'Til Kingdom Comes - The Banished Prince Vol 2: Here Comes The Witches

Andy Cole, a 16-year-old lad, from Moor Monkton, a sleepy old settlement of about 211 residents population, lying just about 8 miles from York, had just opened up his sleepy eyes from his straw bed. The house he was living in was made of tree barks and wood that was plastered with mud, soil and dry grass to make it sturdy in the harsh weathers of the plains. It was normal for him to be awake just before the rooster crows as he began his mornings. His father was an arrowsmith while his mother was a fletcher. Living with him was his elder brother, Aaron. There were two such cruck houses for the boys and the parents and it was placed just beside one another. *SMACK* A kick landed on the side of his head as his elder brother had risen earlier than him and had purposely kicked his head in order to wake him up out of disgust. "Wake up, you smelly sack of cobbler's awls. Go and make a fire for morning tea and don't be a Patrick Swayze early this morning, eh!" *SMACK* A slap landed on the back of his head as Andy looked around, rather blurry as he was rudely awakened by his brother. Even if they were blood brothers, he rather felt that he was a kind of an outcast to his only brother. Aaron was just a year and a half older than him and since he was older, he would rather command his poor little brother around rather than help him achieve his own ambitions and plans for the day. It was almost like he was not being able to be autonomous and was under the pressuring shadow of his elder brother. "Oi... Oi... Quit slapping me around like a Berkshire Hunt, will ya. I ain't your tweeny and nobody's tweeny at that, innit. Why don't ya go and get off your Patrick Swayze blade of grass and make yourself one, anyways?" It was normal for the two boys to bicker around in the morning that almost resulted in bruised eyes, fat lips and scratches everywhere as they would go head to head with one another almost every morning. And its almost every day, that Andy would lose out in the morning's squabble and would be ended up having a fat lip like a ham sausage hanging from his mouth...! Andy was the weaker one and ends up being in a headlock and was punched through viciously by Aaron, thus resulting with a swollen face and a fat lip that day. However, today's punishment that was met out to him was bit harsher as one of his eye was bloodshot due to the punches he had received. Aaron threw Andy aside like a rag doll and stormed out of the house after he carried his woodcutter's axe hanging on the wall. Seems today, no one is getting any breakfast of tea after all. Andy wished to be consoled and comforted at that time but he knew that his parents regard this early morning squabbles as part of growing up. "Boys will be boys, so a bit of blood, cuts and grazes are normal for growing up, yeah." that's what his father always say to him after his mother would pat his head and went about their daily undertakings. Life was pretty hard during that time and Andy was longing to be someone who would rise above the ranks of peasants. He was a gong farmer and he was lucky that he got hired as one and dealing with manure from livestock to make dry pat as fuel. He worked long hours from early morning right till late in the evening. His daily salary was a mere 2c and this includes a meal in between. There was no breakfast provided and dinner was served only between 2 to 4 o'clock in the afternoon. Lunch was basically unheard of in Moor Monkton. No matter how hard life was during that time in Moor Monkton, he was able to save up his daily wages as some of the other peasants would be able to sneak in food like hard cheese and bread occasionally from their work areas and share with Andy. The rest of the peasants working with him knew how harsh he was treated by his own elder brother, but what else could they do? They can't interfere because it's a family feud and one had to be strong to withstand those hits and punches that may come serving Andy as breakfast the moment he opens his eyes. "Don't you worry, mates. It's just a small matter. Just take this as an early warning system of not getting to close to a horse's behind today. Hahaha." Andy laughed off his fat lip condition to his friends as he reported work and had gathered his wooden shovel and bucket. This wooden shovel and bucket had been his companion for the past 2 years and in those 2 years, he had learnt the meaning of hardship and survival. The cows, bulls, yaks, bison and water buffalos had already grown accustomed by him and normally would keep perfectly still and waited for Andy to pet them. Every morning he would retrieve all the manure from the livestock and would mix them up with a bit of dry grass and pat them down to become palm-sized patties. These patties or cowpat as what they were called during that time, was laid out in the sun to be sun-dried. The owner of the livestock would then get Andy to haul the pieces into a sack and sold off as fuel once the pat had been bone dry, light and easily combustible. He would then arrange those cowpats into hemp sacks, weighing them about 50 pounds each before his landlord would sell those off. The reason he was hired by the landlord to clear these manure off the pastures was because of those manures were left to dry in the sun, as it would make the pastures unpalatable to the livestock. Just imagine many large piles of manure, with visibly no forms of decomposition, lying about on the whole area of the pastures. Even those bovine would think many times before stepping foot on its own faeces. Hahaha. So with Andy's help, the pastures and stalls were cleared of all manure and were piled up in one area of an unused part of the land. With a garden rake, he would be able to gather dry grass and other whatnot from the ground and use it as an additive for the cowpat to dry. Other than being a gong farmer, he was also an apprentice arrowsmith and a fletcher. He was not given any kind of payment for being an apprentice of these two jobs but he gained a lot of knowledge, a knowledge that was proved to be useful in defeating knights in the future. Even as his parents were an arrowsmith and a fletcher, his parents preferred him to go find his own sources if he wanted to learn the trade and definitely not from them at all. As an apprentice arrowsmith, he learnt about aerodynamics on how certain shapes of an arrowhead would affect its flight. There had been about 6 kinds of arrowhead available on the market but there are 1 or 2 that was kept as a trade secret and only beknownst to the top tier of arrowsmiths. Fortunately being in the arrowsmith trade for 2 years, even though he wasn't being paid at all but was given food and drink instead, he was a quick learner and was able to fashion the most feared arrowhead during that time, the field bullet with 4 razor-sharp fin blades. The tip of the field bullet arrow tip was like a dart but with a rather short tip. It was strengthened carbon steel and comes with 4 razor-sharp fin blades to it. This kind of arrowhead could easily penetrate leather armour and even bronze breastplate. Depending on the thickness of iron or steel armour plates, these arrowheads that were fashioned by him by integrating 2 designs were able to penetrate a poorly made iron plate or a worn-out steel armour plate. However, his idea was dismissed since knights would be best countered with lightly armoured melee class as those knights were cumbersome and moved too slow, making them easy targets. Coupled with his knowledge of fletching, he was trained to make the straightest and properly weighted arrows when it was fitted with arrowheads and goose feathers which was quite abundant. Other than that, hen feathers would do just fine too. As usual, after he had finished his work at the farms as a gong farmer, he cleaned himself up and headed towards the village centre where he went and greeted the owner of the arrowsmith as he waited for the orders that need to be fulfilled. The owner was a simple, no-nonsense type of person and he simply laid out the types of arrowheads that need to be produced or sharpened on the work table. When Andy entered the shop and greeted the man, he just answered with a short grunt and went about his work of shaping the arrowheads. His usual work would be taking a rasping file to slowly make the edges of the arrow sharp and then take a small thin file to finely sharpen it to be as razor-sharp. "Finish those two batches and head to the kitchen to have your meal and then return back to finish the remaining ones. Once you think you're done, let me know and I would close up the shop thereafter." The owner of the arrowsmith bellowed out to Andy as it was the norm for the owner to close up the shop right after Andy leaves. Be it at 9 o'clock in the evening or even 11 o'clock in the evening, the owner was elated inside to have a companion in his shop even though he rarely shows that up on his face. Not even a smile, a wink or any kind of expression. It's just a plain look with no single emotions flowing through it, but deep down inside, he was thankful for this young lad who tirelessly worked in his shop even without pay but with a bowl of gruel and some slices of bread. The owner was a couple but was childless and regarded Andy as his adopted son even though he never shows his intent openly. Only through food and wellbeing, he was able to show his feelings for the young lad. Andy went about to place an arrowhead in a table vice and took out a rasping file which was also known as a bastard file to sharpen out the edges before filing it down finely to make it razor sharp. The owner's customers were satisfied with the handiwork that Andy had shown ever since as he placed his utmost attention when comes to these arrowheads. Practically any work that he undertook was clearly taken care of with care and dedication. That's why the landowner of the livestock doesn't control Andy and let him work accordingly to his taste. After he had finished his quick meal and completed the last batch of arrowheads, he bade the owner of the arrowsmith farewell and helped to board up the shop front. It was already dark and quiet in the village centre as there were lighted lanterns that hung on the streets sporadically. He excused himself as he made his way back home, carrying with him the 2c that was paid for his work as a gong farmer. So far, he had not spent a single copper coin since he started work and had even exchanged those into silvers and had it sewn within the seams of his tunic and was not even noticeable at all. He made his way gingerly and when he reaches home, everyone was already asleep and since there's nothing much to do, he just laid his body on the straw bed and fell asleep thereafter. Running his fingers through the seams of his tunic that he was wearing, he felt elated to find that it was lined with silver coins and the copper coins that he saved was also within one of the hidden internal pockets of his sleeve. For every 100 coppers, he would exchange it for a silver coin. He was certain that no one knew of his stash except for himself as he smiled and slowly drifted off to sleep.