3 I'd have to be a warrior, a slave I couldn't be

While Dave was off to the town, Eddie had to work had in the fields, as always, this time of year. Sowing was easy, if a little mundane, but what predated it, was hellish work. It came just after the first rains, so that the soil isn't too dry and hard. The earth had to be turned upside down for any sowing to begin. It would mean simple work if any animals were to be put to work, but no laboring animals were housed in that backwards town, and the ploughing had to be done by the slaves, with the help of a hoe.

They worked from dawn, when they were still fresh, till noon, when the combination of the scorching heat of the fading summer and their now trembling legs prevented them from continuing. They would then receive their daily rations, consisting of bread and vegetables (mainly potatoes, since they could grow anywhere without too much care) rest for some time, and go to perform some lighter work, like cleaning the slave quarters or feeding the horses. When all of the work was done, usually a few hours before dusk at that time of year, everyone was free to do as he pleased.

Since Dave hadn't shown himself much recently, "maybe he had something to do", thought Eddie, he just went back to his quarters, dead tired from his toil. Some other slave with too much energy would try to strike up a conversation once in a while, but Eddie just gave him that "please have mercy and fuck off" look, before falling back to bed. Late august wasn't a stellar time to be a slave, at least compared to other seasons.

At the same time, away from the fields, and back to the town, an old man was almost jumping from excitement when he discovered the young scholar. 'Young scholar', because Dave seemed to easily grasp reading and writing, and understanding the blueprints with ease, once basic mathematics were explained to him on paper. The old man really thought of the boy as a prodigy.

"Ok, I'll be going back home now. It's getting a little late, and my brain feels like jelly after all the work and the learning, or wisdom hoarding, or whatever you want to call it. Is there anything in your place to eat?" Dave asked, clearly dead beat, while his stomach confirmed his physical condition, with a growl that could make a wolf tame.

"I think I got some bread and cheese in the cupboard, and the barrel probably has a little beer left. But I need to go to the flea market to restock, I'm running low with that beast of a stomach of yours in my house" the old man replied, not even trying to hide his stinginess.

Once they got to Sophos house (that was the name of the old man), Dave managed to wolf down tree slices of bread, with a generous amount of the white cheese on the side and a pint of beer in under two minutes, a record breaking accomplishment to say the least. He then sat back in his chair, slowly caressing his belly.

After catching his breath, he realized his mind was still in the pencil squiggles he studied all afternoon. He knew what writing was before Sophos showed him, of course, but he didn't pay too much interest in it. Learning wasn't easy without a teacher, and not many who could read lived in that town, much less anyone willing to teach for free. Teaching wasn't a charity after all.

He decided to ask Sophos about some more spelling rules, and how not make any spelling mistakes, and grammar, and the usages of writing, basically anything he could think about language. Instead of replying to all his questions, that would take too long anyways, Sophos disappeared into another room of the house, and quickly came back holding some piles of paper, that Dave could easily understand their use, but still found genius

"So you could compile information in a pile of paper! It makes perfect sense! It's probably really expensive, like paper, but its brilliant, right?" Dave asked once again, his eyes wide from the surprise and looking like a shrimp

"Much more than simple information, writing is not only about trade and science and math and knowledge. It can be art, in the hand of an artist. Take those books back to your house. Study them carefully. In a couple of minutes, after your eyes adjust to the rhythm of your reading, you'll be lost in the world of the books. And not only the letters either. The illustrations in some books can be true masterpieces" Sophos replied

Dave might have been rude on the surface, and a bit self centered (he had been eating at a strangers' place for some days without even thanking him, after all), but everyone could see through works of kindness when they would be smashed in his face like that. Yet he couldn't understand them. And how could he, being a man living in the woods and fighting for his food all his life?

"Why are you even doing this? Teaching me how to write? Lending me books more expensive than my own house? Did I do anything to deserve that? You don't even know me for God's sake!" he said, but both his voice and eyes weren't filled with any anger. He genuinely didn't get it

"What do I got to lose kid? Am I risking anything? This is just knowledge, not some forbidden secret held by old men like me. Someone's gotta learn those things. Knowledge shouldn't be forgotten. The only way society can progress is if we keep learning, either from our past or towards our future. Also if I didn't teach you anything, you'd never complete the house, and my client is waiting. Why would I hire a professional when I can underpay you?"

Dave quickly regained his spunk and wit when his ear caught the word 'underpayment'. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN UNDERPAY ME? AM I GETTING CRAPPED ON?"

"He he he, I think we both win here. Twelve marks is an amazing price for your teenage ass, while I don't have to give thirty marks for professionals. It's a steal!" Sophos replied, with the widest grin Dave had ever seen

"Now put those books in your bag before anyone sees them, they are precious after all, and rush home, kid" Sophos said, leaving no room for any new negotiations over Dave's payment, and then added "And remember to bring them back. I'm not running a charity"

The next day, before even reading the books, Dave decided to go visit the fields where Eddie worked to visit him. It wasn't illegal or anything, but he did have to talk with a supervisor, and compensate with some coin for the lost labour, of course. The supervisor was a tall, muscular guy, wearing leather and carrying two knives in his belt, a good fit for his job, but not as skilled as the guards of the household.

"I'd like to speak with one of the toilers in these fields, Eddie. He's thin, with brown hair, and about yay high" Dave said, while gesturing Eddie's height with his hand "He's got an ugly face too", after all, he didn't want to leave out the description of Eddie's visage

"Yeah I know him, I'll take you to him but the lord will need compensation for his lost work, and of course, I'll have to be compensated for my work" the supervisor said, smiling as if he was doing the work of a holy man

Dave's heart wept blood as he gave the man his 'compensation'. The guard then led him outside the slave's quarters, and went in to get Eddie

Eddie had changed a lot from one week ago. Not in maturity or smarts or build. He just smelt like horse shit, and the trunks of his feet were covered in a thin layer of baked mud, while his eyes were now as baggy as his clothes. "The hell happened to you?", Dave just had to ask.

"It's THAT fucking crap right?", Eddie answered "Nothing, don't sweat it, it's just the work. What about you? Where have you been?"

"I've been commissioned to build a house, and I found myself studying letters and books. It's pretty neat" Dave wanted to add that he was dead beat, but after seeing his friend's condition, he decided against it.

"Anyways, as always, I've brought some wine. Let's go to the dead tree and have a talk, you look like it won't hurt you" he said, while taking the bottle out of his bag, to emphasize his point

They walked back to the old spot. It was a tree, blackened by a lightning that had struck it years ago. Its trunk was almost split in half, but the tree had somehow managed to start turning green again when the summer turned. The night was calm, one of the last nights of summer, and the starry sky was perfectly visible, in all of its depth. Along with the sliver of the crescent moon visible those days, they shone a light halo on the tree's leaves and the grass below. The calm scenery matched the two youths enjoying a nice conversation, but with the wine by their side, that was not meant to last. After a few swigs, the conversation had turned very philosophical.

"So why do you think slaves and serfs exist? Wouldn't everyone be better off without all that exploitation?" Eddie asked, almost rhetorically, but Dave didn't have to take too much time to answer. "You are too naïve, Eddie. It's not just about one person exploiting the many. It's much more complicated. If one day everyone here stopped their servitude, it would cause a chain reaction. The supply line from here to the east would be severed, and in case of a skirmish in the border, the Duke's troops would be undersupplied and underfed. The Caliphate would exploit the weaknesses in their lines and infiltrate. It would cause a war, and without much resistance, the hordes would just march in. And there are probably many other variables to the equation" Dave calmly replied

"Then wouldn't freeing me contribute to the destruction of the Empire? I'm sure that one slave is not much, but here it's the thinking that matters, and it would upset that balance you're talking about" Eddie said, and would be correct too, if not for that:

"I don't care about the empire. It's done nothing good for me, much less for you and most people. We are just numbers to them. What we'll do by setting you free is cause the spark that lights the flame. Maybe nothing will happen, but maybe freeing you will be the end of this corrupt system. Always keep in mind, and don't forget this Eddie, your heart should be aligned with what you think is right, not with banners and the status quo"

That concluded that part of their talk. They had too much to drink, they were both tired, and their minds resembled juice at this point. But the die had been cast. By winter, they would make a plan to free Eddie.