He seemed to be stressing about a number of things(likely related to elves), and those involved with the world of cultivation were hardly the levelheaded type, no matter how much they went on about mastering their emotions.
Luckily as usual, everyone is preoccupied with their own stories, and without time to reconsider we were just a passing omen of strange times to come.
I looked back at my companions, wondering about our next steps. While scant, I pulled enough information to have an idea of where to settle down for the next year.
The little village of Ullool(named after someone named after a figure from the sacred scriptures, with a touch of misspelling for good measure) recently lost their potter to something in the forest, or so the rumors went. Earthenware remained a staple of this age, and would be a fun little hobby.
Aside from that, it’s situated southeast of Medean. Which will keep us away from those pesky elves, tsk, tsk. It was also a Derrish week closer than the other options rumored. And with only a Derrish year before the next caravan, I wanted us to get settled as soon as possible.
The smell of heavy rains wafted through the air after all. Also I spotted dark clouds coming in from the west. Those heavy autumnal storms were finally arriving.
After a quick scout of the area, I used my
It would likely tear or otherwise leak within a few months. Setting it up was meant to be another chance for her to spot the error.
Let her sleep, it’s not that important. She’ll have plenty of other opportunities, and a little rain never hurt anyone. I’ll just set up the cover myself.
As a light patta-patta of raindrops reached us, I put away the books I’d been decoding.
(“Oh patta-patta….hmmm.
Patta patta, [lost in the rain](kei atra?)
Beasts hide, plants bow
Always marching on
The road beneath my feet
Patta patta, keiatra
Sky’s blind, vein’s stilled
Always marching on
The road is where I lead
Patta patta keiatra
Soaking wet, chilled bones
Always marching on
The road is always hard
)
I’d caught a few songs in the tavern, and the style of most was simple enough that even my vocabulary could come up with something decent. Then again, since songs of this era were meant to be simple, able to be memorized, and sung along with, it was unsurprising the common words and euphemisms I picked up were usable.
Humming underneath the patta-patta of rain, I watched parts of the earthen path turn to sludge. The compacted ruts filled with water, and one could see the loose edges where grasses were beginning to take root.
For a society that valued independence and a self serving nature, there were quite a few encroaching plants that had been clearly stomped out in an intentional fashion. Some sat in bundles off road, totally uprooted, others roughly torn or cut towards the base(ready to regrow in a few weeks), and a few that had literally just been stomped down into the dirt(already righting themselves, with only the slightest harm to the stalks).
Even the lowest levels of a sect held a blind obedience to the system despite their malcontent. Derriad was either born of such a system, or inspired by it, so that made some amount of sense. Still, something felt off.
Ah well, no matter.
The patta-patta intensified, forming a grey haze that started to limit mortal visibility. A dark and muggy dawn, I lit a bullseye lantern to alert incoming traffic of our presence. A relatively cheap little thing(not by price, although buying it did let me swindle negotiate a better deal on horseshoes), meant to be run on oil. However, aside from some left burnt at the bottom so it stopped looking new, I preferred to keep a
With a very plain cylindrical structure, an unadorned hood stood over the aperture to help keep the rain out. Practical, but it felt like little care went into the work. Rounded edges of the metal to prevent cuts showed it wasn’t carelessly done, just lacking the pride that could be found in ornate Derrish woodwork.
It served its function well enough(a decoration).
Without guidance of sunlight, Tagalong Girl woke slightly later than usual. Putting up her hair, she gradually registered our surroundings, gaze lingering on the lantern for a little bit.
Curious, her sight was inactive, did something appear out of place, or did she have a passive instinct for magic? Another possibility to test in training.
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While our cart wasn’t all that big, ultimately a four foot child had plenty of space to stretch out amongst the various bags in the back. The spear was less comfortably maneuvered, but she kept it pointed at the ground as she refused to let go.
Letting control of the magical shock absorption slide for a moment, we all jolted going over a pothole. I did an exaggerated jump with a soft ‘Whoa Nelly’, and Ria shifted back into place(which if my sense of the curse’s sleep cycle stood on solid speculation, she’d cease her slumber soon). A stumbling Tagalong Girl caught herself as the point of her spear waved unfortunately close to the canvas.
“Grab something satiating to eat. We’ll perform some physical conditioning once it settles. Now, a group of 40 civilians, and 8 ability users are traveling to the city 1000 kilometers away. Civilians move at 30kph, ability users at 40kph. Ability users can either generate 10 units of food, or increase travel speed by 5 kph for 16 people for the day. The food is non-perishable, how many days will it take them to reach the city?.”
I gave her a little math problem to warm up her brain while she ate. Some bread, jerky, and an apple(she took out some beans as well, but only for the purpose of helping her count). The meal put a rather stern look on her face, I couldn’t spoil her with delicious food every day. Sometimes she’d need to put up with a tough, cold meal.
“29.” She stated confidently before taking her last bite of jerky. The counting beans jostled about in suspicion without being returned to their position.
Having watched how many she used, she’d rounded some values a little too aggressively. However her process was correct, and rounding up erased any evidence of mistakes. Spoken tests had their limits.
“Mmn, that’s correct. Stretch a little and we’ll practice balancing in these conditions. Remember, if there is oncoming traffic, training will need to cease quickly.”
With an unnecessary gesture, half a dozen muddy cobbles rose up, along with a few that I’d brought along the journey. You just never know when a good rock will come in handy(a philosophy which contributed to my dire inventory management problems).
Putting them into groups of two for an easy start, Tagalong Girl held her spear sideways and stepped up onto the first set. Involuntarily bracing as she stepped out into the rain, the smooth manipulation of her spear made up for her rigid posture.
“Start by getting used to balancing on these slippery and unsteady objects.”
Other than for safety, this wasn’t something that required oversight. Experience was all there was to it.
After about 15 minutes I began shifting the terrain so she couldn’t keep using her spear to support herself on a third point. She slipped twice on the muddy surfaces, arms flailing, and managed to shift from a fall into an aggressive crouch.
I took a break from my singing to commend her, also serving as a brief reprieve to catch her breath. I watched her heart pound; keeping composed and present mind, her anxiety manifesting in darting eyes and an over analysis of the situation.
“This is more practice than lesson. Hone your instinct to the point you can trust it.”
As she shifted her weight, I matched the movements of the rocks to make up for it, giving her some time to breath. It wasn’t quite cold enough out that she needed to get out of the rain soon, or keep moving. For a while she just crouched there, water spilling off her like a little organic gargoyle.
“Ria, why don’t you speak up? It’s not like you need to join the training.”
“There’s nothing to say.” She flopped her head away from me, and made a displeased expression. Okay, instead of fiancée, maybe a more natural disguise is a surly teen I’m watching for a comrade of some sort.
Haha, maybe Cat finally died in the Great War… although I don’t know what war that would be in the middle of Derriad. Maybe this upcoming revolt, although since that’s a problem in the future I’ll need to sort the timeline of this story out.
To her, it must have felt stiflingly muggy, so she shucked off the cloak and gloves used to disguise her condition. She was already moving away from Orange, to a lustrous topaz skin. It wasn’t a natural coloration by any means, but it could be mistaken for a regular illness at least. The horns were still an issue, but in this low visibility weather there was no need to be strict.
“What’s Mira doing now?” After tossing a fruit pit out the back, before reaching for another, Ria didn’t contain herself. She disliked this journey, but still began engaging a little. Despite being the impetus for our departure, fundamentally she wasn’t much of a participant.
I should have gotten Pan to share more stories about her so I had a broader knowledge base to work from. Figuring out the local politics(if you call a country several months' journey away local) and pushing my capabilities was important, but ultimately it was an oversight.
And since she still slept most of the day, it was hard to draw out a personality uninfluenced by my presence to observe.
So finding the best response for her remained difficult.
“She’s still training of course. We’re just working on her balance for now. It’s not good to keep your body idle for too long.”
“It’s not like there’s anything for me to do.”
That wasn’t exactly incorrect. She was the object of our quest. We were to find a cure for her, it just so happened infusing mana into her horns kept her condition stable— although stable in this case meant healthy; it was certainly progressing her metamorphosis, but the alternative meant letting the affliction consume her. It was possible that the best ‘cure’ to be found would just be doing the same thing I was but faster. Taking too long might mean she ended up cured in a very unsatisfying manner.
In other words, she was not an actor in this situation. I had my quest, and Tagalong Girl had her training, leaving Ria unoccupied.
“There’s no craft or hobby you were ever interested in trying?”
“No.” She said with a grumpiness that implied ‘yes, but I don’t want you to be right.’ Instead of sharing, she grabbed some more jerky out of our packs.
I increased the mental tally of the projected provisions for our prolonged pilgrimage. Energy from mana alone seemed insufficient for her.
Tagalong Girl moved steadily through the rain, depriving Ria of a distraction long enough that she decided to answer.
“Embroidery.” She muttered with newly empty hands.
A craft that required a lot of precision, that still seemed to hold feminine connotations(despite my suspicion that formations existed— there’s a passage of scripture that involved embroidery, and given the lack of metaphor outside an aesthetic context they were likely directly related in a way I’d yet to discover). We had thread, alchemy could dye it easily, I could teach her some tricks if she was willing; this was a perfect way for her to keep occupied.
Being too enthusiastic would put her off though.
“Hmm, you need to find something to keep you up and about. Still, that’s a good way to keep busy on the go. That grayish pack with the spare hatchet should have some extra cloth you can pick from.”
As I grabbed some threads, Tagalong Girl lost her footing. Her hand reached out for a stone, but lost purchase on the muddy surface. Clutching her spear, she didn’t make a decision on how to use it to break her fall, just holding it close to her chest. In fact, that tied up one of her hands to properly land.
Considering the Mage Hands being used to break her fall, she might have felt a little too safe. Next time… no, we’re still working on the basics. She’s doing a good job already.
A towel, or rather, a large rag floated before her. Gingerly wiping away the mud, there was the faintest line of blood. Accelerating she moved toward the front of the cart.
“Do we have any horsetail sap?”
Horsetails, commonly found near the water’s edge, bore many similarities to the kind you might imagine. However they possessed some sort of anti-bacterial properties. At least, according to the reduction in green death energy when applied to certain samples. Who knows, perhaps they possessed some even more esoteric properties like befuddling divination.
Haha, if I believed that, I would be letting paranoia interrupt more probable thoughts.
Tagalong girl hopped onto the side of the cart and began applying the thin gel while hanging. Scooping up a handful from the jar behind me, the excessive amount made up for what was diluted by wet hands. I pushed a
“You’re there already. Bandage yourself first.”
She didn’t hesitate, and I rolled my eyes while facing away from her. She should have asked instead of making me say it. Being given her previous request made her less likely to continue asking, definitely something to work on.
With a conservative amount of linen, Tagalong Girl clenched and unclenched her left hand, deeming it flexible enough. True, but it wasn’t just a bandage, but a new tool.
Ah well, I don’t want to overwhelm her with instruction.
Hopping back out into the rain with a nearly expressionless face, she wasn’t excited to train, simply dedicated. The stones lifted her up back to eye level, and slowly separated from each other once more.
“Mira is moving so fast.”
“Young people learn quickly.” Better, yes. Fast? I didn’t see it just yet. “It just takes diligence.”
“I need a needle.” She didn’t bite the bait.
Still, I think we’re on better terms than before. If only slightly.
Procuring a bone needle, I set it and the rest of the supplies by Ria’s side and she got to work ignoring me.
Hmph, I’ll just peacefully enjoy the rain on my own then.