Author's Note - 'Trevilan Chronicles' are unconnected short stories set in the same world as 'The Prince's Potion,' this one takes place around two years later. Though not necessary, I strongly recommend reading those stories prior to this one. I realize my stories are not for everyone. If you're not interested in exaggerated sex organs, incest, inbreeding, and medieval/fantasy settings, this may not be for you. I thank you all for the continued support and the feedback!
All characters in sexual situations are 18 or older.
Trevilan Chronicles - Mother's Will
Eighteen-year-old Willum Alms brought the heavy axe down with a thud.
Standing back from the stump, Will wiped his brow and inspected this morning's work. A sizable pile of chopped wood just off to the side was enough for the next two weeks at their small cabin. Leaving the axe, he walked over to the slow river and washed himself off. It was mid-morning, and the sun was blaring. Late autumn, Will reflected, won't get too many hot days like this. Better enjoy it while it lasts.
He washed his face off and sat by the river, watching it churn and meander through the dense forest. There was lots of work still to do but the shade sure was nice. He breathed and enjoyed the quiet of the woods. He liked this spot. It was a peaceful place and he enjoyed a few quiet moments before continuing his chores.
Soon he would leave the woods and head into town. More errands to do for his mother, Pambry. It would take him just over an hour by horse to ride in with his small wagon cart, but he needed a few supplies and to trade some goods. Most importantly, he had to empty the small wagon his horse was presently tied to before he could load it up with the chopped wood from today. Hopefully, all this could be done by late afternoon, and he would be home just in time for dinner.
Will inspected his tanned flesh, the corded muscles of his arms. He had certainly grown in the last year or two. He did the bulk of the work around the homestead and their tiny farm. It wasn't much, they raised chickens and did some minor farming, but the crops were not enough to sell, so they mainly traded eggs and bartered mother's baked goods in the small town.
He smiled thinking about his mother at home right now, probably baking up a storm. Her compact, curvy form bent over a roaring fireplace, tending to biscuits or muffins. It was just the two of them in that farmhouse. The mornings would soon bring frost. He would need a lot more firewood than this. Another winter was on the way, and it would be them alone again for three or four hard months.
This was their life now.
Moving into their family's old farm had done been out of necessity. Will was bright enough to understand that the plague had changed everything. Had taken everything.
Two years ago, when the plague had first begun to spread, his father's trading business had practically ended over night when all work between the port towns in Trevilan had ceased. Cities and towns suddenly became dangerous places to live. Then his little sister, Ambry, got sick and they'd been forced to move inland. The cost of treating her forced them to sell the port house and start over on the farm.
A year later, father died from the plague, and his little sister had been sent to the far away to isolate from her sickness. It was horrible to think about. They were not even allowed to go see her. His mother corresponded with the doctor but a little while ago she had been told nuns of the Redeemer had taken Ambry into their order and that she was now recovering under their care.
Will shook his head. The Alms had once been a notable mercantile family of some renown on the coastline of western Trevilan, now brought low, like so many others, by the terrible plague.
Will rose up and loosened his horse from the cart. Have to press on. Have to focus. The sooner he got into town the sooner he would get home. The last two years had had a profound effect on the young man. He had lost that boyhood sweet face and playfulness. Now he was big and broad shouldered. He had really filled out. Will was tall and muscular, not exactly well fed but healthy. He was handsome, with a lean face and prominent cheekbones, and had a permanent tan from working outside all day. His dirty blonde hair was even darker because of it.
Will was soon on his horse and trotting up to the dirt road. Despite the beauty that surrounded him, the untouched nature of this part of Trevilan, he couldn't help feeling like he had lost more than he'd gained in moving out here. Life was hard and things were not good for his family. Not like they had been before; everything was different now.
Suddenly he smiled, remembering his mother's words, that least they had each other.
Less than an hour later, he was in town and at the grocers, passing down eggs to the owner, a cantankerous old man who seemed to take a liking to Will. The two exchanged news and weather predictions, and then talked about some local gossip.
'
Marzanna's tits!
It's another recruiter,' the old man said and nodded behind Will, 'from the capital. More and more of them showing up around here these days.'
Will turned and spotted a small crowd gathered around an armoured man on horseback. The man wore no helmet and looked to be about Will's age, maybe a little older. He had a strong voice, and was presently talking about the soldiers of Trevilan, the duty to serve the kingdom in its recovery.
Or some such nonsense, Will rolled his eyes. 'Again?' He sighed. It seemed to him that every time he came into town, twice a week, there was someone from the army trying to recruit fresh blood. 'And who is left to go?' he gestured around; the town was less than half the size it used to be. Maybe a third. Fewer young people than Will ever remembered from when he would visit here in his childhood.
'It's true. You might think about it yourself,' the old man said. 'Joining up. Decent pay, and you'll get the vaccine first. That's what I heard.'
'What vaccine?'
'Well... there ain't one yet. But if there's gonna be one, it'll be the soldiers who get it first. That's what this one is going on about.' The owner nodded to the recruiter again.
Will scoffed. 'Sounds awfully hopeful to me.'
'Have faith,' the store owner said, 'they say Queen Maymon spends her every waking hour trying to find a cure. If anyone will find one, or make one, I believe it is her.'
Will didn't know what to think. It had been so long living under these conditions. Just trying to get by. He heard the recruiter going on about the future of the kingdom. Prosperity for all, or something. Will shrugged and settled his business with the owner. He had made good time riding in and now his business was finished. He might as well listen to what the fellow was barking about before he started throwing wood around all afternoon.
Ambling over, sure enough, Will heard it himself. Service guaranteed protection against the plague. A steady income. Three meals a day. He saw some fellows looking on interestedly. Hardly the fittest folk. They didn't exactly look healthy to him. He kept his distance, you could never be too sure these days, even though cases in Trevilan had been low over the last year, nothing had really gone back to normal. Just this new normal. Will listened for a little while longer and then turned to go.
