JULY 220

A FARMSTEAD NOT FAR FROM THE MAIN LÜBECKIAN SETTLEMENT OF RONDA

The ever-restless Jung Lee deflates with an exhaustive sigh. The last few days have been taking their fair share of physical toll on the middle-aged man. His wife, Frau, has been working him up as a slave—all things considered, he is one. Their fields are considerably larger than most of the farming districts near Ronda, and as such Jung has had difficulty here and there through the harvesting seasons. What makes it difficult this time around is he is one hand short—that being Frau. Frau has long been a hardy worker and neither Jung nor would any of his former underlings deny she has the endurance of several men. But now that Frau has entered the late stages of her pregnancy, old man Jung—who is by contrast never been one for manual labor—has to learn to pick up the slack. And pick up the slack he has.

Jung’s head hangs low. He sits resting on the waist-high white stone wall which he had painstakingly cobbled together because of invasive beasts. As it turns out importing animals from other planets and plopping them in a literally alien world contributes to more problems than what it fixes. Jung has done what he can do to exterminate some of the flocks, but hunting was never his forte, either.

And yet, despite all the trouble he goes through rather it be farming or shoo bizarre flightless birds with unflinching personalities, Jung prefers it to the cut-throat underworld that he was molded into. The one profession that he is damn well intent on not returning to. Although Jung may groan and agonize about the back-breaking suffering he endures, he endures it for Frau. Jung endures it because he lives a legitimate life at long last and finds the prospects of this life oddly satisfying.

“Something the matter, captain?” The all-too-familiar dazzling voice of Jean, a core lieutenant that has served him well—or, well, in this case, continues to serve him in a more informal role. She did not join Jung until half a year after he settled down in Lübeck with Frau and the rest—a terrible illness left her bedridden not long after they made landfall in Brunsbüttel. When she found out Jung was more or less abandoning him Jean expressed she felt explicitly betrayed when her health recovered.

Jung lifts his head, and while he does this unwinds a painful groan. Jean is on the other side of the wall and gives him a much-needed neck massage using her thumbs. “No, no… nothing of the sort,” Jung replies while giving his neck a few pops “I’m just trying to rest my bones… if I had bowed out of the mafia even six years earlier, I would not be as brittle as I am now.” A piercing pain digs into his back neck as Jung cuts loose another painful groan.

“Yes, yes… and maybe then you wouldn’t think twice about abandoning your faithful servants…” Jean says a little too happily, but the tone of her nicety makes Jung’s neck-hair stand up.

“Of course… not, Jean—I think you’re being too rough—” Jung says with a forceful protest. Jean must have realized what she is doing and lets go of his neck.

“I see you two are getting along as usual,” Frau comments as she stiffly wobbles towards the duo. Behind her, several men are trying to haul large wooden baskets with dark-green cloth coverings onto rustic wagon trucks. “This summer’s harvest is looking wonderful,” Frau beams with a shining smile “so much already!” Frau claps her hands together in excitement “we only got half of the yield cultivated—and there’s still so much more to gather!”

“Half the work is done, and yet a mountain of work left to do,” Jung complains in response. Both women shoot him looks.

“And who was it that suggested we try out something new?” Frau asks and the two cross their arms “you can’t expect to make an easy living when you have to work twice as hard and put in twice the effort!—And stop complaining so much!” Maybe Jung is wrong after all. Maybe he was more comfortable in the line of piracy.

“At least give me some credit…” Jung mumbles with slumped shoulders and the two girls can’t help but chuckle at his misfortune.

“But with that said…” Frau smiles and places a hand on Jung’s shoulder “credit is where it’s due—you did a lovely job, darling. I’m rather happy we managed to achieve our biggest harvest yet—” she looks out upon the vast fertile meadow “if we’re as lucky with profits, you might be able to hire additional hands and grow even more crops,” Frau frowns, and taps her lips in ponder “—we might be lucky with domesticating those emus with some additional hands…”

Jung snorts, “I’d rather just round them up and kill them,” both women give the middle-aged man looks of disapproval. Jung raises his hands and surrenders the idea. “I’ll see what I can do about it when the time comes. I hear their commodities are in high demand at Ronda and even the Clusters, though, so that sort of business wouldn’t hurt.”

Frau turns her attention to Jean. “Miss Jean, when do you think you will be able to make the first delivery to Ronda?” Frau asks.

“If we manage to fill our wagon trucks in time before supper I might be able to start the first run by tomorrow morning,” Jean replies “if you don’t mind, I could take a few guys with me so we don’t have to make any additional needless trips,” Frau nods her head in agreement.

“Well then… I’ll excuse myself since there’s not much I can do here,” Frau rubs her swollen belly with a smile “Darling, if you don’t so much as mind, I’d appreciate it if you could drop off a few baskets of the beans and onions to the kitchen. I’d do it myself, but…”

Jung reassures Frau that he will, and sees her off as she waddles down the dirt path towards their home. “Jean, do you want me to help you drive a truck down to Ronda with you tomorrow?” Jung asks. Frau only shakes her head.

“It would be nice if I could have you to myself for a few hours,” Jean replies with a sly grin “but I think it might be better to have you stay behind and get the rest of the crops plucked out—oh, but before I forget, captain…” Jung winces at the word “—once you’re done delivering your errand for Frau you can help me load up all our baskets onto the trucks. Just so we can get it out of the way before supper and not waste time doing it tomorrow.”

“My back is killing me as-is,” Jung grumbles as he rubs his lower back “but I’ll see what I can do—you owe me a beer for the torture I’m enduring.”

“My, beer, captain? I didn’t have the slightest clue you drink…” Jean muses “I don’t think Frau would approve of it.”

Jung only replies with a snort, “she sure as hell won’t… probably. I think she’ll let it slide this time—this pain isn’t going to sedate itself—also, stop calling me captain, will you? It only takes a short time to make a habit, and months to break it…”

Jean tries to stifle laughter as she helps herself over the half-wall and leaves with Jung for the fields. “Speak for yourself, capt—” Jung shoots her a narrowed side glare “—Jun. You’re too old to be killing your liver now—think of your kid, will ya?…” Jean scolds but expresses a smile afterward “—but, I wouldn’t mind indulging in a little drink with you later tonight.”

Jung only shrugs his shoulders. “Suit yourself— that might irritate Frau a bit, but I wager everyone but her will be drinking a fair bit tonight, anyway.” The two split up part way through into the field; Jung heads to collect several food baskets for dinner while Jean goes around seeking volunteers to help with the trucks.

The onset of dusk brings about the day’s end. Most of the handymen—which Jung believes totals around twenty excluding him and Jean—shuffle their way into the Lee household. Jung did not particularly find it too crowded but he did suggest moving the party over to the nearby residential house which Frau scowls at.

“Carting all this food over there would be a hassle! I can’t trust you or the goons to carry them without dropping everything! Do you remember what happened the last time we did that?!” For Jung, painful memories of shattered silverware along the dirt roads and a furious Frau beating men up with her broomstick resurface; Jung grimaces and relinquishes the idea. Instead, at his wife’s suggestion, Jung supervises some movers rearranging the dining and living room for the accommodation of the group.

After an hour or three, the food is brought out and most take their seats at the tables. Jung waits for everyone to settle down before he taps his glass with a spoon. “Everyone!” he exclaims “I want to take this as an opportunity to congratulate everyone for a job well done… for a speculator year!” Jung raises his glass “And a toast to many more!” A roar of acknowledgments drowns out Jung from saying anymore and the feasting begins.

The night becomes as rowdy as Jung would expect. But eventually, it does wind down. Many finish their meals and socialize over alcohol, or excuse themselves to retire for the night. Most leave the tables for outside but a few stay behind to assist with collecting dishes, like Jung. But an unprovoked nudge from someone pulls him out from his cloud of thoughts and he looks at a discerned Frau, who gestures to a quiet Jean downing her last glass of alcohol before silently leaving the dining room.

“You should accompany her, darling,” Frau states “I kept noticing she was rather quiet during the whole time. I think she had a little bit too much to drink… you think she’ll be okay driving tomorrow?” Jung can only frown in response, “she was never big on drinking, was she? I don’t think she could handle a hangover…” another jab between his rib cage “go on, go check in on her. I’ll be fine washing the dishes tonight… I like doing them, after all.” As Frau waddles her way into the kitchen she turns back to Jung. “—It’s bound to be cold out right about now, so you could offer her a coat.” Frau waggles a dark metal spoon at Jung “—but more importantly so you could be a gentleman for once and comfort her at least a little!” Jung complies without so much as a protest and searches for a nearby closet before heading outside after Jean.

To Jung’s surprise, she has not gone far. Jean is just outside on the front porch leaning on the wooden railing. Lübeck’s clear moon basks the outdoors with a luminescent glow, and Jung finds the moment quite beautiful. Jean turns her head in surprise not knowing Jung was behind her, coat in hand. She sighs and turns to gaze upon the bluish meadows. “Captain… I think that’s the first time you’ve ever looked at me with such eyes. You have a wife, you know…”

Jung replies with a confused scoff and takes his place next to her. “You have quite the imagination, Jean. I was merely…” a sharp jab at his side—incidentally in the same spot that Frau poked him in. “Hey! Watch it, will you?” Jung retorts in protest.

“Sorry, captain, it’s fun to tease you…” Jean replies apologetically as she twirls some of her wavy black locks of hair. Jung only huffs through his nostrils.

“First of all, stop calling me captain,” Jung reaches out and ruffles her hair “and two—you drank a little too much, didn’t you? If you get a hangover I don’t want you crashing into a pole or a herd of emus…”

“I’ll be fine, captain, don’t worry about me,” Jean leans into Jung and nestles her head on his shoulder “…is what I would usually say… I want you to worry about me.” Jung takes a deep breath and exhales without saying a word. “It’s hard to believe that in less than a month, you’re going to be a father… it’s not too early to congratulate you yet, is it?” Jean asks but Jung merely nods his head, content with letting Jean run her monologue a little while longer.

“You know, captain… I used to be so jealous of Frau…” she pauses with a burrowed frown “well… I suppose I kind of am. She’s a lucky girl—and I’m happy for her. I’m happy for you too, captain— that you managed to finally find someone and settle down with.

“When she announced she was pregnant… I was honestly really happy; I would think to myself something like, ‘the captain is such a wonderful man. I’m sure he will be an amazing father, and I could be that doting aunt that treats the child like her own,’” she looks up at Jung with a bleak smile. In truth, Jung is not confident he will be a capable fatherly figure; his father, Jung-woo Lee, walked out of their family when Jung was only about ten years old for his younger mistress.

“I knew it would be a hopeless pursuit chasing after you—hoping you might one day look at me the way you…” Frau pauses to close her eyes while slightly brushing her head on Jung’s arm “…a part of me knew that even after her death, I could never compete with Fa—and even more so when you met Frau. If there’s one thing I have over either woman, I think… is that I’ve known you the longest than either.

“I’m just happy… that I could be by your side, captain… after all these years. Even if you never once looked at me as a woman, I’m still glad I met you, the gang, and Frau” Jean says, and the rustle of flowerbeds captivates the moment. Jung does not say a word; long-repressed memories of his past experiences with Jean—and indeed Fa—certainly does rip at his heartstrings.

Jung carefully slips the coat over the nearly-dozing Jean. “C’mon, we gotta get you to your bed. Do you think you’re capable of walking?” Jung asks while lightly tapping her on the shoulder to keep her awake. She only looks up at her beloved captain with sheepish eyes.

“I don’t know…” she responds with unce.

“You still think you’re capable of driving tomorrow morning?” Jung asks again and Jean nods head in response “I can walk you down to your front porch at least.”

“That would be nice,” Jean coos as she tries to steady herself “it’ll make me feel a little nostalgic about our old times together,” she tightens the jacket around her and walks—albeit wobbly—out onto the front yard. Jung follows closely behind her and the duo walk quietly along the dirt road to Jean’s house.

“By the way,” Jung begins cutting the silence “stop calling me captain.” Jean’s only response is an intoxicated giggle that compels even Jung to crack a secretive smile.