Chapter 1

Dusk approached. I wiped the sweat from my brow and assessed the extent of blistering on my hands. The orange sun hung over the land, it set the sky ablaze, as it began to descend even further from man’s grasp.

I placed my hoe aside and appraised my handywork. It had taken all day, but the land was finally fully shaped and thoroughly weeded. Preparations for this year’s harvest moon festival were coming along nicely and I had a good feeling about the turnips that I had been cultivating further down.

Yet, in spite of my euphoric and satisfied state, I was torn. Should I plant regular potatoes or sweet potatoes? Both have become increasingly popular in this region, however, both require differing soil structures to grow.

The Innkeeper’s daughter Astoria loves sweet potatoes and pouts every year that I turn up to the festival with regular ones. Then again, Astoria pouts at just about every action I take. It is no surprise to me that she has passed the average marriageable age and is still without a husband.

She did not always show such a scrupulous attitude though. When we were younger, we would frolic in the valleys with the other children and cause nothing but mischief and strife for the Innkeeper.

I remember on one such occassion, Astoria twisted her ankle after losing her footing when we were playing near the river. Being the tomboy that she was, she refused to shed a single tear and claimed that she was capable of making her own way home. Her fiery expression is still clear in my mind, even today. As we made our way back, I heard her wince and watched her struggle to walk. It finally got to a point where she was unable to move.

Being a farm boy, who had spent his entire life ploughing and working on the farm, I had enough strength to carry her. But no matter how many times I offered her a piggyback ride, she refused. Night was beginning to draw near and fatigue hit Astoria like a hammer hits an anvil. I suggested that we make camp for the night and Astoria eventually drifted off to sleep while leaning against a large evergreen. I waited till she fell into a deep sleep and made my move.

I placed one hand on her back and the other under her knees and gently scooped her into my arms. As expected, despite her heavy and feisty attitude, she was very light. The moon shone as I made my way back to the inn with Astoria. Her gentle breathing, combined with the natural and calming sounds of the night, filled me with warmth as I drew closer to home. My arm supported her head like a pillow and we finally made it back to the inn.

Astoria’s mother sprinted out the moment that she spotted me approaching. She claimed that she was worried sick and that the men had formed a search party to find us, fearing the worst. She took Astoria in her bosom and I explained the situation to her.

Soon after I explained what had happened, Astoria’s mother thanked me wholeheartedly and breathed a sigh of relief when Astoria woke up. At the sight of her mother’s face, Astoria began to cry. Whether she knew I was present or not, is still unclear to me. She embraced her mother closely and shed tears induced by pain and fear.

That was the one and only time that I personally witnessed Astoria Gastwirt sob. She showed a side of herself that I had never seen before. She reminded me that no matter how headstrong and stubborn she was, in the end, she, like any other child, needed her mother’s warmth, when injured and unsure.

I sighed deeply after returning from traversing the memories of my childhood. I stretched my arms and flexed my shoulders. The sun had set and I bathed in the same moonlight that illuminated the night’s sky all those years ago.

I smiled to myself at the coinciding atmosphere and pictured Astoria’s pouting face. I sighed again and lowered my head in acceptance.

It was going to be hard work, but I guess I’ll go with sweet potatoes this year.