One Moo'r Plow

Fertile Soil, Green Thumb, Apiary, and Hallow Earth awaited me once I awoke. With a sigh, I swung my legs out of bed and immediately began to examine them.Might as well get it over with.

Despite having similar names, Fertile Soil and Hallow Earth functioned differently. The first gave me the vague sense that all land I owned would become more fertile in a slight regard, while the second was far more specific. Land that I worked would receive an infusion of mana. I was not a magic wielder, so I had little idea what that would do. Was mana helpful? Was it harmful? I had absolutely no idea how magic functioned in this world, and neither did Garek.

Apiary was yet another oddly specific skill. It would give me a blanket buff for working with bees. The issue that I currently had none presented itself at that moment. Sure, fresh honey would be nice, and could likely turn a nice profit, but I simply didn’t have the bees.

Green Thumb offered me a tangible boost for my plant-handling skills. Outcomes would more often be swayed in my favor, even if I did things incorrectly.

These were actually hard choices. Discounting Apiary, the rest could all be immediately relevant. And yet..

The soil I already farmed was prime topsoil, some of the best quality dirt around. I didn’t need better soil. I had no idea what mana-infusion into a crop did, and it was already too late to go work the soil again with the crops sprouting. Green Thumb looked to be the most appealing, especially given that I was often fumbling for results with the monster plants. An invisible force turning outcomes in my favor while handling wildly dangerous plants? Yes and yes.

Reassuring myself with a nod, I selected that and blinked as they words disappeared from my vision. With a yawn, I got up, woke the felinid and began my day.

Artyom stood unblinking next to me, an image of willpower and deadly focus. The felinid’s eyes never left my hands, not even for a heartbeat. So enraptured was he that Ishila was able to sneak up on him unnoticed. Even then he gave no head to her friendly bop on his head and continued to stare.

I’ll admit, it was a little disturbing to have him watch me milk a cow this intensely.

“Someone’s enthused about all this,” Ishila grinned as she walked up with her own pail and stool. “Maybe we should let him try it, eh?’

I just shook my head and returned to my labour. The cat-thing had kept me up half the night with his screeching snores. For something so small and slim, his capability to produce noise went unmatched.

It took a few seconds for the felinid to register what Ishila had said, but he enthusiastically nodded his approval of the idea.

“Yes-yes, I should learn soon. Help with chores, very good idea.” He all but bounced in excitement at the thought.

“No.” I grunted. “I don’t trust you to not slip some for yourself.”

I didn’t even need to look to see his expression had fallen. I was generous, not blindly stupid. Letting the felinid have unrestricted access to milk would end badly, if what Ishila had said was true. She had worded her suggestion just now as a jest to get a response from Artyom, I imagined.

His wide eyes never left the pails of milk once we left the pasture, and followed us all the way to the shed where the rest was stored. I could imagine the physical effort it took to tear himself away once we headed off, but he followed close behind.

“More work, yes-yes?” He asked, voice cheerful.

“Given that you’re going to be working for me for a while, it’s only right that you have a place to sleep.” I grunted. I could have been a prick and made him sort that out by himself, but I wanted my help to be enthusiastic and willing. Making the felinid sleep outside or forcing him to build something on his own time didn’t gain me much of anything. Instead, with seeding done, all that remained now was weeding and construction. The first was freshly finished for now, and the second required proper materials.

Once I was prepared, I would begin work on a proper lodge as my actual house, and convert the current one into quarters for any workers or storage space. Then I would need storage space for crops before harvest came, and so on.

But for now, I reckoned I could get Artyom a bit experienced with building and practice for my own lodge by making him a small cabin.

‘This is the fun part,” I assured Ishila and Artyom as I handed distributed Garek’s magical weapons. “Myself and Ishila will begin chopping trees, while you gathered smaller branches and stones.”

The felinid held Garek’s smallest knife like a massive greatsword, a wide smile stretched on his face as he pledged death to any small trees and staggered off.

“Perhaps not the wisest idea,” I winced as we watched him stumble over a root and trip forward. “What if he cuts himself?”

“Then it will be a lesson.” Ishila nodded, uncharacteristically serious. “Besides, I have some healing potions on-hand. Which you really should get yourself.”

“Aye,” I agreed with a sigh. I couldn’t just drive myself to a doctor if something happened. That had taken a while to sink in. A serious danger this far away from the nearest doctor or cleric could be certain death if there was no one around. The idea of clerics as a whole intrigued me, I had to admit. Literally calling on the power of the gods above to mend someone’s body seemed like a wishful fairy tale to me, and yet here it was a reality.

Didn’t know if I still trusted it, despite ishila’s assurance that it was how people who couldn’t afford to carry potions on hand survived. I voiced my concerns as such, and she just shrugged as we trudged towards the woods.

“Well, think about it.” She spoke. “Monster hunting and purposefully seeking out danger seems stupid to an outsider, I guess. Without clerics or potions, It’d be so much more dangerous. Just imagine getting wounded out in the wilderness, hours from anyone who can help, and not having either of those. Certain death. It’s why most low-level slayers, adventurers, or monster hunters stay close to towns or cities with those available. Even though the monsters there are likely scarce, it’s still safer to slowly level on them than risk the wilder frontiers.”

“Hmm.” I nodded. “Makes sense.”

“Look at every famous Named Adventurer, every well-known band or party of slayers. What do most of them have in common?” She asked, and answered her own question. “They’re rich. They can afford the best potions on demand, can afford to hire Clerics to journey with them and the like. And because they’re rich, their kids will have a much easier starting point than say, some commoner.”

“Speaking from experience?” I asked, and received a wry laugh in return.

“I wish. Ma’ and Pa’ have retired and stuck their coin into the farm, not me. Orcish culture demands I carve my own path through the world, as does the Elves’ meritocracy system. They raised me, sure, but it’s on me to prove myself.”

“I did hear mention you want to be an adventurer someday.”

“Ya’.” She sighed wistfully. “But I wanna start off smart, ya’know? Have a good stash of coin for potions, gear and maybe hire on some companions. Solo adventuring is the most profitable, but too dangerous for anyone but a fool to consider.”

“Well, plenty of time to practice your swing on these trees.” I smiled and we split up. The morning was spent hewing decently-sized trees and hauling them back to the farm, but it went quickly with three people focused on the task.

Soon, we had neat piles of similar-sized logs and a plan in mind.

A small area was cleared near the old house, myself dragging the harrow around the break up any grass. Flattening and packing the dirt took a bit of time, but soon we were ready. Logs split lengthwise served as the floor, for now. Knife in hand, I carefully notched full logs that would be laid together and have pegs driven through to serve as the walls.

I was attempting a log cabin out of memory, this time, instead of using my more complex modern building techniques. Ishila filled in much of my missing knowledge, such as how to properly align and stack the logs.

Artyom enthusiastically applied mud from the stream and leaves between the gaps for filler, and slowly, the building progressed. It was smaller than my other buildings by far, but it was exclusively for Artyom. And so, it went exceptionally quickly. With two people who knew what they were doing and one over-eager felinid, it was mostly done by mid-afternoon.

Once we had reached the part where I was confident they could finish construction themselves, I excused myself.

“I’m going to head up the mountain and see what the riders have decided to construct for a camp.” I told Ishila. “Perhaps I could find a willing buyer for some milk, given that streamwater is not the most palatable option.”

“Hmmmm.” She nodded. “These men and women will have spent the last few weeks sating their thirst with ale, wine, and the like. I myself would not be over-eager to return to water after that.”

“Though, Id like to find a buyer first, not haul a cart full of it up the mountain and achieve little result. Speaking of which.” We headed over to the cart, and she grimaced at the acid-burns in the wood.”

“Feh.” She clicked her tongue. “Oversight on my part.”

I shook my head. “Don’t blame yourself for my decisions. I chose to store it in metal flasks without first testing it.”

She shrugged, and set about finding something to cut away the burnt parts. Trusting the two to keep themselves occupied for the day, I grabbed my claymore and headed up the mountain. Felt a bit strange, making sure I had a weapon at my side every time I left the house, but that was the reality of things here.

Clouds had set in after a painfully clear morning, and a cool wind blew down off the mountain. I could lament that hot weather was better for the crops, but instead chose to see the good fortune in things. I wasn’t hot and sweating from the weather alone, at least. Speaking of which. I sniffed at myself and figured I should perhaps invest in a good bath soon.

Something made me stop, and I looked around. My eyes saw trees, undergrowth, flowers, rocks, grass. Nothing out of the ordinary. My nostrils still drew too many smells, all jumbled together into an incomprehensible mess I could not sort out. Everything appeared ordinary, and yet I could not shake a feeling that tingled beneath my skin.

A sense of anticipation that kept me on edge all the way to the rider’s camp. I emerged from the trail to find a clearing had been forcibly made in the forest. People milled about, hard at work. They were chopping down trees, making an enlarged area to set up tents and beginning to work on walls.

So they were setting in for the long run, here. Dug in to wait for reinforcements before heading further up the mountain.

I did award myself being so damn big for the reason Raffnyk spotted me almost immediately. The human waved and walked over, wiping sweat off his brow.

“Garek. My friend.” He greeted me with a smile. “What brings you here?”

“Curiosity.” I admitted. “And perhaps the possibility of profit.”

“The two seem to go hand in hand,” He nodded. “Come, explain to me what designs you have to drain our purses.”

I did just that, and found myself seated amidst the bustling camp, a water flash offered to me by the human. This was the first time, I had seen Raffnyk without his armor, I realized. His arms were dotted by scars, which surprised me. The image of an untouched, stiff knight I had was tempered by the man’s humility.

“Coin interests everyone,” He sighed. “How would you like to make some? Right now, I mean.”

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