BT - Book 1 - Chapter 43 (Patreon)

The next morning, Micah got out of bed early to work in the shop.  It was a stretch to say that he woke, given that he barely slept an hour a night, but even so, he found it refreshing to spend at least a couple hours in bed with his eyes closed going over the events of the day.

Business was sedate as usual.  Few people could afford the luxury of enchanted items, but those that could were willing to pay.  Shortly after sunrise, a merchant stopped in to commission a set of crystal bottles that could maintain the freshness of their contents with wood magic.  

That project kept Micah occupied for at least an hour or two at which point a noblewoman’s servant came in to pick up her purchase from a week ago.  The project wasn’t anything all that taxing for Micah.  Just a pair of hairpins that would tighten skin and prevent wrinkles.  Exactly the sort of thing to keep him occupied during his semi retirement.

Checking the time, Micah smiled and dismissed the Folio.  He’d almost completed his design for the enchantments on the bottle, but it was time for lunch.  

Walking out of the store, he plucked the thread leading to the guard Onkert, summoning it from its hiding spot as he barred the door and shuttered the windows.  Briefly, he frowned at the dead plants.  Unsure when exactly they’d grown brittle and yellow, but ultimately dismissing the passing thought.

He’d have to hurry back to his parents house if he wanted to make it on time for lunch.  He’d only gotten his Mother to agree with his kidnapping Esther for the entire afternoon by agreeing to a family meal, and he was pretty sure that she’d track him down and beat him black and blue despite his levels if he tried to back out of his agreement.

The walk back was brisk and uneventful.  He spent most of his time halfheartedly thinking of the days before his sojourn into the Great Depths.  He’d never had moments like this back then.  No time to enjoy fresh air for its own sake or try to earn an honest living while enchanting mundane things.

True, he couldn’t help but wonder about more combat oriented enchantments.  In the past month or two, he’d had a couple of ideas about ways to imbue time enchantments into armor and weapons.  The idea was borderline intoxicating.  An adventurer armed with bracers of haste and a helmet that could grant brief flashes of foresight would be incredible.

Even someone as weak physically as Micah was able to kill a pair of elite Durgh warriors under the influence of those spells.  In the hands of trained warriors?  Well it wouldn’t be as impressive as the Luoca fighting at the Khanmoot, but it would make a mockery of an opponent's levels.  Even if someone was more powerful than you, moving faster than them and being able to see their next move was a hell of an advantage in a life or death struggle.

Of course, there was no real need for weapons like that.  Basil’s Cove didn’t face any real threats.  Other than the Cavern of Rust, adventurers could face every other challenge at their own pace.  They might buy a sharper sword or armor that could repair itself, but beyond that most of the adventurers were content with whatever low tier enchanted weapons they could dredge out of the dungeons.

Despite enjoying the period of peace, Micah couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong.  His entire existence was predicated on perfecting himself, always preparing for the next challenge recklessly, disregarding his own physical and emotional health.  Spending his time crafting peacefully or relaxing with Telivern just felt wrong.  Like something terrible was hiding just out of sight, waiting around the corner for him to let down his guard for a second.

It wasn’t like Micah stopped training altogether.  He still raided dungeons with Telivern and his daemons late at night, working on his spells, skills and experience.  Still, one or two runs a week was a far cry from his daily fights.  No matter how he tried to assure himself that he was moving in the right direction, that taking a moment for himself wasn’t wrong, Micah couldn’t help but feel like he was missing something.

Finally, he arrived at his parents house in a rather pensive mood.  Micah barely managed one knock before his mother opened the door, sweeping him inside.  Trevor was already there, chatting with their father about a new line of doublets he was working on.

Before Micah could introduce himself, he stumbled forward as Esther’s tiny form impacted with his lower back as she leapt from hiding to wrap his torso in a hug.

“Well hello to you too,” he chuckled, awkwardly reaching behind himself to ruffle her hair.  “You’re awfully eager to see me for someone that just spent the entire day with me.”

“I told mommy and daddy about your deer!” she responded cheerfully, her tiny fingers digging into Micah’s stomach.  “They said that they wanted to meet him too!”

“Micah!” Trevor’s eyes lit up, noticing Micah after Esther’s unprovoked assault.  “Jo seemed a lot happier this morning and Sarah was able to drag it out of her that you two made up.  Of course, Sarah was peeved, but then again she’s sour about everything.  Now, tell me, what’s the story with Jo and this ‘magical deer’ that Esther is so wound up about.”

“Sit down first,” their mother bustled by, shooing them toward the table.  “The rolls are already out.  I’ll have the fruit, jam and cured meats out in a second.  You can talk about girls or work all you want, but at least do it while sitting down and eating.  I know how busy everyone is and I don’t want you showing up late to your next appointment and then using that as an excuse to avoid a family get together next time.”

Micah chuckled and pulled out a chair, the worn wood of the seat scraping noisily against the freshly sanded planks of the floor.  Everything was just as he remembered it.  The kitchen was small and filled with shadows, lit by the orange glow of the hearth.  The smell of fresh bread filled the air, the faint scent of meat and herbs toying with the edges of his senses.

It was the same thing every time he went back.  The sounds, smells and bustle of home.  Now that he had a moment away from the constant stress and challenge of bettering himself, Micah began to realize how much he missed it.  

A wave of nostalgia washed over him as Trevor and Esther fought good naturedly for the bread, their mother interrupting them to place a plate of jam on the table.  Micah’s father quietly ate a roll, a smile on his face as he watched the good natured bickering.  

“Now honey,” his mother’s hand laid itself on Micah’s shoulder as she leaned past him to set down a plate of cured meats.  “Esther said that you let her play with some sort of dangerous wild animal?  I certainly don’t recall you running that idea past me when you stopped over here, but maybe my memory isn’t working that well in my old age.”

Micah shrank back from her touch as she sat next to him, deftly making herself a sandwich of fresh bed and cured pork.  If it wasn’t for the faint smile dancing across the tips of her mouth, he’d have been truly frightened.  No matter how many loops he lived, her ire wasn’t something that Micah was prepared to take lightly.

“That was my friend Telivern,” he grabbed a glass of water and drank, trying to cover his nervousness over the situation.  “I met Telivern when it was just an ordinary buck.  We had our share of adventures and eventually it evolved.  We’ve been through a lot together and I trust it with my life.  Frankly, I trust it more than any human not in this room.”

“What about Jo?” Trevor asked, winking at Micah.  He scowled back at his brother, feeling his mother’s gaze boring into his side as her full attention returned to him.

“Yes,” his mother followed up, her eyes narrowed to slits.  “What about Jo?  Trevor says that you’ve had a little bit of a fling with a girl in his squad.  I do have to ask Micah.  Why is it that I’m only finding out important facts about my little boy’s life from Trevor?  Is there something about this trollop that you’re trying to hide from me?”

“Trollop?”  Micah put his hands up, leaning back in the chair.  “That’s hardly fair, you don’t even know her.  Jo’s a lot of fun but we didn’t really know if it was going to be anything more than that until recently.  Now that we’re planning on making things official, I’d have brought her around.”

“Sooner or later.  Probably much later,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Oh so you were ‘just having fun’ with some poor girl then?” His mother’s expression changed in a moment.  “I thought I raised you better than that.”

“Jon,” she turned to his father.  “Tell Micah that I raised him better than that.”

“Veronica,” he shook his head, reaching for another roll.  “There is no way in any of the hells that I would get involved with this.  If you want to torment the boy, go ahead, but the way I figure?  He’s eighteen.  The boy is entitled to a couple of secrets.  Gods know I had my share when I was his age.”

“Trevor,” Esther turned her overly large eyes on Micah’s brother.  “Is it bad if Micah had a lot of fun with Jo?  I was there and they looked like they had loads of fun!”

Micah turned redder than the strawberry jam on the table as Trevor literally fell out of his chair laughing.  His father let out a startled guffaw before he managed to silence himself with the fresh baked bread.  Even his mother had a hard time keeping a smile from her face as she restrained a laugh.

“We’re just teasing Micah,” his mother intervened, studiously ignoring Trevor’s rolling and crying form on the kitchen floor.  “You really don’t need to know what that means yet.”

“Or ever,” his father chimed in, having recovered from his sudden need to eat.  “You’re my little girl and I think it would be just fine if you never bothered to pick up that habit of Trevor’s.”

“Dad!” Trevor sat up from the floor, wiping tears from his face.  “It’s not my fault that the ladies love me.  I’d try beating them back with a stick but you and Mom have raised me to never beat a woman.  It’s just not in my nature.”

Micah rolled his eyes and snagged some of the cured meat for his sandwich.  Trevor could go on for hours if you gave him a chance.  Depending upon the moment, the man was either a braggart or the most sincere friend that you could have.  

Quickly finishing the roll, Micah washed it down with a glass full of water.  A smile on his face as he watched Trevor banter with his father.  This is what he’d been missing over all of those years.  Sure, he’d gotten stronger, but he’d never gotten a chance to live a proper childhood and develop honest friendships. The closest he had was his relationship with his squad in the first timeline.  Ever since then he’d been adrift, disconnected from the realities that he floated through.

“Mommy,” Esther said in a quiet voice.  Micah frowned.  She was much paler than usual.  “I really don’t feel that good mommy.  I think my tummy is upset.”

His mother put the back of her hand against Esther’s forehead and frowned.  Even from where he sat, Micah could see the beginning of cold sweat accumulating on her pallid skin.

“How about I get you a tonic honey?” His mother stood up and took a step toward a nearby cabinet where she kept the powders and herbal remedies that the family made due with.  They weren’t poor, but the services of a proper healer were expensive.  Only for nobles or a real emergency.

“Let me Mom,” Micah placed his hand on Esther’s arm and mouthed the handful of words to augmented healing.  “At some point I became a healer.  Looking after Esther is the least that I could do.”

He barely registered her nod as the spell sank into his sister.  He frowned.  There was nothing wrong, yet everything was working incorrectly.

Usually the spell worked in conjunction with his anatomy skill to identify internal problems in the patient so that it could magically fix them.  With Esther, he couldn’t pinpoint a virus, wound, or mana imbalance that was afflicting her.  By all rights, she should be doing perfectly.

The spell revealed a different story.  There wasn’t anything specific wrong, but everything about her was off.  Her temperature was much hotter than was healthy, her blood moved slower than it should, and her very cells almost seemed to reject the energy that was transmitted to them by what blood did reach them.

He cas regeneration on her instead, hoping that the fourth tier spell could fix what his second tier casting couldn’t identify.  Nothing changed.  

Micah’s frown deepened.  Almost in horror, a thought came to him.  He looked down at his hands on her forearm, glowing faintly red.

Slowly, he closed his eyes.  The red light was no longer content to just remain in his body.  A corona of Elsewhere’s energy shone off of him as waves of thrumming power filled an area about two arms lengths from him.

Without opening his eyes, he turned his sightless gaze to Esther.  She was visible in his pitch black world.  The faint red glow of Elsewhere clinging to her slight form, attaching to every cell.

“Oh no,” Micah whispered, his eyes jolting open as images from yesterday ran through his mind.  Esther on his back.  Him holding Esther’s hand.  Climbing up a tree with Esther under the crook of his arm and placing her on a branch.

“Oh gods no,” his eyes widened as he remembered the sandy soil and dead grass outside the cave.  He looked down at Esther.  Her skin showed just the faintest hints of yellow.  The same yellow of the crisp, dead plants just inside his shop windows.