Bessem County, Gravel Town.
In Old Bill's nearly fifty years of memory, the days were like the old oak tree by the field, ring by ring, stable and repetitive.
His world wasn't big, just centered around the stone-built farmhouse, radiating out to the patch of black land he cultivated, at most reaching the nearby stream to fetch water or going to town once a month to exchange some grain for salt and thread.
This land was owned by a noble lord named Viscount Barton.
The viscount's castle was far on the other side of the hills; Old Bill had hardly seen it in his lifetime.
The taxes weren't light, but in good years after paying the rent, the family could barely make ends meet, occasionally having a bowl of bean soup with salted meat at the table.
This was all the happiness he could imagine.
His greatest pride was his youngest son Tom.
