"No, Jiago, I'm telling you, I can't give you any more than I already have!"
"Listen to me, you brutish thug, you will give me my required share of the yield this year or I will drive you and the rest of your family off of my property...oh wait, let me emphasize a certain word...what is it...oh yes, MY!"
With that, the elvish dignitary turned on his heel to the horse drawn carriage that he usually presented himself in, the white chocolate colored horses snorting as their passenger situated himself in the carriage, his chin tilted upward, eyes seemingly gazing defiantly at the sky. Volgorl couldn't help but chuckle, the carriage trotting away on the command of the driver, wheels and horse hooves whipping up some of the loose earth that was naturally a result from the consistent rains they had been having the past two weeks. It was wonderful for the crops now, but if it had just been a month earlier, their wheat yield would've been double. For an Elf, Jiago didn't seem that in tune with nature; of course, he was one of the Elven gentry, which meant he attended fancy dinner parties with other rich royalty members, including men, dwarves, Dasvrochian and any other species that could stick out their finger while sipping on tea and comment on the slow manual labor they had hired. Volgorl honestly found Jiago amusing for the most part(along with most royalty), his hubris so over the top that it almost seemed like he was faking it.
Unfortunately for the world and Volgorl himself, Jiago was not "faking it".
Blowing out a sigh, Vol turned his broad shouldered frame from the road and trudged back to his home, a modest looking cabin that he had built himself with some help from local men who were looking for work(they were in the fields at the moment). It was decent enough for his living, but it was rather awkward due to there only being two rooms, Vol not having the luxury of his own private room, unlike his sixteen year old sister who insisted on having SOME space(kids). His ice blue irises noted the darkening sky, the large muscles in his arms and legs moving him quicker now in order to avoid the impending storm. As he reached their front door, a clap of thunder pierced the air, lightning shooting through the heavens. A marvelous sight.
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"So, tell me brother dear, what are you going to do about him?"
The duo had just finished dinner and were seated across from each other at a wooden table, a stack of playing cards in the middle along with three cards in their hands and five face down in front of both of them. Vol had recounted the interaction with Jiago and after Nadia swore profusely about their overlord's ugly face, she had asked him the question.
"I don't know. We won't have enough to meet the export yield he wants." He placed a card down on the table, a grinning goblin with axes and two numbers in the upper right hand corner visible. Nadia snorted, placing a card on the table herself, this one with a dragon breathing fire. Volgorl groaned, placing the goblin on top of the deck.
"Then we just steal from another field, right?"
"Nadia..."
"No, I'm serious, Vol, the Summerset farm has more than en.."
"No! We've been through this already. I can't steal from another man's field...it's just not right."
"Then what do you propose we do, then, eh? Get thrown into prison? I get sold into slavery or probably prostituted..."
"Nadia, that's enough."
"Hey, at least I'm not moping! Do something about this! We're already behind on our lease payment for the land."
"Get married...at least that way we can get some money. Dowry prices have gone up last time I checked." They both laughed slightly, Nadia leaning back in her chair, her lithe frame barely filling the seat. She brushed a lock of black hair from her eye, looking at her brother's own short hair that mirror her color.
"You need a haircut."
"No."
"Yeah, you do."
"Shut up."
"Whatever." She rose from her seat, placing her cards on the table before walking past Vol, patting his head as she told him: "We'll figure this out, brother. We always have."
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It was the next morning when, instead of the early morning sunlight waking him, a clear trumpet blast resounded, causing the large man to almost fall out of his bed. "VOLGORL MALATESTA! PRESENT YOURSELF!" Vol grabbed a shirt that was draped over the only chair he ever sat in, donned it and walked outside to see a man garbed in blue and gold, a beret with a feather in the cap complimenting the lavish outfit. A royal messenger? Out here?
"Yes? what is it?"
"You have been summoned by your royal highness to a tournament of arms in the capital city. Please ensure you bring your finest..." The messenger looked Volgorl over more closely, then continued with a sneer: "Your best, I suppose, attire and any weaponry or armor you desire to use."
"Wait, wait, I wasn't...this doesn't make sense, I'm not a warrior, a knight or a..."
"Just take this decree and be in the city within the week." The messenger, in a similar fashion to Jiago, turned on his heel and walked down the path to the road, a carriage visible in the distance. Vol looked down at the unfurled piece of paper and read it aloud:
"The King and Queen of Metaschi would like to formally request your presence at the Capital city for a rousing tournament of arms. Those who prove themselves worthy will receive a prize far beyond their comprehension. Please be at the Royal Citadel by the end of the week or you will be marked ineligible for this grand opportunity." A blue and gold seal was printed on the bottom of the letter, proving the authenticity of the document.
"Well then..."
