| Well, things had certainly been busy lately, hadn't they? The Battle of Eldin had been harsh and arduous, essentially a suicide mission after their so-called leader had abandoned them at the start of the battle, leaving them to die a disorganized unit. Josh hadn't thought, he just did. And that had ensured they were still alive. But he hadn't expected the bedlam that followed. Trials and politics, a near-execution, and then knighting. Then lordship. It was just... So much. So much expectation, so much pressure. As if his life hadn't already been turned on its head, it still seemed as though this life of his wasn't through with throwing him for a loop.
But here... Here, on his farm, or Dragelion Ranch to be specific, none of that existed. He got the occasional letter here and there, and he always knew that these cherished moments would be fleeting. But for the most part it was just him, the crops, the livestock and several acres of farmland all to himself. And to Selene, when she was around. Here, he was in his happy place. A relaxing place. Away from all the world's stresses. It was hard work, but he liked it.
Though it admittedly got a little lonely when she was gone. He wasn't used to living on this farm alone, and honestly, the farm looked a lot bigger than it used to when he was here alone. Selene wasn't here right now, likely trying to take care of whatever in the world had been unleashed in her political kerfuffle. So he had the ranch to himself until he was next called to action.
When the young lady rapped on the door, she would find no answer. The noise though, attracted the attention of a large dog. The canine let out a series of deep-throated borks as though it were trying to ward off an attacker, but in truth, the creature was just excited if the rampant tail wagging was any indication. The hefty, golden-furred canine would sniff at her cautiously, before promptly trying to jump up to lick the young lady's face.
"Oi! Down!"
The tone was firm, but calm. A military man's tone. The dog stopped quickly, but stayed below her trying to beg for attention, big brown eyes staring at her. The source of the voice soon followed: A young man in his mid-20s, wearing a spun farming tunic. Obviously considering the age that his thought-to-be-deceased younger sister had been at time-of-death, the farmboy wasn't going to see a young adult and recognize her immediately, so there was no shock and tears just yet. But he did put down the basket of bottles filled with fresh milk that he had been lugging back to the homestead. That allowed him to curtly bow his head in a practiced manner. The lady didn't look like she was dressed as the nobles did, but considering the King had shown up at his door in a shawl last time, he wasn't taking any chances. When he spoke, his manner of speech would be a bit more refined than she'd perhaps remember -- a reminder that he'd been a military man for many a year. But there was still that softness, that slight casual flair that only one who had grown up on a farm or small country town would find sticking to them.
"How may I be of service, young miss?"
|
