Bastion stood in a huff, trying to pat dirt from his clothes, but the sweat now pouring down his face made it stick in his eyes and on his skin. Red-faced and angry, Bastion turned away from the grandson, the only person left on the porch. Franklin looked at the back of the boy, both perplexed and empowered by Bastion and this new assignment. Holding the message addressed to the overseer in both hands, he walked forward to Bastion, who by this time had started rocking angrily from foot to foot, fists planted firmly on his hips. As Franklin got closer to Bastion, Bastion turned on him, expression stoic but eyes ablaze.

“That letter was for the overseer, you know.” Bastion snapped sharply. “It was addressed to him.” Franklin laughed, eyes rolling toward the heavens at the embarrassed boy.

“You think that the overseer is going to concern himself with the hire of just another barley farmer? Well, you're wrong. Now, follow me!” With that, Franklin began walking away, taking a dirt path about a third of the size of the main road. This path was big enough for a mule with a cart, and lead down a slight slope to the workers quarters, close to the river.

“Now wait just a moment!” Bastion cried, catching up to the young steward in training easily. “Gracious as our Lord Were has been to me,” He almost choked on the words, but played it off as dirt on his lips.

“As gracious as our Lord Were has been with me,” Bastion started again, “I feel he has overlooked some of my skills, and much of my potential as suggesting me as a barley picker.”

“Is that so?” Franklin spoke slowly, drawing out each syllable as he turned to look Bastion, his eyebrows raising very much like his grandfathers. Franklin took in Bastions dusty, and somewhat haggard appearance after being thrown from the porch moments before, and his eyebrows too started their caterpillar jig.

“Yes, that is so.” Bastion retorted, trying to stay calm. With a sigh and a practiced flourish, Bastion removed his cloak and folded it neatly over one arm in a fluid motion. “I can read, and write. I can read or make maps. I can do numbers, and I can play an instrument-”

“But you try to waltz uninvited into another Lords home?” Franklin interrupted, appalled at Bastions attempted showmanship. “Besides, where is your proof of any of that? Lord Were vouched for you as a farm hand, not any of those things, and so a farm hand you will be.” Franklin sneered.