Jose wiped the sweat from his brow and straightened. His back popped from crouching over for so long. Work on the berry farm was harsh, but it paid well. In fact, that was the only reason he hadn’t sought a new employer. No one in Haversfort would pay him half as much. Everything else about the job, however, was horrible.
The farm workers were given room and board, though the rooms were in a stable that had been clumsily renovated to be living quarters. Jose had fallen quite far indeed, from his enormous room in the Palace to a revamped horse stall in a barn. The food provided to them was not spoiled nor gross, but it was the most basic and cheapest option available. And since being given his job, Jose hadn’t spoken to the farm owners once. They generally avoided talking to their workers, and since Jose was Estrellian, they were even more firm about not speaking with him. Even Sierra had been put to work, pulling stumps and carts. She handled the tasks with ease, thankfully. Jose wouldn’t know what he’d do if she got hurt or worse.
Most of Jose’s coworkers were Karagotine and anti-Estrellian. The few Estrellian workers stuck together as much as possible, as they had no other options for socialization. In addition to Jose, the Estrellian workers were an old man named Vido, a boy Jose’s age named Manuel, a young woman named Marta, and Marta’s six-year-old daughter named Agustina. Despite her young age, Agustina worked the fields with the others, though she didn’t need to work as long hours, and once school started, she would be attending her classes instead.
The bell signaling time for the afternoon break rang. Jose sighed in relief. He followed the rest of the workers to the renovated barn. He and Manuel were playing a game of cards in Manuel’s stall when Vido walked in.
“Vido!” Jose and Manuel said cheerfully. Vido smiled.
“My boys, I have letters for you,” he sang in Estrellian. Though Vido was born and raised in Estrellia (as had Marta), he lost his accent after living in Karagot for so long. The accent only came out when he spoke his native Estrellian. Jose and Manuel looked at each other, confused. Manuel was orphaned by the war, and no one knew where Jose was.
“Are you sure they are not for someone else?” Manuel asked.
“They are for you,” Vido said firmly. Jose and Manuel cautiously took the letters from Vido. When Jose saw who it was from, his heart skipped a beat.