-Amaranth Homestead-
-7 Years Ago-
"Alright, lazy bum. Wake up!" A voice cut through the air as Bianca's eyes shot open. She swung her legs over the side of her straw bed and stood as fast as she could. Ill-fitting pants, a shirt a size too large, and a head of short-cropped, messy black hair greeted the tall, muscular woman that had awakened the teenage girl.
"I don't know what time those Fae let you sleep until, but you're not in the Heartland territory anymore. This is Amaranth of Spring's Respite, and I except you to earn your keep. Understood?"
Bianca sleepily nodded her head, then looked out the small window to her side. The sun was barely breaking over the horizon. "It's barely first light. Morning chores don't begin until the sun's over the tree line."
"Early is on time, on time is late, and if you're late..." The woman paused, inviting Bianca to finish the sentence.
Bianca gave a defeated sigh. "Don't bother showing up. Sorry, Miss Ingrid."
Ingrid smirked. "We'll make a homesteader out of you yet, little half-breed. Now, off to the stables. Hroki's left a sizeable number of presents for you."
As Bianca laced her boots slowly, knowing that "Hroki's presents" was a nice way of putting "horse manure that Rothir was too lazy to clean last night," she reflected on her last two weeks at the Amaranth Homestead. That, and the reason for this path she chose.
Bianca's time among the Heartland Fae was proving to be difficult as she got older. She was thirteen, not even a woman yet. Despite this, if she were held to Fae standards, she'd already be expected to fill a role within the tribe. At thirteen, one would choose to pursue the life of a hunter, a warrior, a crafter, a cook, or even some role of religious significance. Thirteen meant responsibility, and it was the time when Fae found their place.
Yet under Fae law, non-Fae were forbidden from taking roles. Sha'ani had earned her place as a hunter just one year ago, and had all but begged Segala to take Bianca on as well once she had come of age. When Sha'ani had pressed the issue further, Bianca had paid the price. A price she was reminded of each time she saw the scar across her left, golden eye from where Segala had struck Bianca with the bladed limb of her bow.
Bianca didn't blame Sha'ani for what had happened, but it had become abundantly clear that Bianca wasn't going to be treated equally. So, she left to find her place elsewhere. When news had come of a small homestead being established on the border of Autumn's Gate and Spring's Respite, she'd tried her luck at this new life.
A life Bianca didn't mind much, despite how much horse manure she'd have to shovel.
---
Bianca's trek through the homestead was often filled with a quiet sense of wonder. Bees buzzing around their hives with the promise of fresh honey in the coming months. Cows mooing, chickens clucking, and even the odd sheep or goat wandering freely through the homestead grounds. Amaranth primarily provided animal goods, such as eggs, milk, meat, honey, and even hides.
With peace among Elves and Elbafans slowly becoming the new normal of the continent, many soldiers of old had taken to a new profession. Farming and self-sufficiency were becoming a true way of life for the majority of people. If nothing else, the people of Elbafas seldom went hungry, and even had goods to spare on greater harvest seasons. They had even traded with the Eastern Archipelago just a few days ago, being offered a hefty sum of gold and rice. Bianca didn't care for the rice, but she loved counting every last coin she had earned.
Her musing done, Bianca finally arrived at the pride and joy of Amaranth: The stables.
Most people would break at the smell, but it was one Bianca had become accustomed to. She had even grown to enjoy it, in her own way. The tall wooden building housed twenty horses. Each one powerful. Each one pureblooded Elbafan. Some were retired warhorses. Others new colts and fillies who were ready to take on the responsibilities of homesteading.
"Good morning, everyone." Bianca said cheerily, albeit still exhausted. She got to work immediately, shoveling the waste from each pen into the nearby wheelbarrow. Some had little to nothing. Others had more than a few shovels full. Then, there was Hroki.
Hroki was a retired war stallion that Miss Ingrid had used for breeding. At least four of the younglings in the stable were sired by him. Massive with a coat as black as night, the stallion always snorted happily when Bianca approached. Unfortunately, Hroki's diet consisted of several herbs that made his bowels more "active" than others. Still, even as she filled the remainder of the wheelbarrow, Bianca didn't mind.
"I'm glad you're doing well, Hroki. May need to tell Miss Ingrid to cut back on the herbs. Clearly your performance is above average." Bianca snickered, looking back at Tor and Davreth, the two colts next to him. Both sported Hroki's pitch black coat. Both sired by the same stallion.
Miss Ingrid had mentioned that, with enough work, Bianca could very well earn her own horse. So, she'd thrown herself into working with them. Brushing them. Feeding them. She'd even assisted in the breeding process when Hroki was scheduled to mate with one of the young mares, Astrith. That part of the job was awkward, but she'd committed to learning everything about the animals.
Everything.
With her work done, Bianca grabbed the fully-loaded wheelbarrow and began her way out of the stable. "See you after breakfast, Hroki!"
"Sorry I'm late, Bianca!" A voice pierced the quiet as a young man sprinted towards the stable. Tall, scrawny, and around the same age as Bianca stood Rothir. Late as usual, the young Elbafan panted as he held his hands on his knees. "I forgot to clean out the stable last night."
Bianca rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Forgot." She set the wheelbarrow down. "You know Miss Ingrid's saying. Early is on time-"
"Must you?" He sighed.
Rothir was unreliable, but Bianca had to admit she found him interesting. Young, handsome, brilliant red hair. She was just starting to find boys attractive romantically, and Rothir was undoubtedly her first crush. She figured she'd let it slide, as she always did.
"I'm only teasing, Rothir." Bianca chuckled, brushing her golden bangs out of the way of her green and gold eyes. "But if you feel that bad about it..." She let her eyes dart between the young man and the wheelbarrow full of manure.
Rothir, understanding, heaved a defeated sigh. "It's the least I can do, I suppose." He walked in front of Bianca and grabbed both handles of the wheelbarrow. "If you're heading to the longhouse, mind saving me some breakfast?"
Bianca beamed. "We got a treat today. Angof is visiting from Kalthastheim. The harvest was especially plentiful this fall, so..."
Rothir's eyes widened. "By the Christ, I haven't eaten a vegetable in two weeks! Carrots? Potatoes? Cabbages?"
Bianca winked. "All of the above. I'll save you some!"
Rothir didn't need a second word. He picked up the wheelbarrow and headed for the compost pile. At least food is a good motivator for the boy, Bianca laughed to herself. It was all in good fun, though. And it definitely helped that she liked him, in a way.
The trek to the longhouse didn't take long, and since the sun was just now above the tree line, that meant Elsie had likely served the last platter of food on the feasting table. As she stepped inside, Bianca was met with the aroma of fresh food. Baked bread, bacon and roasted porkchops, freshly scrambled eggs, and sausages all lined the tables. High Queen Ysolda herself doesn't eat this good, Bianca told herself. One of the many perks of homestead living.
Then there were the promised vegetables, a gift from Kalthastheim. Roasted red potatoes, chopped carrots, boiled cabbages. Elsie and the girls must have been working hard this morning. There were even a few sweets, like hand pies and candied nuts. Sweets weren't exactly Bianca's favorite, but it was sheer luxury to even have the option.
Bianca wasted no time. She grabbed two plates, one for her and one for Rothir, and began filling them with food. "Gonna get one of everything for Rothir, just in case."
"I see Miss Ingrid got you out of bed early, Bianca. Noticed you were shoveling before the sun was even up." Tavir clapped a hand on Bianca's shoulder, smiling. "Keeping the stables nice and clean, eh?"
"Of course she is, Tav. Have you ever seen healthier horses?" Another homestead resident, a woman with pale blonde hair by the name of Ruda, chimed in.
Bianca smirked. "I'm just following Miss Ingrid's instructions. She's the reason this homestead is so well maintained."
They both laughed. "Damn, two weeks in and the girl is already a regular member of the family. Hey, I've been needing a hand with the sheep. Think you may want to switch jobs for a while. My son can barely hold a pair of shears."
"Careful, Tavir," Ingrid interrupted, crossing her arms as she approached the group. "You're not trying to poach my stable girl, are you?"
Ruda and Bianca snickered, much to Tavir's chagrin. The man grumbled, then attempted to deflect the accusation. "I was just seeing if Bianca would like to broaden her horizons. Nothing more, Miss Ingrid."
"Yes, right." Ingrid turned to Bianca. "Angof was looking for you. Said he wanted to get a look at the 'half-elf' for some reason. He's in the back of the longhouse."
Angof wanted to see her? Why? It was no secret that Angof was the proprietor of several businesses across Spring's Respite, and that he himself funded places like Amaranth Homestead. Unless he was that interested in her skills with horse care, she was at a loss. Of course, there was another reason...
Bianca's half-elf heritage was something of a mystery amongst reason. Half breeds were, to put it frankly, impossible. Their biology didn't mix, and no race could interbreed with another. The only exception was Lycans back in the days of the War of the Gods, but they had long since gone extinct. Last she checked, Bianca's family tree didn't have any Lycans. At least, on her father's side considering she never knew her mother.
Bianca didn't dwell on it. Whatever Angof wanted, it was likely involving only homesteading. She made her way past the group of residents, setting her food down onto a small table once she had entered the back chambers.
Ingrid's study mainly comprised of a few bookshelves, a desk, and a few chairs. It was nothing fancy, as nothing in Amaranth was. But there, sitting at the desk in the back of the room, was Angof.
Angof Brings-Plenty was a model citizen of Elbafas and one of the most generous men alive. Rumors spread that he had been blessed by nature itself. Any patch of dirt the man touched turned into a fertile paradise, or so they said. Yet despite his wealth and reputation, his clothing and appearance told a different story. His beard was short and grey, and his hair thinning. He wore a simple black and grey tunic and breeches with tattered, worn boots. For a man of his stature, he dressed as a simple farmer.
"Ah, so this is Bianca." He said softly, standing up. "A pleasure."
"You wanted to see me, sir?" Bianca asked, slowly approaching the man.
Angof nodded. "I thank you for taking the time to indulge an old man. My apologies, but I had to see if the rumors were true. You are the child of an Elf and man, are you not?"
Bianca nodded. "It's true." She brushed back her hair to reveal one of her long, pointed ears. They weren't as long as a typical Elf's, but they were obviously not human.
Angof gasped. "So it is." He approached Bianca, extending a hand to her. "I'd heard of the girl who lived among the Fae, but didn't believe the tales. What brought you to Spring's Respite, if I may ask?"
Bianca shook his hand, and told the man everything. About how she had turned thirteen and had expected to take her role amongst the tribe, only to be scarred and berated by their chief hunter. How she had chosen to venture east and discovered the homestead. And how her travels had led to her answering a job request for a stablehand.
Angof listened intently, then returned to his seat. "I'm glad you're finding a home here, young lady. Tell me," he leaned back and stared at Bianca with intrigue in his eyes. "Would you consider staying here permanently, or perhaps taking on a position on my farmstead in Kalthastheim?"
"I would, honestly. To both of those. I've been finding some relative peace in this kind of work." Bianca answered truthfully. Angof was about to speak again when the door slid open abruptly.
"Excuse me, Angof. I'm afraid I must cut this visit short. A certain layabout is asking for our resident half-Elf." Ingrid groaned as Rothir ducked under her arm, holding a long object wrapped in fur in his hands. "Don't run with it, boy!"
"Bianca! I've got-" Rothir panted, then looked over at the table. "Oh, potatoes! Anyway, I've got something for you. A gift from Davrin the blacksmith." Rothir held out the mysterious present, exchanging it for a generous helping of roasted potatoes once it was in Bianca's hands.
She slowly unraveled the gift, the familiar glint of metal catching her eye as the fur fell away. There, resting in the hide, was a roughly made iron shortsword. The hilt was simple, only consisting of a small guard and pommel at each end of the handle. The blade was barely a step above a dagger, but the edge was razor sharp. Sharp enough to even make small nicks in the inside of the hides it came wrapped in.
Bianca was shocked. Speechless. "What...? I... What?!" She tried to find the right words.
"For the record I heavily protested this," Ingrid sighed, rolling her eyes. "But I took a vote amongst the elders just last week, and the consensus was clear: All residents who work with the larger livestock, such as cows and horses, are to be armed at all times. That especially includes those who work before sunrise. Meaning you, Miss Bianca."
"If I may interject, Miss Ingrid, is there some threat to Amaranth that I am unaware of?" Angof asked, concern growing in his voice. Bianca didn't respond. She only looked at the blade with sheer wonder.
My own weapon.
"I'm sure it's only rumors and hearsay, but some people passing by have reported murders on the road. Judging by the wounds and the corpses, no manmade weapons were used in the killings. Leaving the only potential threats being wild animals..." Ingrid began.
"Or Fae."