Roderick
Roderick paused from turning his field and wiped the sweat from his brow. The sun was hot, but not unbearably so, and the clouds blowing in from the south promised rain. He smiled at them with hope that the harvest would be plentiful this year, and peered at the traveler approaching from down the road.
He was young, probably no more than twenty five years of age, with broad shoulders and a muscular build. His armor was of boiled leather, and he carried his broadsword on his back. His steed was a massive stallion, obviously bred for war.
Roderick drew a deep breath of the fresh spring air and leaned on his mattock as he waited for the young man to draw near.
“Ho there!” he called, waving his hand in greeting.
The young man pulled his horse up short, making it whinny in protest as it anxiously pawed the ground. Clearly, the rider was an impatient and impetuous man.
“Greetings, old man. Is this farm and its hovel your home, or do you work the land for your lord?”
“I have no lord,” Roderick answered. “We are free homesteaders, with our own claim on the land.”
The young man frowned skeptically, as if this yeoman farmer were beneath him. There was a time when Roderick would have bristled at his arrogance, but instead, he inwardly smiled, knowing that his attitude would change quite quickly if he knew that Roderick was of noble blood. But such things mattered little on the frontier.
“How do you protect yourself from brigands and thieves?” the young man asked.
Roderick shrugged. “There is a fort near the town, where the militia trains. If our land is ever raided, we will rally there.”
“And you belong to this militia?”
“Aye,” Roderick answered, smiling inwardly again. “The people of this settlement have elected me to be their sheriff. But we are all equals here.”
The young man drew a sharp breath and spat on the dusty ground. “I’m looking for food and lodging for the night. Can you direct me to a tavern?”
“There is no tavern in this place,” Roderick told him. “Not yet, at least. But you are welcome to stay with me and my family for the night.”
“Very well,” said the young man. “How much shall I pay you?”
“No payment is necessary. Honest travelers are always welcome in our house.”
The young man blinked in surprise. “I thank you for your hospitality, good sir.”
“Of course,” said Roderick, taking the horse’s reins. The young man dismounted and shook his hand warmly. Perhaps he was not so haughty as Roderick had first thought.
“What is your name?” he asked as the young man walked beside him.
“Petyr the young, of House Hukvald,” the young man answered. “My father was a knight, and won his wealth by valor and the sword. But as the youngest son, the inheritance falls to my brothers.”
“I see,” said Roderick. “So you seek to win your fortune on the road?”
“Not exactly.” Petyr glanced over his shoulder, then leaned in close. “I seek the lost and fabled city of Xulthar. Perhaps you have heard of it?”
“Aye,” said Roderick, nodding. “I have heard a few stories about such a place.”
“Xulthar is no mere myth,” Petyr said excitedly. “It was once the center of culture and civilization, the crown jewel of a magnificent empire. Its riches were incomparable!”
“What became of this lost city?” asked Roderick, feigning ignorance.
Petyr shrugged. “Some claim that it fell in a single day, its inhabitants consumed by a dark and evil power. Others claim that its citizens delved too deep, and some great evil rose up from the earthy depths. But whatever the case, it lies in ruin somewhere in the desert that borders these lands.”
“Have any returned to tell of it?”
“None that I have heard. But they say that after the plague years, its coin began to circulate anew.”
“I remember,” said Roderick, rubbing the horse’s nose as he led it toward the house. “The coin of Xulthar used to be quite common in these parts. But it seems to have fallen out of fashion.”
“Even so,” Petyr said excitedly, “the fact that it circulated at all can only mean one thing!”
“What is that?” Roderick asked, feigning ignorance again. But Petyr was too impassioned to notice.
“It means that the riches of Xulthar are real! Though the city lies in ruins, the fabled treasure must still remain!”
Roderick raised an eyebrow. “Aye, that may be true, young lad. But you are not the first adventurer to seek the riches of Xulthar. What if someone else has already found the treasure, and kept it secret all these years?”
Petyr’s expression turned sullen, almost enough for Roderick to pity the young man. “I cannot believe that is true,” he said at length, “for if it were, would we not hear of it?”
Roderick shrugged. “Perhaps, or perhaps not. It is difficult to say.”
They reached the fence that ringed the farmhouse. Roderick’s ten year-old son Francis came running out to meet them, his little sister Elsa following in tow.
“Papa! Papa! Who have you brought home with you?”
“This is Petyr, a traveler who is passing through these parts. Petyr, my son Francis and daughter Eva.”
“Pleased to meet you both,” the Petyr said, politely nodding.
Eva went wide-eyed and turned to run back to the house. Francis, meanwhile, stared at the traveling adventurer in awe.
“Francis, can you take this man’s horse to our barn and rub him down? Our friend has journeyed long today.”
“Yes, Father,” Francis said obediently. He took the reins and led the horse to the barn, glancing back over his shoulder and nearly tripping over a stone.
“When you’re done, feed him a bucket of oats and be sure to leave him plenty of water.”
“Yes, Father!”
“You are too kind, sir,” Petyr said gratefully. “Is he your oldest?”
“Second oldest,” said Roderick. “His elder sister is fixing our supper with my wife. Shall we go in and see them?”
“By all means,” said Petyr, following Roderick to the farmhouse.
Laria
“Mama, Mama!” Eva shouted as she burst into the house. “Papa is coming—and he has a stranger with him!”
“Shh!” Laria chided her, putting a finger to her mouth. “Not so loud—you’ll wake the baby!”
Little Eva suddenly became self-conscious as she glanced through the bedroom door at the cradle in the corner. Thankfully, the one year-old infant inside still slept soundly. To reassure her, Laria leaned down and put an arm around Eva’s shoulder.
“Thank you for telling me, dear. I’m glad that you were watching out for us.”
“What sort of stranger is Papa bringing home?” Anya asked from beside the fireplace, where she tended a pot of stew. They had just made some dumplings together, which sat on the cutting board on the table, ready to be put in.
“A warrior!” Elsa said, her eyes widening in awe and wonder. “He has a scary horse, and an even scarier sword!”
“Sounds like a passing adventurer,” Laria said. She glanced at Anya, whose eyes lit up with anticipation, just like her little sister.
“Is he young?” Anya asked. “Is he handsome?”
“Not young enough for you,” Laria answered, patting her on the head. At twelve years old, Anya was too young to yet take an interest in boys—though all too soon, that would start to change.
“Mama!” Anya said petulantly. “I’m not just a child. Don’t I help you around the house?”
“Yes, you do, dear, and I’m very grateful for that. Will you put the dumplings in while I go see what Papa is about? I’m sure you’ll get a chance to see the stranger soon.”
Anya nodded, and Eva went off to play with her younger brother Tomas, who was playing on the rug on the floor. Roderick and Laria had five children now, which made for a very crowded homestead, especially since Tomas now slept in the loft with his three older siblings.
The house had only two rooms: a living room and kitchen, with the loft overhead, and the bedroom for Mama and Papa—and of course, the baby. Soon, they would have to build an addition, as there wasn’t enough room in the loft for five children. Laria didn’t mind how cozy it felt, though, and neither did the kids, since they spent most of their time outside playing when they weren’t helping her around the house.
In some ways, life as a free woman was harder than life as a slave. But the fruits of her labor were all hers now, and her family was more than she could have ever asked for. As Laria watched Eva and Tomas play, she remembered how she used to think that her only hope for happiness was to find a good master and give him all she had. Now, she knew that was only partially true, for it was not to a master that she gave herself now, but freely to her husband and children.
Outside, Roderick and the stranger were talking beside the well, just out of earshot from the house. Laria stood in the doorway and shook out her apron, waiting for Roderick to notice. When he did, he handed the bucket and dipper to the stranger, who washed his hands while his host walked over to talk to his wife.
“Good evening, dear,” said Roderick, greeting her with a kiss.
“And to you as well, though I hope you’ll follow our guest’s example and wash yourself before stepping inside.”
Roderick grinned at her. His brawny arms and calloused hands were encrusted with dirt from laboring in the fields. He genuinely enjoyed the work, though, and it made her happy to see it.
“Of course, my love,” he told her. “I wouldn’t dream of tracking dirt into your home.”
“Our home,” she corrected him, leaning in for another kiss. “Who is our guest? Eva said he was some sort of warrior.”
“Aye,” he told her, becoming suddenly serious. “His name is Petyr, and he’s a young scion of a noble house, seeking the city of Xulthar.”
“Of Xulthar?” she asked, folding her arms. “Have you told him of our—”
“No,” he said quickly. “I haven’t told him anything, and I don’t plan to.”
“Why not? I assume you want to dissuade him from such a futile quest. After all, there wasn’t much left of the place after we left.”
“Aye,” he said absently, glancing over his shoulder as he folded his arms. “But a man has to carve his own path through the world, and I doubt he’ll take the right message from our tale. At best, he won’t believe it, and at worst, it will harden his resolve.”
“You’re probably right,” Laria admitted. The young adventurer did bear a certain resemblance to Roderick before he’d settled down. Her memories of that time brought a smile to her lips.
“Are you going to introduce us?” she asked.
Roderick nodded and took her hand. Together, they walked up to the well.
“Petyr,” he said, addressing the stranger. “Allow me to introduce my wife, Laria.”
“Milady,” he said, bowing in the fashion of more civilized lands. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“The pleasure is mine,” she said, wondering what he would think of her if he’d known she’d spent most of her life as a common slave.
“Your husband was telling me that I’m not the first adventurer to come through these parts,” Petyr said eagerly, “nor the first you’ve met who seeks the fabled city of Xulthar. Is that true?”
She cast a sideways glance at her husband, though subtly enough that their guest did not take notice. “That’s right,” she said cryptically, “though you’d probably find their reasons for seeking the city to be quite strange.”
“Is that so?” he asked, suddenly quite interested.
“Indeed. Most people seek Xulthar for its legendary riches, but another traveler who passed through here sought the lost city not for treasure, but the truth.”
“The truth?”
“That’s right,” said Roderick. “He wanted to know the truth behind the curse of the coin of Xulthar. Have you heard of it?”
“Oh, yes,” said Petyr dismissively. “I’ve heard all the rumors and tales. Frankly, it seems that was just an excuse to blame all the hardship from the plague years on some external force. I doubt the coin was ever actually cursed.”
Roderick and Laria glanced at each other with subtly laughing eyes. Petyr, of course, was too taken by his own opinions to notice.
“Still,” said Roderick, “there may have been some truth to the rumors. Else why would the coin appear so suddenly, and disappear almost as swiftly?”
Petyr shook his head. “Whatever force of magic caused the city’s infamous fall, I doubt that it still infests the place, after so many centuries of ruin.”
“Aye,” said Roderick, surprising him with a slap on the shoulder. “I like the way you think, lad.”
“Enough about Xulthar,” Laria changed the subject. “You must be exhausted. Will you join us for dinner? We have duck stew and dumplings cooking in the pot, and there’s more than enough for all of us.”
“And if you don’t mind sleeping in the barn,” Roderick added, “you’re welcome to spend the night here as well.”
Petyr bowed deeply. “Thank you for your hospitality. I hope I’m not too much of a burden on—”
“Nonsense!” said Laria, turning to face their humble homestead. She cupped her hands over her mouth and shouted: “Anya! Francis! Eva! Tomas! Time to wash up for supper!”
Moments later, three children spilled out of the house, while Francis came running from the barn. The sight of the four of them never ceased to bring a smile to Laria’s lips.
“You have quite a lovely family,” Petyr remarked as they washed up. It was a chaotic but happy affair, as were most of their family activities. Anya and the younger children watched Petyr shyly.
“Thank you,” said Laria. “There’s one more you haven’t met, but he’s sleeping in his crib. We’ll introduce you to them all over dinner.”
“I look forward to it, Milady.”
“Please—just call me Laria. We have no noble houses in these parts.”
Roderick glanced sideways at her and winked. That, too, was only half a truth, but it was gratifying to see that he had no qualm about it. She returned the wink and began to walk back to the house.
“Eva! Tomas!” she called out over her shoulder. “Come help me set the table. Anya, get the food ready, and Francis, see to the comfort of our guest.”
The children scurried about, showing only a vague inclination to follow her instructions. She let out an exasperated sigh, but inwardly smiled at the happy chaos of her home.
Roderick
The dawn’s soft rays warmed the dew-kissed plains. Hand in hand, Roderick and Laria walked with Petyr to the fence at the edge of their homestead, his horse plodding beside them.
“Please,” he said, reaching for his money pouch. “I must repay you for your generosity.”
“Nay,” said Roderick. “The pleasure was ours. Besides, you’ll have more need for that coin than we.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to settle down here?” Laria asked him. “Our settlement is still harassed by bandits from time to time. We could use a good knight like you.”
Petyr shook his head. “I’m sorry, Milady. My destiny lies in the desert.”
Where have I heard that before? Roderick couldn’t help but reflect. He fingered the silver locket beneath his shirt.
“If that’s the case,” he said aloud, “you should probably trade your horse for a camel at the next town. And be careful in the oases—the fey undines watch those waters carefully.”
Petyr scoffed. “Undine nymphs? Next you’ll tell me that the treasures of Xulthar are guarded by walking skeletons.”
Roderick and Laria glanced meaningfully at each other. Should we tell him? she mouthed silently as Petyr mounted his steed. Roderick shook his head.
“You’ve got a long journey ahead of you, lad,” he said, helping Petyr into his saddle. “Long enough that you may not yet know where it leads.”
“Of course I know where it leads,” Petyr retorted. “It leads to the legendary city!”
“Aye,” said Roderick. “That’s certainly the dream. And what is life without something impossible to dream for?”
“Just don’t be surprised if the fates have something better for you,” Laria added.
Petyr gave them both a quizzical look, then turned his horse about and trotted through the gate. “Farewell!” he called out behind him.
“Farewell!” Roderick and Laria called in return, waving until he passed out of view over the next hill.
“Do you think he’ll be alright?” Laria asked as they returned to the house, her voice filled with motherly concern.
“Aye,” laughed Roderick. “In another year or two, he’ll probably find a girl somewhere and settle down like us.”
“You’re not afraid that he’ll die out there, alone in the desert wastes?”
Roderick thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. “Nay, Laria. ‘Tis good to dream the impossible dream, and tread the untrodden road for a season. Else how can a man look back on his life and be satisfied with what he has become?”
The younger children came running out of the farmhouse, yelling as they played their imaginative little games. Francis stepped out of the barn with two buckets full of fresh milk, while Anya scattered corn for the chickens in the yard. Soon, it would be time for breakfast, and another day’s labor in the fields. It was a hard life, but a rewarding one, and there was nowhere else Roderick would rather be.
As if in answer to his thoughts, Laria smiled and squeezed his hand. “And are you satisfied, my dear husband?”
He answered her nary a word, but with a long and lingering kiss instead. It was enough.
