The sun poked its head up from behind the hill, casting its orange rays upon the village of Skördaby [1], a determined farming community of Villagers and Humans [2] alike. From the church, the Village Captain emerges, darned in his shining iron armour. As part of his training, Sanni had been appointed as the Captain of this sleepy little village; this was his third morning here, and he had already had to deal with such trivial disputes as broken shovels and missing boots.
Although this petty bickering often left Sanni with his head in his hands, the title of Captain also granted him leadership over Skördaby's small force of Village Guards, consisting mostly of young men who sought a life beyond their farming community. His predecessor was a man almost double his age who bravely sacrificed himself in a Creeper explosion; the young Sanni was young to have to work hard to gain the respect of not only these men, but the population at large.
Reaching the centre of the village, Sanni found himself face to face with the Village Golem, Stalhjarta. Sanni felt that Stalhjarta was the only living thing in this village that treated him without judgement - although, there's an argument to be made as to whether a Golem is really a living thing.
"Morning, Stalhjarta," Sanni greeted as the cool morning breeze rushed his face. "You have defended Skördaby for another night. Well done!"
In response, Stalhjarta made a kind of metallic, grinding sound, in which Sanni detected some kind of gratitude. Grabbing the handle of the morning bell, Sanni rang it loudly.
The bell's chime echoed throughout the village, its soundwaves ringing through every open window. In the home of one family, the librarian named Lekgud sprung up in bed. His wife, Ren, lay in a near-comatose state; she was far less of a morning person compared to her husband.
"Rise and shine, Ren," Lekgud gently stroked her hair. "Oskulda isn't going to be happy if you're running late again!"
Ren let out a weak, disgruntled groan. "Sometimes I wish we were royalty."
"You are to me, dear," Lekgud removed the covers from over him. "I'll go wake Oskulda up and start on breakfast. Make sure you don't fall back to sleep."
Another weak groan left Ren's lips as she rolled onto her back, stretching. Lekgud pulled his trousers up and fastened them around his waist before buttoning up his shirt. He walked into the hall and knocked on the only other door before gently opening it and poking his head through. To his surprise, he found his daughter Oskulda was already up, kneeling on the floor and folding shapes out of spare sheets of paper.
"Well, good morning!" Lekgud greeted her, stepping fully into the bedroom. "How long have you been awake?"
"Since before the bell," Oskulda answered, showing her father a paper boat. "Is mum awake yet?"
"She's just getting up now, dear," Lekgud replied as his daughter rose from her knees. "Come on - let's go downstairs and have some breakfast."
Having already prepared the bread, Lekgud split it into three even slices; one for himself, one for Ren, and one for Oskulda. They sat at their places at the table and began to tuck in before Oskulda heard her mother's footsteps coming down towards them.
"Mum!" Oskulda grinned, bread stuck in her teeth. "You were about to be late again."
"No I wasn't!" Ren retorted assuredly. "I've only ever been late once, Oskulda."
"Once is too much," Oskulda's voice was muffled as she took another bite out of her bread. "When I work with you on the farm, I'll make sure you're up on time. When will I be able to work with you?"
Ren shot Lekgud an awkward glance. "You might not want to work on the farm, Oskulda. Lots of people move to the cities now and find work there!"
"I don't care about that," Oskulda dismissed. "I want to help our village!"
"When you're a little older, maybe you'll change your mind!" said Lekgud. "When I was your age, I wanted to be a sailor. Now, I'm a librarian!"
"Why didn't you become a sailor, dad?" asked Oskulda.
Lekgud shifted uncomfortably. "Well, it just didn't happen, I suppose! Anyway, I'm happy with how my life turned out; if I became a sailor, I would have never met your mother, and you wouldn't have been born!"
"I guess," Oskulda replied with disinterest, much to her father's amusement.
Having quickly devoured her piece of bread, Ren rose from her seat at the table. "Come on, Oskulda. We'd better get to work, and dad needs to clean up and open the shop."
Following suit, Lekgud tried to eat faster while Ren slipped on her farming boots; Oskulda waited eagerly at her mother's side while Ren balanced her foot on the chair, fastening her laces.
Lekgud hastily followed his family from their small kitchen into the library, where bookshelves were balanced clumsily on top of one another. Taking Oskulda by the hand, Ren led her out the door before turning to her husband and pecking him on the cheek.
"I'll see you tonight," Ren smiled. "Hopefully I won't be so tired after work; I hate neglecting you and Oskulda."
"Your job is far more taxing than mine," Lekgud assured. "If you need a rest, then rest. I've no objections to taking care of Oskulda; after all, we're both responsible for raising our child."
"I'm not a child!" Oskulda objected. "I'm almost ten. That means I'll be able to learn a trade soon."
"Or go to school..!" Ren suggested with a smirk to her husband. "I'd better get going; you and I both have work to do. Love you!"
"Love you too! Bye, dear!" Lekgud waved to his daughter as she followed her mother up the gravel path. It seemed that everyone was getting up; the clicking sound of doors opening and closing echoed from all over town.
As Lekgud changed the sign next to the door from 'Closed' to 'Open', he heard the sound of hooves trotting. To his right, Sanni rode on horseback, casually cruising through the village on his patrol. Lekgud hadn't much of a chance to talk to the new Captain, but village gossip travelled fast; Sanni was young, barely in the middle of his twenties. He'd been positioned here partly for his training, and partly as a placeholder until a more permanent Village Captain could be installed. Due to his youth and perceived inexperience, many doubted Sanni's ability to properly defend Skördaby; Lekgud preferred to think more optimistically, that his placement here might be a promising indicator of his talent.
"Good morning," Sanni greeted as he trotted past the librarian, not seeming at all disconcerted as Lekgud continued to stare.
Lekgud cleared his throat. "Morning, Captain," he forced an awkward grin; it was too early in the morning to be dealing with such interactions. He walked back into the library, opening the door to behind the counter and stepping over the dodgy trapdoor that lead to the library's cellar, where books with more grim content were stored.
Work was from sunrise to sunset, more or less. This was to ensure that the village operated at its fullest potential; if Skördaby were to compete with neighbouring villages for trade with the larger settlements, the whole town would need to put the work in. Lekgud wasn't lying when he said some jobs were more taxing than others; Ren's farming put her through a great deal more physical strain than her husband's meek role of librarian.
-X-
The sun hovered directly over Skördaby, positioned perfectly in the middle of the sky. Ren planted a fresh batch of carrots in the soil, while Oskulda sanded down a wooden hoe with a bored, aimless expression on her face.
"Why don't you want me working on the farm, mama?" Oskulda asked bluntly.
Ren paused for breath. "I think you have more potential, Oskulda," Ren answered honestly. "There are plenty of opportunities for you outside of Skördaby. You're a bright, creative girl. I wouldn't want you to work on a farm for the rest of your life, or even stay in the same village."
"Dad never wanted that, and he ended up staying here anyway," argued Oskulda.
"Well, there are a lot more opportunities for young people now as opposed to when your father and I were children," her mother retorted. "You could be an artist! People are paid to be artists now. Or better yet, you could travel, see a bit of the world; at the very least, you could move into one of the cities and see some new faces."
Oskulda waited for a moment before asking her next question. "If you were a kid now, what would you like to do instead of being a farmer?"
Mature conversations like these reminded Ren that this precious period of innocence in Oskulda's life was almost nearing its end. "I don't know," Ren answered, finding herself lost for an answer. "I suppose if I did anything differently, I would never have met your father, and you wouldn't be born. So, I wouldn't change anything. You're at a unique point in your life, dear; you have so many roads to walk down. If in a few years you're still determined to be a farmer, then fine. I just don't want you to limit yourself."
It went quiet between them again as Oskulda let out a silent yawn. "I'm bored," she stated.
"Go and visit your father, Oskulda," Ren suggested. "See if he will lend you one of his books. If you finish it before we go home, I'll get you a treat!"
"What treat?" Oskulda jumped excitedly, while Ren regretted making another promise to live up to.
"If I told you, that would ruin the surprise!" she bluffed. "Go on, now. Don't get the floor muddy!"
Those last, futile words fell on deaf ears; the little girl was already skipping down the gravel. Ren gazed at her lovingly before continuing her work.
Oskulda hopped and skipped across Skördaby, eventually reaching her home. Knocking on the open door, her father looked over the rim of his glasses. Lekgud's eyes lit up; practically leaping over his desk, he swept Oskulda up into his arms, laughing.
"Look who we have here!" Lekgud grinned, holding his daughter tight. "Oof - you're almost too big for me to carry now!"
"I know!" Oskulda giggled as her father lowered her to the floor.
"What's the matter?" he asked. "Bored of farming already?"
"I want to read something," explained Oskulda. "Mama told me that you'd give me a book, and that I'd get a treat if I finished it before she finishes work."
"Interesting..." Lekgud smirked, bending down and running his fingers along the spines of his books. "You know what? The other day, I had a book delivered that I knew you'd enjoy. Tell me, does this sound familiar?"
Lekgud withdrew a book from the shelf and showed his daughter its dirty, leather cover; emboldened gold text read 'The Lost Miner'.
"No way!" Oskulda grabbed it from her father's hands. "I haven't heard it in so long!"
"We used to read it to you when you were little," Lekgud smiled. "It stopped your wandering near the mine, that's for sure."
"Will you get me a treat, too?" a cheeky grin spread across Oskulda's face, testing her luck.
"Let's see..." Lekgud entertained the idea. "If you read it twice, cover to cover, before your mother finishes work, then I'll consider it!"
Flicking through the book's tattered pages, Lekgud patted his daughter's back as she skipped out the door. "Twice all the way through... that's easy!" Oskulda assured herself.
"Come on! The clock's ticking!" Lekgud urged before the young girl sprinted down the path, clutching her book tightly in her hands. The father's eyes glistened as he watched her run, before his daughter's body turned a corner and disappeared from view. Ren's definitely right; Oskulda could make something of herself.
The girl turned onto the path to the carrot farm, holding the copy of the Lost Miner over her head and bearing a toothy grin. "Mama, look! Look what dad gave me!"
Ren stood upright, having been bent down working with the soil. She let out a tired sigh as she noticed the book in her daughter's hands. Oskulda's face was bright, beaming, and full of youth.
There's a sound behind her; a quick rush of air, a quick but excruciating stabbing pain, and then it all goes away.
A/N: I remember when I used to read Watership Down, they'd have little references and citations like these to explain the in-world terminology and lore. It's a cool idea, so I thought I'd do my own thing with it. I'm cautious not to overuse it, though.
[1] Skördaby translates to Harvest Village; Skörda is the Swedish word for harvest, and the suffix -by means village.
[2] Villagers are just like those we are familiar with in modern versions of Minecraft. They are capable of performing basic tasks, such as farming and other menial jobs, but are relatively tame and docile. On the other hand, humans are capable of doing almost everything a villager can - with the exception of learning magic - on top of being able to engage in combat. Generally speaking, humans are more capable of villagers and are needed to ensure a village stays properly defended. Think of them as Neanderthals and Homo Sapiens; similar, but also different.