Daz scythe cut through the last few rows of corn. His back hurt, almost painfully, from overusing the harvesting tools. The sun was not burning as much as it had been all summer, so the work was rather enjoyable. Collecting the plants and tying them all together, he heaved the last seven bundles onto his mule Buster. “Thanks for all the hard work, buddy. Let’s get you home and some fresh grass, hmm?”

The mule trotted behind him, over the rather large field that Daz’s family used for farming. He felt a little sentimental as he walked back towards his family house one last time, before leaving for military duty. When the draft note had arrived a few days back, Daz had been more than excited. At the current pace of things, he would never have been able to get married.

The military finally offered a solution to his pursuit of money. His family had been blessed with six girls and only him, the only boy. Sending all of them off to marriage had been a very hard thing, since all brides had to be given large bridal gifts when they married. Mainly thanks to Daz they had been able to do so, but without the girls, working the fields had turned to a nigh impossible things. There were just too few people left to work the whole thing.

This would be the last harvest before his parents would sell the whole place to settle down a little further down the village and enjoy their life. Which Daz would have to pay for as well. He would not abandon his parents, they had given him everything. The military draft offered a solution to everything. If he was able to get accepted as a officer position, the dream of marrying and supporting his aging parents was no mere dream.

The work in the woods, where he hit away at trees day in day out during winter and the rough field work had steeled his body and he was confident in his strength. But never in his life he had held a weapon, nor fought with anyone over anything. That made him extremely nervous. He did not know if he would be able to hit someone, the mere thought was odd and twisted.

Maybe the military training would teach him this though? Arriving at the stables he unloaded the corn bundles, stacked them against a wall and fed Buster some fresh weeds and hay. There was enough drinking water left, so Daz closed the stable for the day and went inside. His parents and his youngest sister, Daria, were all standing around the table, where they had prepared a large feast.

Bread, slices of steak, normally too expensive to be eaten by the family, an entire roasted chicken with different kinds of vegetables and even some strawberries! Daz loved those little red fruits, that so rarely ever grew around the woods. How his parents god so many, he was unsure off, but he was very thankful.

While they started eating and speaking off all sorts of things he had to be aware off while traveling, his little sister started crying. Daz had to comfort her for quite a while, promising her that he would write and send her gifts whenever he had the money. He also promised to visit her, although he was unsure how he could make the time. Hopefully marriage would keep her happy and occupied enough not to notice too much…

Daz always had dreamed of having a wife. Like Alara, the daughter of the local villages bakery. She really was a beauty. Big breasts, a very nice behind and a smile that could make Daz’s heart stop for minutes. Sadly this girl had been married off a long time ago and Daz was already twenty five now. Helping his sisters and family out had been taking a toll on his own life. He did not mind it that much, but it was time.

The feast lasted for hours and even in the middle of the night, after Daria had fallen asleep he still talked for a long time with his parents. It was nice to be able to spend time with them before he had to leave and even after they went to bed for the night, he could not sleep. Bringing his sister to bed and sitting next to her he was praying that she could keep her kind hearted and innocent self after marrying. It took a toll on a young girl. After all her life would be entirely different.

In the morning his father presented Daz with his departing gift: a large, worn down, wooden shield and a woodcutter's axe. A war axe would have been far too expensive so that was out of question, but Daz was used to this type anyway. He did not possess any armor, so he was mainly clothed in crude cloth, layered with cheap leather to make it harder. His mother showered him in very embarrassing kisses and hugs, in which his sister joined as well and after a few hundred goodbyes he left with a backpack filled with some money, hard cheese, beef jerky, a few hard boiled eggs and a loaf of bread.

Finally turning around and weaving goodbye to his family, Daz felt a wave of freedom rush over him. When he reached the main road and his family home vanished from his sight, tears rushed down his face. It was harder than he had expected. The journey would take a full three days, and would take him all the way from the Grandath family territory up north towards the capital.

According to his parents the roads were dangerous, thieves and bandits lingered in the areas up north, so Daz decided to hike through the woods. This was not much safer, since trolls and goblins, which avoided the roads, were not as shy within the green. He had experienced a troll firsthand once in winter, while he was foresting. Never in his life he had felt such fear. Goblins were cute, small and dumb. But a troll? A bear on steroids and much, much stronger. It was mere luck that Daz had come across a herd of deer, which the troll found more appealing.

Jogging through the woods at an ever increasing pace, he was confident to reach the barony Warfor sometime during the day. Warfor was the binding piece of land between the fields of the capital city and the forest in Grandath. The area mainly consisted of large hillsides, almost all of them covered in grassland. Herds of different animals were able to be found out there and some predators had evolved there to be extremely lethal. But while direwolves and bloodcreeds were a threat, they usually had enough animals to prey upon that did not fight back as much as a human would.

The journey through the very familiar looking woods hardly anything worth mentioning. The highlight of excitement was the bloodhare that he managed to kill. The poor kritter had walked right past him while Daz was eating. A lucky stone throw later the bunny was hanging dead from his backpack. Maybe he would be able to sell it off somewhere along the way, bloodhare was a quite delicious treat.

Happily Daz walked out of the woods, just to find a minor catastrophe unfold before his eyes…