Jon left the hand wagon as instructed and followed Graves into the house.

In Jon’s home, the bottom floor had walls and doors that separated the bottom floor into several rooms. There wasn’t even a full top floor. Just the staircase that led up to Jon’s room.

Graves's entire bottom floor was just one open space, unencumbered by walls and rooms much like Jon’s own home, with a counter sectioning off what appeared to be a kitchen. There was a massive staircase that led up to a second-story door to a room that hung above the side of the house with nothing to support it underneath. Everything in the house was all piled into what Jon could only call an organized mess.

Large bookcases also surrounded several of the walls, and near the back of the home, in front of one of the bookcases, were several different styles of chairs sitting in a circle, as if people had been having a conversation and momentarily stepped away from the assembled seating.

Jon, thinking of Graves’s older age, assumed that he was going to sit in the large cushiony chair that was the most extravagant of the bunch. Instead, Graves made his way to the one rocking chair that was also part of that group and sat down while making an obnoxious groan.

Next to the chair, there was a small stool with a notebook, a pen, and a pair of small round glasses.

Jon was reminded of his father, who also had reading glasses, but he always had to be reminded by Vel to put them on whenever he read something.

Graves picked up the glasses, placed them on his face, wrinkled his nose, then picked up the notebook and pen nearby. For once since Jon had met him, Graves looked like the old man Jon supposed him to be.

Graves noticed Jon silently observing him as he readied his notebook.

“What are you staring at?” He asked grumpily. “Sit down!” Graves's angry eyes pierced through the small glasses.

Never mind… Graves definitely wasn’t like any of the old men back at the farm. Most of them were obnoxious, but at least they didn’t seem to mean anything about it. Everything Graves made Jon feel seemed purposeful, and Jon didn’t like that.

Still, Jon walked up to the chairs, trying to decide which one he should take. There was a metal chair, a wooden chair, and a single stool, along with the large cushiony chair from earlier.

He didn’t know which one to choose.

“...just take a seat, boy. It doesn’t matter which.”

“Are you sure?” Jon asked.

“Just… are you, slow boy? I said-”

“I know what you said!” Jon answered ferociously.

Jon hadn’t realized what had happened until Graves looked up with a stunned expression. He winced in preparation for the coming shout.

Graves, however, didn’t shout, but slowly etched a wide grin across his face.

“Ha! Ha, ha! Hahahahaha!”

Graves pushed back into his rocking chair and laughed hard, throwing his head into the air. His legs kicked up in the chair as it rocked back and forth, accompanying his laughter.

“There we go, boy!” Graves managed to say between the bouts of laughter.

He’s… happy? Jon wasn’t happy. He was confused. Shouldn’t have Graves been angry with him for shouting?”

Thankfully, Graves decided to explain himself.

“You had that dumb look on your face all day, boy,” Graves said after both he and his chair settled down. “I was wondering when you’d grow a backbone!”

Jon hadn’t been there all day, but maybe time passed by different for old people.

“Come, sit, I’m just jiving with you.”

Jon still didn’t get why people seemed to get excited from his pain. Still, he decided to entertain the old man. He took a seat in the large cushiony chair, partly because it was big and partly because it sat right across from Graves.

Grave’s face turned deadly serious. “You got my order right?”

Jon groaned internally because he didn’t know if the order was right. That was something he depended on Dan for, especially since Dan never told him too many details.

He normally would have been scared, but he was just too annoyed to be scared at this point. He just wanted Graves to finish things up so that he could leave.

Jon reached in his overalls and pulled out the folded list as Graves opened his notebook.

“You got the moonroots?” Graves asked him.

Moonroots…. Did they have moon roots?

Jon turned back to the door. He didn’t remember to check.

“...You have a list don’t you?” Graves asked.

Oh, yeah... Jon looked at the list in his hand.

Moonroot was written on top as if Dan had predicted that it would be the first thing Graves asked for.”

“Yes…” Jon nodded. He hoped it was in the cart.

“Then it should be in the cart then, right?” Graves pressed.

“Yeah.”

“...Well, then go check!” Graves said. “Any good farmer should know what moonroot is!”

Jon didn’t move from his chair to check.

“...Well, I’m not a farmer…” He said quietly.

“...What?”

“I’m not a farmer,” Jon repeated, louder this time.

Grave’s face scrunched in confusion. “What?”

“I said-”

“I know what you said, boy!” Graves yelled. "What I was asking is, what the hell do you mean, you're not a farmer? You got overalls, don’t ya, boy? You walk like a farmer, talk like a farmer, and-”

“I can’t farm,” Jon answered quickly. “I… I failed the test.”

“You failed the test? The farmer’s test?” Graves looked up in thought. “Granted, that test is a pile of cheap hubbub drawn up by the council, and those stinkin' pencil pushers couldn’t even hold a shovel up to dig a hole for their excrements, but a four-year-old should be able to do that correctly”

Grave cleared his throat.”What I meant to say was… you failed the test?”

Jon nodded before responding.

“Twice.” He bowed his head in shame. There was no use in lying about it.

He waited to hear from the old man about how much of a failure he was, but the tirade never came. Jon looked up to see Graves’s face blank of expression.

Graves's face grew into a mischievous smile.

“You’re Jassiter’s kid!” He said with a large grin. “That’s it! I remember you! The one… the one who… can’t farm!”

Graves threw his head back in his chair for another session of laughing and rocking. Jon sighed out loud this time. At least Graves was willing to talk about it like the sad fact that it was.

“That’s… me... “ Jon answered.

“Oh, glorious!” Graves caught himself in his chair to stop rocking. “I can’t wait to see the look on Jassiter’s face. I almost want to make my way to the farm and look at him myself, before I laugh and eat all his wife’s cooking.”

He leaned towards Jon. “Your mother’s Vel, right?”

Jon slowly nodded.

“Mmm! I knew she was a snack when I saw her! I told Jassiter. Get her while she’s hot and available!”

Jon felt a lurch in his stomach.

Graves finally seemed to take a breather before calming down.

“You don’t know anything about what’s in that cart out there, do you?” He asked in a manageable volume.

Jon took a glance at his list and back at the old man.

“Yes… I mean.. No… I mean-”

Graves clapped, making Jon shake in his chair.

“Good. That means I can go out there and take care of it myself without your help.

Jon sighed, this time in relief.

“Can you bring it in for me?”

Jon sharply inhaled.

“I’m joking!” Graves slapped his knee. “I’m not a dummy. I told you to leave it outside, right? Let’s go!”

He stood up and stretched, and a symphony of cracking bones accompanied the loud groaned Graves made as his arms stretched up into the air.

He then walked outside at a slower than casual pace. Jon waited a couple of paces before standing up and following after.

“Alright…” Graves easily picked up the hand wagon with one hand. “I’mma take these in, then I’mma make a new list to send Dan down there. And let him know that I called him lazy for sending his pupil… although I say it was very nice to meet finally meet you.”

Graves took the handwagon inside and shut the door.

...Do I wait here? Jon wondered.

He thought about going in, but then he realized that he would have to be in the same space as Graves again, and he decided to limit himself to that torture as little as possible.

Instead, Jon walked away from the door, wandering around the side of Graves’s house.

Jon figured it would be similar to his house, so he wouldn’t get lost. Still, he was curious. Despite the grass being freshly mowed and a different color than the usual grass, Jon didn’t get the feeling that it was natural. In fact, he thought it curious that the front of the house didn’t have a bed of crops growing out in front of it. Let alone any crops whatsoever. Did Graves actually do any farming?

It was when he went to the back of the house did he see the untidy tall grass growing somehow growing inside of a carefully measured square field.

“...I see…” Jon didn’t know why he said it out loud to himself. Maybe because he had never seen a bed of crops so unkempt and yet neatly organized at the same time, and he just had to say something to actualize it for himself.

Probably stuff I’ve seen before, Jon thought. Upon observation of the field, he noticed a small shed connected to the back of Graves’s house.

...Sure. Jon went inside, not exactly knowing why. He figured that there being no door to the shed meant that it was still considered being outside.

Inside the shed was a table with a whole bunch of tools and drawings scattered all over. Jon was beginning to recognize a theme in Grave’s belongings.

He also recognized a couple of the tools from his own home that Jassiter kept aside ready for use. However, that wasn’t what caught his attention.

Sitting on the table, underneath all of the aging farm equipment, was a blunderbuss. Unlight the bright blue ones at home, this one seemed to be dark blue. In fact, it was so dark it almost seemed to be made out of stone.

Hmmm… Jon reached underneath the pile to pull it out. Upon touching it, he discover that it was cool to the touch, and while the aging farm equipment around it had made the blunderbuss itself appear aging as well, it appeared to be fresh and new now that it was displayed in Jon’s hand/

It’s kinda heavy…

With that thought, the blunderbuss suddenly felt lighter in Jon’s hand.

I was wrong… Maybe it’s really light.

The blunderbuss became so heavy Jon nearly dropped it. Thankfully, he didn’t, managing to scramble just enough to steady it in his hands again.

Maybe I’m thinking too much…

Jon didn’t actually care if the gun was too heavy or light. Ideally, it would be somewhere in between; heavy enough to keep its shot, but light enough to carry around and aim at several targets quickly.

None of that mattered in the long run. Jon would figure out how to use it.

He held it out in his hand and flicked it up with his wrist. It flipped in the air and landed back into his grasp.

Ohh… He flicked it again, this time, spinning it twice.

He alternated between flipping it once and twice, before passing it between both hands.

This is perfect…

In a fit of curiosity and brashness, Jon tossed the gun high into the air, before spinning around himself. It spun several times before it came back down to him.

He stopped spinning in time to catch it by trigger guard with his pointer finger and it spun into a rest inside of his hands.

Perfect...

Before Jon could continue exhuming his excitement, he could wind of what seemed to be a whirring noise.

What’s that sound? Jon stopped and looked around the shed. He couldn’t find anything of note that was making the noise, so he decided that it must have been a mistake.

He went back to thinking about the gun. It still felt cool, and yet, it was as if it had always been with him. As if he had been using the gun his entire life.

Jon chalked it up to just being used to blunderbusses.

He decided to take it out for target practice, seeing that Graves hadn’t come back around yet. He thought about asking Graves for permission first, but that would mean that he would have to go back inside and be in the same room again. Plus, it seemed unused, and there was a lot of space outside, so Jon figured that he had space to use it.

Let’s take it for a spin… Not that Jon knew what a spin was. That was what Ben said whenever he stole one of Susan’s equipment when she wasn’t aware and wanted to try it out. This was usually followed by lots of yelling at Ben from Susan. Jon was glad he was never the target of said yells.

He then realized that ever since holding the gun, he was having lots of daring thoughts in his head, and yet he didn’t feel scared. When did he ever take someone’s gun without asking first?

It was probably in reaction to the way Graves’s was treating him. At least Jon knew he would be able to use his gun better than him.

Jon cracked open the gun at the action. The whirring sound came back.

Ahh... Susan’s gadgets used to make that type of noise when starting up, but he hadn’t heard the noise in years ever since she had left the house and took all of her machines with her.

Jon looked inside both the barrel and the chamber. It was normal, if not for a cool breeze that seemed to blow by Jon’s face.

He closed the gun and then opened it back up several times, just listening to the noise it made.

“Did you just open my gun?”

Jon nearly dropped the gun in a panic. He turned to see Graves standing behind him with his hands on his hips, staring at Jon.

Jon’s heart raced as he tried to figure out what to say.

He finally got a grip on his anxiety and pushed out the gun with open palms to Graves.

I’m sorry!” he yelled.

“Did you open that gun? Answer the question!”

Jon realized that there wasn’t a glare of ferocity on Grave’s face, but instead his normal expression of annoyed curiosity.

“I… I did,” Jon stumbled out. All of his swagger had left his body. “Sorry.”

“What’chu apologizing to me, boy?” Graves yelled. Jon wasn’t sure if he was supposed to answer.

“Let me see!” Graves peered over the gun like he was a nosy child. “What’d you do?”

“...Huh?”

“Can you ever not look dumb?” Graves sighed, and his tone became distilled. “I always wanted to see what it looked like on the inside.”

Jon peered into the barrel of the gun from the front.

“Don’t!” Graves swatted the barrel away from Jon’s face. “Don’t do that, you idiot!”

Jon didn’t think that there was anything wrong, especially since he didn’t see anything in the barrel. He was at least happy that Graves’s had some sense of concern for his well-being.

Jon cracked open the action of the gun in response.

“Holy, Hound Dog,” Graves muttered, “How’d you do that?”

“What?” Jon was really confused now.

“Open it!”

Jon opened and closed the gun in succession several times before he awaited a new response.”

“No, you dunce! I mean, what do you have to do? To get it open.”

“I…. just….” Jon slowly cracked open the gun once more, seeing if that would help him get closer to answering Graves’s question.

“Huh…” Graves stood up straight again, no longer bending over from his curiosity. “Let’s go do some shooting.”

Jon was nervous, as he hadn’t really done recreational shooting around others. It always felt weird, and he was sometimes concerned about others getting in the crossfire. It was easy enough just to do it by himself.

Still, it gave him some ease to see Graves setting up actual targets to shoot at as opposed to just makeshift ones. There were tatters in the papers to indicate that they had been used for shooting before, and yet the wood behind them still held strong.

Jon was also happy that someone else seemed happy enough to do some shooting with him. He didn’t realize how lonely it might have actually been shooting by himself for so long.

“Alright…” Graves said as he made his way to Jon’s side. He gestured to a small wagon of small cups that Graves had brought out of the house with the targets.

Jon recognized them. They were some of the same ones Farmer Dan had provided him as spare ammo to use to practice.

“I love these things.” Graves explained. “I buy ‘em by the bulk. They’re hard enough to stay sharp when you break’em but easy enough to put in my gun and crush it into pieces there. ‘Sides, buying actual ammo is a waste of money anyway. You don’t need proper ammo when you have a blunderbuss.”

Graves then looked at Jon in the eyes.

"Of course, I’m sure if I told little Ms. Farrow that, she would probably throw a fit, faint, then stop selling them to me altogether. Not that she ever asked where they all go and why I keep buying them. Seems like she’s not gonna keep asking questions as long as I keep buying, but I don’t need her actually knowing what happens to them or I might lose my sale bundle. So keep your mouth shut when you go back down that hill!”

Jon quickly nodded.

“Good. So, start shooting.”

Right.

Jon waited for Graves to give him a cup.

“...Get your own cup!”

“Yeah.” Jon went to the wagon and picked up a cup. He opened the action, placed the cup in the barrel, and closed it, hearing the cup break into pieces as he did.

“Now don’t miss,” Graves said. “We’re on top of a hill, so it-”

Jon fired.

The shards of polished clay all stabbed into the center of the target.

“Hot damn!” Graves said. “Was that a lucky shot?”

“No,” Jon answered. “...You were saying something?”

“What I meant to say…” Graves coughed. “Well, it might be a bit foolish now, but if you miss, the cup might end up landing on the doorstep of little Ms. Farrow down there. Now, we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

Jon waited for Graves to say something more.

“That’s it. Isn’t it funny?”

Jon shrugged.

“Boy, you’re dryer than a piece of… I don’t even know why I’m saying that, you don’t probably know what that is…” Graves mumbled as he reached into the wagon and tossed Jon another cup.

“Now how about that target over- whoa!”

Jon had pivoted his body and shot at the next target, having already crushed the teacup into his gun.

The shards entered into the center of the target at an angle.

“...Holy… that wasn’t an accident. I was gonna suggest we move, but…”

Jon didn’t need to move. He could see the target, so he would be able to shoot it.

Still…

He looked at the gun.

Graves was right about the first shot not being lucky. Jon had even questioned it himself, but the gun fired smoothly, without a hint of recoil.

Or maybe there was, and Jon was just so used to dealing with it.

Either way, the gun was definitely the best blunderbuss Jon had ever held in his life.

“Here you go…” Graves gave Jon another cup, which he crushed into the barrel.

“Okay. Now… Up high!”

Graves threw another cup high into the air.

Jon watched it, waiting until it was a safe enough distance, then fired at it.

The cup exploded into a shower of debris with the two distinct colors of the cups mixed in.

“You’re not a farmer… you’re better than a farmer!”

Graves turned to Jon.

“Is there any gunpowder in that thing?” He asked.

Jon didn’t know. He had been so excited he forgot.

There must have been. Residual gunpowder wouldn’t have been enough to make those types of shots.

“...Use my gun,” Graves commanded. He pushed a large black blunderbuss into Jon’s hands.

Oh. this was definitely older. It was bulkier. Jon almost enjoyed holding it, even though he didn’t want to have to carry it around everywhere.

He tried to open it, finding out the gun didn’t snap open at the action. Instead, the top of the barrel just came off, wide enough for Jon t fit things inside of it.

He cracked a cup on the sides and let the debris crumble inside before putting the top of the gun back on.

He strafed to the side so that he was in front of the third one and fired.

For the third time, the shards sailed into the center of the target, albeit spread out a bit more due to the less sleek design of the blunderbuss.

“So, it’s not just the gun…” Graves nodded in thought. “Okay, it’s yours.”

“What?” Jon asked.

“...Come inside. You’re gonna need to clean it up,” Graves said.

Jon nodded, then he followed the old man back inside the house.

Inside, Jon took his seat back in the large cushiony chair while Graves went inside of the kitchen and reached inside of a cupboard.

He pulled out two large identical jars that were transparent and full of liquid. One of them had a grey liquid, and the other one had a green liquid.

Graves also collected a rag and some cups, then brought everything back to the ring of chairs.

He moved the larger stool from the side of the ring to the center, then put the two large jars on top.

“Alright, boy,” Graves said, twisting open the top of both jars “Let this be known that this’ll be a test!”

A test? On what?

Jon didn’t want another test after the one he just took. Still, he waited patiently for Graves’s next word.

He picked up one of the cups and tossed it to Jon, who had to let go of the gun to catch it.

Jon observed the cup. It was the same type of cup he had used to shoot outside with.

“What?” Graves asked. “I get ‘em by the bulk. You expect me to drink outta my hand?”

Graves took a seat in his rocking chair, not waiting for an answer from Jon.

“Now, back to the test. One of these is a poison so potent it’ll pull the last bit of chest hairs on your chest before burning a hole through your stomach. The other is gun-polishing liquid. Can you tell which ones which?”

Graves chuckled at the sight of Jon’s curiosity.

Jon raised his hand.

“Ah!” Graves said, stopping Jon, “whatever one you choose, you have to drink.”

Jon looked at both of the liquids. He decided on the grey one, for no reason other than he hadn’t drunk grey liquid before.

“No!” Jon jumped in his chair, pulling his hand back from the jar.

Graves laughed. “I’m joking. That’s the poison. You can go ahead and drink it.”

Jon stared at Graves, waiting for both his heart to come down and if Graves would pull another practical joke.

“Are you chicken?” Graves asked after a while.

Jon loved chicken, but he certainly wasn’t one.

He picked up the grey liquid and poured it into his fancy cup. He then grabbed it and took a sip. It felt like fire coming down his throat.

He bent over and started coughing from the drink. Graves laughed again. “

“This is fun! Please tell me you’re old enough for me to tease like this.”

When Jon opened his mouth Graves cut him off. “Never mind. Don’t need to know.”

Jon decided he didn’t want the liquid to overpower him, especially if the thought made Graves cheery, he kicked back and drunk the rest of the cup without stopping.

He felt a shiver in his body once it was finished.

“Good God!” Graves’s exclaimed, “you might be more of a man than Jassiter ever was!”

Satisfied, with both his objective and Grave’s completely, Jon reached down to the floor for the rag he was provided with and dipped it in the green liquid.

“How is Jassiter?” Graves asked.

Jon nodded. “He’s fine.”

Jon slowly rubbed the rag back and forth across the gun. He had never polished his gun at home. Jassiter didn’t really see it as a necessity.

“...Tell him to come see me,” Graves said. Jon found the request to be genuine.

“Even if he hates me. I’d rather him scream at my face than hideaway like he’s always used to doing.”

“Hmmm…” Jon found it a little amusing to hear someone else talk about his father’s mannerisms in such a casual way, but it was also a little comforting to know that there was someone else to do so as well.

The two sat in silence, Jon continuing to rub his gun clean of the grime he hadn’t noticed on it when he first picked it up.

“...You know that gun is yours now,” Graves said after a few seconds of peaceful silence.

Huh? Jon was too bewildered to even say something out loud.

Graves must have picked up on Jon’s exclamation based on his next words.

“Yeah. It’s yours. I couldn’t get that thing open forever for the life of me. I knew it was special when I first saw it. I brought it off to a peddler who was thinking of making his way towards the farm to sell it. Last thing I need is something like that in the hands of the council.”

Graves raised his eyebrow at Jon. “You definitely not a council boy, are you? In fact, they probably hate you.”

Jon frowned. He kept hearing that. Was it because he kept failing the test?”

“Good!” Graves took a drink of the grey liquid that he had poured into his own cup. "Those bastards need to learn their place… not that it matters to me anyway."

Jon nodded slowly, not sure if it was true, but he wanted to be polite and show that he was listening.

“That means that your father hasn’t joined the council either, then.”

Jon started to nod, but stopped, as he didn’t know what type of answer the question required.

“Of course he didn’t. Here!” Graves tossed Jon a brown holster that was large enough to fit over his back.

“Keep it!” Graves said. “Congratulations, Jon. You’re a farmer. And nobody even knows it yet. Not even you.”

He bent forward and held out a piece of folded paper. “Here’s my next list for Dan.”