The Emerald Legend (Book 1)

Chapter Two: Simple Lives

In a small farming village called Sa'ryn, next to the vast and unknown forests of Algaza, seventeen years had passed since Varus made his last trip down the rocky steeps of Mount Aga'ra. To Varus' disappointment, Azalon never returned after that stormy exchange upon the mountain. Varus had kept his oath, though, not only to his mother, but his older brother as well. He had raised that small child, along with his wife Mezia. They had decided that it was for the child's best interest that she grow up as their daughter. Amalia, the infant from that dark day, had grown into a fine young woman and today was her eighteenth birthday.

Even on this special occasion, Amalia still found herself shoveling hay in Varus' barn, as well as cleaning hooves and the horse pens. She didn't mind hard labor such as this, though, since it made her strong and fit. Amalia always wore a smile as she did her daily tasks, too. She knew that simplicity was something rare in a world full of war and mystery.

Varus had always taught her the joys of living simply and contently—although it was not to say she did not do the normal things young people do, like go on untold adventures and explore things in which others forbade her to explore. Although, Amalia did have a partner in all of her daring expeditions; a young man, Calhūn Dawncla.

Calhūn, only aged at nineteen, lived only a small hike up the dirt road and past the patch of forest that divided their farms. They had been friends since they could both walk, and ever since then they had always found ways to get into trouble together. Whether it be accidentally starting a forest fire, or playing pranks on the local farmers, Amalia and Calhūn always seemed to be getting a lecture from their parents. Although, this did not stop them.

She thought of her dear friend and the trouble they caused as she worked, but was interrupted in her daydreams by the sound of footsteps crunching on the earthy path outside.

"You'd think after eighteen years that stubborn head of yours would have learned that some work can wait until tomorrow," Varus said jokingly.

She set the hay down and the dust from the floor puffed up and made a small cloud around her feet. She turned back to Varus with her gloved hands on her hips. "Well, who do you think I learned such stubbornness from?" She exhaled and smiled while wiping the small droplets of sweat forming around her temples.

"Now, Ama, you really shouldn't talk about your mother like that behind her back," he said in a hushed sarcastic tone, holding one hand up as if telling her a secret. Amalia chuckled a bit and rolled her eyes at his usual joking nature.

Varus smiled and looked at the hay barrels behind her. "Well, I suppose if you insist on working on your day of arrival, I should leave you to it. . . Just be inside before sun down, we have something special for you." Varus' words peaked Amalia's interest and her attention was now completely drawn away from her work.

"And no, I'm not going to tell you what it is," Varus said as if he was reading her mind. She tried to protest but he intentionally cut her off. "Don't be late for supper," he said one final time and then made his exit.

Amalia cringed with excitement. For years she had been hinting at a riding horse of her own. Ever since Calhūn got one for his fifteenth birthday, he'd done his damnedest to rub it in her face every chance he got. When they would go off exploring the old, eerie forest of Algaza, Calhūn would always make it painfully obvious how much he disliked doubling up on his horse. "It's bad on her back," he would say, trying to poke fun at Amalia's rider-less state.

Amalia picked up the barrel of hay and made her way into Varus' horse's pen. She put the hay down and let the deep chocolate-brown horse feed from the pressed hay strands. Amalia went back into the main hall of the barn and grabbed a wooden horse brush from a worktable made of mahogany. She walked into the stable once more and began to brush out Galika's long, shiny, white hair.

Galika was Varus' horse from the time when he was a commander in the war of nations; she was around twenty-two in age. Even in her old age, her blue eyes still had the shine of majesty and brilliance. Her hair remained soft and flowed like the silk tapestries of the Amir desert.

Oh, how Amalia longed for a horse like Galika; one she could train herself and bond with, as Varus had bonded with his for so many years. The excitement bubbled in her throat as she imagined what it would be like to have her very own riding companion.

After tending to Galika, whose hair was now brushed smooth and straight, she slipped off her gloves and set them back in their place. Amalia closed and latched Galika's pen, along with the adjoined pen keeping the few goats they kept for milk and meat. She brushed her hair back out of her face with her fingers and realized just how much of a sweat she had been working up.

She slipped off her apron, which she wore to keep the dirt and hay from sticking to her tunic, and hung it on the small metal hook right beside the barn door. She dusted off the white cotton shirt she wore underneath and stepped out of the barn and onto the grassy patch that was between the barn and their home.

The Uluven house was made out of a tan clay material that shaped the walls, paired with molded red tiles that laid in such a way so that water would fall to the sides rather than drip down into the wooden floored home. Between the home and the barn was an outdoor wash room, the area had rock flooring and was an enclosed space made from the same design and material as the house. Inside was a well, to obtain fresh water, along with a heating stove to prepare the water for cleaning. Most farmers took advantage of this stove to have warm baths as it was seen as a middle-class luxury.

Since Amalia's family was fairly wealthy from their wheat and corn harvests, they took advantage of such things. The small stove was along the wall parallel to the door, next to a small wooden stool and a shelf full of a variety of self-care items. On the side of it laid tinder, wood, and striking flint.

After entering, she placed a few bundles of tinder and kindling into the stove and began striking the flint with a steel knife multiple times before a spark jumped onto the dry pieces of shaved wood and bark. She gently blew onto the flame as it ignited and it grew slowly in size.

She then reached down and picked up a small wooden log and placed it over the flame, being careful not to smother it completely. The flame danced onto the log and she closed the small metal door to its enclosure.

Inside the well there was a small bucket that could be lowered into the deep center below. Amalia hung the bucket on a hook, attached it to a long rope and gently dunked it down. Once it hit the water, the rope gave a bit of slack and with a slight shake, the bucket tipped and sunk into the well water. Amalia pulled the rope to retrieve it, making sure not to pull too fast in case of spilling.

Once the wooden bucket reached the top, she grabbed the handle and unhooked it from the rope. Next to the well there was a small table with soaps, brushes, oils, and an iron pail. She poured the water from the wooden carrier into the iron one and placed it inside the second chamber of the heated stove.

With a dampened cloth, she began to gently remove the dirt from her hands and feet. Just enough time had passed for the water to be heated, so with the same damp cloth she removed the bucket from the stove chamber and set it onto the floor next to the small wooden stool.

The water was hot around her hand as she dunked the cloth into the pail. After removing her tunic, she hunched over and drained the rag over her head. She then reached for one of her family's handmade soap bars. That had been one thing her family had been proud of, their self-sustainability. They almost never went to markets or shops for food or other necessities. They had always made their own clothes, furniture, soaps, and most other goods. Only some of the weapons that Varus had kept tucked away in his quarters, were not made directly by their hands. Other weapons were created with the help of Varus' forge, which he had built with the construction of their house since he wanted to be able to craft his own things from time to time. He had even shown Amalia a thing or two when it came to metal crafting, and over the years, she herself had made rings and necklaces a plenty.

Amaliawashed herself, making sure to clean her hair thoroughly. Once she was cleanshe dressed herself quickly, due to the slight chill that hung in the dampenedair between the wooden walls of the washroom. She wrung the remaining dampenedends of her hair with the cloth and let it flow freely after. She seteverything back in its rightful place and exited the washroom, excited to seewhat lay waiting for her inside.