The panicked mooing of the herd cut through the evening quiet. Harm’s tankard froze halfway to his lips. Not the cows. The thought was a cold knife in his gut. They couldn’t afford to lose a single one.

He was already pulling on his muddy boots; there was no time to find clean ones, his mind racing. Was it wolves? Goblins? The new locks on the barn door he’d recently added improved the safety of the herd, but... They have to hold, he thought, with that bastard Dasir undercutting our prices and Satil’s taxes bleeding us dry... "Dahlia! Florence!"

"What?" Dahlia said, coming in from the children's bedroom, but already moving towards the fireplace where Florence hung, her battered scabbard a reminder of times long since past.

"Something's after the herd. Grab Florence, will you?"

She lifted Florence off her hook and threw her to Harm, who caught it effortlessly. Familiarity flooded him as the world narrowed, his hand gripping the hilt with ease, the leather fitted perfectly around his calloused skin. A lifetime of fighting lay behind him before he released the shining blade with a shing, promising violence. The steel flashed in the lamplight, its weight perfectly balanced and comforting as he yanked the farmhouse door open.

He strode with purpose, the mindset of a struggling farmer vanishing, replaced by the sharp focus of an experienced Level 20 fighter. 

The barn stood at the end of the pasture, where the cows were kept at night, and he snatched a lantern from the porch before striding into the deluge. The rain had become a typical territory downpour. The dark grey skies hung ominously above, as they spat their contents angrily at the ground below, soaking his tunic in moments. 

His boots squelched, which hadn't dried from the afternoon's work, and he needed a new pair, but coin recently had been short; another gift from Satil, all because he had disciplined his wayward son for bullying dear Yonda.

"I'll get my bow," Dahlia called from the porch behind him. Harm didn't look back as he stared into the dark, the lantern spluttering in his grip.

As Harm neared, he thought he saw movement. Pausing, he wiped the rain from his eyes with the back of his sleeve, squinting into the night.

"Marius, stay with your sister," Dahlia called, as Harm heard hurried footsteps behind him, sloshing down the track. Marius's steps sloshed to a halt under his mother's instruction. Good lad! Harm thought. Marius was their eldest.

The familiar form of Dahlia fell in beside him, an arrow already nocked. That bow had become her means to support them, a fact that needled at him.

"I thought I saw movement on the right, near the rear shed," Harm said.

"I can't see anything," Dahlia replied, her eyesight was as sharp as an owl's.

"Stay here. I'm going to check."

Harm heard a noise as he neared the barn.

“Anyone there better leave, or they will have my blade to answer to,” he called. His pulse was racing with the thrill of the unknown. It had always excited him during his adventuring days.

He reached the barn corner, not seeing anything. Looking at the ground, he noticed footprints. They were too small to be his and too large to be Marius’s.

Goblins. He thought.

He swore under his breath as he cautiously moved forward. The door to the small shed at the side of the barn hung open, swinging in the wind that accompanied the heavy rain. That was where Harm stored his tooling, which under the current circumstances he couldn't afford to lose.

There was a flash of metal, caught in the light from his lantern, as a being sprinted from the shed out towards the far pasture. Harm chased after it, its short, wiry form easily recognisable, with its pointed ears. It was a goblin.

Damn. He thought. "Stop!" he bellowed.

He noticed movement to his right and spotted two other spindly forms already ahead of the one he chased.

The goblin looked back over its shoulder, hissing as Harm closed the distance. It suddenly stopped, dropping what it had been carrying, as a short sword appeared in its hand. It turned to face him.

“No, you don’t,” Harm said, running towards it, his sword aloft. As he neared the one with his sword drawn, it swung at him. Harm didn’t parry. He barged forward, his shoulder smashing into the goblin’s chest. Bone cracked. The creature wheezed, collapsing. Harm was already past it, eyes locked on the two fleeing with his tools.

He felt the rush of air by his cheek, and one of the fleeing goblins squealed as an arrow struck it in its back. It dropped what it carried as it tried to reach the arrow. That had made the other pause, and it looked over its shoulder as Harm closed the distance. 

Its eyes widened in shock as Harm ignored the injured goblin from Dahlia's arrow and caught up with his target. Florence flashed in the night, the lantern Harm still held swinging violently in his other hand. It was a skill he had learned in dungeons, fighting while he maintained a light source.

Florence cut deep, the goblin's leather armour splitting, under her immaculate edge as blood sprayed from the wound. The goblin screamed as it staggered, falling forward. Harm swung Florence up and down, swiftly ending its life.

As he turned to face the injured goblin, another arrow struck it straight through its neck. Its eyes opened wide before rolling upwards, showing their sickly yellow. Goblin eyes weren't white like humans.

The first goblin Harm had knocked flying had stumbled to its feet, shaking its head from the impact, and its breathing came in gasps. A blow from a man like Harm would have staggered a bear, never mind a goblin. 

Swiftly, he closed the distance as the goblin brought its sword up in defence. Harm watched its movement, and as it flailed at him, he deflected the blade as he thrust forward, scoring a direct hit into its shoulder. The goblin cried in pain as its sword fell from its hand, its muscle severed. Without hesitation, Harm pulled his blade free and spun, taking its head from its shoulders. A jet of warm blood squirted upwards, its body standing upright for several moments, before collapsing to the ground.

Dahlia walked over.

"Nice shooting," Harm said as he wiped Florence's blade clean on the felled thief.

Dahlia smiled and leaned up, kissing him on his cheek. "We'd better clean this up before Yonda sees it."

"We can throw them in the fire pit. I'll burn them in the morning if the rains stop," Harm said.

Between them, they hefted the three bodies to the pit behind the barn, away from the farmhouse. Harm took the weapons that the goblins had on them. They were of poor quality but would still sell for a few coppers.

Harm collected up all his discarded tools, taking them back to the shed. Then, he secured the door as best as he could; it would be another job he needed to do tomorrow, where the thieves had broken the latch. 

They returned to the farmhouse, the adrenaline of the fight fading into a deep weariness. Back inside, he slumped into his chair. The familiar weight of his tankard was the only comfort that mattered. He propped his filthy boots on the table edge, too tired to care.

Dahlia entered, surveyed the mud, the blood on his tunic, the weariness in his eyes. She didn’t scold. She just picked up Yonda’s teddy bear from the table and said, "I’ll get the water. You’re tracking ogre-shit on my floor, Harm." A flicker of a smile touched her lips, her eyes narrowing slightly.

The teddy was Yonda’s, and she would never have gone to sleep without it. Harm remembered Marius's ninth birthday well. That had been the year he decided he had become a man and would follow in his footsteps as a farmer. Harmonious had been proud of Marius’s maturity and decision. The clear image of Marius placing his teddy on his shelf in his room still made Harm smile. Harmonious knew he still used it, having often found it tangled up in his blankets on his bed.

Harmonious grumbled, Dahlia's hidden warning of ogre-shit and expression having the desired impact as he dropped his feet to the kitchen floor and knocked more mud from their soles. Cursing, he put his tankard down and grabbed the broom, sweeping it up. He didn’t fancy the wrath of Dahlia if he dirtied her kitchen. He knew he should have changed his boots when he came in. Sighing, he walked to the front door, opened it, and placed his boots outside. 

He moved back inside, closing and bolting the door, and slipped on his indoor boots before resuming his position at the kitchen table. Closing his eyes, he leaned back in the chair again. He heard Dahlia come back into the kitchen, and the first thing he felt was his feet being knocked from the table’s edge. 

“You know better,” Dahlia scolded him.

The action jarred Harmonious, making him spill the tankard he was holding in his lap. Mumbling, he wiped the patch of ale.

“What was that?” Dahlia said.

“Nothing, dear.”

“I need to go to the market tomorrow. We are out of potatoes.”

“I can speak to Farrel and get some from him if you wish?”

“No. The last lot he gave you was soft. They didn’t last. I know you like supporting your friends, but some really need to improve their produce.”

“You can’t complain about free food. The markets are always expensive.”

Dahlia tutted. “It’s not as expensive as your ale.”

“I earned this,” Harmonious sulked.

Dahlia walked over to him and leaned down, kissing him on the top of his head. “I know, Harm,” she said softly.

“I can take you into town in the morning. Which one did you want to go to? The urns are full, so I can take you either way. I need to set Marius up with the milking first; they seem to have improved since changing their feed.”

“That’s good. I was starting to get worried.”

"As was I," Harm said, the image of the goblins running off with his tools flashed in his mind, "Let's hope the traders are kinder tomorrow than our visitors tonight."

“Hillnot or Sallew in the morning?” Harm asked.

“Sallew is usually better for vegetables being on the plain's edge.”

Harm slumped his shoulders, knowing he would get the cold treatment from many in Sallew. 

“It’s been nearly six months. You should be over it by now,” Dahlia said, seeing his face.

“You’re not the one who gets the snide remarks about picking on a boy,” he sulked.

His transformation from a proud father to the behaviour of a scolded teenager didn't go unnoticed by Dahlia, who rolled her eyes.

“It’s only a few of Satil's boot-lickers who talk like that. The women of the town believe you did the right thing. I know I wasn’t happy, but he had been bullying all the girls in town, not just our Yon. Several women had complained, but the men weren’t brave enough to confront Satil.”

“I didn’t confront Satil either. I just taught his son a lesson.”

“Yes. A lesson he deserved to be taught; he was an adult under the law, and you did nothing wrong. What would you do to Marius if you had found out he was treating young girls like that?” Dahlia asked.

Satil's boy had been fifteen. “Marius wouldn’t sit down for a week or two.”

“Exactly. Satil knew what his son was like, but he did nothing about it. You did the town a good thing.”

“I wish it felt that way.” 

“You never know. It may be different this time,” Dahlia smiled as she took the water from the fire.

It was Harm's turn to roll his eyes. He doubted it would ever change. It had not improved over the past six months. The only benefit was that every time he went into town, Satil’s boy seemed to vanish. He had beaten the boy, but after what he had done to his little Yonda, he was lucky he hadn’t killed him. Nobody hit his daughter and got away with it; he didn’t care who or how old they were.

He hadn't gone there often since, apart from fleeting visits to sell the milk and cheese. He preferred to go to Hillnot for apparent reasons. Dahlia finished washing and went to their room, as Harm finished his ale and began washing when Dahlia called him.

“Your wife is cold, so hurry up and get in here to warm her up. Harmonious Scrug.”