[hider=Moments of Broken Peace]
Featuring: Kiseo 
Location: Elian estate, Fishgrove - Formaroth
Time: Afternoon to Evening- Late Autumn to Early Winter (2 weeks after Dyril left) 

[hr]

Autumn changed into winter, the frost settled onto the town like a thin blanket. The sea brought in more frigid air to force patrons to collect their furred cloaks and boots. Overhead, the skies took on a grey hue to match the bleak landscape. On occasion, snow began to waft downward in small flurries. 

On the Elian estate, Kiseo managed to keep authority. 

She instructed the hired help to walk between each plowed row of mandrakes. Their mounds now were frozen solid, keeping their seeds snug and safe from predatory birds. Many of the wandering people now huddled underneath their handcrafted cloaks, eager to finished their shift. Their eyes sparingly looked over to the more modestly dressed Mao. 

Her spotted coat stood out against the pure white and grey of the village. It gave her extra protection against the elements, supported by a thinner cloak. As usual, she wore no boots thanks to her rough footpads. Silently she glided from one row to another, ensuring no one was slacking. 

As she bent down to brush away the snow, a female voice cried.  Kiseo's ears flipped back and determined the source's direction. 

"Kiseo, we found another!" 

Alarm and determine fluttered onto the young Mao's expression as she rose upright. Her feet bounded across the rows to the waving woman. Already several others who had finished their rows gathered. Men with shoves and a child with a small pot, filled with warm and loose dirt.    

There had been more early sprouts than Kiseo had ever seen back in the Beilokias . Back then, it took months for any of them to show. Here, in Fishgrove, it took only two weeks.

Kiseo suspected it was Fishgrove's soil. It might've held more beneficial nutrients for mandrakes than Dyril theorized. It was a positive and negative thing for those who took care of them.  They developed far earlier than she expected them to and each one required a judgment call. She hoped to please her mistress with her dedication.   

Her heart pounded in fear as she drew closer. As instructed since the first found sprout, their eyes turned to her for guidance.  She hunched down to inspect the cleared ground. Her hands cradled the small green leaf, yellowed a bit from frostbite, to warm it. 

"Gerey, can you insert your spade here?" She tapped about three inches from the side. 

"Do it nice and slow to test if the soil is frozen. If it is, we need a pickax instead." 

Her eyes spotted the young girl, All, struggle with the pot far too big for her. 

"Someone help Alil with the pot and bring a torch to hold underneath, ensuring it stays warm." 

They all moved with purpose as they worked together to loosen the frozen mandrake. After a long hour, they managed to replant it into the pot. Alil and another adult took it inside where it would sit with the others. 

Gerey frowned, sweaty and covered in frost, as he turned to Kiseo. 

"That's what, the fourth one this week?" 

Kiseo rose back to her feet and nodded, "Yes. It's odd, they don't usually sprout until about three months." 

"We planted these damn things two weeks ago. Is this normal?" 

"Not all. I'm not sure what's happening, but it is both bad and good." 

"What makes you think that? I don't see anything good about digging these things out of the ground when it's frozen." 

They finished up their work, finding no other early sprouting mandrake. Much to everyone's relief.  Kiseo paid them their weekly wages and bide them farewell until the next morning.

After she finished watering the potted mandrakes, Kiseo turned to the fire. She bent at the waist and snatched a dried log. The fire dimmed when she tossed it in, then rushed up to devour it. It did well to illuminate the small hut-like house. 

It was nothing luxurious like the rooms in the Little Cottage Inn at Nyhem, but it held its own rustic charm. 

The whole place was a single room. Smooth stone created the base while thatch and wood created a triangle style roof. There was a small square opening high above the fire pit. A few smaller rocks sat in the still-hot ashes, turned over to warm the other side. 

Kiseo walked back to the far end. Several pots of plants were being kept hot by many rocks positioned nearby. It appeared to do the trick to keep the rain, wind, and cold outside. Without any debris on the stone floor, the possibility of them catching fire was slim. 

After she replaced the colder ones, she drifted back to her chair beside the fire. She enjoyed the cracking sounds it created. It provided some comfort in her isolation as she watched it closely. 

Memories were her entertainment while she began to patch her clothing. An image of her mother, in a rocking chair, caused her to smile. She would sew Dyril's dresses while she moved back and forth, enjoying their play. 

Kiseo's heart hurt for a moment when recalled the older Mao's death. The violence left a bitter taste in her soul. Between the depressing thoughts and the fire's warmth, she had begun to fall asleep.  

CRASH! 

A rock flew through one of the front windows into a wall that served to be the pantry. Abruptly the Mao jumped up and rushed to the door. She jerked it open and stared into the darkness. Her night vision spotted some movements of children or adults fleeing into the woods. 

Several moments passed and adrenaline died down in her head. She closed the door with a soft thud. In and out, Kiseo breathed to regain her calm once more. 

Still shaken, she moved to the pantry. A rock had shattered one of the clay pots housing the salt causing her to frown. It appeared there was still some prejudice even in the now peaceful Fishgrove. 
[/hider]