The Dirt Looks Good Today

PTH PTH

The rhythmic beating of metal against soil. In particularly dry periods, it would sound closer to the clanging of rocks. The fact that the dark ground gives way is a good sign.

PTH PTH

No weeds or alien grasses. The collapsing grains rest in a warm blanket of man's creation. It's a perfect line, the hundredth since I first started this morning. The plowing cattle were, unfortunately, delegated to the neighbours today.

PTH PTH

There is no sound quite like the collisions of a hoe against the ground. I could have sworn that the first sound to greet my infant ears was that of a plate of metal fastened to a splintered wooden stick.

PTH PTH

The sound hasn't changed much over the years.

I would know, my palms were calloused almost as soon as I could stand. My parents could have put anything in these hands of mine. A sword would have been a rich sight. I wouldn't have minded a pen either. They only have themselves to blame for the fact that I can't read.

PTH PTH

"Well, I suppose they didn't have much of a choice…"

I wipe the sweat from just above my eyes, applying the sweat from my arm there instead.

There is only farmland for as far as one can see. Occasionally the sight is broken by a patch of trees or a house, but those don't make the picture any prettier. You can only get so much inspiration from half-rotted planks.

"That should be enough for today!"

A ringing in the wind is formed when I swing the metal head just over my shoulder. With the Sun beating down as hard as it is, I'm lucky nobody was around to be blinded by the reflection.

"We're in for a good harvest this season."

I tap my feet against the deep brown and admire my work as I slowly scale the wide lands. It's a ten minute walk to the main road, and seeing it from afar doesn't help your motivation. If you can just start to see it, then you're still only halfway there. With the exception of a few outliers, the soil looks healthy the whole way there.

Only a hundred metres remain in my trek when a few figures come into view. A meandering carriage travels almost as slowly as I do, assuming taking the only road counts as meandering. It's a set of wheels I remember well. New management had it replaced a few years ago, so it took me a year to commit this one to memory. Walking on either side are soldiers in steel armour.

"Here we go again…"

How kind of them to wait for me to ever slowly make my way over. I absolutely slowed my stride during the last leg.

"Rado Huward! How are you faring today?"

Stepping out from behind the curtains is a young man, one much younger than me. He wears a velvet tunic of a brilliant blue and trousers of an unsoiled white. That colour isn't the woad of us commonfolk, but the intricate dyes of high status. Even his smile is only for the sake of professional pleasantries.

"I am as well as any other day, Milord. What brings you so far from home?"

"We are simply here for a little chat!"

Someone of my status should be honoured to have a noble journey from his distant manor to the land of the labourers. Perhaps if he cared to serve some of his fine tea and sugared biscuits, I might have been convinced to see him in a positive light. That is not possible with the way the young man waltzes down the steps alongside his personal bodyguard. The boy in armour plants a longsword at his feet, just behind his master.

Stopping within swinging distance, the young lord looks at my face with hands folded behind him.

"I would first like to thank you for your efforts! It was a good harvest this season! However, I believe you require some…feedback."

"And what would that be Milord?"

This boy holds my livelihood in his hands, but that doesn't stop me from shoving my hand into a pocket and looking down at him with disinterest. Fully understanding his position, the young lord does not pay my demeanour any mind.

"The amount you provided was…a little less than satisfactory. It is quite troubling for me if you are unable to provide ample produce."

"It was a bad season. The soil didn't feel right."

"I'm afraid you might be misunderstanding something."

He gets one step closer, putting him in prime strangling range. He even makes it easy by reaching his peachy face close to mine. His voice is quiet, but his intent is painfully loud.

"You are a farmer, are you not? It is your job to make the yields happen!"

He places a soft hand on my shoulder and motions out to the land around us.

"If the soil 'isn't feeling right', you make it 'feel right'! That is what we pay you for!"

With a boney finger tapping against my chest, I look down at the soil before nodding.

"Hm, I get it. You want better soil."

"Exactly—!"

"In that case."

His hand loses hold as I crouch down. My fingers run through the freshly tilled dirt, feeling every tiny piece of sand of clay amongst the brown. After a few seconds of digging, they find what they're looking for.

"It sounds like you should have a conversation with this gentleman instead."

I hold up what I find and watch the colour drain from the boy's face.

"AHHH!"

Between my grimy fingers is a creature no longer than my palm. It dangles around with its many legs and hard shell, reaching out for anything to grab hold of. Peeking out over my thumb is a set of mandibles and a pair of beady black eyes.

Just the sight makes the young lord take several steps back.

"GET IT AWAY! GET! IT! AWAY!"

His screams hurt my ears, but that doesn't stop me moving the bug closer. I'm simply having too much fun.

"You wanted good soil, so I brought in someone in charge."

"What does that THING have anything to do with this!?"

"Nobody better to ask than good ol' firefly larvae. Here, have a nice long chat with an expert."

"N-NO!"

He is now cowering with the carriage at his back. With only a few more steps, I can help him get real familiar with these squirming legs.

WOOSH

A sharp gust tears directly in front of me. My reaction time isn't fast enough to have seen the blade, but I was fortunate enough to have received mercy. I take a step back a few seconds later.

"Enough of this!"

"Easy there, bud! Almost lobbed the little guy's head off!"

"And I will lob off yours as well!"

The young knight pushes between me and his master. His face is a twisted red and his sword points just short of my neck.

"Any more of this and I will not miss again!"

"Alright, alright. I hear you."

I put my hand up in surrender, the adolescent insect still dangling. I've had my entertainment for the day.

"I-In any case!"

It took the young lord a minute of deep breaths to recover, but he stands tall once more. He continues in a business manner that includes slightly disheveled hair.

"This is your last warning! I expect ample supply in the next harvest!"

With a huff, the noble turns and reenters his carriage. His personal knight flashes a look of animosity before entering as well.

"It ain't my fault that the dirt was feeling poorly…"

I mumble my grievances once the horses turn to travel from whence they came. In the corner of my eye, I see the dirt perfectly sectioned off from the road.

"That shouldn't be an issue this time around…"

In my eyes, the dirt seems to be glowing. I could almost feel the lethargy of the ground coming out of this winter. Now, it seems to be reaching out with a spirit ready to deliver.

"Glad to see you doing well."

"..."

There is a response, one that I can feel.

People call me crazy when I start talking to the ground, but they are simply blind. How could they not feel its reply in the winds? You can open your mouth and taste the sting of the world's determination. That tickling feeling atop your skin, that is the sky telling you to drink well. In my eyes, nature visibly shines when it has something to say.

My knees creak as they bend.

Through all of the little pains, I reach out a hand and pat the world itself. This is the least I can do for a friend that has watched over me my whole life.

"Looking forward to your help this season as well."