Solomon Beggley

Solomon effortlessly tossed the 50lbs bags of grain on to the cart, landing it right on the top of the stack. His dad was getting to old to catch the bags now, it was just easier for him to stack it all. He reached for the next. It would have been a perfect day, great weather, good crop, and everything ready to head into town. But, Soloman had been dreading today for a very long time.

He looked at his father trying to gather his confidence. He already knew what his father was going to say. Our faith does not allow it, you are my only son, I need you here on the farm, and the top of the list, it will break your mothers heart and she need her strength now.

Solomon already knew all of that. Knowing it did not change his mind, it hardened him to what he had to do. He was already 19. Most of his friends joined the legion when they become men at 13. If did not join up this year he would be too old to be accepted. Plus, the recruiter told him that because of his size and strength he would be a great fit for heavy weapons. He had only seen weapons on the city guards when his father allowed him to go in town to help unload the wagon.

His father was a good man. His father’s father and the the fathers before him all worked this land. This was Beggley property and Soloman was expected to work it as they had. Work the land and pray to the gods.

But Soloman never felt the connection to the land his father did. In fact, he longed to see what was beyond it.

Truth be told, the religion was not his either. It was always something his parents cared about. Sure, he followed the scripture and tried to lead a good life for the gods. But he could not believe the way his parents did. Every Saturday he went thought the motions but he never did believe and certainly never did feel the Gods enter his body during worship.

He lifted the last bag on to the cart and reached for the gate to lock it closed.


“Dad, before we head to town there is something in need to tell you. “