One Moo'r Plow

There was a palpable disappointment once I had returned to the farm. It was irrational, I knew. The toughs I had hired to keep the hostile wildlife away lounged around various parts of the farm. Armed and alert, in most cases. Some part of me had hoped for some action, that I would see evidence of beasts successfully driven off.

Another knew that I paid these men and women to keep things boring. Boredom meant a drought in unwelcome surprises. Stability. Untorn crops and unburnt sheds. My coin ensured this. Not entirely, perhaps, but to a safe degree.

There was just one thing, however.

“There seem to be a few less than what you started out with.” I mentioned as Ishila wandered over.

“Yeah, well, one idjit stuck his hand in the biter patch while I was away.” She frowned. “They took ‘em to the Dawn’s camp fer patchin’ up.”

There was a nod of sympathy from her as a wince crossed my expression. First day on the job and already mangled. Poor guy was really off to a great start.

“Did they..?”

“Get the hand back?” She grunted. “Yeah. Might be able to get it back on if that cleric is still there.”

“Seems your farm is more dangerous than the creatures you want it warded from.” A dry voice sounded behind us. One of the people I had hired. It took me a moment to remember his name was Tash. Even then, his face stood out sooner. This man was a drow, with light purple skin, pointed ears and pale hair. A relaxed aura followed the man around, even as the other eyed him with distrust.

Unless my memory had completely and wholly failed in the last hour, Tash possessed a very specific class and role that I had need of.

“Ishila, if you could show everyone around?” I gently gestured the few who journeyed alongside me after her. With a nod and a groan, the lass straightened her spine and led most of the people away. Save for Tash, who I guided in a different direction.

“For you, I have a challenge.” I informed the man, my face straight so as not to reveal the glee beneath. All truth aside, this was a task I wanted someone else to take over. Yet the months of frustration it had brought me were almost spiteful in nature as I now foisted it upon someone else.

Somewhat oblivious to exactly what this entailed, the drow leaned against a fencepost and stared into the pasture.

“Those things?” he drawled, eyes clapped firmly on the taur-cows.

“Those things.” Came the confirmation.

The man was, if he had spoken the truth to me, a Handler. One that specialized in controlling animals. If he had lied to me, well, I’d soon find out.

“They require milking.” Was all I said, leaving out that this was only the case because I had forgotten to do so this morning, in my rush to leave. I debated whether to tell him they might be extra ornery from last night. In the end, my kindness won out. Much as spite compelled me to pass my pain unto another, I did not want to see my potential replacement injured merely for a moment of satisfaction.

“Might be a bit riled up from a beast attack last night.” I noted. A bit late as the fellow hopped the fence in a single, fluid motion and began to make his way through the dung-covered grass. For my part, I was content to lean against a post and watch.

His pace slowed considerably as the herd drew close. Lowered heads and pawing hooves signaled warnings. Which he heeded, it seemed. The drow’s form dropped to a relaxed stance, hands out as he moved slowly towards a cow separated from the herd. Slow, cautious movements brought him close to the massive beast. There was almost envy within me as the animal didn’t immediately try to gore him.

It stood tense as he began to brush its fur, talking in a soothing tone, albeit in a language I did not understand. The taur-cow did not magically seem to grow relaxed before my eyes, but tolerated his presence. A lot more than I could say for how it regarded mine. I gazed on as he moved from cow to cow, always in slow, relaxed movements. An abnormally large, aggressive specimen I had named simple Littlehorn was having none of it.

The drow flowed aside as the taur-cow swung her head to strike him. Its body bucked, quick as you please and rammed the man aside. He stumbled back, regained his footing, and stepped aside as the would-be beast did her beast to trample him.

All the while, I watched, my arms folded. For all his dodging and scrambling movements, the drow seemed relaxed. Confident, even. Littlehorn tired first. She stood, panting and mooing as Tash chose to move on without giving her the same treatment as the others. Wise. Simply because she was tired did not mean she wouldn’t lash out again. The man understood that, it seemed.

A whistle beckoned him back towards me. Whilst I would have liked to see him work his magic on these spiteful, obnoxious creatures more, other matters awaited me. It took a few moments to show him the shed where the pails, jars and chillvines were stored, cramped in among the tools. He followed my quick instructions, then grabbed a stool, some pails and headed for the pasture once more.

Next up was a squat human woman whom I was convinced had dwarf blood in her through build alone. Lidya, if I remembered correctly. A Field Carpenter, although that was subclass to her main Farmhand profession.

Pleasantries were exchanged, although I found she had little patience for them.

I wanted several buildings erected, and she seemed the woman to head this project. A barn next to the pasture was at the forefront of my needs. Somewhere secure to keep my animals throughout the night. For now, the taur-cows could survive on their own, but I did want more, smaller creatures such as the universally preyed-upon chicken. Pigs, even.

We discussed that, and came to the conclusion this would require an exorbitant amount of wood. I groaned, already imagining the sheer amount of trips to Hullbretch it would take to source this. Lidya planned otherwise.

“Give me several decent woodsman, some lads who don’t mind sawing all day, two saw-pits near the forests’ edge, some strong backs and we’ll have it sooner rather than later.” She gestured to particular spots with a thick finger. More than ever, I was convinced she was more dwarf than human. “We stockpile it, then begin to shape it for the barn. Once that’s finished, we can begin erecting it.”

“That’s going to be a large job with specifications you described.” She continued. “Gonna chew through a lot of time. I’ll need a crew of fellows with nothing to do and lots of willingness to pull very long days.”

“I’m sure of the fellows here are up to the task.”

She stared down the hill we were on with a critical eye and snorted.

“No offense, but these warm-bloods aren’t going to keep the back-breaker pace I want.”

A wave cut her off as I sighed, tired and fading as the day drew to a close.

“As long as if gets finished, you don’t need to squeeze every last drop of sweat out of them and break them. I am not a harsh master or somesuch.”

“Noted. But I’d prefer a crew that can stay on-site, work all day, sleep and immediately get back to the job.”

“Which entails?’

“We’d construct a dormitory and bunks for them to sleep somewhere off, out of the way. For as long as the job takes, we live there. Nuthin’ but work and sleep.”

There were several issues with this.

“Where, though?” I looked around. There was not exactly an ample supply of freely available land here. Especially given what more I wanted built.

“You own land not far from here?” She shrugged.

I did. Down the road towards Hullbretch. No more than a quick walk. A field that belonged to a now-gone farmer who’s land I had purchased.

“Then we set up there. Dormitory, bunks and mayhap a kitchen. Though I’ll ask that it’s strictly for the loggers.”

I chewed over her request, but eventually saw no reason not to grant it. They would be close at hand, but not on the farm itself. It made sense, in every way.

“If you’ll allow me, I can bring a few workers with experience. The sort who are used to this, should I not find enough willing hands here.”

This too I debated for a moment, but granted it to her. The men and women I had hired here had come for farmwork, not logging and carpentry.

“I’ll take stock of them, and trust you to keep an eye on their work. I pay fairly for a good day’s work, but have little use for slackers.”

She laughed at that and assured me that she had none either. With that done, Lidya departed with a promise to return bright and early tomorrow. She declined my offer of supper, being one of those who brought their own food. A long road awaited her, and I did not keep her any longer.

One of the preparations Ishila and I had made was to procure a map of the area and mark all my land. Late evening found me poring over this with Sean, giving instructions to the human as to where I wanted land cleared next. Another group was split from his clearers to begin seeding the acres we had just cleared today.

I would need someone to be the foreman of that effort. I myself would, but there were more tasks that demanded my attention and supervision. So, on a rickety table set in the grass, I found myself leaning over the map, too-big fingers jabbing at different spots and giving explanations.

“Clear out the Haizen quarter-sections.” I found using the previous owner's names stuck with people the best, giving each field a solid reference. Almost a personality of its own that workers would easily remember. “It’s a decently large section, but only been abandoned for a year or two now. Move down the hills there to where the house is. Don’t bother with the slope itself. Too steep for seeding. Might use that piece for pasture.”

“You have a team to plow the Langills’?” He asked, referencing the land we had finished breaking up today.

I did not, and had forgotten about that. My eyes moved to the pastures as I considered using taur-cows to break up the land so I would not have to pull a plow myself. I would need to talk with Tash about that, but I was not holding out hope. The beasts were simply too vicious, too ornery for most ordinary folk to handle.

I needed regular oxen.

The couple I had helped with milk had a team in their fields, I recalled. While their names had vacated my tired mind, that fact did not. I would send Ishila over in the morning and ask about acquiring them.

“Grubs ready!” Came the booming voice, followed by the clangs of a ladle striking metal. The universal signal that food was served. For once, I did not have to put up with my own cooking. Workers flocked around Zheli, chaotic at first, then ushered into a line. I too found myself waiting my turn, bowl in hand.

Hunger was an excellent cook, I found. I was seated not long after, devouring supper as I discussed plans and payment with Sean and Ishila. I would need to head out and survey several properties come morning, so I entrusted Ishila to keep the farm moving in my absence.

The young orc seemed almost excited for this. Her largest taste of responsibility and control yet. She might even have an appetite for it, I guessed.

I was asleep moments after my head touched the pillow a few hours later, and there was nothing in this world that could wake me.

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