[interlude]so that's how life is

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POV of Pate serf first-fifth moon 285 AC

"Another mediocre harvest," I said as I began to fill sacks with barley that didn't come close to what had been produced in the past decades, despite having workers ready.

"The lord said he would increase taxes on the land... with this poor harvest, I doubt we can make it to the next one," said the village chief with concern.

"Gods, what are we going to do? The damn rebel lords salted the earth to make it dry, and they succeeded. Harvest after harvest, the grains grow weaker and weaker," I said angrily, remembering that when our lord lost, the multiple rebel lords looted everything they could and took it out on us. To send a message, they concentrated on burning everything they saw and destroying the farmlands.

Each time everything becomes more difficult. While grain prices were incredibly high, and sacks of grains were worth silver or even gold coins, we had to reclaim the land, try to save what we could, rebuild our homes, and keep the animals we managed to retain from being stolen by the nobles' hordes.

And now the grain prices are lower than ever because The Reach has had record harvests that continue to increase. Merchants offer us misery in exchange for our grains, and to make matters worse, our lord decided that, to fill his coffers damaged by the war, they would increase taxes, "to ensure security as soon as possible."

But there are still bandits in all the forests in the area. It still couldn't be safe to leave the villages without the risk of being attacked on the way since, no matter how much the men sent by the lord say there are no bandits, there are still people who enter those forests and don't come out alive.

We went to leave the sacks of barley in the barn, and the sight was not good. We didn't even fill it halfway, and the tax collector has not yet come to take sixty percent as payment for using the land.

We won't get anything for selling the barley; it's worth almost nothing in the market since what sells the most is wheat. Nor can we sell it because we would have to risk traveling to a city, as no merchant will pass through a village with fewer than three hundred inhabitants that was also looted not long ago, and the bandits will be eager to take what little we have if we decide to travel.

We will have to ration quite a bit if we want to have hope of avoiding a famine before the next harvest, and we will have to prevent the grains from being used to make beer. This is going to be very unpopular.

Days passed, and as always, punctually, the tax collector came to claim the part that belongs to our lord. We tried on several occasions to request help from the lord, but our attempts were dismissed by the tax collector.

We also tried to see if he could grant us hunting rights in the nearby forests to try to hunt some deer to endure until the next harvest, although all those who knew how to use a bow or arrow died or never returned. Our requests were also denied.

When the weighing of the grains was done, it was almost evident that the tax collector had tampered with the scale to favor himself. When we complained, he threatened us with Lord Ryger's knights to stop complaining about everything. The scoundrel took much more than he should, leaving us even more scarce of food.

As much as I would like to cry or simply leave everything behind, I had a responsibility to my family and the village. It's already in a critical situation, and if one of the few who can work leaves, it would be like giving the last nail to the coffin of this village.

So we simply sighed and kicked rocks while the tax collector left, probably to rob other victims, while we began to make preparations for the next harvest and later see how we manage with food.

We tried to expand as much as possible the crop fields in areas where the land is still in good condition, but they were closer to the forest and the danger of bandits and wolves.

On one of the many dark nights in the lands of the Riverlands, terrible screams were heard from the forest. Almost the entire village woke up due to the magnitude of the screams filling the forest.

Although we tried to see what was happening with the total darkness, we could barely see what was happening ten steps away from us. Throughout the night, no one closed their eyes because the screams stopped after a few minutes, and no one wanted to be the victim of whatever killed those men.

Our vigil continued for a few more minutes when we saw a group of men emerging from the cloak of the night. Unfortunately for us, they were armed and had horses.

Once again, we were all tense in the presence of this group. To my relief, they carried a banner that I didn't recognize, but that meant they served a lord and, therefore, were not bandits and should not perform violent acts.

A man dressed entirely in wolf skins approached me with his horse, and I noticed that his clothes were stained with blood.

"Do you have problems with bandits?" the man with wolf skins asked our group.

"Yes... why?" I responded to the man.

"Because it's no longer a problem... the bodies are in the forest... burn them or they will attract the wolves... you can keep your valuables as payment... we only took what interested us," the man replied with little interest, throwing a severed head at our feet.

Some turned pale at what they saw, and others almost vomited.

"Thank you very much..." I tried to speak, but he didn't pay attention.

"Do you have a place where my men can rest... preferably with a roof over our heads?" the man said, looking at me intently.

"You can use one of our barns; it's empty anyway," I said, making some grimaces.

"It's harvest season, why is it empty?" the man in wolf skins inquired.

"Poor harvest and unjust taxes," I replied with anger.

"Like the entire south of the Riverlands," the man responded, moving his group to the center of the village.

I made sure that this group of men, who were carrying several carts, could sleep in our warehouse, and I went with another group of people to retrieve the bodies of the bandits. We managed to strip them of their clothes and even found some coins. It seems they didn't bother to check the pockets of their victims, so we burned the bodies to avoid attracting wolves.

The next day, almost everyone woke up to a smell. Our guests were eating quite early, and they had baked their own bread. In pans, they were frying eggs with salted pork they had in their carts. Everyone who got up for work found them eating, and many watched because, due to rationing, we only ate once a day, a fairly watery meal.

Our presence did not go unnoticed by that group, but apparently, they were preparing for a fight, as I saw how they had their hands on their swords while they continued to eat. When the group leader stood up and covered his mouth with his mask, he approached us.

"What's happening? Is our presence not welcome?" said the man wearing a wolf's head.

"Uh... we are grateful for your help with the bandits and for leaving us the belongings of the bandits who didn't want them. It's just that many people here only eat once a day barley porridge, quite watery with whatever can be found in the surroundings," I said somewhat embarrassed.

"A shame... but I don't do charity. I serve the Northern Company and transport goods. We don't have supplies we can give, but we do sell," said the man with a gaze that chilled the soul.

"We have some coins... we could buy something," I said nervously.

He simply gestured, and I gathered everyone who had some coins or something of monetary value that we could sell to these men, as their carts were loaded with boxes and sacks.

After several minutes, I managed to gather two hundred silver coins and many more copper coins, along with some wicker crafts that might interest them. We returned to the man who was strolling, looking at the children in the village.

When we approached carrying the coins, he immediately spoke.

"How much for this child?" said the man with the wolf's head, pointing to the son of one of my friends.

"Uh... excuse me, but he's my son. As desperate as I may be, I won't sell him into slavery," said Gillam with a lump in his throat.

"Slavery?... No. He has very good features, good physical condition even though he's going hungry, broad shoulders, and a small waist. From the size of his hands and feet, I think he'll be tall. He has lively eyes, indicating quick thinking and a fast mind. But I really like that he keeps laughing even with the shitty situation you're going through. I want to adopt him as my son. So, how much for the child?" replied the man with the wolf's head.

In the absence of an immediate refusal from Gillam, I realized that he was truly considering it and saw that he had an internal conflict.

"I offer you a hundred kilograms of wheat, five kilos of salt-cured pork, and... two golden dragons for the child... it's rare... such characteristics all in one son are rare, so he's worth it," said the man, checking the bag where he had his coins and showing us the gold coins, which no one had ever seen in their lives.

I felt a genuine need to convince Gillam to do it. That was a lot of food, and with that gold, we could feed the entire village for a long time, probably until the next harvest.

I saw him close his eyes trying to hold back tears and approached his wife, whispering in her ear. Before long, his wife fell to her knees, crying silently, while Gillam approached the expectant buyer.

"Will you take good care of him?" Gillam asked with a broken voice.

"Yes... as if he were my own blood... he will learn to read and write, to ride and use a bow, and he will never go hungry until I, as a father, must set him free to pursue his own path and the destiny that awaits him. I offer him something you will never be able to: a different future than dying tilling the land for a lord who doesn't care about you," said the man with the wolf's head seriously.

Gillam nodded and received the coins. He went to talk to his son and took him to the waiting man, finally handing him over, containing his tears.

"From this day on, you are my son... forget your old name... he will only respond to the name of... Akseli... come, my son, you must be hungry, and we must do something about your clothes," said the man with the wolf's head, taking his purchase. The child turned around once to look at his family but then obediently followed his new father to start eating with him.

With that, Gillam gave me a gold coin, and we began to negotiate what we could buy. They gave us good prices with the promise that, in the future, we would agree to continue delivering our children for adoption.

What we did was terrible, but it's much better than allowing them to die of hunger, as we were already doing with rationing. They sold us grains at the purchase price in Prussia, almost giving them away. Now I can understand why lately our crops are worthless. If, in the end, The Reach can obtain grains very economically.

We filled a large part of the barn, thanking the Seven for this luck, as the route these men were taking was new, and they were trying ways to reach the north by land, testing paths to reach the River Road and finally get to the Royal Road and go north.

With Gillam's sacrifice, we will be able to get through this harvest, but it was only temporary. If we have bad harvests again, I'm afraid this will happen again.

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Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.

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I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.

----------------------

If you want there to be a chapter tomorrow, the condition is simple, twenty comments on what you would like to see or what you liked or disliked about the story (each person has one valid comment, multiple comments will only be counted as one).or reach the 300 power stones

Within eight hours after the chapter is uploaded to allow time for editing and translation of the next chapter