Day 2 Ebrill 10th Dydd Gwener (April)(Friday)

  I awoke at 7 a.m. on my first full day on… I realized I didn’t know the name of the pnet. My UI map didn’t help there either. Well, I truly awoke on what had to be a new pnet for the first time.

  I looked out of the windows of my tractor and heard a cacophony of birds and insects. I knew that on Earth this had been much more common before humans killed them all off. I’d taken a couple of trips to the Mexican rainforest over the years on vacations with my ex-wife. This was the noise level I was dealing with out here now.

  Emily had given me a thick wool bnket to use for the night. It had kept me plenty warm even as the temperature had dropped to right around freezing.

  My UI said it was about 40F. Walking back to the homestead would be a little chilly, but I had been dressed for April weather in Idaho when I entered this world. It could snow in the morning and turn into shorts and t-shirt weather by early afternoon.

  I was wearing a new pair of work boots, an almost new pair of blue jeans with a dark navy blue button-up work shirt. I had a heavy-duty tan Carhart canvas jacket and a no-brand bck hoodie.

  In the tractor, I also had a couple of pairs of blue shooting safety gsses and a grey baseball cap with a white outline of the state of Idaho stitched into it.

  The st items that had still been in my tractor were a one-gallon pstic water jug and a backpack-style cooler that had the lunch I’d been pnning on eating while pnting potatoes in Idaho.

  It was nothing special, just a ham sandwich, and a small bag of salt and vinegar kettle-style potato chips, my favorite. I ate them before I got out of the tractor, leaving behind anything that seemed too modern for now. I doubted pstic was a thing.

  When I got out of the tractor I stretched. I expected to feel sore, but I felt fantastic. I hadn’t felt this limber since I was a teenager!

  The dew on the grass, combined with the moisture on the paper birch bark, left a fresh, earthy scent. My family had a pce in the mountains, a couple of hours north of where we lived. There was a stand of paper birch trees near the cabin. I had loved peeling the bark off and trying to write on it as a kid.

  It probably wasn’t the best for the trees, but I couldn’t help myself. I pulled a small section of bark off and rolled it between my fingers, releasing the aromatic smell. It gave me a real sense of nostalgia.

  The walk back to the homestead took me about an hour. I took the time to look around and noticed a few little gullies here and there that looked like they had water running in them at some point. Probably from the spring thaw. The ground wasn’t completely washed out, so hopefully that meant it didn’t flood too hard.

  Overhead, I saw plenty of ducks and geese, as well as plenty of songbirds I didn’t know the names of, but they sounded pleasant enough. There had been a flock of wild turkeys somewhere in the woods. I didn’t see them, but I’d heard their telltale gobble gobble calls.

  I got to the homestead around 9 a.m. Colin was waiting outside for me and asked if I wanted breakfast. I told him I was fine for now and thanked him for the offer.

  I couldn’t do too much until I knew what to expect from the Bishop, so I mostly just made small talk with Colin, and we talked about his hunting habits and how the fishing was.

  I could tell he was warming up to me. He wasn’t quite ready to hand me his musket to look over yet, but he did let me know I’d need to buy a musket so that I could fulfill my militia duties. The government subsidized them, so it was only 100 gold for the gun, and fifty bullets.

  The gun technology seemed mid to te 1800s. That was okay. I’d done some bck powder shooting with my uncle. He loved his muzzleloaders.

  Mostly I just nervously waited.

  Finally, around 1 p.m. I saw a rge carriage off in the distance. It took about ten minutes for the carriage to make its way to the farm after we first sighted it.

  When it got there, the coachman, a middle-aged man wearing stereotypical storybook coachman’s livery in dark colors, with his long grey hair tied back in a queue, nimbly jumped down from the driver's seat and opened the carriage door.

  Out stepped a clean-shaven man who looked to be in his te forties or early fifties. He was right around my height, six-foot-two, and dressed in shockingly white, high-quality linen priest's robes with golden trim.

  What I could see of his hair was short and mostly grey. A crimson skullcap with golden trim covered the rest of his head. He also weighed at least three hundred pounds, maybe more. Clearly, he did not miss many meals.

  There were red veins crisscrossing his bulbous nose. It looked like he enjoyed his drink as well.

  Surprisingly, he smelled like my favorite Old Spice deodorant. It was a mix of sandalwood, cypress trees, and vanil, or something close to it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sandalwood tree, but I liked the scent. If this went well, then maybe I could figure out what his perfume was. I didn’t have any deodorant in the tractor when I was portaled over, so I would start smelling pretty soon.

  He put his right hand out in a motion I immediately knew meant he wanted me to kiss the enormous gold ring studded with rubies on his middle finger.

  I didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot, so I obliged him and kissed the ring. That seemed to satisfy him.

  He looked towards Colin and Emily, who were standing about ten feet behind me, trying to be as meek as possible. He didn’t offer his hand for them to kiss.

  I wasn’t sure how I should address him. I should have asked Emily, so I just bowed my head and said, “Bishop Smythe. It is a great honor to have you out at my homestead. As you can see I am John Jacobson. I apologize for my tardiness. I was unfortunately deyed.”

  He gave me an appraising look and then answered in what I thought of as an aristocratic British accent, with a deep and sonorous voice that gave off a real sense of authority. An effect only slightly offset by the clearly bored breathing that occasionally forced him to stop speaking to take a breath.

  “Hello Mr Jacobson. I am pleased to welcome you to your new nd.”

  There had been a real emphasis on the word “your” there.

  "I have your paperwork here. Once you have signed it, then the nd shall officially be yours in the eyes of the King, and Parliament.”

  Parliament had definitely been said as an afterthought.

  I responded. “Yes of course sir. It would be my honor.”

  His coachman produced a folder of papers and handed it to me.

  Just to be sure, I asked the bishop whether I should fill it out now or wait until after we had spoken. Once he assured me that protocol demanded I ?fill it out first, I got to work.

  Looking at the first page handed to me drew me back into the scroll-like page again.

  The first sheet was a standard boilerpte contract. It stated that I would sell none of my crops, except those sold to fellow homesteaders, to anyone but the Albion Empire Trading Guild.

  It promised that an official panel set the guild's prices. The panel was made up of a member of the Prime Minister’s cabinet. A nobleman of no lower rank than an earl. A member of the Merchant’s Guild and the elected representative of the Western Territories, who was a non-voting member of Parliament until such a time as the Western Territory became an official province once it hit a popution of 250,000 people.

  I didn’t see how I had any way of avoiding signing this, so when the prompt to accept the terms appeared, I clicked accept.

  Next came the Quest Assignment Contract. It stated that as a ndowning citizen of the empire; I was now eligible to assign quests necessary to maintain my property. I was also now given an XP stipend that was tied to the nd. The amount of XP depended on my level and amount of nd.

  I pledged that if I assigned a quest and someone accepted it, I would be required to pay the agreed upon amount of XP and gold. If I failed to do so, the aggrieved party could file a lien on any future profits.

  Also easy enough to agree to. Someone needed to give workers some protections. Too bad this hadn't existed at home.

  The final document showed my rights and responsibilities as a homesteader.

  One of the biggest perks seemed to be that I could now vote in territorial parliamentary elections. I remembered from school that only male ndowners could vote for most of history.

  The biggest responsibility was that I was required to bring in a minimum amount of each crop to sell each year, or pay a fine. I also had to serve in the territory militia. This required me to meet for training in Weston one weekend every two months, and for a full week after the fall harvest. I had to keep and maintain a musket, and stay fit.

  Once they were all done, I thanked the Bishop and asked him when I could expect my homestead package.

  He said, “For reasons unclear, the System did not have your measurements when you first accepted the System prompt to cim your homestead. I’ve only seen that happen a few times before. Funnily enough there’s a man but a few miles on the other side of Weston who showed up st year with the same exact problem. His name is Thomas Roberts, quite a wonderful gentleman. You shall meet him in a month when the militia musters.”

  That had certainly piqued my curiosity.

  He continued on. “My coachman has your tools and household items. I’ll have him get those down from the coach. You shall give him your measurements and the Trade Guild will fetch you your spare clothes when they bring out whatever seed you purchase. Just remember that you are obligated to pnt at least one field of wheat for His Majesty.”

  I thanked him and asked him about the gold and my csses. For the st while he’d been speaking, he had been looking towards Emily and Colin with a nasty smile.

  Instead of answering my question, he said, “Do you wish for me to bring out the constable and a couple of soldiers to evict these squatters?”

  That was certainly direct.

  I shook my head, nerves beginning to take hold. “Sir, I’m new to these nds and these two have been here for several years. I was thinking of letting them stay on as borers.”

  He whipped his head towards me and threw me an icy gre, all sembnce of good humor gone. “That is simply not possible. It would not be proper.”

  “They would have to have contracts with you. As a level 1 Homesteader there is no way you could possibly have enough XP to hire them both.”

  I hadn’t had a chance to look at any of the quests at that point, but I had seen that people gave out contracts as quests.

  I quickly opened it up and saw multiple avaible quests. I didn’t have the time to look through them all right now since this wasn’t instantaneous, but I saw the two that mattered in this situation.

  Hire a Farm Hand – Hire a worker for a 9-month contract. They will be expected to work 10 hours per day, 6 days per week. Food and lodging must be provided. (10 gold & 100xp upon hiring, 15 gold per month if hired after the growing season has begun, 10 gold and 20XP per month) Avaible Farm Hands: Many

  Farm Mistress - Hire a woman to prepare meals, tend to the farm animals, and mend clothing. They will be expected to work for 10 hours per day, 6 days per week. The employer must provide food for her to cook and separate lodging. This is a chaste arrangement, and any attempts at coercion will result in a fine, and full payment to the Farm Mistress for any remaining time on the contract. (5 gold & 75XP upon hiring. 6 gold per month and 20XP per month, contract length determined by both parties). Farm Mistresses-Few

  I could see that I had received 2,000 XP to start with. 100 for every level gained, and I was set to receive 200 XP per month for quests as a level 20 Homesteader with one plot.

  Once I had quickly looked at that, I told the Bishop the situation.

  As innocently as I could, I said, “Sir, I have 2,000 XP and am to receive 200XP per month. I have plenty of XP to hire them both.”

  His eyes went wide, and he stuttered incoherently for a few seconds before getting his words together.

  “Inconceivable!”

  I had to stifle a ugh.

  He looked like he might have an aneurism as he yelled out, “It is impossible for a level 1 Homesteader to have that much XP! And even if you somehow did, you wouldn’t be able to pay them!”

  After he was done, I asked him about my gold. “I was under the impression that I would receive 1,000 gold. It also looks like I can dey payment for more XP per month.”

  He clenched his fists tightly at his sides as he fought a losing battle against his anger. “How could you possibly have the necessary XP at level 1!”

  I hadn’t wanted to let him know my level since he didn’t seem able to see that, but it didn’t look like I could avoid it.

  “Sir, I am a level 20 Homesteader.”

  That statement seemed to have shocked him into silence. After at least ten seconds of silence, where he stared at me with a look of astonishment on his face, he quietly said, “inconceivable.”

  This was NOT going well.

  In what I hoped was a diplomatic voice, I said, “Sir. I do apologize if you had hoped to remove these two from my homestead. I am of the opinion that they can help me out this year. If you could give me the gold, and my extra csses then I will get my seed ordered and begin doing my best to make myself worthy of the nd the King has granted me.”

  He reined in his emotions as I spoke, but he now directed the malicious glint that he had shown Emily and Colin towards me.

  “Well then. Because I am a priest of the System, and the System is always infallible, I am forced to believe you. If you can indeed hire them then they may stay. Of course you cannot sleep in your cabin if you’re pnning on letting them do so. It simply would not be proper”

  Good thing I already wasn’t staying there.

  “In addition. As per the King’s writ. At my discretion I can deduct up to 100 gold per year for taxes that you would have been paying had you been here these st three years. You will therefore only be receiving 700 gold.”

  “And as for your csses. Here is your Militiaman scroll.”

  He handed me the scroll that seemed to have appeared out of thin air!

  “But, it seems that the only support css scroll avaible at this te date is Alchemist,” with a nasty smile, he then handed me a second scroll that also just appeared out of nowhere.

  Behind me I heard Colin angrily say, “hey!” right before his mother put her hand over his mouth and told him to shut up. He kicked at the ground and stormed off toward the river. Emily did not follow him. She quickly put her hands together in front of her apron and stared down at the ground.

  The bishop smiled in their direction and turned back to me. “I have no idea how you have achieved your level, but, if the System says you’re that level and is awarding you your XP, then the System is correct. But know this, I will be keeping an eye on you, and if you step out of line, I will be there.”

  He snapped his fingers and said, “Coachman, help me back into my carriage, and then take his measurements for his Kit, then we will be out of here post haste.”

  With that, he turned his back on me, and the coachman helped him get back into the carriage with some difficulty.