Old Blood and New

Author's Note: I'm sorry if this story is going slowly, but I want to burn the crap out of it, if you know what I mean. Also, thank you so much for reading. It makes me so happy.

***

While Geraldan had been a bustling city full of ocean air and occasional factory smoke, Cheppa Village was quiet little place with smaller buildings, the scents of animals, and freshly harvested wheat all around. The colors of autumn were more prevalent there, for there were more trees and certainly more gardens. Orange, brown, yellow, gold, all were painting the world with beauty. There was even a rushing river nearby, which wasn't only pretty, but also useful.

Such a beautiful, crisp morning!

Most buildings were either made of round stones, wood, or even daub. Most roofs were either made of tiles, plain clay, or a mixture of straw and dung.

There was bank, however. It was one of the bigger buildings in Cheppa. It was a branch of the bank Vyn had used in Geraldan, and that made life much more convenient. Vyn had no issue going there to check on his funds. Once he was sure he had all his money, he went to the nearest inn. It was much smaller than the inn in Geraldan, but it suited Vyn's needs very well.

Nobody seemed to recognize Vyn in this little village, and that was exactly what he wanted. He'd already decided on a fake name. Brast Jaster. It sounded right to him.

He asked the waitress serving him if there was anyone looking for a worker. The pretty woman smiled at him and said one of the wealthier farmers had been needing another farmhand for some time now. She gave him a name and some directions.

Vyn thanked her and rented a room so he could get some sleep.

In the middle of the night, as he rested on the simple straw stuffed mattress, he heard a cry.

Vyn shot up and sprinted to his room's door. He looked in the hallway. There as another cry across from him, from the room he was facing. The door was ajar.

He burst into that room.

Two women, one older and one younger, were huddled together in pure fear, shrinking in a corner, as a man towered over them. He had a large knife and he was making demands.

Money. Money and the young one's clothes. Then the young one on the bed.

Vyn seized his wrist and twisted it, forcing the surprised and yowling man to drop his weapon. It clanged on the old wooden floor. Vyn then proceeded to beat the holy fucking shit out of the man. It seemed that this potential invader had no formal training. He was far too easy to overpower. By the time Vyn was satisfied, the invader was unconscious on the floor, bleeding from his temple, mouth, and eyes.

His great chest heaving, Vyn turned to the still huddled women, and he asked, "Are... hahhh... are you gals... hahhh... hurt?"

The older woman was the first to try to untangle herself. As she got up, she said in a rough voice, "We're fine, but we wouldn't be if you hadn't showed yourself."

Vyn shrugged and gave the unconscious man a kick in his gut. He didn't have a reason to do it except to satisfy his own spite. His breath calmed down then. "Don't worry about it. I'm going off to my room."

The younger woman called out to him. Her voice was light and youthful. "What's your name, Sir?"

"Brast Jaster," he said very casually, not even looking back.

The following morning, as Vyn was taking an order in the dining room for some breakfast, the waitress looked at his face with a smile and asked, "You wouldn't happen to be Brast Jaster, would you?"

Nodding, he confirmed it for her.

The waitress' smile widened and she told him, "The innkeeper wants to speak to you. He's upstairs, in his office. Would you please go see him? Your meal should be here when you return."

She gave him brief directions, and Vyn got up to follow them. Upstairs, he found the office door. Inside, a fairly tall man with a lean body was sitting at a simple desk and going over paperwork. He perked up at Vyn's appearance and asked, "Are you Brast Jaster?"

"Yes Sir," Vyn said as he stepped to a spot not far away from the desk.

The innkeeper rose just enough to reach out as if to shake Vyn's hand, and he said, "Good man! Good man! I love it when a man protects womanhood. It does a lot to promote manhood."

Vyn stepped just a bit closer and shook the man's hand. "Don't dwell on me for long, Sir. I only did what most other people would've tried to do."

The innkeeper sat back down and reached for a book to skim through. "Are you looking for work?"

"Yes Sir. I've heard there's a farmer looking for a farmhand. I'm planning to seek him out."

Placing a leather bookmark somewhere in the middle of the book, the innkeeper said, "I know him. His name's Ozwald Trevor. I'll talk to him about you. He might look on you more favorably."

Putting a hand close to his heart, giving a very light bow, Vyn said, "I'm grateful. I really am."

Vyn gave the innkeeper an extra day's worth of time. Then he went on to the Trevor Farm the next morning. While most farms in the area had fields of wheat, and this one was no different, there were also groves of fruit trees and plenty of cattle.

Essentially, the estate was a wheat farm, a cattle ranch, and a fruit grove, all in one. There were several barns to keep the cattle in when the weather was rough. There was a house to one side that farmhands apparently stayed in, the Farmhand Dormitory. There were a few sheds for storage and a fence all around the land itself. Finally, there was a fairly large two story house of brown bricks and a tiled roof.

The main gate to the property was open. Vyn walked on through and went on a dirt pathway that led up to the main house. He saw men working with various tasks. Grooming and feeding the animals, picking fruit from the trees, and harvesting the wheat. Vyn soon learned the fruits were pomegranates.

Once he was finally at the entrance, he knocked on the great, wooden door. It was soon opened, and a girl that was probably a maid answered the door. She led Vyn to a drawing room. It was the first time Vyn could ever remember being taken to a drawing room as a guest. It was small, with minimal decorations and a single window that was quite tiny. Still, it was a pleasant place. Vyn was happy to sit down on a little sofa.

Soon, Farmer Trevor entered the room, and he smiled as he gave a light nod of his head. "Ah, you're the Jaster fellow."

Vyn nodded and bent over a little, his arms casually resting on his thighs, his hands dangling between them. Farmer Trevor sat down across from him in an armchair. He looked like he'd been out helping some of his employees doing something a bit dirty, spots of dust and other things all over his shoes, knees, and shirt. He also didn't seem to care much about his appearance. Vyn respected that.

"I need some more help around here," the farmer said. "You look strapping enough. You think you can handle a cow?"

Vyn nodded. "I've worked with cows before."

"Alright, then you can work with the cows. Grooming, cleaning up after them, cleaning and organizing the barns, leading them out to graze, carrying them off to the butchers, anything that needs to be done."

Vyn was happy to have the work.

***

The other farmhands were surprised at the safe that Vyn put right next to his bed. None of them seemed to have anything so nice. They had ordinary wooden boxes with locks, just as Vyn had once had. He rather liked his straw bed. It was simple, like the bed in the inn, but it was exactly what he needed.

Vyn wasn't expected to start work until the next morning, but an older woman, called the Den Mother, she guided a few maids as they carried lunch over to all the farmhands, including Vyn. The Den Mother managed the dormitory the farmhands lived in. It turned out that the farmhands would be offered three meals a day, and she was the one to plan the meals.

Work started on the following morning.

It was nothing less than what Vyn had expected. Smelly, hard work. The bulls in particular were difficult to manage. One had to be careful not to rile them up, and if they did turn violent one had to get out of the way quickly. Vyn preferred shoveling the feces and straw over physically handling the steers, but he didn't get a say in what his duties were. The heifers were much more docile, and the calves were downright adorable. Their cuteness was the main reason why Vyn refused to eat veal.

When the work day was officially done, dinner was offered.

That's how most of his days were for a long time. Work, three meals a day, the rest of the evening off. He had days off, though.

During his free time, Vyn's favorite activity was sparring with the other farmhands, at least the younger ones with more energy. He also liked to use various things to lift as if they were special weights from a gymnasium. Buckets of water, bales of hay, bags of food, there were plenty of things to experiment with. Other exercises could be done by moving his body into certain positions and holding still or stretching. He could even use a wall for more purchase.

Working out wasn't the only activity he claimed when he was free. When the weather was bright and dry enough, he liked to sit under one of the pomegranate trees and read one of his books. When the weather was too unpleasant, he stayed in the Farmhand Dormitory and worked on some embroidery on a hoop. This earned quite a few high eyebrows from his coworkers. Vyn didn't mind. He wanted to sell his finished hoops in the local marketplace one day. There were plenty of people that liked to hang framed examples of beautiful stitches.

Funny thing about the farmhands, while they often expressed surprise and even mild curiosity at Vyn's stitching, nobody had dared to tell him he shouldn't do it. Vyn thought it might have to do with his physical appearance and his clear ability to fight well. Not only had he successfully knocked several farmhands to the ground (in consensual practice, of course), but he was considered to be incredibly tall and muscular. None of these men seemed to want to outright insult him, let alone get into a fight.

It was rather peaceful.

Once Vyn thought he had enough decorative hoops, he chose a cool morning to carefully stuff them into a leather sack, put the sack over his shoulder, and walk on to the marketplace.

Using his free hand to pull his cloak tighter around his form, his shoes crushed stray leaves dusting the many dirt roads. He noticed some women were trying to rake the leaves out of the way. He couldn't help but smile at them, stopping to tilt his hat whenever he was able. Most giggled at him.

The roads led to a huge circle on the ground, where the marketplace was set up. Surrounding the marketplace, there were several buildings. Vyn searched and searched, passing all sorts of vendors and customers.

Vyn found an older woman of a vendor selling ribbons and belts. He showed her some of his hoops and made an offer. That vendor picked out a hoop with an image of children picking flowers, and she paid him a bit more than he'd expected. Vyn then went to a different vendor selling clay pots; he was an older man with a kind face. He bought a hoop with an image of a pair of birds resting in a nest, complete with a pleasant phrase curved above.

This sort of thing went on and on until he had no more hoops and a good amount of money in his coat pocket. Satisfied with himself, Vyn went on a little shopping spree of his own. First, he bought a basket with a lid. Then he walked over to a stall that sold threads, yarn, buttons, and other similar things. He bought a few supplies, and a bag to put them in. Then he put the new bag of supplies in his basket.

Next, Vyn bought a few packages of dried meats. He wasn't worried about groceries, but he did think he needed more protein to keep his body in good shape. A farmhand's diet wasn't bad at all, but it wasn't quite what he needed. After that, he bought a little box of extra eggs and went into a physical bookstore to find something new.

His basket's handle safe in his grasp, Vyn hummed to himself as he walked back to what he hoped was his new home. He was surprised that he'd dared to hope for that much, but everything seemed nice and smooth again.

As he walked, he passed a few people. More women and even one or two men put their curious eyes to him for a bit longer than they needed to. Vyn lightly considered seeking out a man one day, but women might not be his best bet. He thought the risk of emotional attachment was too strong. He might want to marry, and that wasn't a good idea.

He didn't deserve a wife.

His gait slowed down as that thought grazed him. After a few more minutes, Vyn took a few breaths and told himself to get over himself. Then he hurried.

Back at the Farmhand Dormitory, Vyn slid his purchases into his safe, which was a little bit difficult. Space was precious. Then he spent the rest of the day either reading, working out, or napping.

***

This morning was heavy with chilly rain, but that didn't mean there wasn't work to do. Even in the splashing mud, Vyn and others managed the cattle. They'd been given boots to keep their feet dry, but Vyn was still having some difficulty keeping himself from slipping sometimes. By the time the work day was over, most of the farmhands were coated in mud and who knew what else.

A handful of farmhands decided to pitch in to rent a carriage to the local bathhouse, even though they were a short walk away. The carriage was meant to protect them from anymore mud. When Vyn overheard this, he asked if he could join them. He'd contribute to the cause, of course.

One of the farmhands ran off with the collected money, kicking mud all around, as he went to find the public coach house. He soon returned to the Farmhand Dormitory inside the carriage the group had wanted to rent. Then, with Vyn among them, the group of men rode on to the local bathhouse.

As many bathhouses had been for centuries, it was owned by the baker, who of course had the bathhouse connected to his bakery. The bakeries had huge ovens that could reach temperatures high enough to heat large portions of water at once. This meant that while one was sitting in a tub of hot water, one could also purchase a snack with ease.

First, the men washed themselves in a room full of other men. There were grates with pipes to drain the water. They used buckets of water, soap, rags, and brushes to clean themselves as much as possible. They chatted all the while, although Vyn mostly kept his thoughts to himself and listened. They even washed their hair, rinsed it, soaked it in tallow, rinsed it again, and wrapped it up in tight cloth. Once they were as clean as possible, the men went off to the soaking rooms. There, two men at a time sat in deep tubs full of hot and scented water. Waiters put planks of wood over the tubs to serve as tables for food.

Vyn could've given himself a quick wash at the dormitory, but he was glad to have this luxurious adventure. He folded his arms over the tub's edge and let his thoughts grow idle. The tubs had curtains for privacy, but they were free to open the curtains. That's what the other man in Vyn's tub did. So Vyn was able to watch mostly nude men walk by.

He wasn't really thinking of anything complicated, nor anything fascinating. If anything, he was letting as many negative thoughts as possible float away into the steamy air.

His mother's voice squeaked in his mind.

"You need to wash between your toes! If you don't, you'll have smelly feet, and nobody will want to be your friend."

He didn't mean to laugh to himself, but he did it, softly, not even disturbing the water. He didn't mean to smile and close his eyes, resting his chin on his arms, his spine bending, but he did those things.

The farmhand near him in the tub suddenly patted his wet shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Vyn's dark eyes fluttered open. He hummed his response. "Mmm hmm."

A reasonably tall man padded on through. His stride was proud. His hands were relaxed but scarred and callused. He might've been in some physically demanding industry. His skin had clearly been loved by the sun, and his profile was strong yet intelligent. His legs were thick and sturdy. His arms were ropy.

Vyn's nose warmed as he pushed himself up to try to get a better look at him. He had a tight backside. Then, as the man continued on his way, Vyn thought to himself that he might never see that man again.

When the group finished their soak and snacks, they got out to rub themselves dry with warm towels. They agreed to separate then. They could safely walk home without fear of too much mud because the rain had stopped and the sun was drying the earth.

Vyn dressed up and let his hair dry in the bakery's rustic dining area, where he bought another snack to thoughtfully munch on. He sat on an old looking bench at an old looking table and watched the clerk hand orders off to customers. Some of the customers chose to sit down with their orders. Some either had very large orders or they had somewhere they needed to be in a hurry, for they took their orders in a basket or box and promptly left.

Vyn saw a few children run by. Their boots were splashing in the lingering but slowly evaporating puddles. They were laughing and probably chasing each other. It was a pleasant sight. It comforted Vyn's heart for a moment; he even sighed and smiled.

He thought that he'd love to play a chasing game with a child. Well, he'd like a child. He missed the children he used to play with in his old country. Little ones had the best laughter and enthusiasm, and their parents had been great friends. Or rather, they'd been friends while they'd been willing to be friends.

His throat wasn't swelling up, but it felt like it was swelling up. His head lowered as he tried to push all those terrible thoughts out of his head. He wanted to forget all of it.

Some voices distracted him.

"Did you get that pack of nails you wanted?"

"Yeah, but it was shit. I won't order from a catalog anymore. I'll keep to Jerry from now on."

The first voice was fluttering and weak, possibly from an elderly man.

The second voice was deep and smoky, almost like Vyn's.

Vyn looked up.

It was the man from before!

Dressed fairly well, he had entered the bakery with an elderly man. His hair was much like Vyn's, wet and loose with no hat just yet. His hat might've been tucked into his coat's pocket, once again as Vyn had done. Water tended to put a darkness to one's hair, so Vyn couldn't quite perceive the color, but it looked healthy.

His eyes were violet!

His nose was broad and his lips were sharp. That jaw of his was well angled, just as Vyn preferred for men.

Vyn shook his head. No need to get excited.

He watched the handsome man and the elderly man pick up an order of bread that smelled like crushed nuts and honey. Then he watched those two leave the bakery with jokes bouncing between them.

***

It was another day off. Vyn was glad to have it. It was sunny and dry. It was a perfect day to read, but he decided to have another shopping day. He walked alone down the roads. As usual, some of his hair kept falling out of his hat. He really didn't want to tie it up very snugly, especially since he'd recently spent so long keeping it in braids. The main reason why his hair wasn't a kinky cloud was because he'd washed it. Now it was only its natural version of curly.

Vyn was tucking that lock of hair back under his hat for the fifth time by the time he was in the marketplace. He thought about getting some more extra meat, fresh this time. He was also going to buy a brazier so he could grill the meat without any trouble. He found the brazier and some charcoal at a stall selling cooking supplies. As for the fresh meat, he preferred a physical shop, and so he went to the local butcher's instead of an outdoor stall.