Consequences of Negative Reputation

Callum knew that he hadn't killed his parents. The problem was that everyone else seemed to think he did. He had lived on his family's farm for the past thirty years. But that didn't stop neighbors, friends, and even his own brother from thinking the worst of him.

He would have laughed at how thousands of people could believe the same lie if it wasn't so painful. He felt their judgement every time they saw him. The hate in their eyes, the cold shoulders, the whispering, and the fear that they could be next all stabbed deep inside him.

He could've handled all of that. Been strong and shrugged off their contempt. Known that their thoughts were beneath him. Except. Except his own brother was in that camp.

He tried not to resent his brother for his lack of effort on the farm. For not believing in his innocence. He would have hated his own brother if he had murdered his parents, so he tried to be understanding.

He tried to reach out. Tried so hard to be patient. Bending over backwards for him. Or taking up the slack on the farm and not calling him out on it.

As he finished loading the wagon, he couldn't help but despair at how little was in the back now. Fresh off of learning of the murder of his parents, he was dealt another shock as creditors and debt collectors came out of the woodwork.

A farm that had been a major driving force of the local economy had been picked apart as everyone tried to grab a piece of the pie. Till they were left with but a shadow of their former farm.

The farm had encompassed over 2000 acres of prime and fertile land. And that didn't even account for the rented and leased lands. Their farm was famed for its quality products such as horses, honey, mead, beer, cider, liquor, cattle, beef, leather, dairy, eggs, poultry, grains, apples, etc.

At its peak, the Murray Farm had employed dozens of workers. Murray Farm had been family run for over 250 years, slowly growing and adapting as each generation added to it. As Murray Farm had grown, Hillshire had grown with it. Over 200 years of growth only to be brought low in less than six months.

Callum had started to take over more and higher operational roles as his father prepared him to take over so that he could enjoy his retirement. However, Callum had had no clue how deeply the farm had been in debt. Debt from the previous generation and from Patyr, his father.

All that debt piled up until it came crashing down with his father's murder. Shaking off his negative thoughts, Callum finished harnessing his two mules to the wagon. A rueful grin on his face as he once more looked in the back of the wagon.

A pig that had been butchered a couple of days ago, a handful of honey jars, some cheese rounds, a couple of gallons of milk, and 4 dozen eggs were all that he was taking into market day. A far cry from what Murray Farm used to take to market.

Warm laughter from the two lovers chased him out of the farmyard and onto the road. The laughter was another knife to his heart, showing what he no longer had. No relationship with anyone.

Shouldering his family's burden all alone. As strong as he was, he just was tired of all this bullshit. Especially when his parent's killers still walked free.

__________________

As he neared Hillshire, Callum was still deep in thought. His brain spinning round and round, trying to figure out a way to halt and eventually reverse his reputation loss. Trying to figure out how to keep the farm.

Or at least what little they had left. No bank would offer loans regardless of amount or interest rate. Same with former business partners and friends. Thinking on how to renew a relationship with his brother also dominated his mind.

Curses and jeers jostled him out of his thoughts and back to the present. Nearby townspeople cursing him, children taunting him, and the occasional filth thrown at him. More resentment and hatred bottled up and hidden deep inside.

He reaffirmed his vow to never let them see his pain. The fake smile and ignoring of all provocation was doubly important to him. First with the forlorn hope that they'd get bored and leave him alone. And second was his reputation and all the maluses that implied.

He learned very early on that confronting anyone, even if they were caught throwing filth at him, would simply increase his reputation drop even further. It was somehow okay for a child to throw dog shit at him, but heaven forbid he try and take that kid to task.

No matter how gently he tried to correct or confront people, it inevitably ended with more abuse on him and further reputation drops. So he ignored it as best he could and bottled that anger up to fuel his drive to succeed despite the haters.

And he always kept his stuff secured under tarps in order to safekeep them from whatever missiles were launched in his direction.

His first stop usually would have been at the farrier's to get Earl's and Old Ellie's hooves trimmed up. Normally he would've been able to leave the wagon in the farrier's yard and borrowed a cart to deliver his goods. Now, the farrier wouldn't let him use that space without a rental fee.

If left alone, the wagon could be sabotaged or any goods stolen while he was delivering other goods. Assuming that he could even find a decent cart at a reasonable rental price. Instead he had to play an intricate dance of wagon, mules, goods, and himself. Never leaving sight of his wagon or animals.

This wasn't a new dance for him as he had had to learn it the hard way over the preceding six months. When he made a mistake, he would pay for it. Either a sabotaged wagon, stolen goods, or worst of all abused mules. Hiding his growing rage under a veneer of pleasant greetings, he set about his errands.

At the end he had finally accomplished his goals. The mules had trimmed hooves, his tools were sharpened and maintained by the blacksmith, his products offloaded at the market, and some goods purchased and loaded back under tarps.

Callum thanked whichever gods were listening for the <Clean> spell. It made dealing with the random filth missiles so much easier even as they added to his rage.

Freed from the environs of the town, Callum slowly breathed out a sigh of relief. The worst was over and he could stay on his farm for the next week or so until he needed to make another trip. All that pain and hate was still burning merrily in his heart. He had no intention of trying to douse it.

He instead would harness his emotions. Use them to keep himself going. He wasn't going to stop trying to save his farm. He owed it to his father and all his ancestors to keep it. To keep the plot of land that served as their cemetery. He wasn't going to give up, not when he still had a chance of making it all work out.

It would be so much easier if he could get Alister onboard. Even if he never forgave Callum for his perceived murder of his parents. Until then, he would keep going and keep trying to get Alister committed to saving their little piece of Murray Farm.

Until Alister was interested in saving the farm, Callum would have to continue making these weekly trips. The few times that Alister had gone to market had been disastrous. Callum had thought that Alister with his damn charisma build, positive reputation for being a Murray, and sympathy for having his parents murdered would have been the correct choice for the market trips.

Instead, each one had been a disaster. One trip saw the wagon break an axle enroute and all the goods gone when Alister returned with Callum to fix it. Another time Alister got roped into going to the bar where got drunk and proceeded to buy rounds for everyone until all the profits were gone. Their mules were run off by local kids during another trip.

Each trip was a fresh new disaster. Callum had quietly done the financial calculations on all eight of Alister's trips. Surprisingly, the farm somehow made more money when Callum took those market trips than Alister.

Despite all the maluses he 'enjoyed' thanks to his reputation, Callum made more for the farm than his younger brother. The farm was still bleeding money when Callum went to the market, but at least it was at a slower pace. But regardless of his best efforts, the farm was dying. A slow death, but a death nonetheless.