The early spring chill had not yet fully receded, and patches of snow in the mountain forest glittered under the sun.
An elderly Allen, his back hunched, gripped a pickaxe with calloused hands, chipping away at the not-yet-fully-thawed earth one strike at a time.
His vision was blurry, and with every swing of the pickaxe, he had to squint to aim carefully.
"Be careful, Uncle Allen," said Jack, an equally elderly farmer beside him, panting. "At your age, you need to take it easy."
But Allen just flashed a gap-toothed smile and wiped the sweat from his brow. "It's nothing, it's nothing."
Surprisingly, the figures of Arthur and Luca could be seen among the digging crew.
These two former Knight's Attendants had rolled up their sleeves and were now sweating profusely alongside the farmers.
Arthur's salt-and-pepper beard was spattered with mud, and Luca had long since shed his armor, wearing only simple, dirt-caked cloth garments.
