Chapter Text
Frieda Bauer was not well acquainted with the concept of a peaceful and stable lifestyle. Following her husband’s misfortune with a merchant in the city, they had moved back to Lij, finding themselves unable to acquire a job that lasted more than a month. Despite the joy that her two children’s smile brought for her, despite how her heart seems to burst with every achievement in their life, Frieda had always struggled to put food on their plate, let alone ward off the harsh winds of the winter season. So when she caught wind of the opportunity to work on a certain farmland for an indefinite time, both Frieda and her husband, Johann, had scrambled to organise a meeting with the young couple who owned the farm.
Mr and Mrs Rietveld were quite infamous amongst the townsfolk. They had appeared one day, reclaiming the abandoned Rietveld farm with little care to the curious eyes and whispers that followed them. The odd couple never stayed for more than a week, choosing to live elsewhere for periods of months that resulted in the farmland overgrown with weeds. It was only sensible to hire someone to tend to the acres of land during their absence.
Now, Frieda found herself standing in front of a simple wooden door, dressed in her most presentable outfit, hands clutching her husband’s.
“You’re nervous,” Johann whispered, tilting his head to observe the slight frown on her face.
“What if they-”
“Hey,” he interrupted, fully turning his body towards her so that he could cup her face in his hands, “whatever happens, whether or not they deny us this job, we always get back on our feet and try again.”
Frieda sighed, “let us hope.”
Johann placed a kiss on her hairline before raising his hand to knock on the door. But before he could, the door swung open. The startled pair were left gaping at the man before them. Mr Rietveld wore a simple black button up and formal trousers, gloved hands resting on a cane. Scowling, his eyes ran over the couple before looking satisfied with whatever it was he had found. Composing themselves, Johann reached out a hand, putting on a smile.
“A pleasure to meet you Mr Rietveld, we’re here for-”
“You’re late,” he stated before turning around and heading inside the house.
With her husband’s hand still left hanging and looking very abashed, Frieda patted his arm before grimacing.
“I assume we’re supposed to follow him.”
—-
Frieda didn’t know what to expect walking into the home of the Rietvelds, but it certainly met all the requirements needed to be considered cozy. There was a fireplace pressed against the back wall, with a window on each side letting in small beams of light through the thin green curtains. The couch sat facing the fireplace, with a colourful scarf hanging from the armrest. Mr Rietveld sat on the armchair next to it, with his legs propped up on the coffee table and his hands resting on his lap.
“Take a seat,” he said, gesturing towards the vacant couch and snapping them out of their thoughts.
She exchanged a look with Johann before lowering herself onto the furniture.
“You are here for the job regarding our farmland.” Mr Rietveld stated.
Frieda nodded, “we are here to discuss it, yes.”
“You will be provided with 50 kruge weekly, with prices open to discussion,” Mr Rietveld continued, “you will tend to the farmland however you wish, keeping 25% of the profit.”
Frieda’s stomach dropped. That was not nearly enough, but they could make it work.
A voice sounded from behind them, making both Frieda and Johann jump in surprise.
“Kaz, stop messing with them.”
A young woman, in her early 20s, gently slapped the back of Mr Rietveld’s head before casually leaning against the chair. Frieda assumed that this was Mrs Rietveld. She was a stark opposite of her husband, with copper skin and wearing what appeared to be traditional Suli clothing, hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea.
“What this Shevrati meant to say was that you will keep 90% of the profits made off this farm as well as the 50 kruge weekly.”
Their eyes widened, that was more than enough to provide for their family, to finally give their child a proper education. Johann’s hand found hers, giving it a squeeze.
The Suli woman was not finished however, as she followed with a question.
“You have children, yes?”
Johann nodded in confirmation, “two lovely boys.”
Mr Rietveld’s jaw clenched.
“My husband and I are also offering you the small cottage east of our farm as an extension of your work,” Mrs Rietveld continued, “it’s not much, but I understand that it would be more convenient to be living close to the farm as well as the local school.”
Frieda’s free hand flew to her mouth in shock, tears springing into her eyes.
“We cannot accept this, you’re doing so much for us even though we’ve barely met.” Johann exclaimed.
She smiled sadly, “we understand your situation.”
“Mrs Rietveld, we cannot thank you enough for this.”
“Please, call me Inej,” she smiled, “it’s the least we can do.”
Mr Rietveld, whose face now softened considerably, leaned over to grab his cane before standing up.
“You will start tomorrow,” he said before exiting the room.
Inej rolled her eyes, “always for the theatrics.”
“Your husband is alright with this?” Frieda asked weakly, still in disbelief at their fortune. She made a note to pray to the Saints tonight for this blessing.
“We had agreed to it before you guys even asked for the job,” Inej laughed, “Kaz just enjoys tormenting poor souls.”
Frieda didn’t know whether or not that was supposed to be comforting.
Johann stood up, hands leaving hers to extend it towards a Rietveld once again, but this time it was graciously taken.
“Mrs Rietv- Inej, you don’t understand how much this opportunity means for our family, we can never fully express our gratitude.”
Inej merely shook her head, a smile still playing on her lips.
“You can repay this favour by tending to our land, saints know we need it.”
—-
Following that day, Frieda did not see the Rietvelds during her time spent tending to the land with her husband. The labour was gruelling, but the monotony was hardley unwelcomed. They would rise just before the sun rose above the horizon, preparing themselves for the day ahead before making the journey across town to drop their children off to school before returning to begin work on the farmland.
The married couple weren’t the most efficient farmers nor were they particularly skilled in any aspect. However, while they lacked experience and proficiency, they certainly made up for it in other ways.
Despite the land not being of their possession, Frieda and Johann treated it as if it was. On the rare occasions where Kaz was visiting Lij, he would find the humble house well maintained, with the farmland orderly and ready for the first blossoms of spring.
Though the Rietvelds only visited once every fortnight, twice if circumstances allowed, Frieda found that her family had quickly warmed up with the odd couple. Sometimes, they would bring with them a tall Zemeni man and a timid looking Kerch, often leaving before Frieda got the chance to meet them.
Kaz, which took her quite a considerable amount of convincing before she could call him anything but Mr Rietveld, turned out to be pleasant company. He often tried to learn how to tend to the farm, though his success ranged considerably.
The first time found Frieda almost impaling the man with a trowel when he had startled her with his approach.
“I wouldn’t suggest you stab your employer,” Kaz had snarked, “that would be counter-intuitive.”
Frieda had waved the trowel at him intimidatingly, but only garnered an unimpressed look.
“Show me how to do this.”
Frieda had gazed at him, surprised for only a split second, before teaching him how to deal with the weed. She found herself surprised at the speed he had learned.
The second time was of limited success.
Frieda, as usual, had not known that Kaz would be visiting. She was in the middle of milking the cows when he once again made her jump. Only this time it resulted in the Kerch man getting a faceful of unpasteurized milk.
He had not been pleased.
She couldn’t help but be slightly amused.
—-
Archie was best friends with Karl Bauer, but sometimes he debated whether or not it was worth it.
This was one of those times.
“Karl, I really don’t think this is a good idea.” Archie pleaded, grabbing hold of his friend’s arm.
Karl scoffed, turning around, “I’ve told you, we won’t get caught.”
“You don’t know that, what if the farm isn’t as empty as you thought?”
“Don’t worry, Mama was there today, Mr and Mrs Rietveld aren’t back yet.”
“I really don’t like this.”
Karl beamed, “that’s okay.”
—-
Archie reached the conclusion that it was very much not okay.
The shadows were much too large and the land was far too empty. He should have been relieved that there was no sign of life, wasn’t that the whole point of not getting caught? Yet as he swiveled his head back and forth between the approaching house and the stone gate behind him, Archie couldn’t help but feel unnerved.
They stopped in front of the house, the small oil lamp perched on the porch table cast flickering lights over their features.
“So what now?” Archie shuffled his feet, “do we knock?”
Karl stared at him, mouth agape.
“We’re breaking into a house.”
“Right.”
Karl’s eye brightened and a smirk broke out on his face as he held up a lockpick.
“Can’t be that hard.”
Archie let out a snort, before slapping a hand onto his mouth and looking around hurriedly. Karl was too preoccupied to tease him about it.
After several awkward minutes of watching Karl’s admittingly pathetic attempts to pick the lock, Karl finally decided to open his mouth to comment on it.
Before he could, the door was sung open, causing both children to scream and scramble backwards. Archie, though he didn’t admit it when his brother later enquired, fell right on his butt.
Mr Rietveld loomed above them, bearing an odd expression; his brows arched down more than usual, lips pursed and eyes narrowed.
He regarded them for a second more before asking accusingly, ‘have your mother never taught you to keep away from scary men?’
Karl craned his neck to look at the man, eyes wide and mouth hung open.
Mr Rietveld raised an eyebrow, eyeing the lock pick that had been unceremoniously dropped onto the floor at some point during their panic.
Karl seemed to gather himself quite quickly once he finally processed who stood before him.
‘You’re not scary, Mr Rietveld! Mama only told me to keep away from strangers, and I don’t think you’re a stranger.”
Mr Rietveld clutched his odd looking cane harder, a muscle in his clenched jaw twitched.
Karl looked around quickly with wide eyes, leaning in as if telling a secret and whispered, 'Mama and Papa don't like talking about it much, but I once saw them crying when they thought we weren’t looking.’ Karl frowned, “it was after we came back from the city.”
The man gave nothing away, though Archie swore that his eyes darkened a shade.
Karl didn’t seem to notice, choosing to continue with his confession, “they’ve been smiling more since coming to the farm, we can eat when we want now.”
Mr Rietveld didn’t respond, merely tilting his head slightly to look at the rising moon, hand reaching up to adjust his bright scarf (which Archie noticed completely contrasted his dark attire).
“Care to explain why you were trying to pick my lock,” Mr Rietveld mimed checking his watch, on his very bare wrist, “at a time very much past your curfew.”
Archie looked over, pleased to see that Karl had the decency to look sheepish.
“We were curious.”
Archie desperately wanted to mention that there was no ‘we’, but decided against it.
“About?”
“Well, you’re never around. We wanted to know where you go when you’re not here in Lij.”
Mr Rietveld leaned down to meet Karl’s gaze. “What do you think?”
“Some of my classmates think that you go on adventures all the way to Fjerdan glaciers and Shu Han mountains. I think you’re from the city.”
The man, looking highly amused by that statement, asked, “what gave it away?”
Archie’s head perked up in interest.
Without missing a beat, Karl said with utmost certainty, “it’s that stupid coat.”
Whatever it was that Mr Rietveld had expected, it was not that. Archie half expected him to burst out in outrage, turning them into the local officials for trespassing, but was startled when the man cracked a small smile.
“Not many people say that to my face.”
The little boy lifted his chin to meet the challenge, “I’m not like ‘many people’ then.”
Mr Rietveld regarded Karl for a moment before nodding, “I suppose not.”