Getin leaned his broom against the wooden barn wall and wiped the sweat from his brow. His messy brown hair was dripping wet and damp patches were quickly forming on the waist of his tan trousers. In the middle of the day the barn felt more like an oven and the sickly sweet smell of hay was overpowering. Though he tried to get all his indoor work done in the early morning, he found himself stuck sweeping up the mess left by the king’s guards once again.
He grabbed his threadbare shirt off the gate and wiped down his naturally muscular body. Working as a stable boy for most of his life never allowed for much accumulation of fat. Even though he’d had his left arm amputated above the elbow when he was young, Getin’s body had only ever known the hardships of manual labour. He felt a light breeze on his cooling skin and turned to check on the animals grazing in the fields beyond. The cattle were all snoozing quietly under the shade of a few trees and all seemed well. He turned his gaze to the town beyond and tried to make out individual buildings through the haze of the day. He was concentrating so much he didn’t hear the approach of two people behind him.