I made the mistake of not understanding the difference between a small bite and a large one. Silvana gave no quarter at all. Her movements were swift, concise, and left no room for me to maneuver. I went to Alice's hut that night to find myself being rejected a place inside. They were apologetic, naturally, and wished me the best of luck elsewhere. It did not take too long for me to connect the dots and realize who was behind it.

With a hug from Alice, I was sent off. It was a vain attempt, but I made sure to check with every family to make sure that I could not have a roof to sleep under. I considered asking Godfather, but threw out the idea rather quickly. Being dependent on a lord while leading a movement to be independent would not go well.

If it was any consolation, I was able to check and see who would be joining me the following day. Very few villagers were convinced, but I had gotten myself more than a few eager participants. A dozen or so children and younger men. An expected outcome, if I was being honest. It was the younger people that were more receptive to my words. People who were yet to be broken by decades of ceaseless work and starvation. They were malnourished yes, but they had not given up.

Younger children helped on the farm, but most were too weak to be of great use. Thus they had time to play rather than worry over lack of food. Talking to them should have been an issue. I would be banned from the village, and Silvana made it an unspoken promise that if she saw me I would lose more than a leg. However, they would be more than happy to meet me by the river bordering the village the next morning.

I was elated until Irealized that cold was a very real concern. Sleeping in the stars sounded nice until the realization that hypothermia may make sure that you don't wake up. It should not have been an issue, but every fire that I started somehow went out. I had half a mind to dig myself into the ground.

I tried journeying into the forest to find firewood, but it was then that I realized something very important. The magic holding my legs together failed. Failed completely, as in they no longer worked. One second they were fine and the next they froze. I had to trip on a stone to get them working again.

I should have known the Godfather would not let me leave so easily. The spell seemed to fail whenever I traveled too far from the village, or maybe him. Whatever the case, the result was that I could not leave. I also had no way of starting a fire, by some unknown means.

Later, Silvana would confess to her childish antics. Though her apologies, I suspect, were in no way genuine. I will express my most deep and profound bitterness for her not leaving me a blanket. A cold night and several sneezes later, I awoke to the welcoming smile of the morning sun and a mild case of hypothermia. To my relief, I saw children skipping over to our designated meeting spot.

Thus, our little group of revolutionaries were gathered. Less a dozen peasants, mostly children, and they introduced themselves with long tales of the great things they did to help out their parents on the farm. With the newest addition to team peasant, me, we discussed some possible solutions to our problem. So began the first of many community service meetings in a nameless village in the middle of nowhere.

As it turns out, building water mills was not easy in this medieval era, and windmills were unheard of. Silvana had gone to great lengths to keep her secrets hidden. Even as far as milling the wheat and baking the bread herself. At least, that was what the villagers assumed. I for one knew that it was not possible unless she was using magic. But why wouldn’t she? It seemed reasonable. Whatever the case, we were stuck starting from scratch.

Everyone present had a general idea, of course. Wheat would be crushed, gound, or stepped on until it turned into flour. The naughtier children had very much experience with doing so. However, whatever it was that us peasants came up with would be unlikely to match Silvana's secret mill. That said, even simple rotating gears essential to the milling process would be difficult for us uneducated children to make.

We were rather stumped until Alice suggested a bowl and a river stone. It was rather surprising how the dumbest and most banal of ideas turned out to be perfectly legitimate. After all, they were well within reach of medieval peasants with no education whatsoever.

This strategy worked for some time and innovations were popping up like weeds. At first, a club was suggested to replace our fists. Then, it was clean sandals and the replacing of the bowl with a mat. Soon, we had something reminiscent of a primitive flour miller, or pounder, if we were being honest with ourselves.

Progress! Such a thing that we treasured, no matter how childish and minuscule our advancements were. The issue is that our mat was linen that had to be woven and was broken constantly. Textiles were unheard of in this time, and the village did not grow much flax. Nevertheless, wooden planks that we fashioned served a very similar purpose.

The final solution was nothing admirable, but it would work. At the very least, we did not lose a tenth of our grain in the process of milling. But then came the issue of storing the grain. I had not thought of it as a very large issue and suggested a storage home. Then Alice introduced me to humanity's oldest friend, rats.

God did I hate them! Now in the village and later in the cities. Whether we were farming, fighting, or feasting. They were always there, watching, waiting. All getting ready to fatten themselves off of the work of honest men. The village had something of a relationship with them, and only kept them away by storing grain in Silvana's massive mansion. But even then they crawled through the fields to have their pick of grain or seed. Half of the village harvest was destroyed by them in some way or another.

Cats were also unknown to the villagers. I would have gladly let Silvana break my good arm to have a family of those. God knows how us poor peasants can survive without them. In the end, we were forced to concede ownership of the storage spaces to Silvana. However, in a massive victory for team peasant we were able to double our available amount of grain by finding a way to make flour ourselves.

At least, until Silvana confronted us the next day.