I must admit, I was always more eager to end the day than most of the others who worked the lands of the fiefdom of Nastri. After all, I was young.

The others tolerated my enthusiasm simply because they knew I would eventually realize that the end of the day signified nothing because the morrow meant more work. Day after day continued in painful redundancy. The work was painstaking, and hope of a better life simply didn’t exist for most.

The day was nothing special in particular, I was just glad to have those precious few moments to myself. As I approached the poorly built hut that I called home, Dyguleon rushed to meet me, as he did everyday.