We had lived in the village for a long time, a number of years, all of my years. Once my dad had made up his mind to move though, that is what the family did. He was a weapon smith turned farmer now, and for all our time here he refused to construct anything that wasn't for farming. Until his old friend from the village stopped by late one night. They talked outside into the night. After that visit he seemed restless for weeks, and started focusing less on farming the land and more on something distant in his mind. His friend stopped by once more, though this time they didn't just talk into the night, they argued. The next morning he began making weapons and armor again. There was a fury in his eyes, but he didn't say a word.
What does our future hold?
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