Old Blood and New

Once Vyn had finally gotten his hunting outfit finished, even a pair of hunting boots from a cobbler, he went into the woods on foot to look for some hare to shoot. He liked the taste of hare. He thought it was like chicken with a grassy flavor. He had two dead ones ready to go within a few hours.

He spent some time right outside the Farmhand Dormitory, cleaning and carving the carcasses until he had fresh meat in one box and offal in another. Vyn told the Den Mother to take the offal to Farmer Trevor, since that would make some good sausage, but he didn't have the equipment for that. All he could do was grill up the plain muscle.

There was a scar on Vyn's leg, but he didn't mind. His finger ran across it as he chewed on freshly cooked hare leg later in the evening. He wondered how many more scars he'd get from this job. He smiled as his thoughts went on that way. It was a good job.

He said as much the next time he was shooting bottles with Ivan. He told him he liked his job, and was glad to have it.

"I know that feeling," Ivan said as his nose wriggled with delight. "I like my job too. I don't have to answer to anyone but myself. If a customer complains too much, I could always send them off to someone else."

Vyn shot a bottle. They waited for the recovery. Then, as he reloaded, he said to Ivan, "Your wife must be proud to be yours."

"I've never married," Ivan corrected.

Vyn shrugged. "That's a shame. A man needs a good wife."

"Not all men," Ivan said before taking his shot.

Once his ears calmed down, Vyn said, "Yeah, you're right. Not all men."

When they were finished with their practice, Vyn had another impulse, a silly thought. Still, if he could do it, he knew he'd be thrilled. As he walked beside Ivan for a moment, he reached out. He didn't even look down as he did it. He looked ahead. He took a light grip of Ivan's hands, or rather his fingers.

Ivan stopped. His features turned stern. He looked down at their hands, then up to Vyn. His frown only deepened.

Ivan said to him, "Take your hand away right now."

Vyn complied with a low and sheepish, "I'm sorry."

So disappointing, but partially to be expected. Most men were purely heterosexual, after all.

Ivan didn't come shoot guns with him after that. Trying to be respectful, Vyn avoided Ivan's workshop. He saw him in a few places around the village now and again. Ivan ignored him, and Vyn let it be.

***

Snow fell and dusted the cold earth, and it might be a thick layer soon enough. Vyn thought the river was pretty in the winter. The cold water rushed on through. His hunting boots were much warmer than his casual shoes. He'd even stuffed them with some old fur and cotton he'd gotten at a discount.

But even in the winter, there was fish to catch.

Vyn had a bucket this time, sitting right on it as he held his pole in place on this frigid morning. He was sitting on his cloak to add an extra layer to his backside. He'd personally stitched old fur on this cloak as a lining. It took him a good while, but he managed.

For once, Vyn thought he was lonely. How else could he describe this empty, unsure feeling growing in his chest? But what was there to do? He knew people better than to blindly trust anyone, and so he was unusually particular about who he wanted to spend quality time with. Those other farmhands were alright, but not worth it. That Ivan had been a dead end.

Once again, as the rushing river put a soothing noise into the air, Vyn thought of finding a wife. If he kept his standards reasonable, it wouldn't be difficult. Hell, he'd take a young laundress. That sort of woman would be glad to have a man looking after her. She might even be able to get out of such a physically demanding profession. He knew exactly why laundresses often turned to alcohol or other drugs. The job hurt the flesh and bones.

His brown eyes gazing out into the water, Vyn once again sighed and decided he was a fool. There was no wife in his future, which meant no children. He probably wouldn't even have a long term lover.

Vyn knew he'd die alone.

His eyes closed.

All alone.

The opposite of how he used to be.

There was once a family, siblings, friends, even...

"Walter!! WALTER!!!!"

"FUCK!! SOMEONE GET IN THERE!!"

Vyn's eye shot open and he got up, still holding his fishing rod. He looked to the direction of the shouting.

Some men had taken off their cloaks and coats and were jumping into the river. A woman was on her knees, her face ashen and her body trembling. Attached to her wrist, there was a loop and a cord, which looked to be frayed as if it had broken off of something. Either that thing had been attached to a dog...

Or a small child.

Vyn heard a scream and then a gurgle.

Rivers are fucking fast!!

He saw a tiny human's head popping out of the water for only a second as it passed with the current.

Vyn abandoned his rod, tore his cloak and coat away, and then he dived right in.

It was a mess, an absolute mess of water, plant life, fish, rocks, dirt, and everything else. Murky but quick. His eyes stung and his vision blurred. Still, it wasn't too difficult to catch up to the shape of the little child flailing about because the current was pushing him forward. But once he had the child by his waist, the true difficulty came. Vyn had to work against the current, and it was very strong.

But he pushed his limbs hard.

This was a child.

Even if Vyn drowned, if he could save the child, that was fine.

He felt something grab at him.

The men from before?!

Air! His eyes were stinging even more, but his lungs rejoiced. He blinked and tried to make out what was going on. Yes, it was those men. They were helping him, trying to get everyone to safety.

When Vyn was finally on the dry, if frozen ground, snowflakes tickling his wet skin, he was coughing up water and in agony. He was in an extremely cold state, shivering rather violently. His body ached from the struggle in the river. He just wanted heat.

He managed to wipe an eye and look down at the child, who was also coughing. He couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl, for even little boys wore skirts until they were considered old enough to be put in breeches. He did know that child had a harness around his torso, and part of a leash was attached. It might have snapped after who knew how much use.

Maybe the child had finally gotten away from its mother, and it ended up in the river.

The woman from before appeared, and she was weeping. He held the child to her body.

***

As funny as it might seem, Vyn hadn't known that Farmer Trevor had a family of his own, but it made sense that he did.

Vyn eventually learned that woman was Mrs. Gretella Trevor, Farmer Trevor's wife. The child was his tiny son, Walter Trevor. He was a tiny wanderer, or so it was said.

Farmer Trevor called for everyone involved in the rescue, including Vyn, to go to the drawing room in his house the morning after the accident.

So, Vyn was sitting there with a bunch of other men. They were quiet, but overall in pleasant moods. When anyone spoke, it was with a polite tone.

One by one, the housekeeper would come and tell a single man to go and meet Farmer Trevor in his office. The men wouldn't see each man after he was called, but they would hear footsteps out in the hall and his happy voice. Apparently, each man would be dismissed after his visit was finished.

Vyn waited and waited.

The amount of men dwindled.

Vyn was soon the only one there, and when he was called, he had to go to Farmer Trevor's office.

Vyn stood there, across from the desk. Farmer Trevor wasn't having it. He jumped up from his chair and walked right to Vyn, immediately taking his hand up for a shake and urging him to sit down in one of the seats before the desk. The boss sat right next to him, and he his smile was so balmy.

"I've already rewarded the rest of the men," he told Vyn. "So what do you want?"

Vyn shrugged. "There's nothing you can give me, nothing that I want."

His smile shrinking a little, his eyes shimmering, Farmer Trevor said, "Your were the first man to reach my boy. You made the rescue so much easier. I don't know if he'd be alive if you hadn't acted."

With a great heave of his chest, Vyn's head lowered. One of his arms hung over his thigh as he bent over and seriously said, "I wasn't the only one that acted, as you've pointed out. I didn't do anything worth thinking about."

"What if I told you I'm willing to give you more than the others? Much more? We don't need to announce it to them. Besides, they spoke highly of you. You might not have been any more heroic, but you were more successful."

Vyn shook his head. Some of his hair slipped out. This time, instead of down his nape, it came from one side. The tightly curled lock hung down to his waist. He smelled soap and bacon grease. He'd recently been using bacon grease to soften his hair after a wash. It was cheap but damn effective. Occasionally, though, he'd cover his hair and scalp in whatever cooled animal fat he happened to have at the time. Sometimes he even used butter. Regardless, he usually ended up soaking his scalp in the fat as he slept and then getting up early to wash it all out outside.

His Mama used to comb a mixture of tallows and other oils into his hair.

"You have beautiful hair," she'd once said. "Just like your Papa. You must care for it, or else it will break and fall away."

"Brast?"

Vyn tugged himself back to the present. He even shook as if he was cold, but he wasn't. The room was warm. There was a brazier full of hot coals nearby.

"Sir?" Vyn said. "I'm sorry. I was thinking too much."

"I said, 'What do you want?' Even if I can't give it to you, maybe I can give you something to help you reach your goal."

Vyn didn't want to look him in the eye, and so he turned his head away. His cheeks and nose were like fire. His hands shook. He had to press them together and lace the fingers. "Sir," he said, "I don't share that information very easily."

He heard Farmer Trevor counter with, "Take a chance, Man! I'm giving you my most earnest feelings! My heart is open, and so is a portion of my funds. I'll give you anything that won't make my life difficult."

"Considering you've just promised rewards for everyone else," Vyn said, "what could possibly be leftover for me?"

"How about a good word put in for the fucking mayor?!" There was definitely some bite in that tone.

Vyn looked up at Farmer Trevor.

He was frowning.

"I'll tell the mayor what a hero you are, and he'll probably help you with almost anything. He has a tender heart."

Vyn shook his head again. He tucked his hair back under his hat. "Don't bother the mayor." The mayor might be able to recognize him, for all Vyn knew. He might've gone to one of his matches. "If you must give me something, then give me something else."

"Well, stop being a stubborn pig and tell me what the fuck you want."

Vyn's tongue pressed and slithered around his teeth. He sucked in a bit of his cheek. "Alright." He sunk his tangling hands against one of his own thighs, his torso twisting. His arms trembled. "I want a home. A family. I want little children calling me Papa and a wife cooking me dinner, and I want a place where I can keep them."

Silence.

Once again, Vyn was too ashamed of himself to look at the man. He felt like he'd just explained all his deepest, darkest fetishes, along with his favorite sexual positions, and where he happened to be the most ticklish.

"Well... uhm... the mayor was recently assigned to manage a bit of land."

Harshly, through his teeth, Vyn's breath suck into his body and hung on.

"The previous owner died with no heirs, and no immediately family. He was like you, I suppose. A stranger with nobody to care for him, but he had enough money to buy that land from His Grace himself. And... well... now the mayor's managing it on His Grace's behalf. If you can get together some money, you can go to the mayor and buy that land. There's a... a very neglected house, but if you're willing to take the risk you can probably make something of it."

Vyn rose up so quickly that his chair was knocked back. His breath was suddenly as quick as that river he'd leapt into the day before. He enveloped the other man, looming over him and then putting his arms around him. He smelled just like a wealthy farmer should, but at that moment there was something more...

A hint of hope.

A wife would love to live in a house, not an apartment which was often shared by other people, even other families, but her own home, where she was the mistress!

Even if Vyn knew he was undeserving, even if he knew this wish might not come to pass, at least with this house, he might be able to force it to happen regardless of his own flaws.

***

Farmer Trevor had been happy to give him some money to help him purchase the plot of land and the house on it. Vyn covered the rest. One issue, however, was the issue of financial upkeep. Living in a dormitory was different than living in a house on a piece of land with no landlord other than the local aristocrat. There were taxes!

First, the taxes to the local aristocrat for claiming ownership of land that he governed. Second, taxes to the Royal Palace's treasury. Everyone with a notable income had to pay taxes to the royal family, but if one was also a landowner and or a homeowner, then one had to also pay taxes to the local aristocrat.

A farmhand's income alone wasn't enough.

Not to fear! Farmer Trevor had solution. He offered Vyn a promotion. Instead of a farmhand, Vyn would be the Assistant Cattle Manager. The Cattle Manager was basically the fellow that managed the paperwork, logistics, and other issues concerning the cattle to make things easier for Farmer Trevor. He'd had an assistant before, but that fellow had to leave town to live with a certain family member and care for their children.

Vyn had seen the Cattle Manager a few times, but he'd never had to speak to him. He'd known he was "beneath" the Cattle Manager in the hierarchy, though. He'd always known that if the Cattle Manager would tell him to do something, he had to do it.

And now, Vyn got to work directly under him.

The Cattle Manager turned out to live in his own house that was walking distance from the farm. It wasn't too unlike the situation Vyn soon found himself in. The main differences were the state of the property and the complete lack of a family Vyn had.

When Vyn was led to the spot by a government employee, he found an overgrown but also white coated lawn surrounded on three sides by trees, with the fourth side bearing a path leading off to the village. He could see the buildings in mostly fine detail from the front door.

The house itself wasn't quite falling apart, but it was neglected. There were mice and rats, a little shelter and fenced in area for pigs that no longer lived there, an empty shed, many broken window shutters, an occasional gaping hole in an interior wall, and part of a collapsed roof.

At least there were two stories. That gave the place a bit more interior space to work with.

That collapsed roof had dirty blue tiles, or that's what was revealed once some snow was scraped away from the hole. The outer walls were of warm brown bricks, and they were much more intact than the interior walls. At least there was a chimney and a fireplace, along with some tools for keeping a fire tame. There weren't any furniture, but Farmer Trevor was willing to lend him a mattress to use as a pallet on the floor until he got things in order.

Even in the bitter winter, it was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

First, Vyn cleaned out the fireplace. He had to hire a small and thin man to sweep out the chimney. Vyn simply could not fit up nor down that thing. Then he bought some firewood. He couldn't legally chop down any of the neighboring trees. He didn't have the rights to them, and illegally chopping down a tree was a fuck-ton of an expensive mistake to make.

The next day, after he finished his first day of work following the Cattle Manager around, Vyn spent time cleaning out anything even resembling a rat's nest. He had to buy a ladder to check out the roof to better see what was going on there.

The day after that, he doused and sprayed all the rodent droppings he could find with the strongest alcohol available, and he did so with all the windows and doors open to air the place out. He didn't care about the cold. He was content with huddling close to his brazier and fireplace and bundling up. Once he felt satisfied, he hired a couple of men to help him wipe away the droppings, for Vyn believed sweeping it up would cause health problems.

The place reeked for the next week, but, much like the penetrating cold that seeped in once he aired the house out, Vyn didn't care about it.

Soon, Vyn had to hire a carpenter to help him repair any structural problems, including the holes and window shutters. The next few days after that required a roofer to deal with the big hole in the roof.

Gods be praised! The floor was just fine, although it was dusty as fuck.

Once the building itself was as secure as he could get it, Vyn went on with the cleaning. He personally got on his knees and scrubbed all the floors. He wiped and walls and window shutters. He used a broom to sweep away old webs, for the spiders were either hibernating or dead in this snowy weather and he wasn't worried about any falling on him. He did, however, find some old dead insects, which were likely one of the food sources for the rodents.

He was dead tired almost every night.

Some days he might take an afternoon off from cleaning so he could visit the farmhands and workout or spar, but mostly he just worked on his new home.

By the time spring finally woke up, the lawn had been trimmed. Vyn had a new bed, a few chests for storage, and he had a fence around the land's perimeter. On one of his days off, he started building a fence around a section of his land he planned to turn into a garden. It was a thrilling experience, really. He was going to grow his own food for the first time in... well... quite a long time. He even considered getting a big dog to guard the place.

It all added up to a beautiful thing. A home, a home he made all his own.

He finally had a new life he could count on. Shit, once he had enough money, he might invest in his own clothing shop, both for tailoring and seamster work. This village could always use a little more competition. He wouldn't be able to work as an Assistant Cattle Manager anymore, but he was willing to take the risk.

And maybe he'd find a special someone to be his lover. Or maybe even a wife. Even if he was unworthy, perhaps he could turn himself into something worthy.

Perhaps there was hope left in this world for Vyn.

***

Vyn's bed was firm and supportive. His blanket was a leftover thing that he'd patched up himself, but it was just perfect. His pillow was folded to lift his head. His body was on its side, and he was dreaming.

Vyn dreamed of a woman with no face, her hair dark and tied up in falling curls. The woman was washing dishes in a bucket outside, at the back of the house. Little children of varying sizes, also with no faces, were running around in the yard. A big dog was running too, barking and wagging its tail. Whatever breed it was couldn't be determined.

He couldn't approach, couldn't even reach. All Vyn could do was watch with a yearning sizzling in his heart. Then the scene blurred as if he'd fallen into the river, and he was suddenly in a kitchen full of supplies. The dark-haired woman put a plate of food, which was also blurred, right on a round table. Vyn thought he was smiling at the view, but he couldn't know the truth of it.

A brazier, which had more blurred food cooking on it, the coals suddenly burst into flames.