Role

Chapter 1

The yields on our farm were greater than ever. My dad thought all our corn
needed was manure, but he was wrong. Ok, let me back up a bit.My uncle was
a novice magician, he claimed to be the greatest mage, but really, he knew
about 6 spells. But to an impressionable young farm girl, my uncle was
amazing. He used to practice his fire magic, burning odd things and I
noticed later the weeds would grow vigorously where the ashes were. So I
got him to use his magic on dirt and rocks in a big pot. It would glow very
bright and give off much heat.The resulting ash from the pot, I called
potash was able to dissolve in water. About a month before harvest, I
sprayed the potash solution over the leaves on about a third of our corn
fields.To everyone's surprise the corn cobs in that group were larger and
sweeter than the rest.So that is my best memory of being on the farm.
The worst memory is hard to talk about.But okay, here we go, I was 13
years old and we were visited by imperial engineers. My dad did not let me
hear, but I found out after they left, they were going to take our farm to
build a road right through the middle. I could tell it was hitting my mother
the greatest. You see this was her families land, her great grandfather
first tilled this land. Over the next few days the arguing got worse.I
stayed away and spent time at my favourite spot by my scarecrow in the
fields.We have always had problems with birds pecking at our corn and we
had a bunch of scarecrows to fend them off. But this one scarecrow I made
myself, I was especially proud of it. He gave me comfort during this time.
You see, they were arguing about whether to take the imperial coin and leave.
My dad believed that if we did not take the money, the imperials would seize
the land anyway and we would end up with nothing, perhaps even lose our
lives. My mother could not help take the burden of keeping the farm going,
for she had no brother, it was up to her. She wanted to stay and fight, but
my dad didn't, perhaps her appreciated the imperial threat more. One
night, the yelling got serious and for some reason I was drawn to the house
and as I peered through the window. I saw my dad push my mother, she fell
back and her head hit the corner of the steel cage we stored firewood in.
Immediately my dad was horrified, he did not mean for this to happen. My
mother was now gone, my father was broken. A few days later we left the farm.
I wanted to take my scarecrow with me, but my dad refused. Some weeks
later, my father used the coins to pay for boarding school. Up until that