Gula POV
Sure enough, when morning woke me from oblivion, I felt that buzz in every pore before I registered the warmth on my skin, tasted the salty air, or truly felt the softness of the blankets. Geoff poked his head through the door, taking one look at me, nodding, then closing the door with his retreat. Seeing as I would have to wait for both breakfast and a bath, I stretched, fit the necklace with Cell at its center around my neck, then went to the desk. The precise moment my butt hit the seat, an eardrum-shattering boom filled my skull, its source being a cough only just registering above its sheer volume.
'The mage showed exceptional skill, both in wood and rope.' A mountain bellowed.
'I thought the healing element would be the most important part for you.' I answered respectfully.
'It is. Yet the wood has an almost silky smoothness and the rope is immaculate, pressed into a fine whole without so much as a string running afoul of the herd's course. Convey my utmost compliments to the healing mage in all aspects.'
I nodded to the open air.
'And is the healing element performing as expected?' I asked.
Silence filled my head for only a moment.
'No. It appears there is indeed a limit. The warmth of the healing magic isn't reaching beyond my lower torso.'
'Still, for crafts about the size of three barrel lids, it spread far.'
'Considering the craft almost reduced my city to a complete mana dead zone, it has certainly proven its hunger, if nothing else.'
My first answer was a shrug. Even my meager understanding of magical workings made it obvious what a monumental task using healing magic on an almost literal mountain of flesh would be.
'It sounds like we can send for the next craft and we don't have the mana fuel for it. Have you considered sending out boats to soak up the mana in the oceans?'
A low rumble filled my head.
'Every day the humans claw their way in. Between their town and now a fleet of them to gather mana, it seems my people teeter towards the fate of the faeries.'
I bit my lip for a second before deciding to continue the conversation.
'I don't think they need to be human ships. They just need a few enchantments the size of a head to soak in the blue specks, so some of your people's boats would work fine. As for the town….maybe if you expanded the spirit connection further out, with the humans' consent, that would keep the pirates at bay, what with their superstitious avoidance of this place. Perhaps that would eliminate the need for the human town.'
If it wasn't for my experience, it would be hard to distinguish the laugh currently trying to split my skull from the inside.
'Superstitious? There's nothing irrational about fearing things that kill you.'
I raised both eyebrows at this new information. No word of the Mist Pirates' reluctance being anything but an oddity of their beliefs had ever reached my ears before now. It was a natural assumption, what with the their weird rituals.
'Did they try to pilfer from your stocks?'
'Pirates are not lovable scoundrels or daring adventurers with strict moral codes. What goes on in those ships, especially after a haul of fresh slaves has been brought in, sours my meals. I may not interfere in human affairs, but there are always exceptions. For the Mist pirates, my exception is that I kill them as soon as their copper hulls touch my water.'
I grimaced. As silence stretched, I decided to continue the conversation.
'Seeing as I lack magical ability, I can only offer limited advice. Whatever you do to suck in mana for the healing crafts, don-'
Realizing that I was about to command the Thousand Screams Toad, I replaced the sentence before any more of it got out.
'I wouldn't do anything near the poison clouds. The mage is quite satisfied with what's been given so far. Reducing the trade route to a mana dead zone would probably kill the deal, along with the ships' crews.'
A low rumble sounded like a drum, which meant it was probably the equivalent of a sigh.
'When will the mage send the next craft?'
'They said they'll send a smaller craft in a few weeks, then wait until we know how much mana the crafts will be provided. Trying to fight aging on a being as large as you is unprecedented, or at least to their knowledge, it is. And potentially dangerous. Something about the possibility of restored veins pushing blood into old ones and causing ruptures.'
'I will defer to the mages advice. Good fortunes in your charity to your diseased kin.'A mountain grumbled.
'Good fortunes to you as well.'
Our conversation at an end, I spent the next few hours waiting. And the next day. Some time between dinner and midday, before the sun could begin properly setting, I saw the fairy vessel from my position on the port side of the ship's railing as I was thumbing the pommel of my sheathed sword.
It was a slim purple thing glazed in teals and pinks, tattooed in white shapes marking where magical wonder lay. Behind it stood the white walls and yellow clouds of the mushroom fields that had proved impenetrable in times past. The most pressing color was the green of the girls who insisted on coming up and thanking me for taking them in, often with tears in their eyes.
That I couldn't remember a single one of their names was a matter of both shame and helplessness. I only allowed myself such forgetfulness because of their numbers, which now reached more than twenty. Beaton, however, was easily remembered as his bulky figure came up from the back of the line with a smile poking out his grey beard and amusement in those brown eyes.
He put me in a muscular hug like many of the girls had, though his large frame made it a very different experience. Time as a regular sailor had been good to him, though his bald cap and small ears were unaffected by the abundant food and comparatively relaxed days.
"Captain, it's been a pleasure." He offered with a small bow.
As he rose from the bow, Sharn came up from behind him, my elderly orc secretary. Her typical brown dress helped cover most of her wrinkled skin, though the smile still sent waves over her angular cheeks. No matter her expression, it couldn't obstruct the sadness in those black and gold eyes. She came up to me with thin hands outstretched, a hug I returned.
"I swear, if these lungs had a bit more life in them, I'd go."
A smile came to my face, both from her conviction and the sadness I felt in my chest.
"Hey, we might be seeing each other sooner than we expect. If their sickness proves too much, I might be back before spring ends."
That got a small smile and a huff. She knew all too well how determined I was to see this venture through. Any disagreement with my comfort was kept to herself as we pulled apart. At the same time, a young, red frojan came from the right side. He was a bit smaller than his fellows in that his height merely reached two heads higher than me and the green robe around his shoulders would be a full blanket for any human.
"Ready?" Songoo asked with a lazy stretch of his red arms.
"As ready as I'll ever be," I answered.
With that, sailors moved behind me to retrieve the chests in my cabin while others worked the boat into the sea. Three chests were produced from the lower holds, each carrying an assortment of clothes, contracts, and coin for my expenses. As they were worked into the boat with Songoo's water magic, I felt a bit of trepidation as the one with iron bands and red wood was sent into the rocking dinghy.
It was a radio, at least according to Eli's description. I had been given a few minutes to work it when he first came to pick me up, yet his science crafts held an aura of danger and the unknown that magic workings had previously exuded. If I could remember how any of them worked, the fear would possibly lessen.
Such knowledge didn't suddenly reveal itself as I shimmied down the rope ladder and into the boat. Songoo took the quicker route of jumping into the water, then splashing onto the seat near the front. Given the boat had held Baloo before, I had no fears of sinking, yet the plunge from the young frojan's landing caused a dip far deeper than what I had envisioned his size would merit.
Without a moment's hesitation, he worked unseen magic and shot us forward over the waves. Salty sea spray smacked in my face, something I had come to appreciate more than hate. Thankfully, we came up to the purple hull smeared in glazes of teal and pink before I could be totally soaked.
A rope ladder was tossed down and promptly put to work. After I worked my way to the top deck, I found myself looking at a crowd of faeries. Their robes covered grey skin bodies barely tall enough to reach my shoulder. Save the folds of pink lettuce skin atop their heads, bits of that teal, pink, and occasional yellow glaze dotted their bodies where grey robe didn't cover. Their wide mouths of sharp teeth and slits for noses were the same as ever, though the large eyes of teal, pink, and amber were less interested in me than in times past. No doubt due to this being the third time I had taken such a journey on their ship.
Songoo took the boat back to the main ship before using his magic to return and hop on deck with a grace his kind only ever managed in water. Now that everything was in place, I worked my cargo below deck as the faeries made ready for the trip. When we did sail off into the yellow clouds and up the stream, there was a distinct lack of urgency, even from the purple enten scout I eventually spotted near the front of the ship.
The first time through had been a proper adventure, filled with the prospect of danger and the possibilities of the unknown. Such things had been thoroughly reamed out of the experience since then. The roving bands of feral enten's now mostly knew to keep clear of the ships with accomapnying arrows and spears, a line of beams and rope had been firmly worked into the soil to help ships traverse the waterways without the need to scout ahead or remember its twisting mazes, and the ships that took this route had been supplied poles that shot out long ropes of water to help move anything that dared to obstruct.
Things that made it quite easy to idle away. A non-task that would have been more comfortable if the ship hadn't been stuffed to bursting with bricks and wooden beams. Still, sleep came easier when there wasn't the constant prospect of death. That I had lost track of the days was a bit sloppy, but during the trek in the yellow death, just as I was coming up from below deck, the Thousand Scream's Toad's spirit connection pulled off my skin.
Sighs of relief floated over the deck, while Cell shuffled about in his not quite copper cage resting on my chest. I had become so used to this regions weirdness, passing in and out of an all-consuming spirit connection, that boredom quickly settled back in.
Feeling a bit restless, I moved to lean against the port side railing, where, after a few hours, the yellow clouds and mountainous mushrooms finally gave way to proper swamp. Taking in the endless landscape of trees covered in moss and dunes of grass sticking out of bogs, less pleasant times came back to me. With the early morning sun beating down, we ambled through one of dozens of waterways splintering off from the proper river. The first sign of civilization was the dozens of faeries working the banks, using magic and muscle to pull back the land to allow more than one ship to travel through.
As we took a right bend, a rather absurd sight greeted me.
In the distance, the oval roofs doused in pink, teal, and purple glaze stood out among the brown and green, taking up what little proper land the bogs had. In total, about a dozen or so houses called 'Shoon's Tears' home. A number dwarfed by the fresh piers jutting out into the water.
Wooden fingers covered the entire front of the faeries' housing. Not content with that, I counted no less than seven piers stretching beyond the boundaries of the physical island on both sides, with some bearing more of the purple ships. As ridiculous as it looked, the huge stacks of beams and bricks on the right side promised to turn the village into a proper town, perhaps even a city.
Unlike the first trip's pull into port, there was a manic energy about the fairy crew as they started unloading the beams and bricks that had taken up so much space. Being one of the few ships capable of traversing the poison clouds, every second was squeezed to bursting. From what they told me, the work now paid triple, but the strain was tenfold, with the only peace to be found in the sailing. That also meant I was certainly not going to be taken upstream on their ship or their sibling with matching white symbols on the far left pier.
In the brief respite between offloading and bringing on stacks of grain, Songoo and I managed to get our luggage onto wooden land. Not being stampeded to death was the first priority, leaving me, Songoo, and a trio of faeries from the ship on the opposite side of the pier to quickly get our gear into the new, magically bereft ship.
This one was free of white markings and the crew unaccustomed to orc or frojan company. Despite the stares and simple nod from the captain, who immediately went back into his cabin, the dimensions were all roughly the same, though the sails were a bit smaller and the sides had hoops along the railing for oars. This did nothing to keep it from being loaded down by yet more bricks and logs.
Once my previous home pulled out of port and got enough distance that nothing from its mundane cousins could obstruct its voyage, my new boat pulled out of the oversized port. A good day passed into morning before swampland gave way to rolling grass hills. I was on the port side, waiting for the stone tower that had first greeted me on the trip to the beastmen.
When I spotted it above a hill on the right bank, I was surprised to see that it was now accompanied by a stone wall almost as tall, meaning it had to be at least five floors, one higher than the first sighting. Going around the bend revealed yet more expansion. The small pier that had once sported mud around the sides now had solid stone everywhere that water touched and a ship at each wooden finger.
Two warehouses behind the docks had grown to eight, with two more having their foundations laid. The four-story wall had been torn down to be replaced with one reaching six high and allowing almost twice as much inner room, which the widespread brickwork and laborers scurrying about seemed more than ready to fill out. Activity I was forced to watch until one of the piers was finally vacated.
This time, our pull into port wasn't met with guards coming out to greet, something I doubt they had the time to do even if the desire was present. Men with faces of cats and dogs, and some bits of human mixed in with the two, did come by to take the goods currently loading down the ship. Our parting gift was bars of iron and empty crates, which were loaded up with the same harried energy that had hung over the previous pier.
Shoving off and tacking upstream along the right side, I saw no less than four ships of our size waiting for their turn, all loaded down with a variety of goods. Between them were smaller boats, some barely bigger than dhingeys, whereas others were in-between, bearing unused fish nets alongside the pallets feeding the demand for bricks, beams, and rope. These smaller ones used their size to squeeze between the bigger four and drop off cargo near the stone water walls where no wooden piers had been set up.
Last year, this region had barely been worth putting on a map. Now, it was one of the, if not the, most important pieces of land on the southern portion of the Central Continent. Thankfully, all this growing pain was mostly flowing downstream at this time of day, leaving us an almost open lane on the river.
It was a day of river travel and an hour past breakfast before the lookout tower for Garver's Field was seen over a hill on the right side of the river. The city was far bigger than any I had seen before, most of it unseen at our approaching angle, but the previous visit had left me aware of how the other end of the four-floor wall would be unseen by the port side. This time, the piers were full and no spot would open for us, something our agreed-upon schedule worked around.
As we pulled near the stone lisp just behind the wall, Songoo came from below deck just as the ship's anchor was loosed into the water. The red frojan began working unseen mana and using large blocks of water to lift the ships cargo onto the stone floor a good two feet above the deck. About halfway through the unloading, I spotted a familiar blue shape working its way from between the warehouses.
Lokan was sporting a light blue robe that almost matched the scales on her belly to her lower jaw. Her darker blue scales around the top of her head and frill were left free to bake in the sun. Red eyes stared at me, peering out between the two dog beastmen in leather armor employed to keep her safe. I turned left to see Songoo's amber eyes heavy with expectation. He nodded before summoning ropes of water and sending me up and onto stone.
The city pier was more solid than anything my feet had been on in days, yet the momentum from the toss still made me struggle to remain upright for a second. Enough time for Lokan to slip between her guards and take me in a hug.
"Too long. It's-s been too long, Lefty." She cooed as I tried to work a counter-hug around her upper half.
"You have plenty of company with the orphans. And the bum."
Lokan pulled back, swatting my right shoulder as she did so. Her blue lips puckered, unseen by the workers walking past to pick up the goods. The usual caution demanded that I be made to wear an oiled mask and gloves to prevent the diseases that sprouted from the puss of the beastmen's fur. Rather than suffer such an existence, I decided to see if I could make myself endure such things long enough to perhaps adapt to my people's younger siblings. Something that I was now committed to with the dog and cat men walking around me. Lokan paid no attention to such things, given her current scolding and immunity to their diseases.
"Penchen has been invaluable; I'll have you know. Works twice as hard as anyone else."
"Pff!" I scoffed, not giving a hair's thickness of retreat. "I just hope some of that work is outside the bed."
The expected scolding or huff never came. That silence, paired with her sucking in lips, was far louder than any noise her throat could produce. Red eyes conveyed meaning with their hesitance. My gaze went to her belly, noting the lack of a bulge before turning back up to her. Eye motions which finally forced words out of her.
"My time of the month came and went las-st week without producing so much as a drop. It's not definite….From what I know of such things. But it's….I think I'm pregnant."
I wrapped her in a hug, a smile spreading across my face. Lokan returned it, small hums of happiness wafting up from both of us. After a few seconds, I pulled back, running my hand over her belly as I did so.
"It's not showing yet." Lokan offered. "And Penchen is insisting I let him do all the physical work. A bit soon, by my estimate."
I bobbed my head back and forth.
"Save your energy for when you're supporting an extra with every step."
Lokan gave me a raised eyebrow, a smile now displayed on her face.
"It appears-s my soon-to-be condition has mended the friendship between my man and bes-st friend."
A huff and roll of my eyes were loosed before I could stop myself.
"And what about the work here? Will there be any problems with your duties as shipment coordinator?" I asked before a smart comment could work its way up.
"No. In fact, I want to expand elsewhere. That slum with the orphans has a lot of open space. I think with enough coin and expertise, I could make a large block of houses. They don't have many of those here. At least, not as many as people need."
I nodded, pretending to think over the proposition. Of course, money was nothing given our hidden resources, but I had to keep up appearances for onlookers.
"Aside from that, anything else that needs my attention?"
Her red eyes went skyward as her lips puckered in thought.
"Nothing that comes to mind, save the absurd amount of money doing nothing can make you, like the warehouse we bought. It's-s nearly tripled in value since we moved into it. That's before the profits-s made in its use. Captains and merchants have been paying high fees to s-store their goods. S-Save the guards and replacing the occasional rope or board; it's free silver. I'm thinking of moving us out and into a home just to free up more room."
"And the charity side of things?"
A smile came over her face, replacing the hints of greed that had been sprouting up.
"There has been a noted fall in the amount of young bodies needing disposal in the slum. The food merchants are glad to give a discount for the extra business, so that s-side is fine. We are going to s-start setting up proper housing for the little ones at some point. Winter is gone, but it will be back. That white wolf is too busy soaking up praise for the recent boom in trade, so he's-s leaving us alone for now."
How he was getting credit wasn't clear to me. If Lokan didn't send a serious look alongside a spirit connection into my right shoulder, I might have immediately offered choice words to be conveyed.
'Something's going on near the Arrow rivers. The beastmen have been amassing troops, far more than they could hide and certainly more than they need to protect the trade ships working that region. Which they don't even need considering the route is about to die. Try to find out what you can when you're there.'
I weighed setting off a spat with Evern. If I could find someway of explaining my importance in these affairs without giving too much away, I might. Letting caution win out over ego, I huffed through my lips before responding in the spirit connection.
'Remember, however real the coin we're getting right now, it's not the main objective. Make sure to spend time with officials besides the mean ball of white fur. We need a list of trustworthy people for that special day.'
Lokan nodded, her eyes holding that reluctance to go but unable to summon a reason to continue the meeting.
"I'm sure I'll be back, what with the need for shipping goods from here." I offered.
The blue snake woman answered with another hug. One I returned for a second before moving back to the ship. Our load of assorted necessities of office work, metal bars, and hammers had been secured sometime during the conversation. As I pulled back and moved to the lisp of the stone floor, I gave Lokan one last wave goodbye. When the cold water of Songoo's magic ropes wrapped around my stomach, I only just managed to suck in some air before my feet rather violently left the solid stone, though the landing was a bit gentler.
I sent the red frojan a curt smile before looking back to shore. Despite the sloshing from the anchor being pulled up, I heard Lokan's footsteps as she turned back towards the line of warehouses. My motion was similar, even if it was pointed towards the entryway to the lower decks.
For no less than seven days, we limped through the crowded river. Here and there, it expanded enough for three ships to sail side-by-side. Nowhere near enough for the volume going through. At first, I thought such traffic might be normal. A notion that was first dispelled when I saw shovel brigades working to expand the river, then again when we had to stop for supplies as the trip was taking far longer than expected. I might consider myself bored if not for the skull-splitting headache I had been gifted from Garver's Field.
Cell didn't suffer from such problems, leaving him to idle and sleep during the day. At night, he flew out the window for an hour or two to explore. I surmised the beastmen had vision similar to a human's and the faeries were only slightly better at night. His black mass of crystal was practically invisible in the dark grass and mud to my eyes; forget the ship's purple hull, so I didn't object to the jaunts. Perhaps in the way of scions, his spirit connection became so standard with the usual sensations that I started to take for granted that it was there, even when he wasn't.
As we pulled a left at a fork in the river under a clear blue morning sky, I saw two towers peeking out over the treeline around the left bank. Once the bend was conquered, Garver's Fort came into view. The place was a city, stretching along the left riverbank for nearly a full mile with the attending piers jutting from the stone floor. Unlike other cities I had visited, the usual warehouses rested behind a line of squat, rather ugly box forts. They were distinctly unpleasant to look at, with jutting, uncaring walls and barely passable masonry forged purely from mundane efforts. The spikes along the top and catapults ready to fire at each corner made them even less appealing to an attacker's preference.
Pulling into the first pier was rather painless, if slow. The maneuver gave me enough time to look further downriver. My ears picked up a massive roar of water, far beyond what this decently sized body of flowing river could provide. Due to the right bank's continued curve leftward, I wasn't given a straight look past the treeline. Yet between the giant brown poles and green leaves, I managed to get snippets of some large mass of moving water beyond, and judging by the barely seen waves, it moved at a good sprint.
That was all the attention I could afford to pay before I felt the ship pulling to a stop. Wooden land was snug against the right side of the ship and was almost immediately kept there by ropes that wrapped around the wooden poles. As much as I wanted to immediately get off and see what office I had purchased, certain cautions still needed to be taken. The first three portents of which were coming down the pier even as faeries moved to offload pallets of metal and boxes of other goods.
Beastmen, all of the dog variety, were approaching with metal chest plates, leather armor elsewhere, and hands already resting on their swords. On the right and left were almost totally animal in the face, sporting the long noses and dark fur of dogs, their only human portions being the ears. In the middle, leading the pack was a large man with human eyes and nose, though the mouth and head were of a small-nosed dog with short grey fur and a mouth made for biting. Most importantly, his green eyes fixed on me with disdain. The instant he came within a foot of the boat, he stopped, thumbing his sword pommel as he did so.
"I would like to think the green curs who've managed to be a thorn in our side for so long wouldn't be so incompetent as to simply walk up to one of the most secure locations on the river. Your-"
The way his green eyes shot to the right made me follow his gaze. Songoo was coming up from below deck, the frojan's red skin being hard to miss.
"Hmm," The dog man hummed to himself. "I've seen other frojan take up residence near Orphans Bucket. Said something about others coming. Name?"
"Songoo."
Grey eyebrows furrowed, clearly somewhat disappointed that the correct name had been given.
"We are both expected." The red frogman said in his kinds deep base tone as his amber eyes slid to me.
I coughed into my right hand, drawing the beastmen's gaze.
"I was told there might be some trouble. Evern assured me that he would send a letter vouching for my trustworthiness."
His grey eyebrows raised, more in curiosity than shock. His frame was rather bulky, which made it all the more impressive when he spun around on one foot and started waving his hands back and forth at the tower before pulling his hands down to rest at his hips.
"We'll verify that," He said with a turn back to me. "In the meantime, I would appreciate it if you remained in my sight."
I sent my eyes towards the railing on the right. He gave me a slight nod. After a minute of resting against purple wood, a cat boy with orange fur came sprinting from the closest fort. The soldiers explained what was needed, the kid left, came back, and…. There was apparently some letter or something that didn't get sent to the right mailbox. At the end of nearly an hour of wrangling, I was given a pin made up of a circle of wood painted bright red with a yellow leaf in the middle. If this hadn't all been the result of my own decisions, some irritation might have been displayed. It was, so I took the pin, stuck it on the right side of my white shirt's chest and moved onto the pier of a currently distrustful people, even as their laborers took up my goods in hand-pulled carts.
Being so much closer to the battlefield, I suspected the welcome wouldn't be as warm. That, and the fact that the kelton guards and Lokan weren't here to give off an exotic air. Walking down the pier and past the first fort with a headache forming in the back of my skull, I was treated to a few wayward looks as Songoo failed to be the attention sponge I had hoped for.
Most furrowed their eyebrows, first in hostility then curiosity upon spotting the badge. I couldn't say what exact meaning the pin conveyed, only that the way it immediately cut hostility from any locals proved its worth far beyond its wood and paint. The streets were far more orderly than I had seen in the Underground of Crasden or Grover's Field. Every road I could see down was a part of larger squares that formed a grid. Something made easier by the fact that whatever hills or dips that had on the land had been flattened into a single plane.
Just past the warehouses were the first squares sporting taverns and stalls, all with the attending smell of pus and a noticeably muted whiff of sewage. Beastmen laborers followed behind, bearing my goods without complaint under a sun that was starting to show its temper. Despite their help, the trip to the back end took far longer than I wanted. When I stood on the precipice of my future home district, I suddenly felt the trip too short.
Orphans Bucket was the only spot in the city without a sharp corner, even though it reached almost to both sides of the walls. Lower stone walls slicked with what I prayed was mud fell down in a gradual slope just shallow enough that ramshackle buildings could be erected in the rock. Every curve and slant was designed to send rainwater down to the sluice gate at the middle of the far wall. The main need for the gate was a nearby tunnel leading from the river, under the city, and emptying out here, its contents brown from being the city's only sewer outlet.
Unpleasant, in every way.
Thankfully, my new home was on the immediate left at the top rung. I was too cheap to pay for one of the homes further back, as Grover's Field was one of the Beastmen's prime spots for shipping businesses along with the accompanying price hike on anything near the shore. Being near the group I was most interested in helping was another bonus. All that taken into account, I was not so stingy that I would endure sleeping near a sewer outlet.
We trekked towards the wooden box bearing two floors and windows facing the main street, the only pleasant view to be found. The construction was decent, by my estimate, whereas the slum's inhabitants probably considered it to be a mansion. Cell didn't agree with either assessment, sending a feeling of disapproval through the spirit connection from inside his copper cage below my neck. I took a deep breath, shaking my head ever so slightly.
'Cell. Not everyone can spend their lives in homes forged from an ultimate magel.'
My mind was filled with spots of discoloring in the wood, a cracked clay shingle on the roof, and the railing by the door's half-circle stone step, apparently too thin to his tastes. Then the dirt around the bottom of the house where rains of years past had caked mud on the foundation. To finish the inspection, I was treated to visions of the nails in the house's various boards, each either sticking out too much or the impressions in the wood showing they had been hammered too harshly.
A comment about the amount of spoilage Eli had allowed his familiar to undergo was somehow kept down.
Despite the magic god's objections, we walked up to the door all the same. At about a dozen feet away, the door swung open courtesy of a dark blue frojan leaning out of the doors. The home's double doors allowing the frogmen entry was its main selling point; I just hoped it wasn't its only one. Fenen nodded, sending his green robe flowing with the motion as we made our way inside.
Bare was the best description, with only a meager blue rug by the front door to add color to the dark wood of the dining room on the left and the stove and counter behind it. The stairs directly ahead leading to the upper floor were likewise destitute, though they had endured a frojan's burden, leaving little doubt of their construction's resilience. I looked to the right where a bare wall and small alcove by the door screamed for a couch or small desk.
All mine, whiff of sewage included. The smell was now at proper city levels, rather low considering our location. Something that was thankfully absent as I took a deep breath and turned around.
"Put them to the right," I commanded the waiting workers.
A good pallet of iron bars, hammers, and boxes of civilization's necessities were placed into the alcove, accompanied by the usual huffs and groans of labor. Since their payment had already been taken care of by the dock officials, in apology for the mistake, I was soon left alone in the dining area with Cell. Songoo and Fenen were moving to lay on the iron bars when I turned to them.
"Where's Yoolan?"
Two languorous plops onto cold metal were the first answers I got. Only after they were comfortable did Fenen answer.
"We're going to meet up at the Sweet Cat later. As for where he is right now, probably in the market asking around, getting a general idea of how things work. As he was instructed."
I gave the two a nod before moving to the left and up the stairs. That I only noted three creaks on the dozen-plus steps raised my appraisal of the home further. While Cell would never be happy, his immense standards would be left mostly unharmed as his home was the jewelry around my neck. The second story was barely larger than a closet around the stairs. Thankfully, the doors on each side and ahead promised more space, the left of which I opened.
Inside was a decently sized room, a bit smaller than my cabin back on the ship and not nearly as well made. But….
My scouring for a compliment turned up empty.
The bed on the right was, at best, usable with its thin white pillow and rough-looking grey wool blankets, all resting on a mattress that was stuffed with enough padding to prevent complaints and not one feather more. On the left lay a desk bearing pages on its bare top, its sides chipped from being moved or hit over the years. The accompanying chair was the most praiseworthy aspect for the simple, clean red cushion on its seat. Even the view out of the window directly ahead was subpar compared to ocean waves, the street of stone and dirt mostly obscured by the neighboring brown brick of a house.
It was a downgrade in every aspect. Something that must have shown on my face because Cell sent a sense of agreement through the spirit connection. Perhaps Eli's been spoiling familiar and wife.
Taking a deep breath, I went to the desk and plopped in the chair. Cell took the opportunity to leave his cage and shoot around the floor. I trusted him not to do anything stupid, so I didn't object to him leaving the room to inspect the rest of the house.
For the rest of the day, I went over the presented figures gathered by the three frojan we had sent ahead to organize the fundamentals of the new operation. The basic idea behind my presence here was to take advantage of this area's abundant coal to set up a large-scale forge. Nothing compared to that massive beast I had seen in the Cradle, but borrowing some of the same principles and scale. Smithing hadn't taken off here due to the pain of getting copper and iron, something the new trade route fixed. An opportunity I hoped to exploit to great gain, both for coin and the excuse to spend said gains on the needy.
Success could be guaranteed with shipments of free resources from the Base and its now satisfied thirst for metal. Ignoring the fact that the actual point was to find reliable leaders among the beastmen, if the business worked on its own merits, I would no doubt feel quite clever. That prize was enough to keep me working numbers and figures, interrupted only by a quick meal of bread and cheese from the market, until the sky outside turned orange.
At some point, Fenen poked inside to remind me of the meeting with Yoolan. Making a mental note of where I was in the figures, I stretched and went back downstairs. I got five steps down before Cell leaped from the ceiling above the stairs and fixed himself back into the copper ball of my necklace in a flash of crystal black shapes, allowing the four of us to immediately go through the front door.
The trek back towards the front of the city was the same walk as the first time, but the half hour of walking wasn't done under the full sun. Combined with my need to stretch after sitting for so long, I found it enjoyable. Either word of me had spread, or people were too tired to be overtly emotional at the end of the long day, leaving most to give me a curious look or raised eyebrow before moving on.
Songoo eventually pointed at a tavern to the left about two square blocks from the river. It was a three-story rectangle of wood, with the top floor being slightly smaller than the two below to allow its diners a table in the open air. Behind it was a small cloud of smoke floating into the sky, though the source couldn't be seen from this angle. The sign above the main doorway, a foamy mug of beer with a small orange cat lounging inside it like a bathtub as he ate a piece of white cake, sparked my curiosity.
Thankfully, the entrance was a sturdy double door that allowed Songoo and Fenen inside without fuss, to say nothing of my passage. On the left was an open kitchen, complete with covered-up beastmen working breads and small plates of clay filled with cream puddings sporting tops of burnt sugar out of a stone oven. Ahead was a wide staircase leading upstairs that held a red carpet over its dark wood. To the right was the dining room with long tables in the center and smaller tables on the sides beneath various windows. Despite the size, the place had a small cabin feel in its dark oak, crème colored rugs, and paintings of mountains and grassy plains on the walls.
Finding the big, brown frojan in the right corner was easier than working around the crowd. Considerations for the beastmen's emission of puss along the fur were taken into account in the table spacing, but when they were filled to the brim, we could only slowly walk between the inner and outer tables towards our reserved spot. More than one pair of curious eyes were sent our way. As we came into the line that gave us a clear shot at the table, I gave our table a curious look of my own.
Sitting across from the big brown frojan on the right side of the table sat an older, grey cat man in brown robes. The fur running up his neck and to his cat ears was a darker grey with streaks of black. A coloring that made it hard to distinguish old grey and natural, though his slim frame and unsteady hand working a mug made his years plain. He was the most animal-like of his species I had seen, with only his upright position in the chair and grey human eyes to mark him as beast men rather than full beast.
Grey eyes that slid to me as we moved to the table. Songoo and Fenen moved chairs on the right side while I took up the end where the table faced the wall. Yoolan gave me a nod as his companions settled down.
"My name's Gula." I offered the cat beastman.
"Ah, the famed benefactor of the poor." He said with a bow, voice carrying that typical frailty of age. "Names Veskor."
I nodded to him, stopping the conversation to watch the cat maid coming from the left. She was covered head to toe in leather, with only a glass visor and white apron on the front to break the endless brown.
"Refills? New drinks?"
The amber eyes of the brown frojan slid to me, asking me about the bounds of my generosity without sending a word through mouth or spirit connection.
"Yes to the first. For the second, I'll take a light beer."
I made sure to note the wide smile that broke out over Veskor's face. It was a genuine thing, simply happy to be getting a free drink and not a care that it was charity from a supposed enemy. The other two frojan made similar orders, prompting a bow and exit from the server. Her turn away from the table allowed enough silence for me to ask the first question.
"And how did you meet Yoolan?"
The frojan in question coughed.
"I was inspecting the slums. Inquiring about the state of things, securing food for the young ones, when he introduced himself. A man who knows more about this city than anyone else I've found."
Veskor nodded in agreement, sending white whiskers and grey fur swinging.
"Lived here from my first day and this city will see my last. I've seen sixty-three springs in these few miles of mud and stone, yet it still shows me new things. Between an orc for a friend of the people, all the troops moving through, and someone caring the Orphans Bucket, these past few weeks have been exciting."
"Hmm." I mused as the waitress came by with the drinks. As she set down the goods, I got my thoughts in order. Too slow to get ahead of Yoolan's order.
"A slice of whisker pie, if you would."
My eyebrows raised, lowering only to nod at the maid as she looked around for more orders. Whatever this whisker pie was, we were all getting a slice. When she was gone, I turned to Veskor, noting how excited he looked before asking my question.
"As someone who knows this place so well, I do have some questions."
The cat man nodded. That didn't distract me from the way several pairs of dog and cat ears at the other tables perked up. Five sat around the table, yet it appeared a good dozen or more were present for the conversation.
"Sure. Easiest pie I'll have ever earned."
Pulling myself up in the chair, I prepared for a long conversation.
"What are the rivers between here and the orc gangs like? I heard the elves are further north and the waters are treacherous from speed and barnacle rocks, but little else."
Instead of immediately answering, his grey eyebrows furrowed in confusion. A look that several onlooking non-participants also shared.
"Where did you come from that you wouldn't know?"
"East. Past the Thousand Screams Toad's territory."
Veskor puckered his lips as his eyebrows shot up. Somehow, I managed to not meet the dog and cat faces now turning to look at us, any pretense of not eavesdropping gone. The old cat man's lips puckered for a second before he gave a long 'OOO' with his lips.
"Oh? You've been on them weird ships people have been talking about? The ones that let sailors move through the yellow death?"
"Yes, I have."
The surrounding tables were now properly interested. Most conversation had stopped as those who hadn't been listening were forced to by their peers' heads turning towards us. The server was still professional, dropping off the needed beers and plates of whisker pie. On the wood plates were slices of white gelatin resting on brown cracker crust. Threaded through the cream were strands of orange and black. As they were being set down, Veskor couldn't hold back a question of his own.
"Did you make the ships?"
I sucked in my lips, tossing my head back and forth.
"My aid in that venture is a matter of discretion. No, I didn't make the magic tools that made it possible or are directly associated with the Thousand Screams Toad. But, I did help."
"Enough to get a people's friend badge." A voice announced from a table to the left.
From behind the frojan came an older dog man sporting a grey similar to Veskors, though it was without black stripes and had white along his lower jaw and down to the rough brown shirt. He had wolf features, though his ears were human and his teeth lacked an animal's sharpness.
"Lippen!" Veskor exclaimed with a smile and laugh. "If you want to know anything about the Arrow Rivers, he's the one. Spent his life on those boats like I did this city. Of course, my path allowed me to stay on it when I got old."
A jovial look came to his amber eyes.
"One of the few who ever lived long enough to have that problem. Those rivers are a young man's game. Probably won't be anyone's game soon. But if you want to know anything about them, my eyes have seen every rock, barnacle, and tree it has to offer. From the Pinch to where river meets ocean."
His place was suddenly made permanent by the foamy mug the server placed before him, along with fresh refills for the frog men. Well, if I was going to have the room's attention, I might as well get the expertise it had to offer. A simple nod and he continued as the frojan carried on their drinking without a care in the world.
"The rivers all split and twist out of a bigger one at the top. That point is called the Pinch, on account of how the big island in the middle looks like it's being squeezed between two fingers of water. Barnacles make small, stone islands where natural mud and rock can't hold on. The…."
His amber eyes bounced back and forth for a second.
"I suppose if you was a bird coming from the sea, the dwarves and orcs would be on the left. Coming from the top you get the dwarf mountains. Giant slabs of rock, obviously. They never go out save for some designated trade posts that Mason Sigard built his route through."
The semi-familiar name was put away for another question, but Lippen demanded my attention.
"Below them is the orc gangs in the swamps. Mean lot, though it apparently isn't a thing of the blood."
A small smile was exchanged before he continued.
"Save a few miles south of the Pinch, the right is mostly taken up by the elves, though that can change based on where exactly the barnacles and sands shift. You'll never see anything from that lot, save an arrow through the skull declining your entry. Then there's us here in Grover's Shield, obviously. South of us is a killing field. The right and left banks are claimed, but everything in the middle changes owner almost by the day. Once had a trade fleet cut in half because the orcs took a stretch of barnacle islands as they were passing through. Crazy times and places for those of more spry years than me."
I nodded, retreating into my own thoughts as Fenen started asking about water quality and such. The dwarves here had swamps filled with my people right next to them, just as they had back home. A coincidence? A fluke of land and luck?
No. They made the land, twisted it, sent it to the sky in mountains, and carved paths through it. Their land was the way it was because it's exactly how they wanted it.
So, why make orc-filled swamps around their home? Perhaps they like to use my kind as an irritant for humans. That felt true. Risky, considering how it might lead the humans to drowning the entire region in bodies if my kind ever got a male mage to give us magical talent.
Then another, older yet more obvious question presented itself.
Why had the dwarves back home built a corridor through their lands to allow the humans to fight through? In past years, I had put it down to some twist of magic I couldn't fathom. Having since received an education in such things, I could say with some confidence that it hadn't been needed for any magical reasons, as stone summoned from magic for long-term use didn't need constant mana to keep its presence in the world.
Wha-
My eyes suddenly picked up Songoo looking at me with concern. The conversation had endured in my mental absence, though it had been foisted on Fenen's shoulders.
"-Such shrimps are quite good, I assure you." Lippen finished with a swig of his beer.
Coughing into my hand, I drew everyone's eyes to me, including those at other tables.
"That Sigard's route you mentioned, I've heard that name here and there."
Rueful smiles broke out from the two older beastmen.
"Now that," Veskor chuckled with a playful point of his right finger to me. "That proves you're not from around here. Mason Sigard was a human trader, of one good or another. At one point he realized the mountains between the City and the Bodding empire had a route between both them and the dwarves that was light in mana and easily defended. It just needed securing. Using both our weapons and men from the first King Grover, he made his vision real.
Gold did, and still does, flow through the bridges and roads he carved with chisel and sword. When old age finally came for him, as it does for us all, he exhausted all his wealth to employ healing mages and secure mana crystals for their spells. Sigard regained the body of a man in his late teens but without a copper to his name and the rights to his most famed exploit now sold.
Perhaps he could have rebuilt, or spent his new youth as a wastrel. Sadly, he was found with his throat slit the very morning after the last treatment. No doubt a notice of disagreement from any number of aggrieved inheritors.
It's also why King Garver needs to remain in control. His ancestor's portion of the tolls was supposed to end with the first king's reign, but a bit of cleverness was put into the agreement. As long as the first Garver's descendants maintain his name and the throne, we get a portion of the gold. As much as some idiots may grumble."
I gave the story a smile, both for its depth and charm. That certainly contrasted with the hard looks some onlookers got, with Lippen adopting a tired sigh as he brought the mug to his mouth.
"All the kings? That last fool too?" An irritated voice called from somewhere in the crowd.
Veskor puckered his lips as the back of his fur raised along with his body out of the chair.
"Who said that?" He demanded with an angry turn to the crowd.
"Hey," Lippen moaned as he grabbed his friend's right arm and pulled him back into his seat. "Come on."
The wolf got a pleading look. I had no doubt he would be curling his ears back if his ears weren't human. Seeing as this was a heated conversation outside my purview, I took up a fork and drove it into my slice of whisker pie. Swalling it produced a cream flavor, with bits of citrus and vanilla. Delicious. Something the sour faces around the tavern contrasted with.
"Veskor, come on." Lippen continued pleading. "That last Garver was a disaster. Not a thought in his head save what lay between the next wench's legs, damn the country and the people. Even you've got to admit that."
The cat man puckered his lips, glowering at the crowd before turning to his friend as he plopped back into his seat.
"One bad apple doesn't mean the tree has rotted. And if you think handing the whole country over to a band of conniving, coin molesting-"
From the table on the right rose an orange cat woman, snarling with a human mouth and slitted green eyes that matched her dress.
"The council kept things running right good. Better than before, even."
Feeling that the conversation had taken this detour long enough, I tried to find the words to turn the conversation away from its course, or at least exit it.
Lippen, despite his previous opposition to Veskor's side, turned to the orange cat woman with a defiant, stuck-out chin.
"Filched every copper for armor and weapons is how they ran it. Cut every protection to breaking and damn near lost us the whole river. A bad Garver doesn't make that lot any better. And they certainly wouldn't have launched that siege on the Pinch."
Feeling that the best opportunity to break in had arrived, I coughed to get attention. Those at this table and the surrounding ones obliged me.
"I heard about some unusual troop movements. They went to this Pinch? Not to secure the section downriver or the surrounding towns?"
A round of head shakes from all the beastmen greeted the question, though it was Lippen who answered.
"We're the last northern city before you get to elf territory. And all those ships went north. Attacking anything along the orcs' side of the river is foolish as long as they hold the Pinch. They'll fuck you in both ends for the attempt with a diving hawk's speed."
Several women put hands around their youths' ears in the crowd. Lippen grimaced at the death stares from the mothers before hiding his face in the mug. I took the opportunity to nod at the aged sailor's wisdom.
"Yeah," Veskor agreed as he turned to look at me. "That's all our business. What about yours, if you don't mind the prying? An orc who's never been to a swamp, with frojan and gold in tow, is bound to have a story to tell."
More than I could explain in a week. Despite the fact that I was more familiar with swamp life than I had ever wanted to be, such facts were kept down as the current facade demanded fiction.
"Seas and waves made up most of my life, though they never gave enough fish. Gold, as you know, is what keeps things running. I can't say how involved I am in the new route, but I can say it's gotten me access and opportunity in these lands."
I thumbed the red, wooden badge on my left breast before continuing.
"Opportunities I intend to push to their fullest. I heard there's lots of coal in these parts, just not a lot of metal to use it with. Who knows how it will turn out, but I believe smithing would be quite profitable here."
Lippen puckered his lips, mulling over the proposition while Veskor was content to take a deep sip from his foamy mug.
"Smiths here? An odd notion."
Telling them the big picture about my smithing plans wouldn't make any difference; no one else had the timing or cargo capacity I did. An explanation that it was many times cheaper to ship iron here via the new route than to move coal elsewhere might cost me my first-step advantage. Mentioning the method I had seen back at the Cradle certainly gave away too much of my, hopefully, brilliant plan.
"Things are always odd before they become normal." I offered before eating another fork of whisker pie.
That produced a round of nods from both beastmen and frojan. The long looks from the frogmen held a particular weight, like they were thinking of many, many more things that matched my description. Veskor placed his mug down before looking at me with appraising green eyes.
"Lot of odd happenings these days. How does giving food to orphans help with the smithy?"
I set my fork down, taking a deep breath as I straightened out my white shirt. It was hard not to notice how piercing the eyes around the room had become. Still, I cleared my throat and acted as casually as I could.
"I grew up hungry. The sea and trade have provided for me since. Certain memories linger, as I'm sure you all know."
A round of nods from this and several other tables acknowledged the popularity of childhood trauma.
"Can't stand hunger or those around me being such. Obviously, I don't have a limitless coin purse, but I have enough to help with the worst cases. And if this smithy takes off, perhaps I'll have enough to do even more. Time will be the judge, of course."
I finished with a grasping of my mug and a long swig of beer.
Small, satisfied smiles filled the room. Lippen gave me a particularly grateful smile.
"The sailors and soldiers, and those too old to continue to be them, will certainly be grateful. Families of those fallen in their work are given a stipend, with a time limit. Most of their widows and orphans end up in the Bucket after that runs out."
I gave him a small nod. I hadn't given too much thought to public perception of such actions. Of course, it was easy to guess that helping the destitute blunted accusations of villainy. Finishing off the last bite of whisker pie, I stretched in place as I took up the mug. An opportunity Veskor took to ask another question.
"And what's life like out in the western seas?"
Taking a long swig, I prepared tales from my time as captain, with the troublesome bits adjusted or left out. A good hour was spent going over stories of Mist pirates and dealing with the mayhem of the past few months. Most were content to leave the conversation they had never been invited to at this point, leaving only an interested few to take in the lore. No matter how interested, time still moved forward and the bed eventually sent out its beckons.
After leaving the needed silver with the barmaid, we left under a sky of stars. The trek home, cleaning, setting my sword beside the desk, and finally crawling into a bed that didn't move with wind or waves happened with barely any attention from me. As meager as the bedding and pillow were, oblivion arrived all the same.
Sometime during the night, a hard thump from downstairs pulled me into a groggy wakefulness. My eyes were barely open when I saw the black mass of Cell slip open the door and close it behind him with a gust of wind.
"What?" I grumbled, barely comprehending the situation.
He sent a feeling of assurance and….goodness through a spirit connection on my forehead. Feeling the call of sleep, I nodded before slipping back into nothingness.
Another thump. This time, a loud growl accompanied. From a frojan throat.
My eyes opened to a wall of wood and the rays of a barely raised morning sun. Unlike most mornings, it was my nose sending the strongest sensation. Blood. A metallic sting all too familiar on the battlefield. Wood groaned just outside the door before it opened, leaving me no time to look for my weapon. The big, blue head of Fenen poked in, his amber eyes staring angrily towards the meager desk. I followed his eyes to see Cell resting on its edge, the shifting slit of light in the black, oval crystal meeting his gaze.
"Did you do that downstairs?" Fenen demanded, sounding irritated even as he was clearly struggling to keep his tone even.
Whatever emotions or images Cell was sending him, they weren't being sent my way.
"Well, the guards are going to need an explanation when they come. We can say we did it, but you'd best show us how it happened."
"What?!" I demanded, now feeling alert as I pulled the blanket down.
"No!" Fenen demanded with a raise of his webbed hand, the deep base of his kind making the word boom. His expression softened with my furrowing of eyebrows.
"Look, it's best you just tell the guards you woke up, and we kept you in the room. But Cell needs to come with me. Now."
The magical familiar in question jumped from the desk, landing on the big frogman's shoulder with a plop into the green robe. Pulling on the door, the blue frojan left me to stew in curiosity. Something I obliged, even as I put on a grey shirt and black pants.
After a few minutes, the window opposite the door revealed a small troop of steel-clad beastmen stomping down the road. I gulped as I calculated their speed, waiting a few seconds until the first of them came through the door….Right….Ab-
"Shit!" An unfamiliar male voice screamed somewhere on the first floor.
Sighing at my inadequate estimation, I could only wait as more profanities floated from the door. Stomping, indistinct words wafting from below, and the odor of blood meandered on for nearly half an hour before I heard wood squeaking from someone coming up the stairs.
The door opened again, only this time a dog beast man with black fur, a long snout, and brown human eyes sticking out of a steel helmet.
"Name's Danny. I….The frojan said you just woke up and weren't informed of the events downstairs."
I shook my head, unable to keep my eyebrows from furrowing and nose from flaring.
"If there was an accident or property broken downstairs, I'm not sure why you were called."
His dog mouth grimaced.
"It's more of a case of someone, or rather several someones, being broken. In various spots of the room. Looks to be intruders from a local gang. From what's left to inspect, at least."
I gave him a small smile, trying to act casual.
"My guards were a bit rough?"
Dog lips were sucked inward before a deep breath was released through the snout.
"There are bits of bone stuck in the ceiling."
Cell.
Thankfully, the long mental sigh that followed didn't show on my face.
"No trouble for you, legally." Danny continued. "As clear a case as any could be. We found several weapons on their person, along with bags. The pried window frame on the left side of the house and the frojan's statements mean you're done with us. Clean up, however, is not covered by the city."
This time I allowed a grimace to come over my face.
"I don't suppose there's any place to dump the… debris."
A small smile came over his dog face.
"This lot were known as troublemakers. Too stupid to not flick everyone's noses, even other gangs, but not dumb enough to get caught. Before last night, at least. Just dump them in the rivers so the fish will at least benefit."
Giving me one final nod, he pulled back along with the door. When wood smacked wood, I rolled my eyes and leaned into the wall beside the bed. Minutes of nothing passed before the stomping on the first floor once again moved to the stairs. Fenen finally came through the door with Cell on his shoulder, looking a little tired as he did so.
"We're putting up blankets so Cell can use his magic to scrape up the bodies. After he's done, Songoo and I will get to dumping while Yoolan works soap into the wood."
"Cell," I commanded the black mass on the frojan's shoulder.
The familiar leaped from its perch in a blast of wind, sending the green robe fluttering, before landing on my lap with a twist of that slit of shifting color, looking expectant despite the lack of facial features.
"Was it really necessary to blast them into mush? Couldn't you have just cut their heads off and called in a day?" I demanded, trying to channel my inner mother as I did so.
A buzz was sent across my left shoulder. Through it came images of Eli's rather loving looks at me. There were also angles to scenes I hadn't been privy to. Eli staring at me with lust as I worked beside him or leering at my body when I was walking away. All the while I was tending to something else, totally ignorant of the heady need he felt just from being near me.
The next images being the quad mage annihilating various groups of bandits and criminals kept down any smiles. Carnage floated across my mind's eye as bodies were squished beneath stone or diced like butter. Such visions would be vomit-inducing to those who had never been on the battlefield. With my experience, it only made me frown in distaste.
I suppose Cell did manage to get the point across. Eli was never gentle with criminals, even less so with those who threatened his loved ones. Expecting his familiar to be different was probably asking too much.
"Fine. But you are going to help clean up."
The mass of shifting black shapes beneath the crystal oval instantly melted into a puddle. Cell's head fell onto my knee as the slit of moving colors stared at the floor. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I opened them as I gently ran a finger along his head.
"Come on. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can get breakfast."
A grumbling acceptance came through the spirit connection. Cell reformed his shifting mass into a cube before slowly shifting his head up. The magic god launched off my leg and onto Fenen's shoulder. The blue frojan gave me a nod, prompting me to leave the bed. Having a morning wash would be a waste, leaving me to rise from the bed and prepare for a long cleaning.
As I approached the door and Fenen pulled it fully open, I got a strong whiff of the mess waiting down stairs. Consoling myself that, of all the people who had been in the house today, my morning and night, hadn't been the worst. With that thought, I took a deep breath of stinging, metallic air then headed out the door, day already fully thrown off course.