Part I — Geon and Spencer
R.I. 179
The Twenty-Ninth Day of the Seventh Moon
“Geon!”
A young boy’s voice rang brightly across the endless wheat fields of Tenia.
The fertile southern plains of the Kingdom of Aldred were known as the breadbasket of the realm. Every autumn, countless acres of wheat ripened beneath the golden sun, transforming the countryside into an endless sea of shimmering gold.
A gentle breeze swept across the fields.
The stalks bowed together, rising and falling in graceful waves as if the land itself had begun to breathe.
Running along a narrow dirt path between the fields was an eleven-year-old boy with hair the same brilliant color as the wheat surrounding him.
His name was Spencer Hist.
“Geon!”
He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted again, his clear voice carried even farther by the autumn wind.
It echoed across the fields so loudly that both a young boy harvesting wheat and the woman working beside him stopped to listen.
The boy looked up first.
His short dark-brown hair, trimmed in the plain style common among serf children, was damp with sweat beneath the afternoon sun. Large brown eyes peeked through the strands clinging to his forehead, bright with youthful energy despite the hours of labor.
His name was Geon.
Beside him worked his mother, Molly.
Her dark, curly hair had long since escaped the cloth wrapped around her head, and years of relentless labor had given her a sturdy frame and roughened hands. Though she was still young, exhaustion had quietly settled into her shoulders, and every movement carried the weight of countless harvests.
“Oh…”
Geon grinned sheepishly.
“It sounds like the young master’s lessons are finally over.”
Before he could hide himself among the wheat, Molly shot him a disapproving glance.
“Geon.”
Her voice was gentle, yet firm.
“You shouldn’t tease the young master.”
“Yes, Mother.”
He answered obediently, though the playful smile never left his face.
Instead of crouching back down, he suddenly sprang into the air, waving both arms as high as he could.
“Young Master! Over here!”
The wheat had grown nearly as tall as the boys themselves.
Hidden beneath the dense golden stalks, Geon vanished from sight almost as quickly as he appeared.
“I can’t see you!”
Spencer’s voice drifted back across the field.
“Where are you?”
Laughing to himself, Geon lifted the sickle in his hand high above the wheat and began hopping repeatedly.
Sunlight flashed across the curved blade.
Although Geon was the same age as Spencer, six years of working beside his mother in the fields had shaped his body differently from other boys.
His forearms were lean but solid.
Muscles, earned through endless days of labor rather than training, tightened beneath sun-browned skin each time he raised the sickle.
Even at eleven years old, he had already become the one who completed most of the family’s daily quota whenever Molly’s aching back refused to cooperate.
The Hist family had never threatened to dismiss them over an unfinished harvest.
Lady Hist was known throughout the estate for treating her workers with uncommon fairness.
But Geon had been raised to believe that honest work was both duty and gratitude.
Complaining had never once crossed his mind.
“Geon!”
Spencer called again from somewhere beyond the swaying wheat.
Geon smiled.
“Mother… could you step back for a moment?”
Molly looked at her son and couldn’t help smiling.
She already knew exactly what he was about to do.
Without asking another question, she quietly took several steps backward.
Geon waited until she was safely out of the way.
Then he tightened his grip around the wooden handle of the sickle.
His playful smile faded.
For a brief instant…
The hardworking village boy disappeared.
In his place stood someone astonishingly skilled for his age.
The sickle flashed.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The wheat collapsed in long, perfectly even rows.
Each swing flowed effortlessly into the next, precise enough to rival seasoned harvesters who had spent decades in the fields.
Watching from the opposite side, Spencer blinked.
A long strip of wheat was falling far too quickly.
Then he laughed.
“There you are…”
He shook his head with a helpless grin.
“Monster.”
Spencer laughed and pushed his way through the wheat until he finally reached Geon.
“There you are.”
His eyes drifted over the neatly harvested rows before him.
The wheat had fallen in almost perfect lines, each stalk cut with remarkable precision.
Spencer let out a long sigh.
“Honestly… you’re a monster.”
Geon scratched the back of his head with an embarrassed grin.
“I’ve just been doing this for a long time.”
“A long time?” Spencer snorted. “We’re the same age.”
Before Geon could answer, Molly looked up from the bundles of wheat she was gathering.
“Young Master.”
She bowed respectfully.
“What brings you all the way out here?”
“I came to find Geon,” Spencer replied with a cheerful smile. “School’s finally over.”
Geon’s face brightened.
“So… did Sir Harold make you memorize another twenty pages today?”
Spencer groaned dramatically.
“Thirty.”
Geon burst into laughter.
“I knew it.”
“And Father says it builds character.”
“It probably does.”
“I don’t want any more character.”
The two boys laughed together, and even Molly couldn’t hide a faint smile.
For a brief moment, the weight of the harvest seemed lighter.
Spencer looked around the field.
His smile slowly faded.
Only then did he notice how much wheat still remained.
The afternoon sun stretched across the endless sea of gold, and the uncut fields seemed to continue all the way to the horizon.
“Wait…”
He blinked.
“Is all of this today’s work?”
Geon and Molly exchanged a glance before silently nodding together.
Spencer stared at the enormous field.
“Oh… you’ve got to be kidding.”
Geon rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
“Sorry.”
Spencer frowned.
“Sorry? What are you apologizing for?”
“I spent most of the morning at the stables.”
“The horses?”
Geon nodded.
“They’re being bathed for the trip to Aldrea tomorrow. Jack asked me to help, and…” He gave an awkward smile. “…I accidentally fell asleep afterward.”
Spencer stared at him for several seconds.
Then he let out another long sigh.
“You actually fell asleep?”
“I guess I was more tired than I thought.”
Geon laughed sheepishly.
Spencer simply shook his head.
“You really are hopeless.”
“I know.”
“But I had a nice dream.”
That answer earned him another sigh.
Molly covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.
Spencer looked from Geon to the endless wheat field once more.
Then something crossed his mind.
A familiar grin spread across his face.
“All right.”
He suddenly reached over and snatched the sickle from Molly’s hands.
“Today, I’m helping.”
Molly’s expression instantly turned pale.
“Y-Young Master!”
She hurriedly reached toward him.
“No! Please, you mustn’t!”
Spencer blinked.
“Why not?”
“If someone sees you working in the fields…” Molly’s voice trembled. “And if—if you were to hurt yourself…”
She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.
“I’d lose my place here.”
Spencer’s smile softened.
“My mother always takes her afternoon nap around this time.”
He lowered his voice conspiratorially.
“No one’s going to know.”
Before Molly could protest again, Spencer gently guided her toward the roadside.
“You should rest for a while.”
“B-But…”
“If anyone comes, just wave at us.”
He spun the sickle playfully in his hand.
“I’ll throw it away before they get close.”
Molly looked helplessly between the two boys.
She knew that once Spencer had made up his mind, changing it was nearly impossible.
With a quiet sigh, she finally nodded.
Spencer turned toward Geon.
His grin returned immediately.
“So…”
He rested the sickle on his shoulder.
“Want to make a wager?”
Geon’s eyes lit up.
“What kind?”
“The winner gets to be the attacker during sword practice today.”
For a moment, Geon forgot all about the harvest.
His smile widened.
“You’re on.”
The two boys walked toward the middle of the field until they stood back to back.
Spencer pointed with the sickle.
“I’ll take the right.”
“Then I’ll take the left.”
“Ready?”
Geon nodded.
Spencer slowly raised one hand.
“Five…”
His voice dragged out deliberately.
“Four…”
A mischievous smile crept across his face.
Then, without warning—
“Three, two, one… GO!”
His sickle flashed before he had even finished the final word.
“That’s cheating!”
Geon laughed as he lunged forward.
The two boys began harvesting at astonishing speed, racing one another beneath the brilliant autumn sky.
Above them, the wind swept across the fields once more.
Golden waves rolled endlessly through the wheat, while the laughter of two boys echoed across the Kingdom of Aldred.