Fluid - 46 (Patreon)

Ipy joins the seven teenagers to form them up in lines of four, and a steady cadence of blades clicking against each other soon fills the air.

“Stick to the pace,” Ipy critiques when one gets adventurous and picks up the rhythm. “You need your muscles to get used to the attacks and counters.”

When their energy starts to flag, he has them spar in pairs while the others rest, offering advice and corrections throughout each match-up. Though I’m not sparring against them, I often catch the gaze of the other youngsters resting on me and my blade. Despite keeping my speed to something Myrto can handle, they still gulp as they refocus on Ipy’s lesson.

Ipy keeps training them until fatigue causes frequent mistakes. Though they’re all physically fit, the muscle memory of the drills isn’t there yet.

The amusement of Nikias and Myrto had been growing the more the others pushed themselves. They show enough discretion not to give into their laughter until Ipy has sent the flagging teenagers on their way.

“Using a sword is easy,” scoffs Nikias.

“I take it some of them have given you grief in the past?” I ask.

“More than a little,” advises Nikias

“They weren’t interested in training until they saw Nikias and me with new gear. Now they think they can magically catch up years of training and get shiny things,” explains Myrto. “Nikias warned them, but they didn’t want to accept how different using weapons is from crafts or chores.”

Ipy nods. “They grew up with you but did not understand the effort you put in. Now that you’ve got better gear and coins to spend, they attribute it to simple luck. Luck can play a factor, but most change requires time and effort.”

“Plus, they’re trying to impress the princess, hoping they can gain a position,” adds Nanoĸ.

That gets a cough of surprise from Nikias, and I frown at Nanoĸ. “What?”

“It wasn’t me. Selene and some of her relatives have been spreading rumours. You’re apparently a slumming member of high nobility. You couldn’t be anything else since you ordered the fancy elven nobles to go home,” explains Nanoĸ. “Also, an Elf Wizard named Maition ordered tonnes of materials from the guild, and he was gushing about your generosity.”

That news makes me want to groan. I’d let him out of Sanctuary to place jobs with the guild, and I get a headache as a reward.

“He wasn’t at Sanctuary last night or this morning. Has he gotten himself in trouble?” I ask.

“Not that I’ve heard. He collected a bunch of materials from the receptionist last night and teleported away,” replies Nanoĸ. “Though I believe they have more jobs from him than they want to place on the board. Guild Master Alfarr and others are trying to figure out the best way to fulfil them.”

“Wonder what he’s up to,” I murmur, and Nanoĸ’s brows raise. “Never mind him for now; as long as he’s not hurting anyone or causing trouble, it’s not my business. Hopefully the guild and villagers will profit from his interest in the area. I dropped by this morning because I’ve got replacement gear for you and Ipy.”

Moving to the side of the training hall, I lay out Nanoĸ’s mithril replacements atop a bench. A chain hauberk, shield, and a few weapons—an axe, a war hammer and a flamberge. “The dwarves recommend war hammers against an Earth Elemental, so I thought I’d prepare one for you if you’ve been training in their use.”

Nanoĸ hefts each thoughtfully before he stores them away. “More gear that would be the envy of any.”

Restraining myself, I don’t point out that he doesn’t have to accept it. “I can’t help what others envy, but I figure you and Irene are strong enough to protect yourselves.”

“You gave a set like this to Irene?” gawks Nanoĸ.

His disbelief has me fighting the urge to roll my eyes. “I’m allowed to strengthen people in the village beside my team. It’s not like a thief will have a hope of stealing from Irene with Thea on watch.”

“I won’t argue, after seeing Thea and Tove herd that Dragon Turtle,” admits Nanoĸ.

Turning to Ipy, I pass him a pair of vambraces. “They’re enchanted to absorb the energy from blows; they’ll also magnify the effect from Ki Strike and Infusion.”

“Thanks, I’ll put these to good use,” Ipy says before he switches them over though he puts the new pair under his shirt to conceal the mithril.

“I don’t suppose anyone knows where I can find Yianni? There are some matters of stonework I wanted to speak to him about before talking to the village council,” I explain.

Nikias nods. “They’re still working on the irrigation aqueducts and channels for the northern fields. I heard a pair of new adventurers asking for directions to the next section they’re set to work on. Something about clearing out some giant pests, leeches, I think. Did you want me to show you where they’ll be?”

“It’s alright, directions will do. I won’t take you from your practice; that’s the most important thing for you right now,” I reply.

“Well, if you follow the river northward, you should be able to locate them. Look out for the tripods and hoist for lifting stones into place,” advises Nikias. “They’re a couple of hours’ walk away.”

Disturbing the Mason’s lunch break if they take one doesn’t appeal. “I’ll go after lunch then. Shall we?”

When we get to Zosime’s, we find Phile in the courtyard, sipping from a cup and looking drained. As we exchange greetings, the clatters of the loom quieten, and Zosime comes to join us.

“Don’t push yourself beyond what Aggie advises,” I caution.

“I’ve received one tongue lashing from her as it is,” admits Phile before she snorts. “Unlike Androkles, I don’t plan to get another.”

Her aside draws a laugh from Zosime, who puts the water pot back atop the fire. Lunch is simple: fresh bread, soft cheese, and some cooked fish, but the relaxed company and conversation make it super fine.

When I pass Phile another refill partway through eating, I plop a dab of honey in her tea, and her eyebrows lift in curiosity. “It doesn’t help your Mana recover faster, but some people find something sweet helps with the headaches caused by Mana drain.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” advises Phile. “Though Aggie says learning to function through the effects of Mana drain is important. I’ll join you if you do more weapons drills this afternoon.”

“We are,” replies Nanoĸ.

“I’ve got to track down Yianni about some projects,” I reply.

“He’ll likely welcome the work if there isn’t a rush,” advises Zosime. “His wife was by late yesterday ordering cloth, but that order seemed secondary. She asked discrete questions about how much more construction you intended to magic up‌.”

“Roads and sewers. While I know how the dwarves lay them out. I want to chat with him to ensure they’re set up ‌in a fashion he can extend,” I explain.

“She remarked your structures might be vulnerable to dispelling?” enquired Zosime.

The amusement at their misunderstanding brings out a smile that relaxes Zosime. “That is only true for summoned structures. My structures can’t be dispelled, but they can break like any other stone building.”

Zosime gives a satisfied nod.

Once lunch is over and the others are cleaning up, I head on my way. Teleport takes me to a spot a kilometre north of the village’s wall, a site I’d seen from overhead the other day. From my position, I’ve got an unobstructed view of the river, which sits a good metre and a half down the bank. Line-of-sight teleporting takes me past a series of raised aqueducts running west from the river carrying water above the gently rolling terrain. Along its length, sluice gates and overflow channels let the water down into irrigation ditches among the fields. A slow-moving ox walks in circles at the river’s end, moving a set of gears attached to a rotating wheel of buckets that barely reach the lowered water.

Venturing further, I find Yianni’s worksite at least a three-hour walk from the village among the farmland. I follow a line of trees set back a distance from a shallow stone-lined canal that feeds the irrigation ditches of the neighbouring farms. The still exposed earth in other sections shows where they’ve cut back large roots. The barest trickle of water runs down the centre of the canal despite the recent rain and the humidity in the breeze.

The crew comprises seven men and a teenager in well-patched, sweat-stained pants. Their well-muscled torsos are covered in sweat and dust, and their songs’ strain makes it clear they didn’t stop for a noon meal. Three men are digging dirt from behind a slab displaced by tree roots. Meanwhile, an older man with silver speckling his thick black hair is directing two men and the teenager. They’re using a small crane to lift a stone from the canal’s embankment.

They settle it in place and tie off the counterweight as I get close. After checking that the stone is level and stable, the older man unhooks the rope from a metal wedge and brace slotted into the top.

Spotting me, the older man frowns but finishes extracting the wedge’s metal pieces. They’re oddly shaped to let the stone’s weight keep them in place, but with the tension released, they easily slide out. The teenager sets the pieces in a box before moving to collect the wall’s capstone from the nearby ground.

As Yianni gets close, I offer my hand and smile. “Master Stonemason Yianni, my apologies for interrupting your work. I don’t intend to keep you long. I want to organise a time to discuss some construction work with you.”

“Construction normally refers to things built, not created by magic,” critiques Yianni mildly, but he doesn’t shake my hand.

Not wanting to push things, I lower my hand. “While I have created a few buildings, I wanted to discuss work I’d hire you and others to undertake.”

“Why don’t you just magic it up?” scoffs Yianni.

“That wouldn’t be good for the village long term and certainly not for yourself or your apprentice in the short term. Also, I’d prefer to direct my energies towards the search I came to Apollo’s Reach to conduct, not hurting someone’s livelihood.”

Yianni spits. “Don’t use that name.”

Nodding an apology, I spread my hands helplessly. “It’s the only name the village possesses.”

His mouth works as if he’s restraining angry words, but he eventually nods jerkily. “I’ve heard you hired Dareios and Basileios to craft some furnishings for Zosime’s place and your weird hall.”

Giving him a nod doesn’t soften his stern gaze. “I did. Like you, they’ve got a queue of work, so they’ll deliver when they can,” I say. “Would I be able to have some of your time to discuss what I’d like to undertake?”

“I won’t be back in the village for a few days; the local farmers are hosting us until we finish the canal work here,” says Yianni, and turns, ready to return to work.

“Understandable. It certainly would take a bit of time to walk back and forth each day. Might I offer to host you all for dinner this evening?”

Turning back my words, Yianni’s gaze flares in anger and I catch tones of injured pride and suspicion. “Why?”

Narrowly avoiding rolling my eyes, I keep my smile in place. “Hospitality is a courtesy and a pleasure. Zosime and I have hosted a few neighbourhood gatherings. We were planning to host more, but visitors disrupted those plans. I doubt anyone from the village would have been comfortable in my visitors’ presence.”

“You like to use lots of words, don’t you?” states Yianni.

Ignoring the accusation, which is fair but blunt, I motion towards the work site. “Making the most of the daylight is important. With the farmers’ permission, I’ll bring the evening meal out for everyone. I hope the discussion afterwards will be worthwhile for us both. Which family are you staying with?”

Yianni tilts his head towards the closest farm compound. “We’re sleeping in their hayloft at present. We’ve other spots to repair closer to other farmhouses.”

On my approach I’d worried about startling them, and so had appeared behind the line of trees—this time, I teleport from right in front of him.

The place he’d pointed out follows the same style as the one across the way from Sanctuary. Barn and house at opposite corners of a walled square. Though the ladies of the house eye me suspiciously at first, offering to feed their family and provide an evening of music gains me permission to bring food back for the evening meal. Three generations in one house and growing children likely make times lean even without the current dry spell.

A quick visit to Stoneheart nets me the schematics for a dwarven town’s sewage tunnels; the idea of sending it to be incinerated into ash for fields hadn’t been mine. I leave behind a map of Apollo’s Reach and pay for an Engineer’s time to look it over and sketch out a layout. Looking through the models in his workshop, I also purchased a few other plans.

When I appear atop Sanctuary’s tower, I hear Sarah and Gaius’ songs within the dissection hall, with what sounds like nine adventurers.

Curiosity and anticipation fill Gaius’ song with eager notes, and though I wonder about what haul has got him worked up, I leave them to it. With the rest of my afternoon clear, I fit in a few hours of harp practice.

When I emerge from my glade, I find Sarah and Gaius in the banquet hall. They have sheaves of paper covered in runes and memory crystals sprawled across the table. Though the others are about, I still don’t catch any hint of Maition.

“Sarah, are you alright if I leave you to organise the evening meal for the others?”

“Why would I not be?” questions Sarah.

Though offering her an innocent, wide-eyed look, I avoid teasing. “You might have had other plans, so I thought checking was polite. Gaius, would you like an Artificer’s forge in Sanctuary’s compound or the village?”

“The compound, if you’ve space to spare,” replies Gaius after a brief consideration. “I believe I’ll be taking your offer of employment.”

“I don’t know when work will start, but I’ll include it in the list for the Mason,” I reply. “Don’t let things drag on between you.”

At Sarah’s groan, I giggle and flee.

Though I take a few minutes to enjoy the fresh sea breeze atop the bluff, my amusement hasn’t faded when I arrive at Zosime’s. Phile is alone in the courtyard, and she gives me an answering grin. “You’re extra cheery this evening.”

“I got a groan from Aunt Sarah; normally, she’s pretty unflappable,” I explain with a giggle that turns Phile’s amusement into confusion. “Nevermind, I’m being extra strange and cheery, it seems.”

“Did you talk to Yianni?”

Remembering Yianni’s reaction cools off some of my amusement. “He wasn’t happy to see me until I mentioned paying work—then he was still begrudging. I’m taking food out for the work crew and the neighbouring families.”

“More rumours?”

“No. Either my creation of buildings or the appearance of Sanctuary’s hall offended him,” I explain. “Given that he could see my ability to create buildings as a threat to his work, it’s understandable. Ipy had spoken to him about constructing a Temple when he had funds, and I took that work from him. I’m going to cook extra and take them food.”

Looking over the firepit, I consider the bottleneck it had caused preparing for the last party. Hoping up, I head out to the front, but the click of Zosime’s shuttle doesn’t pause. “Zosime, can I make some improvements to your firepit? I want to create a circle of grills and hot plates for when we need them.”

“As long as I don’t have to burn enough fuel to heat them all to cook on one spot, I’ll trust your judgement,” replies Zosime.

“That won’t be an issue,” I confirm before returning to the courtyard with a song already in progress.

When done, a circle of quartered brickwork has replaced the firepit. Dispersing them evenly creates enough space to allow someone to walk between them. I place a spit where the firepit had originally sat in the hollowed circle within the arcs. After that comes enchantments to create and isolate heat.

I’d left space for fuel to be inserted at the base of each quarter circle of stonework and below the spit’s metal tray. Based on a dwarven design, the last will radiate the heat in a controlled fashion towards whatever is cooking on the spit. Zosime’s concern about fuel isn’t a problem with runes manifesting magical flames under whatever cooking area is used.

Phile lets out a low whistle as she takes in the cooking surface atop each quarter divided between a girl and a hot plate. While Phile eyes the additions, I touch the start runes, triggering a fire beneath the grill and then the hot plate on a single crescent. While the whole grill heats, only four circles of steel turn red to show where the enchantment has isolated the heat from below. Doing the same to run those on the spit’s stand also has the crank turning, but I shut it off when the handle has completed a full circle.

“What are these?” Phile asks softly.

“Sarah would call them barbeques. Do you like the spit turning itself?”

Phile gives a low whistle. “You’re going to make Mother the envy of every household.”

“I’d sell the enchanted items, but I think the price would be out of the range of most,” I reply. “After all, I don’t want to drive the person selling firewood or charcoal out of business. The fire appears where you could put a normal wood fire if you don’t want to give their existence away.”

Creating new cast-iron pots and pans, I prepare the local dishes Zosime taught me, only making the ingredients I need instead of the whole dish. Phile joins me in chopping and measuring, and we soon have enough cooking to feed the families and the field hands I’d heard along with Yianni’s crew.

Zosime and Nikias have excellent timing, coming to the courtyard when the food is nearly done. Zosime eyes the extra pots still bubbling away, her curiosity split between the crescents and the food.

“I told Yianni I’d host them for dinner,” I explain and move around the circle, touching the runes to make the fires disappear. Even as Zosime gasps in surprise, I store the cooked food, counting on Inventory to keep it from drying out from the heat still in the cast iron.

“I wondered why I heard so much going on,” murmurs Zosime, approaching the grill nearest the front. Phile directs her to the rune to touch, and the fire appears.

Zosime touches the other she’d seen me use and laughs when the fire disappears. “Okay, Gail. These fit my requirement about not burning fuel to heat them all.”

“You can set a normal fire if you’re not wanting to draw attention to them,” I offer and start creating extra plates and bowls. “Did you want to eat here or come out with us?”

The question causes Zosime to fix me with a curious look. “They give you any trouble?”

“They weren’t overly receptive,” I admit, and explain the situation.

Nikias doesn’t ask questions, just pulling on his boots and adjusting his tunic.

Zosime changes into a fresh dress, the colourful weave clearly advertising her skill as both a weaver and seamstress.

Collecting everything else, we reappear on the road to the farm; the others break the ice when the farmers gather and the work crew comes in. The first notes on the harp string catch them by surprise, but when I start on a local song Zosime’s neighbours had taught me the dinner gains a festive air. Bards aren’t common in these parts, and music shatters the still-thawing reception completely.

Though I don’t know all their favourites from festival days, I know some and learn more when the family’s grandfather sings the first round in a smokey baritone.

I play for a couple of hours before letting the harp go still, and Yianni sits beside me on the bench I used.

“What were you looking to build?” asks Yianni after I’ve sipped my drink.

“Might I ask what sort of work you’d prefer?”

Yianni frowns. “What do you mean?”

“For example, do you prefer working on buildings or construction work like the aqueducts?” I ask.

“There aren’t a lot of stone buildings going up in the village. Mostly its repair work, and things like the aqueducts and irrigation ditches that give me regular work,” advises Yianni. “I don’t see that changing.”

“I’d suggest that it will change considerably given the after-effects of what I did to the Guildhall,” I counter. “The guild expects an influx of adventurers, and I’d like to ensure the local families and businesses can benefit from it.”

“Why are you trying to steal Georgius’ family business?” accuses Yianni.

The idea sets me laughing. “Wow, the accusations get wilder and wilder. If I wanted to do that, I’d build another inn and take all his non-local customers away. He and Selene want to paint me in a terrible light when all I offered was to provide significant improvements for a small amount of the extra profits he achieves. Though I did set some conditions for his treatment of the serving staff. He was overcrowding them into the attic in the heat of summer.”

“That’s not the way he puts it,” rebuffs Yianni.

Creating a memory crystal only takes a few moments. Holding it up, I implant the memory of my conversation with Georgius and do the same with my discussion with Selene. “In here are my recollection of the conversation with Georgius and Selene. I didn’t sweeten it up, so it includes the negotiating position I took with Selene to allow me to construct the framework over the trays. You concentrate on it, and it replays the events for anyone to view.”

He takes it warily but triggers it to replay events, including my implication to Selene that I could create all the salt I wanted. Yianni scowls at me when that replays, but his body language eases upon hearing my last terms. “It might be magic, but it’s still your word over theirs.”

“But it’s a record anyone can view, and it’s the offer I made to them and would adhere to now. If you think the terms are unfair, let me know. Currently, I’m not getting any benefit from the terms because Selene has her family sticking strictly to the amount of salt they used to harvest.”

“What did you want the salt for?” enquires Yianni.

“Aside from salting our crab kills once we resume beach runs, I intended to fund the school to teach the children. My share of the profit from Georgius’ inn would also contribute to that and other ventures for the village,” I clarify. “If you concentrate on the crystal, you can also insert your memory of that statement.”

Yianni does precisely that and tests it by replaying my words. It’s odd to see myself from his eyes; once my words have replayed, he grips the crystal and blinks in surprise as if he’d expected it to fail. “What other ventures?”

“Sewers, roads, and defensive works further to the east so the village can expand away from the farms. Some adventurers might come and go, but others might stay and want longer-term housing to rent; the village should own those rather than an individual,” I state.

“Why?”

“To offset the costs of sewer and road maintenance, along with hiring guards to protect the locals,” I explain.

“No, I meant, why are you looking to do this?” questions Yianni.

“Your village was fading, with people moving away. Unless I move the hall somewhere else, the ripple from the changes I’ve caused will mean new people will come here. If it’s properly handled, it can benefit the existing families and the new families. I’m sure I’m missing many things, and the Adventurers’ Guild likely have their own ideas, but I’m willing to fund mine and help the village.”

Yianni’s bushy brows crinkle inwards as he frowns. “That was a lot of words, but it still doesn’t explain your interest in seeing this done.”

Again, his statement is accurate, if a little blunt. “I know I can’t help everyone, but I want to help as many people as possible have happy lives.”

“Some people are never happy with what they have,” advises Yianni.

“Don’t I know it,” I huff. “And some people aren’t happy unless they know others are miserable.”

Retrieving the schematics from Inventory, I let him unroll them one by one, his eyes widening at the details in the drawing. “They’re dwarven plans but fitted to Isil’s scale, so plenty of height for most humans.”

“What are these markings?” asks Yianni, pointing to a number showing a wall’s height.

“Dwarven numbers for the dimensions. I can teach you what the original means and translate the values,” I offer. “Which of these would you like to build first?”

“These I’ll need more masons for and far more stone than I can get barged downriver without lots of gold on deposit,” cautions Yianni. As he looks through the plans, he stops, eyes bright as he looks over a fortified tower. “From the looks of the walls in this drawing, it would withstand a siege engine.”

“Let me worry about the stone, that’s easy for me to transport in. You know sieges?” I ask.

“Spent a decade in the army when I was young,” advises Yianni. “You plan to build some of these to the east of the village?”

“A line of them, with weaponry atop to help stop any monster surges from the peninsula,” I agree. “I understand most occur more northwards, but most isn’t all.”

“That will take a bit of planning, and I’d have to write a letter to the Stonemason Guild to see what masons could help.”

“Just as well, you have a queue of work. I’m sure we have time for letters to go back and forth, and logistics to be arranged for your work crews.”

“Would you hire me to lead this sort of work, not just work on some projects?” questions Yianni.

Does living on the border of a peninsula filled with monster armour one against looking death in the eye? Or does the news that I’m a soft touch doing things for free really set their attitudes this way?

“Yes, and as long as you prove worthy of your rank, Master Stone Mason Yianni, you ‌can remain the lead,” I state, not letting my thoughts show on my face. “We’ll have to determine the priority of the building works. I’ve another hire needing an Artificer’s forge on the bluff.”

Yianni snorts. “You doubt my rank.”

“I’m just affirming that I judge by results and people’s efforts, not titles alone,” I counter.

“You’re a weird noble,” huffs Yianni.

Throwing up my hands, I protest. “Oh, for crying out loud, I’m not a noble.”

Yianni’s laughter is merry, but he eyes my harp’s mithril frame and strings as the others join in. “That isn’t an instrument any normal bard would play. All that bright metal ain’t silver unless I’m going blind.”

I can’t argue that point either.

Phile points to the now clean pots. “Do you think a noble would cook any of us dinner, Yianni?”

He’s quick to snort, “Hardly.”

At his declaration, Phile continues, “Gail did most of the cooking tonight.”

“Zosime had some nice recipes I wanted to try out.”

That has Yianni considering me again. “Not a noble?”

“No one has awarded me land and title. I only have authority over myself, and I am not set to inherit anything,” I quickly insist.

Yianni grunts. “And you’re still using lots of words.”

“I blame that on being a high-level Wizard,” I shot back.

At that news, Yianni pales underneath his tan.

“Oh, I get it, bards sing! Do you all think I’m an elven Bard with only support magic and that everyone else in the team is doing the killing? No, I’ve got plenty of combat magic at my disposal, not only magic to create and help. Don’t worry, I’ve turned no one into a frog for arguing. I know I can make mistakes, so let me know if you have better ideas for construction work.”

“I can’t suggest better ideas if I don’t know your end goal,” whispers Yianni.

“My goal is to make the village financially sustainable and defensible, along with ensuring the children’s education.”

With that, I make a note to consider transport gates further out so children living in compounds have a chance. The placement logistics are problematic. With the farms spread out, some children will end up hiking in all sorts of weather, so I’ll need a mobile solution.

Picking one schematic out of the pile I’ve shown him, I tap it to get his attention.

“Now with these plans for a sewer main, I was wondering about your preference for secondary pipes. I was thinking of leaving junction points every hundred metres where additions from new regions could connect as it expanded.”

Listening to his song during our discussion, it's clear he prefers buildings to roads or sewers.