Inheritance

Month 1 – Week 4

Kron – Horde Territory and The Treaty Line

Kron whistled jovially as he headed out on his patrol. Carrith gave him a queer-eyed shake of his head as if the younger male couldn’t understand what his deal was. That was just fine with Kron. Every day he went down to the edge of Orc lands to see the progress on the farmhouse. He tried not to think of it as his farmhouse, really, he did. After all, it wasn’t as if he’d be living in it or working on the farm, but he couldn’t help feeling a little possessive of it.

It was because his willful disobedience to the Hive was the reason that day by day the little structure grew in the middle of a muddy field that was once part of the forest. Whatever magic had led him to discover it had not yet seemed to disagree with his actions. The stream he had followed ended in a boggy marshy depression a hundred yards from where the foundation of the house had been laid. He’d overheard one of the workers saying that because of the nearby water they wouldn’t be able to build a proper cellar on the place.

The local workers seemed quite distraught by the idea that there wouldn’t be a cellar in the house but the man from the Matriarchy who oversaw everything didn’t seem to care at all. They had a few weeks to finish the house, the attached barn, and fencing around the lot of it for a pasture. He was not inclined to dither about with unnecessary features. The foreman could add in their own cellar afterward if they so chose.

Personally, Kron thought the man was a cretin for suggesting doing anything less than was best for his farmhouse. Hastily, Kron made his way to the starting point of the path. He’d been trying to find other ways to get to it so that he didn’t go the same route every day. His secret wouldn’t be very secret if anyone could follow him without difficulty because he’d forged a trail right to it. So far, he’d found the best tactic was to bypass the pool entirely and come to the path at different points along the stream. Then at night, he could follow the stream home, its waters shimmering with starlight and the dancing reflections of unseasonal fireflies and glowing mushrooms.

If he looked inside himself for too long, he’d be torn apart by the aching betrayal of the female he loved. How Kerim’s adoration had turned to disgust and hatred so easily he could not know. Those thoughts were the way to madness and the rage he couldn’t afford to have ever again. As his whole world had once orbited around Kerim and their life together, now the farm was his reason. It was a flimsy one.

Yet it was holding him steady to have something to focus on, something that required him to want tomorrow to come. And this tomorrow he was going to see what else needed doing on the farmhouse. Would there be enough timber to finish it? Would they need to fell more trees, or would there be another shipment? What about the barn?

He loped through the woods, long strides covering ground at a pace no human could ever hope to match. In his haste, he had almost run out from the cover of the trees and into the cleared land which would encompass the farm. He had to be careful not to expose himself or the humans might be frightened into too much vigilance for him to come here as often as he liked.

No one noticed Kron’s sizeable bulk as he sulked in the shadows at the edge of the forest. No additional work had been done on the dwelling and accompanying barn structure. Hostile voices were raised on the wind, their discussion tinged with anger.

There wasn’t enough wood, and though the workers had already been paid, they wouldn’t go further into the Orc territory to get more. The builders had saved on costs by using trees cleared from the building site to put together the buildings. And the local workers hired in town couldn’t and wouldn’t fell more trees from that property. And they most certainly wouldn’t have them transformed into the required structures by the deadline without more help.

The foreman was willing to do the building with the lumber which remained, but someone else would need to do the felling. Unless the fancy woman who they were building this farm for was willing to pay them more money. It was extortion plain and simple.

If they were really afraid of the Orcs those money-grubbing little termites wouldn’t have taken on the job to begin with. It wasn’t fair. He knew the intended resident wasn’t moving here by choice and from what he’d overheard wouldn’t have the funds to pay off some greedy villagers.

An idea was forming in Kron’s head that was absolutely ridiculous but so very interesting. How hard could it possibly be to chop down some trees? The next morning, covered with sticky sap and the scent of greenwood, Kron smiled with exhausted relief at the astonishment of the humans when they arrived and found a pile of freshly felled trunks waiting for them.

He wasn’t going to give them any excuse not to finish on time or any chance to ask for more money.