Chapter Text
The train rattled through the mountains, chugging up the steep inclines with difficulty. The evergreen trees stood tall and proud at the sides of the track, a different sight than what he would have seen in the cities he grew up in.
Byleth watched the countryside silently. He had been on the train for several hours now, and he had never felt so restless. He had been trained to stand still for hours, only moving on orders, but sitting alone on a train was unbearable.
When his father was pronounced dead, Byleth felt like the only connection he really had to the world was gone. His superiors had forced him on leave. He spent days just standing at his father’s gravestone, staring at it. When he closed his eyes, he could still see his father’s body, lying on that table in the medical tent, unmoving, eyes closed.
A few of his friends from his time at the academy had come to the funeral. One of them had asked what he planned to do on leave. He never gave them an answer. He had barely even looked at them. They just looked at each other and left him to it.
The first night he had slept there, again his gravestone in that soldier’s graveyard, cold and alone. It rained. He woke up miserable.
The third night after, he went back to the house he and his father had shared in the city. It was a small, humble place. They never needed much. At some point, he would have to go through the things his dad had collected over the years.
Shuffling through his dad’s things, he found an old wooden chest at the back of his closet. It wasn’t locked, and the hinge squealed when he opened it. Inside had been pictures of his dad and some man Byleth had never met. His dad looked around twelve in most of the pictures, standing in front of long corn stalks, smiling proudly.
Under all those pictures, he found a letter, written in some handwriting he didn’t recognize.
“Jeralt, I hope you enjoyed your summer out her in Stardew Valley. One day, when I’m gone, it will be yours. Perhaps you will raise your children out here? Or perhaps you will pass this land to them?”
It was signed by the man, a name he did know. His great uncle who’d ended up dying early from illness. The only family his dad had ever talked about. And sure enough, he found that his father did leave it to him.
He had only heard stories of Stardew Valley. It wasn’t even on most maps. Tucked away deep in the mountains, away from the politics of the world and the noise of the city. Most trains simply sped through it, not bothering the stop at the station there.
But it would tonight.
The woman working the ticket booth hadn’t even heard of the station there and had to click through several files on her computer to put in his request. The conductor had even come to his seat on the train to ask if the ticket was correct. No one stopped at Stardew Valley.
The sun was beginning to set as they came to a dark tunnel through the mountain. The train began to slow down, as if to stop. On the other side, an old, rundown platform with a cover.
The train stopped, and the man in his coach called the station. Stardew Valley. This was his stop.
He gathered his one bag, mostly full of clothes, and got off. The train didn’t waste any time in leaving, disappearing down the opposite tunnel.
It was quiet.
There was no motorized humming from streetlamps or neon business signs, no engines running, no people talking. There was nothing but the soft chirping of crickets and a soft wind blowing through the trees.
Byleth took in a breath, almost surprised at how clean the air was. The city had been stuffy and polluted; the battlefield had been dusty and smelled too much of iron. Here there was just the smell of pine and wildflowers blooming in the new spring weather.
He stepped off the platform, taking in everything.
There wasn’t much here. Besides the platform there was just another wide building across the tracks. He walked over and knocked. No answer. He twisted the doorknob. Locked. He glanced inside one of the windows. It looked like it was kept up, but it was dark inside.
There was still a bit of sunlight left, so he pulled out the map he had printed out before he left. There hadn’t been a lot of information about the station out here, but he had gotten a vague lay out of the surrounding town. The town actually lay a way down the mountains. So, he was in for a hike.
Thankfully, there was a worn path. He hoped this was leading him in the right the direction, but as the trail grew wider, he could see lights on the horizon. He passed a beautiful house on the trail, seeing a few shadows move inside it.
The pathway led past the house, down toward an old rundown building, following alongside a river. He stopped for a moment to stare out at it, the water flowing gently downhill. The water was almost impossibly clear. Even in the dying sunlight, fish could be seen below the surface.
Perhaps he would have to take up fishing again. It had once been his favorite pastime, but as he grew older, he didn’t have time for it.
Continuing down the hills, he finally came to a brick road. The road led to a small-town square, surrounded by what looked to be a small clinic, a local market store, a few houses, and a saloon. Byleth stopped by the store, looking around.
There weren’t many people around, a few passing by, disappearing into one of the houses, and others going into the saloon.
As he was watching these people, a man came up beside him.
“Well hello there! It’s not often we get visitors here!” He was an older man, graying, lines setting into his face. “I’m the mayor here. Can I give you directions anywhere?”
Byleth pulled out his father’s will, speaking of his new land ownership.
“My goodness. No one’s lived out there in… over thirty years.” The mayor paused for a second. “Tell you what, I’ll walk you out there. If that old house is still intact, I won’t stop you from staying there, but if it ain’t, you’re free to stay at my house ‘till it is.”
The mayor kept talking as they walked, leaving the small town. They passed by a small bus station, an old bus sitting there, one wheel missing and several cracked windows. Byleth assumed it didn’t run anymore.
“That bus used to take us to the desert. Not anymore. We haven’t had the money to fix it up.”
Past the bus stop was an old rusted gate, barely hanging onto its hinges. The mayor carefully pushed it open, the gate squeaking and fighting him.
“Well, kid, this is it.” He spread his arms out. “This is the old farm. It’s been left to nature for quite a while.” They walked up to the house sitting just inside the gates. The door was unlocked but looked alright. It’d need some grease, and maybe a new handle, but was sturdy enough. They opened it, stepping into the house.
It was more of just a cabin. A single room with an old television set, a bed, and a fireplace greeted them. Simple. Byleth set his bag down on the floor by the door, going to the bed. It was covered in dust, like the rest of the place, but he could work with that.
“Doesn’t seem like the old place has sprung any leaks. That’s good to see. Might want to check for spiders, though. The valley is crawling with them at this time of year.” Byleth answered with a shrug. “I can’t believe that old man left his land to his nephew, who then left it to you.”
The mayor then sighed. “I’ll leave you to it then. We have a carpenter in town, should you need anything fixed.” He nodded to Byleth and left. That old gate’s cry could be heard through the walls.
Finally, alone again, Byleth took in the place for real. It looked well built. If his great uncle built it, he had been very skilled. He looked outside the one window. It was grimy and covered in dirt so he couldn’t see much, but the vast section of land that was now his stretched out past it.
It was overgrown, trees and grass and rocks covering the land. He wished he had the foresight to bring tools with him, but he’d manage. He had at least brought some seeds with him.
He shook out the bed sheets, knocked the dust off them, and lit the firewood that still sat in the fireplace. He tried to turn on the television set, but it just fizzled for a second and shut back off. Byleth just sighed to himself and lay on the bed, staring up the ceiling.
He was truly alone out here. No one knew him. The mayor hadn’t even asked his name. He had no friends waiting for him, and knowing his own social tendencies, he wouldn’t be making any at any time soon.
But that was fine. It was what he wanted. To be alone. To mourn and wallow in his sadness. To be somewhere where his father had seemed happy. Where his father had been alive.
His eyes drifted closed, sleep finding him. He didn’t dream for the first time since his father’s death.
---
The sun woke him. He blinked against the bright light flooding into the small room. If it hadn’t been for his stomach growling, he would have tried to go back to sleep for a few more hours.
He sat on the front steps, chewing on a meal bar he had brought with him, staring out over the land he inherited, trying to decide where to start.
Where the evening air had been filled with the soft sounds of insects, the morning was meant for the birds. A tree beside his new house seemed to house several of them. He didn’t look to see if he could find their nests, but they rustled around in the leaves enough to tell him that was their home.
He’d start with getting rid of the rocks laying about.
His first goal was to move enough around to open up enough space to plant a few of the seeds he had brought with him. He didn’t know much about farming, but he knew enough that he had to plant early if he wanted to have a decent harvest later.
He used the rocks to form a little wall around the soil he was planning on using. Something to hopefully keep animals like deer and whatever else was in the valley out. He hadn’t seen anything besides the birds and a few squirrels, but these kind of backwater places always had wildlife everywhere.
For the first time in a long time, his mind was quiet. The only thing he had to do was move rocks. The sun washed over his skin, soaking into his clothes, and his sweat rolled down his back. It was peaceful, serene.
The one thing he hadn’t felt since he was a small child.
The last time he had been this content, he had been around nine, on a dock somewhere in the north with his father, a line cast out in the water. After that, his father had gotten busy with his job in the army. They’d moved across the country more time than he could count before he turned eighteen and joined the army himself.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, almost midday, he stopped and looked around. He had cleared a better path from the house to the gate, along with his small gardening patch.
He had tried breaking the soil with his hands, but it was hard and crusted over from years of neglect. He’d need to find some tools before he could get anything planted or do anymore work.
The town nearby had had a market. Perhaps they would have what he needed.
It was probably a good idea to check the town out as well.
Whether or not he’d interact with the townspeople much or not, he should at least show his face. At some point he would have to sell what he grew.
The gate was even more unbearable during the day. He’d have to look for something to fix it too.
He walked by the old broken-down bus again. In the midday light, he could see that even the engine of the old thing was missing a few pieces. It seemed like once something broke around here, it was neglected until it fell completely apart.
The town market store was busy this morning. Once he entered, several pairs of eyes turned to look at him.
He had never been known for his expressiveness, his face usually remaining still and stoic, so he didn’t react. He just went toward the back, toward what looked to be the tool section of the store. The people’s eyes followed him, continuing to stare into his back as he looked through the selection.
There was a lot more to choose from than he thought there would be. For such a small town, the items seemed fairly high quality too. As he begun to gather his things to take them to the cashier, he spotted the wall piled high with seeds and fertilizers. Seeds of vegetables you just couldn’t get in the city.
After he got the soil and everything turned up, he’d have to come back.
The man working the register eyed him suspiciously, ringing him out without so much as a greeting. Byleth had plenty of savings to use, having rarely bought anything besides food and the necessary clothing with any of his pay checks. The various pairs of eyes followed him again as he walked out.
He quickly shut the gate as soon as he was back on his new land. He sat on the steps to the house and looked over what he’d bought.
An old-fashioned watering can—for now, that was all he needed. He wouldn’t be able to grow much until he got a feel for the soil—a hoe, an axe, a pickaxe, and a few small books about the local plants and wildlife in the area. He hadn’t studied up much on the area before packing up and moving out here.
The sun began to dip down toward the surrounding mountains, and Byleth realized he was hungry. Another meal bar awaited him inside, but that sounded kind of gross right now.
Part of him didn’t want to venture out again just to get stared at by the townspeople, but that saloon he’d seen last night might have food. And it was better than the stale plastic-y bar in his bag.
He picked up his new tools and put them in the house, locking it up as he left. Maybe tomorrow he could figure out how to build a little storage bin for them out here. But for now, inside would do.
He got to the town square again, watching most everyone file into the saloon themselves. Byleth hung back for a moment, not wanting to join the huge crowd. Well, huge for this kind of town.
As he hung back, he noticed a man and a young girl skipping next to him, walking along a path toward the river. Something about them struck him as different. The man was wearing finely pressed priest’s clothes, while the little girl just had a sundress on. He watched them as they approached a bridge.
Byleth was about to leave when the little girl turned around and saw him. Even from a distance, he could tell she was giving him a huge smile. She waved over enthusiastically, tugging on her father’s shirt. The man said something to her, and she nodded and followed him across the bridge, looking at him over her shoulder. She waved one last time before Byleth decided to head into that saloon.
It was loud inside, a jukebox blaring music garbled with static in the corner, and people talking louder than they needed to. He hadn’t been out there long, but some of the patrons were already on their second beer for the night.
Unlike the market earlier, people were too busy with their friends and drinks to pay much attention to the new guy weaving through the tables to get to the counter. The only person who even looked at him was the bartender.
“Hey there. There’d been talk of a new face in town. What can I get for you?”
“Just the special?” He didn’t care to look at a menu right now.
The bartender nodded. “Hope you like salmon!”
Byleth sat at one of the stools while he waited for the bartender to make his food. It was his turn to watch the people of the town now.
There was one woman he noticed drinking more than her fair share on the other side of the bar, drunkenly calling out to someone who wasn’t answering her. A couple flirting in the corner by the jukebox, the mayor chatting with a matronly kind of woman. He met eyes with an angry looking man standing in the corner by the fireplace, draining a can of cheap beer by himself. He quickly looked away from him.
Everyone in their own little worlds, with their own little friends.
Once upon a time, he had been surprisingly popular. All throughout his school life, and even into his army service, people had been drawn to him. Despite his best efforts, people fought to sit at the same table as him. He had never cared about such things, and maybe that was what brought others to him. His lack of outward emotions, the fact that he didn’t follow latest fads, or even really pay attention to anything must have been intriguing to his peers.
And here, so far, no one had seemed curious about him. It was a nice change of pace.
Of course, it might just be small town superstition about the new guy who’s only been seen in black and is taking over an abandoned farm. He was sure the mayor would have spread that around already. But that didn’t really matter either.
The bartender came back out, dropping a plate of cooked salmon with various vegetables around it in front of him. Byleth thanked him and the bartender went to tend to other customers, leaving him to eat his meal in peace.
He hadn’t been expecting much from a small town bar but the food was really good. He would have to check them out again. He finished up his meal and thanked the man behind the bar, getting up to leave again.
At this point, most of the townspeople were two or three drinks in, laughing and talking loudly. The noise of the bar was getting to be too much and Byleth was thankful for the cool evening air as the door shut behind him.
Something he hadn’t noticed last night was the stars.
They were so bright out here.
The cities he and his father had lived in had been so bright, even at night, that it was impossible to see the stars. Sometimes, even the moon was blocked out.
When they used to go on their fishing trips to a small secluded lake, they would watch the stars at night as they waited for the fish to bite. They never caught anything those nights.
But here the sky was even brighter. He had to wonder why his father never brought him out here. He seemed to like it enough to keep his childhood pictures of the place in a special box.
Byleth had never met that uncle, though, so maybe something happened. His dad never really talked about any of their family. He had never met his grandparents, never knew if his dad had any siblings, and only knew that his mother died in childbirth.
And now, as far as he knew, he was alone in the world. But that was okay.