ma’s dead. Your promise doesn’t exist.”

  He looked at me, his eyes scrunching and his face twisting. “Ashy... you’re here. My promise was for you, and you know I’ll always keep my word.”

  “Didn’t have a hard time with the [Zone of Truth] during the holy order ceremony, did you?”

  “Nah, the inquisitor tried askin’ if I did somethin’ bad and I told him about our cow heist and he told me to shu—”

  “Addy, please be quiet.”

  “Yeah! Like that, but his words weren’t as nice as yours, Ashy.” He smiled at me, which irritated me even more. No matter what I did, that boy would cling to me like moss on a rock.

  I rubbed my head and looked down to the cooking pot. “You making stew?” I asked, wanting the topic to change.

  “Yeah, you’ve been out for a few hours, and you looked famished. Didn’t even water your carrots out there, so I did it for ya.”

  I stared at him. My eyes went wide. My entire plan—and I forgot to WATER THE CROPS?

  Addy immediately touched my shoulder and I shivered, pulling away. He glanced at me. “Nothing to worry about, Ashy... nothing wrong with getting some help with some chores.”

  I looked at his eyes, my lips scowling. “It’s not that! I forgot! I was going to sleep right after, but I forgot! The seeds would have despawned!”

  He tilted his head. “Nah. You did some [Farm Girl] magic on them and had them stabilized. The world wouldn’t let them fade.”

  I watched his face when he responded, but he still had that dopey, stern smile. “...Thank you then, Addy,” I muttered, moving past him and climbing down the ladder.

  He dropped down, landing with a resounding thud. My body cringed, my shoulders shooting to my ears as I quickly looked at where he landed. “ADDY, YOU BETTER NOT HAVE BROKEN MY FLOORBOARDS!”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  He smiled, his arm and hand going to scratch the back of his head. “Nah, Ashy—you’re good. I’ve got enough training to soften the landing by now.”

  The ground floor smelled better. I glanced around the cramped living area and saw that the place was reordered. The floor was swept, the table clean, and my eyes immediately darted toward the study. Both of my books were placed neatly in a pile, and the gold thread wrapping them both.

  “Addy, did you—”

  “No, I didn’t, Ashy. They’re your books. I just didn’t want you to worry about cleaning the place,” he finished.

  I glanced around. The pantry was... stocked. Breads, jams, some honey—and even candied peaches! I immediately shot for them, but stopped one step away.

  “Addy, you know I don’t like you like that, right?” I finally said, letting it linger. I stared at him, watching his eyes.

  His face was unreadable. It was calm, and none of the childish tells came up. His face was boyish to me, but I could see he had become a man. Baby fat had become a chiseled chin, and his brown eyes, filled with hope, didn’t radiate as they used to. He sighed.

  “Ashy, it’s not always about being in love. I made a promise to your mother, and...” His voice dropped that country-boy charm. There was no accent; it sounded like the capital. No anecdotes, proper words. “And, for your information, I didn’t have anything to hide in the [Zone of Truth]. Regardless if you want to mock me for being simple.”

  That was not what I wanted to hear. Instead, I reached for the candied peaches. “Then I’m going to pay you back, all—”

  “689 coins, five hot meals—this would be your sixth—and one broken wooden sword when you get back on your feet, right?” he finished for me.

  “...What do you want, Addy? I don’t want your pi—”

  “The funny thing is,” he interrupted me. That felt wrong to me; he never interrupted me. “I wasn’t keeping track of that debt. You were. Every time I gave you anything, you’d tell me how much you’d pay me back. The exact number.”

  “—ty,” I finished. I felt my heart burn, and my eyes narrowed with fury. My mouth opened, but he cut me off—again!

  “I just saw you as a friend, the cute girl next door who was smarter than me. We looked at the stars, and how you wanted to be a [Scholar] like your mother, and I wanted to be a knight like my pa. I would have liked—and still would—to have you by my side, but...”

  I glanced around the room. The broken, dusty floorboards. The empty pantry that was only restocked because of him. Carrots—a beginner crop—being watered. My most prized possession was neatly tied in gold string on a workbench-made study.

  I looked at my feet.

  “...You seem to think you’d be settling for me. I don’t know what went wrong in our childhood that made you feel this way, Ashy, and I’m sorry I never lived up to your expectations, but—you’re still my friend. An’ if I have to be the dopey, smilin’ boy you used to talk to all night just to see you smile? I reckon I woul’. Your ma or not.” His voice shifted back.

  My eyes shot up and stared at him. My lips forced themselves into a smile as something burned inside of me. Not... guilt, but anger.

  His eyes [Appraise] me, and his hands raised, palms outward. “The food is for you. I restocked your pantry, and I left something in your... special spot.” His eyes glanced at the floorboard. “Take it as pity, take it as friendship, take it as love, or add it to your infinitely tracked ledgers of debts you owe to the world and the world owes to you... Ms. Hart.” His hand reached up to pat my shoulder, but I brushed him away.

  Or tried to.

  I never realized Addy let me do so, as my frail arm didn’t have the strength to deflect his metal gauntlet. His fingers pushed onto my shoulders as he stared up at me. He opened his mouth but closed it immediately.

  He released my shoulder, turned around, and raised a hand in departure. He had always done that as a kid—his “I’m too cool for you, Ash; I’m leaving now.”

  He exited the door and whistled. From beyond the aether, a [Divine Steed] appeared—as white as snow, eyes golden. It radiated that same warm, radiant—sickly pristine, saccharine—aura as Adrian’s touch. “Let’s go, Mirchie,” he told her.

  “You... named her Mirchie? Why?” I snapped.

  “...It’s not always about you,” he said, before looking into my eyes. “I have a question for you, Ms. Hart.”

  “I don’t wan—”

  “Have you been to Matthew and Amelia Hart’s grave yet?”

  “...”

  “Yeah, I didn’t think so.” His hands pushed against the lead of Mirchie’s reins and they went away.

  I stared at my field—my Dead Fields. I immediately slammed the door shut and stared at the pot. My stomach growled, but my head burned.

  Who the hell does he think he is?

  I moved toward the iron pot, and my... frail hands couldn’t even summon the energy to push it over. I was famished. It smelled like Ma’s cooking. I didn’t have much energy, and this was a lot of food.

  I sighed and just accepted his pity. Six hot meals. Each of them is like this. He notices I’m sad, I’m in a rough spot, and makes me something.

  I took the ladle and my wooden bowl and poured a hearty serving into it. If I cover the left side it won’t lea—

  The crack was gone.

  That bastard repaired it. He knew I’d yell at him. And even then...

  I threw the bowl against the wall and buried my face in my hands.

  I just wanted to be a [Scholar]. I didn’t want to be no [Farm Girl]. And I can’t even be a [Farm Girl] right without the help of some righteous, pious fuck.

  Yet that’s when I smelled something like... stillborn calf. Heifers, sometimes, give birth to calves that don’t have a heartbeat. They need to push it out bad. Pa calls it cursed, and that smell is what he calls the unborn dead. No life in ’em, a corpse inside a living body.

  I got up and moved toward my Dying Fields.

  The carrots were ready.

  They smelled bad, yet they looked ripe. They’re... not orange, Ashley. That’s red. Deep, brilliant red. I picked one up.

  The soil bled. Flora would scream at this sight. I couldn’t help but smile. I did this. I plucked another, and the dirt yielded to my need. Another. And then another.

  I held nine blood-red carrots that seeped hemoglobin from their skin. I knew this, since I was a [Scholar]—or wanted to be.

  If the world was going to reward that pious fuck with everything he wanted, then I’d take what I needed.