An Honest Day's Work - Illevar Short Story

As the soft glow of sunset crept across the farmstead, Gunther stuck the farmer’s ax into a nearby log before he lowered himself down with a grunt onto the stump that adorned the cozy, grassy lawn behind the farmhouse. He sighed to himself as he could no longer deny that he was getting older and that his line of work was taking a toll on his less-than-pristine body.

Checking the overalls and jacket that he now found himself in, Gunther couldn’t help but contemplate if farming might be a good choice for his retirement. His original attire had become quite sullied from the housework and, fancying himself a change, he had made his way to the main bedroom before he sauntered outside.  He was relieved to discover that the former tenant had left a change of clothes out and, more importantly, that they fit rather well.

He pulled out the loose pack of smokes he commandeered from the farmer’s kitchen counter, slightly disappointed at the brand of choice the Lowland family chose to puff on. Lifting out one of cigarettes and slipping it into his lips, Gunther snapped his fingers creating a small flame that ignited the end of the small tube and inhaled deeply.

He stared out at the vast wilderness that surrounded the farmstead. The lush, green trees that seemed to hide away this insignificant abode from the rest of the world. The rolling waves of freshly tended crops flicked to-and-fro by the gentle twilight breeze. Cackles and chirps from various birds broke the silence occasionally. 

The stars above began to increase in their numbers and brightness as time ticked by. The darkening hues of blue slowly began to light up like a city bar sign. Gunther always enjoyed seeing the stars as it was rare his work took him away from the bustling cities that made up the Empire. 

He usually had to take his own equipment with him when he worked in the cities, so when told of his new assignment at the farm, he felt some relief that he wouldn’t have had to take his own gear along. Any good farm worth its salt had plenty of tools on hand for his line of work. 

His official title was probably something long and tedious to say, so he chose to call himself a “prepper.” His job was to prepare new locations for his master’s other subjects. After his work was finished, the “cleaners,” or whatever they were actually called, would come in and finish preparing the location for further renovations and to clean up the mess he made. 

Gunther truly enjoyed his work. It allowed him to continue to travel about the country and to see new places, as well as some familiar ones. He had been part of a traveling group in his younger days. Those early days often saw him and his cohorts constantly on the move, scoping out jobs that others couldn’t do and generally getting their hands dirty. 

The group disbanded many years ago with only Gunther remaining active in the group's former work. Dewey became a father and worked as a private eye, Lonnie became a music teacher, Thatcher opened a bar somewhere, and Shauna disappeared as far as he knew. Gunther did not want to retire from his line of work as he simply enjoyed it too much.

Finishing up the last few drags of his smoke, Gunther felt an all too familiar vibration in his jacket. It went on for several seconds before finally stopping; only to quickly start up again. He already knew who was trying to reach him and, quite frankly, didn’t want to deal with them at that moment. 

He missed the days before magic-tech made it easier to reach people. He fondly remembered the days of sending letters or using couriers to send messages. These days in the Empire, if someone wanted to get a hold of you all they needed was your frequency…and a small fortune to get their hands on one of these devices. 

Ignoring the almost constant vibrations, Gunther rose to his feet and lit up another cigarette. He sauntered over towards the animal pens across the yard. The humble lodgings of the beasts of burden were lovingly made. It had a freshly tiled roof, high walls, and places for lanterns to be set. Clearly, great care went into its design and upkeep. 

The animals that were still awake slowly rose to greet their mustached visitor. They were afraid of him at the start of the day as any animal would be of a stranger. Admittedly, he was far more noisy than he should have been when starting his work and, most assuredly, had startled them. Through gentle coercion and plenty of treats from the farmer’s storage, he calmed them down and was able to meander as he pleased without their whimpering or nervous cries. 

Satisfied with his break, Gunther turned and made his way back to the farmhouse. He would have to light the fire and a few lanterns to combat the darkness before it got too dark. He opened the back door and, watching his step, made his way over the piles of debris and junk that covered the floor towards the washroom.

This was a nice house at one point. Its former inhabitants were a nice family of four. The family had been larger, but all of the children had since left, leaving just the farmer, his wife, and her elderly parents. They seemed like such a nice family to Gunther. The house was well-enough kept by the aging grandmother and grandfather while the younger two tended to the fields and beasts. Gunther always made sure to research the places he was to prep. He wanted to really get to know the history and lifestyle before it was to be renovated by his master’s whim.  

Stepping into the washroom, Gunther finally remembered that his jacket had been shaking since before he finished his last smoke. He took out the small device and held it up to his ear.

“Good evening, Ms.… Sorry, I forgot your name. How might I help you?” Gunther calmly said. 

“You were supposed to contact us before sunset,” the woman at the end curtly stated, “What have you been doing?”

“Oh, not much. It didn’t take as much effort as I expected, so I decided to do a little extra farm work before…” Gunther started to reply.

“Farm work?! What do you mean by farm work?!” the woman quickly interrupted.

“You know. Farm work. It means to tend to the fields as well as the animals…” he politely replied.

“I know what it means! Ugh, whatever! The crew is already on their way since I assumed you’d be putzing around. Be ready.”

There was a soft click and then silence. Gunther made a mental note to learn her name before he retired. He had a growing list of people he wanted to meet face-to-face with before he settled down for good.

Sliding the new-fangled device back into his jacket pocket, Gunther faced the wash basin and mirror. He was utterly filthy from his work in the house. Specks of crud dotted his face and large stains covered his hands and arms. He was usually more careful when using his own equipment, but, when presented with tools other than his own, he tended to perform much more sloppily.

Maybe using the ax wasn’t the cleanest way to handle this, He thought to himself, maybe I should have gone with the handsaw.

A broad smile had begun to form on his face as he thought this. He could have used a handsaw, but that wouldn’t have been as much fun. There was something deeply satisfying to him of letting go of his normally surgeon-like precision. The weight of the ax felt wonderful to wield and the resounding thud as it met its target rang harmoniously.

Composing himself once again, Gunther got to work scrubbing down his face and limbs. The cleaning part was always the hardest as those stains tended to linger about. The washbasin’s clean water slowly began to blacken. Each splash in that silent house turned purity into murky darkness.

Glancing at himself one last time in the mirror, Gunther turned around and left the washroom. He took his time lighting the lanterns and fireplace before he settled onto a chair and lit up another cigarette. He took one long look at his work and smiled. 

A new family would be living here soon. A new, yet familiar family. The names and faces would be identical to the original, yet they would be utterly different below the flesh. His master had grand plans after all; plans that would change Illevar forever and Guther was excited for them.

Lights shone in through the windows of the house as the cleaners arrived. The front door swung open as the first of the crew stepped in. The individual wore plastic clothing and had a strange mask on. The crew member took one quick look around before recoiling in horror. 

The dismembered bodies of the farmer family laid about in heaps on the floor. Blood splashed and marked the walls and ceilings. Furniture was overturned and signaled that some of them had time to try to escape. This was a massacre, but even for Gunther it seemed brutal.

“By the Gods, Gunther! What the hell did you do?!” asked the crewman.

“An honest day’s work,” Gunther replied with a smile.

Hey guys, been a while since I wrote anything. This short story was based off a villain from my previous D&D group. He's a professional assassin and was based off the brutal killing spree of The Villisca Axe Murderer (viewer discretion is advised). Gunther is the only active member of his former group, The Star Covenant, and now works for the main villain. I'm hoping to add short stories for each of the members as I get the urge to type them out.

Anyway, just had this scene in my head for him and I'll probably add it to his Monster Stat page once I get further into making that.

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