Reincarnated to the Past 4: Misunderstanding (Patreon)

In the end, I told the chief that I would stay for another year, and he granted me an empty house on the edge of the tribe, which was still within the tribe’s village walls. I was reluctant to accept it at first, but I reasoned that it would allow me to interact better in a shorter amount of time. This would in turn help me understand their language better. Yes, that was one reason. Second reason was tapping that booty establishing myself as a proper “wise man” so that when I spoke against institutions like slavery later on, then there will be people who listened to me instead of ignoring me as a “soft-hearted fool.”

God, they didn’t have a word for institution. 

Fall was quickly approaching. It was the first time that I saw the tribe start really get involved in food storage and long-term preservation. 

What irked me was the slowness of the tribe’s grain harvest time. 

It took them fucking forever. 

On top of taking forever to harvest, they also took forever to process. When I talked to Ghigari about this, it was normal for wheat processing to take weeks.

WEEKS!

Why?

Because the men never participated in it. Rather, they couldn’t because most of them were busy guarding, hunting, or doing other preparations necessary for the harsh winter, one of which was reinforcing the roof and sides of the houses, a construction work suited for men because of the long hours and strength-based work.

I had enough wares to trade for the winter, but I was worried about something else. 

Myself. 

I had received a house, but also got involved in the internal affairs of the tribe. I was expected to provide valuable insight into … pretty much everything, though I was sure that I could hold back on some subjects claiming that I had a specialty - biology - and not much else.

That’s where the problem was: I was now a wise man. I was expected to be a teacher, advisor, and even a babysitter. What would be frowned upon would be going out to hunt, tan, and make my own wares like I did before. By accepting a house from the chieftain, I had more or less also accepted my “new place” within the tribe as a wise man.

It also meant that I was eligible to marry his youngest daughter but that’s straying from the point. 

I had to stick to a predefined role, and going outside of that role in any “professional” capacity would mean that I would start to earn the irritation and ire of the other tribe members. 

AKA?

Curtailed freedom.

Gah. Why am I doing this again? Oh right, for that booty to learn about the Kettin to ensure that they would not be a threat to me. Yes, definitely threat assessment and for that new booty I just learned about a week ago.

-VB-

The second knowledge I imparted to the tribe was something more mundane.

When I saw where the Kettins got their water from, it was either from the river (which they boiled before drinking) or from two wells within the tribe’s walls. However, neither of the wells had any kind of pulley system, which left the water pullers(?) usually having to pull up the water by hand after dropping a bucket attached to the end of a rope. 

That was … well, it tied up a lot of people, and most of the people who worked all day long just to get water for the rest of the tribe were tied up from doing anything else.

I didn’t have the infrastructure or refined blacksmithing skills to make a pump, but I did have another idea about what I could do to fix that…

“ What are you doing?”

Just like I had a good idea, Ghigari also had a good idea. He made Ureya, his youngest daughter, follow me around as an assistant. Good guy (or was it a smart leader trying to use his daughter to seduce a knowledgeable guy into settling down in his tribe? Why not both?).

“Building a lever,” I replied as I tied a pole as thick as my wrist and thrice as long as I was to two additional poles sticking out of the ground (because I planted them firmly there for this purpose). 

She continued to stare, obviously not sure about what I was doing. “Is it going to help like what you told mother-mother?”

I couldn’t help but snort. The Kettin didn’t have a word for “grandmother,” mostly because their lifespan was short enough that most people didn’t see their grandmothers (and definitely not their grandfathers). So their go-to word for grandmother was mother-mother. 

“No, this will help everyone more,” I replied in English. “Ah. I mean, no, this will help everyone more,” I replied again in Kettin when I saw her confused face. I still had trouble unconsciously replying in Kettin because it wasn’t my mother language. Also, I was still not as fluent as I wanted to be, even with my learning rate being ridiculously fast and having spent six or so months with them.

“Hmm,” she hummed while continuing to stare at me. 

I fastened the pole onto the planted poles with more of the pole facing towards the well and then tested the mobility of the pole by pulling it up and down. It was a bit rough, and the scraping of the wood on wood was easily noticeable. I loosened the tie, and then tested again. 

Not as smooth as I’d like it but smooth enough. 

Then I pulled the “out” pole down, and fastened a rock the size of my chest to it. The rock wasn’t too heavy, which made this easy. I also tested the rope’s strength against the weight of the rock, and found no issue. 

Once it was complete, I went to the other end and tied a rope with a rocket attached to the other end. 

I pulled the well-side of the pole down, and then I dropped the bucket into the well, which made Ureya shout in surprise and alarm. There was a splash, and then I let go of the pole while holding onto the rope. I slowly let the pole lift itself up from the weight of the rock on the other end… and out came a bucket, landing just on the edge of the well, filled with water.

Ureya stared at the bucket in shock. I stepped aside without a word and let her try it.

She had fun drawing nine buckets of water.

Other tribe members watching us soon realized what I just did.

I made drawing water easier and thus lessened their need to spend strength and time drawing them manually with a bucket and a rope. 

Not too long after, Ghigari came running to us while the tribeswomen slapped my shoulder and back in thanks for making their work easy. He saw the water drawing see-saw, tested it himself, and then turned to me.

“Make it for the other well, too,” he demanded with an approving hum. 

And so I did.

-VB-

Interlude: Ureya of the third Southern Kettin Tribe

She didn’t know why father was so intent on making her wed this man.

“What are you making?” Ureya asked the foreign wise man. 

The foreign wise man - Alan - looked up to her and smiled. “Wata furipikation.”

He spoke strange words all of the time. It was honestly a little frustrating, but she also knew that the wise man tried his best to learn her language. 

And he was good at it. 

“Ah, sorry. Used English again,” he said quickly with an apologetic expression she was getting used to specifically for this situation. “Kettin doesn’t have word for ‘furipikation…’ so I said it as I remembered it. In your words, it would be something like water cleaning.”

She stared at him in exasperation. “You mean boiling?” she asked. 

“No, no. Different. Boiling kills tiny creatures in water-”

“There are tiny creatures in water?”

“You can’t see them with your eyes. Need something more … more … strong? Something that makes small things look big.”

He continued to fiddle with the log in front of him. At first, he carved a bowl-sized area on one end of the log. He added wet mud onto the side before adding lightly burning charcoal. The charcoal didn’t burn the log because of the wet mud, and he carved deeper into it. A log that was as long as her arm now had a hole going halfway through it. 

“... What does this have to do with what you are doing?”

“I need container,” he replied. “A long one.”

“Why?”

He smiled at her, which only irritated her. 

“I need to add a lot of things. Sand, gravel, leaves, wood, charcoal, more leaves…” he trailed off as he got to carving again. 

Ureya stared at him as he worked on the log, sweating and getting little burns on his hands and finger. She hadn’t seen much callus on his hands before, which made him a weakling - not a warrior. Yet here he was hurting himself to make something that he swore by as “making water safer to drink.”

She snorted again at the idea of clean water. Water wasn’t clean, which was why everyone used it to make mead. It was much safer to drink watered down mead than regular water. It was why women spent so much time at home; one of their main duties was to make food and drinks safe for the family to eat. 

‘Well, I’ll just make him drink his own water after he’s done with … whatever that is,’ she thought before turning away. ‘If he gets sick, then that’s that. Besides, well water is safe to drink.’

She returned later in the afternoon to see him complete his “furifire” and watched him pour river water through it. 

“Are you crazy?!” she shouted at him, rushing towards him to bat the cup out of his hand. He dodged her easily to her shock. She whirled around and glared at him as he drank from the cup. 

“I already boiled the water,” he said with an easy smile. “That and this ‘tank’ here will make water clean.”

But she wasn’t focused on whatever the device was. No, she was focused on the fact that he dodged.

She may not be an elite warrior, but she was strong, fast, good with her sword, and even better with her bow and arrows. He wasn’t a warrior.

So how did he dodge her when she ran at him at full speed?

Curiosity got the better of her, and her hand lashed out.

He tilted his head back in surprise before dodging the next attack aimed at his stomach. He jumped lightly backwards and then jumped away again when she swept at his legs. 

“... You’re a warrior on top of being a wise man?” she pointed at him in consternation. 

“Well, no, I’m not…” he objected.

“Lies! How else could you dodge a warrior’s attack?!” 

“But I’m really not.”

She glared at him and then acted impulsively. She drew her bow and arrow, and loosed an arrow.

The arrow fle-.

Slap.

She stared with wide eyes at the wise man’s hand and then at the ground.

Her jaw dropped.

The wise man looked at his hand and the ground.

His jaw dropped.

-VB-

So about my second power, Enhanced Accuracy…

It was not as limited in scope as I thought.

Why did I think this?

Oh, I don’t know, because Perfect Memory had nothing to do with mistaking a long projectile coming at me as a rock because of how fast everything happened and then promptly catching by reflex said projectile, which turned out to be an arrow, by the shaft?!

Like-

What the fuck?! 

HOW!?

“Not a warrior, huh?”

My eyes snapped to the violet young lady standing across from me. With the bow out and being so aggressive, I thought it was hot for split second before realizing that she’d shot an arrow at me.

She shot-.

AN ARROW-

AT ME!

“The hell was that for?!” 

“For lying!” 

And then she whirled around and stomped towards the chieftain's house.

What the fuck was that about?