“Really, I don’t have all day you know!” Exasperatedly, Franklin looked to the sky, the sun slowly crawling toward the horizon. He was just about to give into frustration when suddenly, the blonde haired, overdressed boy with his cape slung over his shoulder began to walk forward. Bastions eyes were on the ground, and his brows drawn together. He walked so slowly he didn’t kick up any dust in the process, but his long legs brought him looming closer quickly. Franklin's frustration became edged with a hint of anxiety as he watched the approach, for the first time wary of how large Bastion really was.

Just a couple of strides left between them, Bastion came to a halt. With a loud breathe out, and what seemed like great difficulty, Bastion snapped his head back from looking at the ground before, to looking down his face at Franklin.

“How much, and how frequent does being a barley picker pay?” Bastions voice was detached, void of anger or bitterness. Franklin smiled a little to himself before answering,

“Pays as frequent as you fill a barrel. Each barrel pays twopences.” Franklin started walking toward the workers quarters again. Bastion followed this time, defeated. He listened as Franklin outlined his work day and what to expect. He advised Bastion to go to the store and get some different clothes as soon as possible- as if Bastion hadn’t already planned on that!

As the boys started to pass the first couple of houses on the fringe of the village, a crooning and hissing ruckus suddenly on Bastions right stunned him out of his sullen disposition. From the opposite side of the dirt path, Bastion snatched his dropped cloak from the dust and stared incredulously at the cause of the commotion.

It was a Drakkin, of that Bastion was sure, but the exact breed was impossible to tell. Stopped just short of the path by a metal chain fastened to a metal collar snug on the creatures neck. The dirty orange was interrupted by vicious red splotches against the animals back and down its hind legs. Sharp teeth bared, it hissed and screech at Bastion, reeling back on its hind legs and flapping it’s clipped wings. Within a matter of moments, several other drains up the road began their wailing, having heard the first. Looking up at Franklin, then back at the drakkin, Bastion gestured at the still spitting creature with both hands.

“This is the kind of greeting I’ve gotten all day!” Bastion worked hard to keep his eyebrows from bunching together, starting to get a headache from the high pitched screeching. Franklin only shrugged at him.

“Welcome to Estyria, boy. You’ll get used to it.” And with that, Franklin proceeded down the path, a drakkin running up and screeching by the roadside every other house.