The Blood of The Crops

Saga walked out soon after his Father, not addressing Myra’s growing confusion as he headed back towards the forest, where a branching path lay towards the first farm outside the dead land. A farm where every farmer had to go to get some sort of pay and food on the table. Dread filled Saga as he thought about the farm. The lingering aura of greed and the ever imposing threat of death had made itself home into those fields. There were almost 200 workers, dozens die every week, dropping onto the crops like flies. The work was nothing but tilling the dirt and picking wheat for hours on end. The pay was negligible, giving only one bronze coin for every ten pounds of wheat picked or every five meters of land tilled. With enough work, however, Saga knew he could make enough money today to go to the town and buy more food. Maybe we can have a stew tonight.

It was almost noon when Saga had finally reached the farm. With his gaze on the ground, the noise of several hoes striking the ground filled his ears. He looked up, a grand farm ominously stood over him. A few dozen acres of tilled land covered the area. A tall three-story building with glass windows and white pillars towered over it. A gigantic cross stood on top of the manor, although it seemed the mercy of God had yet to touch this land.

Distaste had started to fill Saga’s head. The owner of this farm: John Ritten, that bastard… To be so lucky as to have land just outside the cursed area, then treat everyone else like shit, as if they don't even have lives… How can he call himself human? So many have died on his land, and he refuses to do anything about it… Nothing but a greedy beast.

As Saga continued to gaze upon the farm, he saw many starved children, women with crying babies still strapped onto their chest, men with only one arm or missing hands, even the elderly were forced to work. Stomping in between the workers was a watchman, thick leather covering his body with an iron helmet keeping his hair down. He looked intently at the workers with wide eyes, waiting for one of them to steal or make a mistake; itching for any reason to beat them with his wooden baton. Blood lust had filled the man's head, every worker he beat was another coin he received. A coin closer to another night in the taverns.

As Saga walked towards the entrance, he could see two guards dragging a man by his arms, his legs scraping against the ground as he tried to resist. His face was bloody and dirty, with a rotting wound in his shoulder. Several bruises covered his naked chest as he limped along, crying and begging the guards to let him stay.

“Please! I can still work just fine- I just need a bit more time… Please!”

The man screamed and cried as they mercilessly threw him out, his frail body being sent into the air before thumping on the ground. He lay there as he sobbed.

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH! You're clearly diseased! And there’s blood leaking all over the ground! What’ll you do when you infect one of us?!

“Please… the money… I need the money for my chi-”

His begging was abruptly ended as another guard came and kicked him in the head with his boot, a steady stream of blood flowed from the wound. Whether or not he was dead did not matter, Saga knew his fate was sealed, the guards would leave him there to die. The surrounding workers didn’t even look this way, the countless times this happened had turned their hearts into stone. Saga’s anger grew onto his face, he quickly lowered his gaze before anyone noticed.

“Remember what you’re here for.” He reminded himself out loud.

Saga approached a guard, who looked at him with disgust while openly chewing tobacco, black teeth contrasted against his dirty white skin. The guard threw him a hoe, landing on the ground just short of Saga.

“Get to work on the field behind me you pig.”

His eyes remained fixed on Saga as he gestured towards the field. The handle was covered in sweat and blood, the blade was haphazardly tied to it with a rope.

Saga went into the field and began to strike the ground, uprooting the tangles of grass and sifting out the rocks that littered the dirt. A long and droning work, an inhuman treatment not fitting for even the worst of animals. A pay that could not have been set by another human being. This Holy Church… Do they really allow such inhumane treatment? How could they side with God as they torture the poor? Hatred swelled as the thoughts consumed Saga’s mind. Every day was the same, every day the same questions rose in Saga’s head as he succumbed to the nightmarish aura.