Gia: Chapter 1

Gia

The village of Nochesta, slightly south of Hammanon, one of the greatest kingdoms in the region.

But the story begins in a little village of farmers and cattle-raisers whose only experience in fighting were with wild animals that would make off with their livestock, and whose knowledge of war was through stories passed on by word of mouth from soldiers of the kingdom who would brag about it in the local markets with vendors and traders.

The village of Nochesta considered themselves blessed to have one such soldier come from their meager little lot of land, he was their own bringer of tales…

“… The cap’n was raving mad when he caught them new recruits slacking off that he barked out orders one after the other. The cap’n is famous for ‘is temper and—“

“Braggin’ again, you old fod?” Said the soldier’s wife, standing in the doorway of their cottage as she glared down at him sitting on a broken block of clay outside their little cottage as she knew where she would find him in the afternoons.

She was a large woman, round and heavy-limbed that she swaggered at every step. Coils of springy brown hair curled around at her nape and temples where they came loose from her tight little bun at the top of her head. Her eyes were nearly small for her face, like two little black buttons, but they were more like chipped coals as she scowled down at her spouse.

Children were sitting around him in awestruck wonder, taking in every word he said as if his tales were like those of the elders’ mantras, but at the sight of the matron some had ran off shrieking for their mothers, those who remained cowered behind the man.

The bringer of tales told the rest to go on along. The moment they all left he stood up to his full height, which was a good head taller than that of his wife.

He was a big man, tall unlike the village locals. A hulking man broad in width, like his wife, but his build was firm from the rigid training received within the palace army, an experience he liked to regale over and over again, slightly broadening his imagination on the difficulties and hardships he underwent.

His towering height, however, did not deter his wife.

“Aw, Mesh. Just as I was gettin’ to the good part, ‘bout how the cap’n gave those new ‘uns a lesson to learn,” With a motion of his hand, he imitated a soldier unsheathing a sword. “He took out his sword like a crazed loon and—”

“Aye, I’ve heard of it, and so has everyone. You’ve repeated the same thing for the past three days since you’ve returned.” Mesh snapped. “A fine bringer of tales you are, Loda, but it don’t bring food and water to the table. What little pay you get as a soldier barely scrapes us by with our number, especially as we have two extra mouths to feed. Now, go get water from the well as we’re dry out. The boy used it all up cleaning the cottage.”

Loda sighed in exasperation. “Then let the young ‘un do it.” He retorted.

“E’s too busy still scrubbing the floor.”

“Is that so?” He looked inside the cottage and saw a small boy crouched behind the table, meticulously running a sodden cloth over the hardened clay floor until it was gleaming and polished to his satisfaction. “’Ey, boy!”

Short strands of slightly wavy burgundy-colored hair fell over piercing green orbs as the boy straightened and looked directly at him. Loda never failed to be surprised at the intenseness of such attention coming from a boy of ten, as if taking everything into consideration, weighing the odds…the soldier was the first to look away.

“The tub’s empty and needs fillin’ up.”

The lad didn’t need a second say to get moving. A simple statement like that made to one of his own sons they would have passed the responsibility onto each other until they’d all end up arguing as to who would be accountable to take whatever duty given them. And he had eight kids—three girls and five boys.

All were like their mother and father but the first son and the eldest of the girls. They were blessed with a certain beauty that never resembled their parents and therefore spoiled.

As for the lad, he came out from the kitchen with two jars half his size on each arm. The clay jars already weighed a bit on their own but filled with water would be burdensome and taxing even on a healthy youth after several trips to the well on the outskirts of the village that led to the woods.