Sixth Son: Villager in Another World 2

Two.

After we ate, we pushed back our bowls and sat a bit. Father continued to talk to Primus a bit about the upcoming season, but he was not the talkative sort, so he took down his clay pipe from near the stone fireplace and chomped down on it, though he rarely lit it. That was the signal that dinner was over.

The rest of us went into action. Primus brought the dishes to the kitchen. Mother followed him to do the washing. Secondus wiped the table. I fetched tea dregs from the kitchen and scattered the damp, spent leaves to keep the dust down, while Tertius swept. The Q’s, Quartus and Quintus, took the scraps to the dog. Both of them got along with the old mutt well, while it growled at me. Oddly, it only growled at me.

Since my chore was done the fastest, I returned to our room to prepare for bed first, so I wouldn’t hold up my older brothers. I poured some water into a basin from an earthenware pitcher, stripped, and wiped myself while standing. I wrung out my cloth as well as I could and left it to hang dry near the fire. Fortunately, the weather had warmed a bit.

Two beds occupied most of the room. They were troughs of wood that contained hay. Three of us slept in each.

My part of the bed was the furthest for the door. Pegs projected from the each posts for our clothes. I hung up my shirt, pants, and under linen and swapped them out for my nightdress. My brothers filed in to complete their nightly routines.

“You’re a neat one,” Tertius observed from his bed from the odds side.

“It’s gets itchy if I don’t do this,” I answered as I finished.

By the time that I was nestled in my box of straw with my sheet drawn over me.

“Everyone in bed?” Primus asked.

Secondus gave his usual grunt, while the rest of us called out.

“Sleep well, brothers,” Primus concluded.

So we went to bed like any other night. However, unlike other nights, I awoke soon after I went to sleep. I slowly made out, Quintus’s lean form next to my bed. Could not see his expression in the low, ruddy light. However, I could make out the dull gloss from the thin metal object in his right hand.

Sixth Son: Villager in Another World 1

One.

It was Sunday night, and as was family tradition, we had stew. Barring holiday foods, it was our favorite. The best soup had a broth made from soup bones. Tonight we had some luck with mutton bones. Onions and brown mushrooms gave the base depth. Parsnips layered on sweetness to the just cooked cabbage. Overcooking the cabbage would make it smell, but the barely wilted leaves were essential to a hearty meal. A few broad beans lent depth.

While the cast could get quite large depending on the season, the star was always the meat when we could get it. The best was the rare boar, but any meat was welcome. Often there was none to be had, and tonight was a good night, since there was a bit of mutton that came off the bone. A pinch of salt brought out all of the flavors.

At the head of the rustic table, our solid and stolid Dad gave a prayer to the gods of the hearth and the fields. After concluding, he turned his final thanks to Ma, who sat at the end of the table.

“Ma, your soup is always the best. My thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied simply.

My brothers and I gave a quick thanks, tore chunks of dark, hearty bread, and set into the meal. Each day, Ma had to bake at least two loaves for her, Dad, and six growing sons.

To keep track of us, we had been simply named following Latin. All of my brothers were tall for their age, had Dad’s sandy hair, and some shade of gray.

Next to Dad sat the eldest brother Primus. At fifteen, he was almost as tall as Dad, but still growing. He shared the same rugged features, down to the wave of their hair and the shade of their eyes. They both doled out their words sparingly. Though nine years separated us, we got along well.

Across from Primus sat Secondus who was stouter, stronger, but slower than Primus. After Secondus hit his growth spurt, Primus had quickly decided that wrestling was for children. He was smaller than Primus by two years.

There was a gap of three years between stout Secondus and the thin Tertius, who was clever with his hands. Back on the evens side, Quartus sat between Secondus and me. He was only a year separated from Quintus and they were as thick as thieves. I was the baby of the family. Three years separated Quintus from me, so I got left behind while Quart & Quint ran with a group of village boys.

Unlike the older five of my brothers, I was slight and short for my age. My hair and eyes were dark, verging on black, and my eyes had a slight angle to them.

Our calm and usually placid Ma sat at the foot of the table next to Quintus & I, though we could eat by ourselves. She asked Quintus about his day, since he was outside until the sun came low. That was a bit odd, since he usually jabbered with Quartus throughout dinner. Quartus had tried to speak to him a couple of times, but stopped with a shrug at his one word answers. He seemed to glance at me several times, though. I thought nothing of it. It seemed like another ordinary Sunday dinner.

Launching 100 Steps Fiction

I was listening to a podcast that came on after my usual dose of Captain Capitalism. Mr. Piggott from Pushing Rubber Downhill thanked the good Captain for his advice on his 100th podcast. The best advice was consistency.

So I've thought about it, and I'm going to put out 100 posts of ONE fiction, minimum 500 words, once a week here. Post deadline will be Sunday midnight Eastern Time.

I will store up some posts for off weeks & vacations, but I will get into the swing of things.