"The Devotee was asking you a serious question, Ethani! Why'd you say something so stupid?"
Ethani rubbed the back of his head as he walked, listening to his mother's nagging at the same time.
Needless to say, his mother hadn't found his decision suitable. Why would she? Hunters were things of stories told by old women to children on rare nights when the moonlight was just right.
It was through nights like those Ethani had even heard of them, through tales of Grienheardt the First, Sevren the Fourth, or the entirety of the Hunters' Ten.
They battled ancient beasts, saved beautiful ladies, and upheld an oath of brotherhood to be there for each other in times of need.
So naturally, his mother would get angry when he said he wanted to be one.
Being a hero didn't buy food, after all.
They plodded through the dirt road back to their small house in tense silence. To Ethani's credit, he did a good job of staying out of his mother's reach, but he knew he'd probably get a few more slaps when they got home.
"Mama, I was just joking...I didn't mean it, honest." Ethani stepped closer and lightly touched his mother's shoulder.
She huffed. "It wasn't the time. What if you offended Devotee Carrice? He's Vivain's chosen leader! What if it brings misfortune on us?"
"Misfortune? Mama, you've listened to his sermons, even more than I have. Vivain is all-powerful and merciful, not petty." Kicking a stick into the surrounding grass, Ethani walked a little way ahead.
"You might be right, but we still have to treat him with respect and not waste his time." Ethani couldn't see her, but he could feel her gaze boring into his back.
"You're right, I'm sorry."
It was odd, really. It was midday, judging from the sun, and they weren't in the fields, working themselves to the bone over someone else's crops.
After Devotee Carrice got the letter from the House, he sent one of his orphans to beg the farm's owner to let them go for the day.
This was the third offer they'd received. First, from a House in somewhere called Vavaria, and another that was relatively local, just the next region over.
A summons from a House was nothing to take lightly. They each represented a bloodline that had been carefully pruned for many generations.
Some were better than others, but they all stood closer to the epitome of humanity than he ever would.
How was he going to join them? He was only a lowly farmhand, not even a landowner.
He quirked his head to the side and scrutinized a trail of ants on a nearby tree.
What did it really mean, anyway? The devotee had been very vague about it all and initially told them to hold on until more offers arrived.
But now, he was all smiles and seemed so eager to settle it.
It was odd, to say the least.
"Mama, do you think I should say yes?" Picking up a stick lying on the road and waving it around like a sword, he queried his mother.
She sighed. "The obvious answer is yes. But Ethani, nothing is ever free. We work for our food. The farmland is paid for. Everything has a price."
Ethani stopped walking and turned to face her. Gone was the earlier excitement, replaced by a wariness that hung off the wrinkles and lines of her face.
"You heard the amount Devotee said. You're...being bought. But do you believe you're worth the price?"
His mother wrung her hands together, and Ethani couldn't help but wonder how much she had paid over the years.
"....I don't know, Mama. I don't think I am. I can't read, can't write, and all I know is farming. I don't know what they want from me, but I surely can't give it."
He shuffled from one foot to the other.
"So what will you do?" She bridged the gap between them and placed her hand on his shoulder.
He closed his eyes for a full minute, and when he opened them again, there was a bit of determination in them.
Only a hint, though. In the rest of his eyes was a scared child, terrified of leaving the only world he'd known.
"I'll go."
His mother cupped his face and rubbed a tiny scar just below his left eye.
"You're sure?"
He grinned the same way he always did, mouth open wide, all his teeth showing.
"Not at all, Mama."
Her hands were thin and rough. toughened over years of labor. Labor she had been forced to take on after his father had died all those years ago.
How much longer would she have to work? Sure, he was older now and was working fully, but was the day coming when she'd collapse, as others did?
Like his own father?
That couldn't happen.
His hand clenched into a fist.
He had to accept, no matter what.
"But I'll do it anyway."
His voice trembled.
##
"Carrice, what did the letter say?"
A man in light yellow robes asked Carrice, who was grinning while reading a letter, reclining at his desk.
"Ah, Jesla? You know how we've wanted to get a new fireplace?"
Jesla nodded slowly, unsure.
"We can finally do it, and still have some left over!" He waved the letter in his hand. "House Heridon wants that Ethani boy, and they sent me a letter asking me to talk to him about them."
Jesla shrugged. "Okay, and? Isn't the same for the other two??"
Carrice's smile grew wider. "Oh yes, it is. The only difference is that House Heridon offered to reward me handsomely if I happened to...guide Ethani towards them."
"Oh, I see."
"Amazing, isn't it? They must really be desperate if they want a farmhand. Potential or not, he's untrained and knows nothing", Carricle chuckled. "Well, it's none of my business as long as I get my money."
"What if he doesn't agree?" Jesla scratched his chin. "He could just as easily pick the Vavarian House instead."
Waving his hand dismissively, Carrice scoffed. "Jesla, how long have we been here? They know very little of the world, and they certainly don't know anything about the current state of their own Houses, let alone Vavarian ones."
"All I have to do is tell them how violent the Vavarians are, and they'll be falling over themselves to choose Heridon. Simple, right?'
Jesla's eyes sharpened to an edge, but he didn't utter a peep. Whatever thoughts he had, he was evidently going to keep them to himself.