Vermilion ~ Six: Farmer
Oct. 3rd, 2013 11:14 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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yrae
‘Hurry up, boys!’ the farmer called back into the farmhouse. ‘Get your boots on and let’s move along!’Dual shouts of ‘Coming!’ echoed from deep inside the house as the farmer pulled a coat over his shirt. It was far too warm today for a coat, but it was easier and quicker than changing his dusty shirt.
He sidled up behind his wife, chopping vegetables at her workbench, and planted a prickly kiss on her neck. ‘We’ll be back in time for lunch,’ he promised her.
‘Good,’ she replied. ‘I should hope so, then you and the boys can fix the guttering. It will start raining soon!’ She glanced back over her shoulder with a grin, and the farmer couldn’t resist planting another kiss on her lips.
A knock came then at the door, just as sound of thundering steps drew closer to the kitchen.
The farmer sighed and answered the door to a chorus of ‘Hurry up, Father!’ from the two boys.
Outside stood one of the castle messengers, her dark green waistcoat shining in the late morning sun. The farmer gave a brief bow in response to hers.
‘Master Vermilion requires another fillet tonight for his guests,’ the young woman announced. The farmer could detect the hint of desperation in her voice behind her cool professionalism. ‘I’ve already asked the butcher, and she insists she only has one cow left, and it needs to be hung for another two weeks before she’ll butcher it.’
The farmer folded his arms, frowning as the messenger outlined her problem. She seemed to grow more confident, boosted by the fact he hadn’t yet turned her away.
‘Master Vermilion is willing to pay double the market price for the fillet if you have one to spare,’ she finished.
‘He’s not cutting this a little close, is he?’ the farmer said with raised eyebrows, then turned back into the kitchen. The boys were shaking their heads furiously and waving their hands at him. His wife was biting her lip, chopping knife still in her hand as she frowned in thought. The fillet in question sat, wrapped in canvas on the kitchen table, ready to be sliced up and marinated.
‘It’s a good deal,’ the farmer persuaded his wife. ‘We could buy the materials for a proper hay barn with that much.’
Promise of doing up the farm convinced her, and she nodded with a smile. ‘That would be nice,’ she agreed, much to the anguish of the two boys. They cried and pleaded with both parents to change their minds. They loved the once-a-year treat of a tender fillet as much as the farmer did, but this was a deal that only came along once in a decade.
He turned back to the messenger with his businesslike nod. ‘It’s a deal. I’m just heading into town now, so I can deliver it while I’m there.’
The messenger bowed again, more deeply this time, and there was relief and gratitude behind her professionally set eyes. ‘Thank you,’ she said simply, then left.
‘Father!’ the elder of the two boys, whined loudly. ‘Mother was going to cook them tonight!’
‘It was going to have bacon and potatoes and… and… m-mar—’ The younger turned to his mother for support.
‘Marinade,’ she prompted.
‘And marinade!’ He turned a serious frown on his father, arms folded and lips stuck out in the angriest pout he could manage.
The farmer smiled, even though he knew it wasn’t quite the response the ten-year-old was hoping for. ‘I’ll tell you what,’ he said, resting a hand on the table and crossing one leg over the other. ‘When we get to town, you can both have a treat, how does that sound?’
The boys looked silently at each other, keeping their begrudged faces on, but the farmer could see them slipping.
‘Maybe caramel pears and cream for dessert instead?’ he suggested, lifting his eyebrows to his wife, who grinned back at him with a shake of her head. ‘Or figs and dates with cheese?’
She shook her head with a laugh. ‘We’re out of sugar,’ she said, ‘but the pears are ripe.’
The older of the two boys reluctantly nodded and trudged out the front door, his younger brother in tow. Not even dessert would cheer them from the promised fillet steak.
The farmer turned to his wife a weak smile. ‘I might have to hold back another fillet when next I kill one of the beasts. They have been good this year.’
‘It may not be as per tradition,’ she said with a nod, ‘but we all deserve it.’ She gave him a last kiss on the cheek. ‘Don’t forget the sugar. And come back early enough so the boys can churn some cream.’
‘Sugar, flour, fillet, come home early. Easy!’ He grabbed the fillet off the table and waved her off with it.
Outside, the boys were running around in the vegetable garden. At the sight of their father walking down the garden path to the road leading into town, they abandoned their game and caught him up. It wasn’t long before they started chasing each other once again, though. The farmer smiled as he watched them charging up and down the road, swinging from low-hanging branches and scattering flocks of birds in the grass. He was half-tempted to run around with them, but the day was quickly warming up and, after a moment’s consideration, he decided he’d leave the games to them. Wait until he was back in their good graces.
Candlewood was the busiest he had ever seen it. Flouncing ruffles and elaborate embroidery were everywhere as the visiting nobility enjoyed all that their hosts’ town had to offer. The farmer found himself walking more straight-backed than he normally would, hands folded behind him as he impressed the town’s courtesy on its guests. Even the boys kept their energy to a minimum, watching the nobility with fascination.
The farmer called them over with a low whistle, then dropped to a crouch as he took a few copper coins from his pocket. ‘Now, so that we can get home in time to get dessert ready, I’ll need you boys to buy the flour.’ He took his eldest son’s hand and pressed the five copper coins into it. ‘You know where the miller is?’
The boys both nodded.
‘Good, go and get a bag of flour from him and meet me again at the baker’s in town.’
‘Can we get a fruit bun?’ the youngest cried.
The farmer lifted his eyebrows as though surprised. ‘You’re already getting dessert tonight!’
‘But we’re not getting steak,’ the eldest pouted.
‘Nice try,’ the farmer said with a wry grin. He ruffled his son’s hair and swung to his feet. ‘I need you both on your best behaviour. Our town’s on show all week.’
‘Yes, Father,’ the boys chimed, then ran off down the street towards the river.
The farmer sauntered through the streets, admiring the red and golden ribbons strung between the houses to welcome the visitors. Quite a crowd had gathered at the town square, where he could see the wagon of a travelling merchant peeking out above the heads of the many visitors. Doubtless more would arrive over the coming days, ready to capitalise on the rich visitors.
The gold of the castle gates, too, was polished and gleaming. The guards there greeted him with broad smiles.
‘Oh, is that the fillet?’ one of the two asked, her eyes darting straight to the bundle in the farmer’s hand. ‘The messenger told us you’d be stopping by. Master Vermilion will be thrilled.’
The farmer smiled at their beaming faces. ‘We aim to please,’ he said with a modest shrug. ‘Just around to the kitchens?’
The guard nodded. ‘You know where to go. Thank you on the master’s behalf, if he doesn’t have the chance to tell you himself.’
The farmer nodded his thanks and stepped through the gate. Around the back of the castle was the kitchen entrance, where he received even more gushing thanks from the head chef.
He laughed it off with a shake of his head. ‘It’s my boys the master should be thanking,’ he said with another shrug, though he felt a stab of lament seeing his fillet disappearing into the castle kitchens. He had been looking forward to it as much as the boys, if truth be told.
‘I don’t doubt,’ the chef said with a shake of her head. She took him by the shoulders and planted a kiss on each cheek. ‘Here, eight silvers with compliments from Master Vermilion. I’d love to stay and chat, but we’re hectic, as well you might imagine!’
‘Of course,’ the farmer said as he looked down at the eight silver coins in his palm. He would usually make only a little more than that for an entire cow. It made the loss of the steak a little easier to bear. ‘I have my share of errands myself. Good luck for this evening!’
‘Not to mention the rest of the week!’ the chef agreed. ‘And thank you again!’
The farmer wandered back down the hill again to the baker. The boys were both there already, with a telltale red coat standing behind them. They bolted up the street when they saw their father approaching, yelling and squealing at the top of their lungs.
‘Hey, now, what did I say about best behaviour?’
The boys lowered their voices but didn’t lose any of their enthusiasm. They were all but jumping out of their skins as they bounced on their toes before him.
‘Look what Master Vermilion gave us!’ the eldest cried. Both of them held out a copper coin each, gleaming in the sunlight. ‘Can we buy a fruit bun, now, please Father?’
‘Please?’ the youngest added.
The farmer smiled, flicking his eyes to where the long red coat stood by the door to the bakery. The young master lifted a hand in a wave, and the farmer reflected that these two copper coins were the first the boys had ever had to call their own.
‘Those are your coins,’ he told them, his voice lending gravity to his words. ‘You can do whatever you wish with them.’
The boys paused, looking down at their coins with new respect. The farmer could almost see the world of possibilities unfolding behind their eyes. In their minds, they could buy anything.
‘I want a fruit bun!’ the eldest announced.
‘Me, too!’ the youngest agreed.
The farmer laughed. ‘Off you go, then,’ he said with a wave of his hand. The boys ran laughing back to the bakery, shouting their thanks to Master Vermilion as they dashed past him.
The master himself sauntered up, his hands in his pockets and long coat swept back behind him. Even in the warmth of early autumn, he wore that coat. The farmer wondered if he would be recognised in town without it.
‘Thank you, good farmer,’ he said with a wide smile. ‘I apologise profusely for imposing on what was clearly going to be a great feast at your home tonight. I trust the chef paid you accordingly?’
‘And more,’ the farmer agreed with a bow. ‘Thank you, Sir.’
‘No, no, my good man, your family are the saviours today! Trust me when I say a minor crisis has been averted. Those who dine on your fillet this evening will know just where it came from.’
The farmer once again gave his modest shrug. ‘Well, you’re welcome, then, Master. I wish you luck this evening.’
Vermilion’s smile softened as his gaze turned toward the castle. ‘Me, too, my friend. Me, too.’
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Date: 2013-11-07 02:47 pm (UTC)I love the sense of community in this, and the underlying feel that it’s all building up towards something.
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Date: 2013-11-08 01:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-11-12 09:50 am (UTC)YOU STOLE OUR STEAK - WE WILL HAVE ALL THE OTHER FOODS >:(
Master Vermillion is actually starting to seem like a nice kind of guy. I just can't trust a crimson coat >_> crimson coats are always up to something ...
Still an effortless read. The detail is great - it all feels so interconnected.
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Date: 2013-11-12 10:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-11-12 12:56 pm (UTC)(Danté is smoking but he's a jackass. Case in point.)
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Date: 2013-11-12 01:25 pm (UTC)(Danté was a complete dick <3)
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Date: 2015-01-28 12:13 pm (UTC)I love the feeling that describing something as "dark" as "shining". It makes you really feel her uniform is made of some gorgeous material.
Man, the lengths people will go to for a fillet. I feels them. I FEELS THEM ALL. The mesengerfor needing it, and the boys for losing their meat. lol
Man this chapter is like food porn. Figs and dates with cheese, mmmm. I do enjoy when you talk food.
The descriptions of everything is so awesome. Like how he walks straighter, how proud they are of their town. THE BOYS ARE ADORABLE what the heck. I wonder what bad Llayan children are like. They all seem gorgeous.
So relaxed. Guards just like "Oh hey, yeah go round back" ITS LIKE WHAT EVEN IS THIS. I'm so used to Kazin XD
Vermillion, you are very kind but I bet having your hands in your pockets is quite rude in Llayad. QUITE RUDE. But omfg what a cutie, giving the babies some money. Such a sweetheart. (I bet they were like "We're not having fillet because of you" and he was guilted into it)
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Date: 2015-01-30 12:29 pm (UTC)Bad Llayan children? Probably Lynnlita, precocious and speaking out of turn X3
Idk why they even have guards. Keeping up appearances, prolly, like the castles themselves.