Our Family Has Fallen

Farm labor was physically demanding, its intensity not low in the slightest. Consequently, the workers had hearty appetites, especially after a night’s digestion.

Although they couldn’t truly indulge in a lavish meal, this life was already beyond what they had dared to dream of before.

Whether working as serfs for a farm owner back in their old homes or laboring for the local Lord, having black bread to eat was considered quite good.

One method the farms used to control rodent infestations was to tell the serfs that any rat they caught was theirs to keep. Those starving serfs would go to any lengths to catch those rats.

On this land, everything belonged to the master. Being allowed to eat rats was already considered a blessing; one could say that rat meat was the only meat they ever got.

And because rats in those days weren’t fat, once skinned, they were as thin as chicken necks—just a layer of skin with hardly any meat. So, the serfs would call rat meat ”chicken necks.”

We’re eating ’chicken’! That’s something only the masters can afford. Life is truly good! they would tell themselves.

You could call it self-deception, but for them, having ”chicken necks” to gnaw on was already quite good. When they were refugees, they didn’t even have ”chicken necks” or black bread.

But now, all of that had become distant memories. The Lord provided them with dwellings, food, and safety. More importantly, he gave them dignity, treating them as actual human beings.

And all they needed to give in return was labor—no, more precisely, it was to build Hamlet.

This was their ”home,” and naturally, they would work hard to build it.

In the farm’s dining hall, a strapping figure stood out. He was seated at a table designed for regular-sized people, but he had to be very careful to squeeze himself in.

While others ate from plates, he ate directly from a basin. His portion of bread and fish porridge was at least three times that of the others, along with five eggs and three cups of milk.

But the others never had any objections, not because they feared him.

It was because his workload was terrifying—more than ten men combined could handle. This hearty breakfast was what he earned through his labor.

Everyone on the farm knew him, the lumberjack with herculean strength—Wild Boar Barin.

He was only thirteen years old at the time. If he hadn’t been too honest about his true age and been turned away, he would have been in the army by then.

”Hey Barin, good morning!”

”Good morning,” Barin responded, holding out an egg. ”Want one?”

”No need, I’m full. You eat more,” the man said, waving his hand. The egg looked several sizes smaller in Barin’s grasp. They were from the same lumber team and were just waiting for Barin to go to work together.

Contrary to his enormous stature, Barin had a very good temper, and everyone liked this big guy.

Barin paid it no mind, quickly finishing his food. He then stood up, his nearly two-meter-tall figure towering conspicuously over the crowd.

Once outside and equipped with his tools, the Lumber Axe, which ordinary people needed two hands to wield, looked like a toy in his.

The sky had just begun to brighten when Barin, like the others, entered the forest on the edge of the farm.

These trees, which had grown rampantly under the influence of the wilderness, were about to meet their nemesis.

Barin swung his axe. Each blow landed with a mighty CRACK, gouging deep into the wood. Trees that took others half a day to fell, he brought down in just a few strokes; he was like a felling machine.

Absorbed in his work, Barin suddenly paused. The others noticed and stopped as well.

”What is it, Barin?”

”There seems to be something in the woods.”

Everyone’s expression changed at his words. The last time Barin had said something similar, a boar weighing nearly five hundred pounds, with tusks like scimitars, had burst out the very next second.

However, they didn’t show too much fear. Instead, they all gathered around, looking eager.

That was because after the boar had charged out, Barin had single-handedly subdued and captured it. It was now in the pigsty for breeding, and they had even received rewards because of it.

This was also how Barin earned his nickname, ”Wild Boar.” Subduing a wild boar bare-handed, without traps or weapons, was an almost inconceivable feat for ordinary people.

If that boar weren’t still in the pigsty for breeding, most people would have dismissed the story as mere boasting.

This was why everyone liked teaming up with Barin. The lumber team worked at the very edge of the cleared land, frequently encountering wild animals.

Other teams might be attacked if they weren’t careful, but with him on their team, they had no fear of such beasts.

Barin, Lumber Axe in hand, headed towards the forest. However, as he drew closer, he found not a wild animal, but a white wolf lying on the ground, covered in wounds.

The others hurried over. Someone had previously inquired about a white-furred wolf, so they all knew this white wolf was the Lord’s pet.

”Isn’t this the Lord’s wolf? Quick, go call for help!”

In the farm’s military barracks, the discussion about equipment hadn’t ended. On the contrary, the men were very interested in these matters that directly concerned them.

”We can’t count on new equipment, but I’ve heard the decision on military uniforms is final. That’s something everyone will get.”

”Who doesn’t know that? If everyone gets one, it means it’s nothing special for us, right?” the Spearman said, not sounding too excited. ”What’s the difference between everyone having one and no one having one?”