Chapter 41: Another Task

Chapter 41: Another Task

With Sergeant Snips and Corporal Claws napping peacefully in the sun, I made my way toward the fields.

Those two really did a number on themselves by working all night.

As soon as the food had settled, they both started falling asleep, and I stroked them until they passed out.

The passage toward the fields was pleasant; the sun warmed my skin, perfectly contrasted by a cool breeze blowing from the east. When I arrived, the work was well and truly underway. Maria and Roger were working on the field closest to the ocean, once more mixing the soil and sand, as per Barry’s instruction. Barry, the madman that he was, occupied the other field, doing the same amount of work as the other two.

“Morning, guys!”

“Morning!” Maria and Barry both called, while Roger simply nodded at me.

I walked toward Barry. “What’s the plan for today, chief? Want me to jump in and mix up some dirt with you guys?”

“Sounds good to me, Fischer! Unless you have plans, of course . . .”

“Nonsense, mate. I’m happy to help. I did want to run an idea past you though . . .”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“Well, that totally depends on what you can tell me about the fertilizer you use.”

Barry shot a look at the other two, and seeing they weren’t listening, leaned in and spoke softly. “Are you suggesting what I think you are?”

I grinned. “If you’re thinking I want to catch a fish for food and use the inedible parts of its body for fertilizer, you’re bang on the money, my friend.”

Barry glanced toward the others again before returning his focus to me. “I’m all for it, but I don’t think Roger would take too kindly to the idea.”

“Yeah, I figured.” I shot him a wink. “That’s why I’m asking you, not him. What do you guys usually use for fertilizer?”

“Most farmers in Tropica use cow manure from the pastures to the north, but I think blood-bone fertilizer is more suitable as a jumpstart for these fields—I have plenty of it spare, as we often replenish the soil every few harvests.”

Not sure what I was expecting, but that seems pretty similar to Earth.

I let out a soft chuckle at myself.

What did I expect, magic fantasy dust?

Barry raised an eyebrow at my mirth, but I shook my head.

“Don’t worry, mate—just had a giggle-worthy thought.”

I peered at the fields, taking in their size. “I can’t say I’d be able to get anywhere near enough for the entirety of one field, let alone two. What do you reckon about me catching something, and we test it on a small patch?”

“That sounds prudent—if you catch it today, we can fertilize the field with it tonight when they leave.”

“Sounds like a plan, Barry! I’ll get to it!”

I walked over to Roger and Maria on the way back to my shores.

“How are you guys going? Looks like you’re killing it.”

They both gave me odd looks.

“. . . killing it?” Maria asked.

“Er—sorry, I mean that you guys are doing a good job.”

Roger snorted, muttering something under his breath. Maria shot him a chastising look, then turned back to me.

“We’re doing good. Thanks again for letting us use your land. How are you doing, Fischer?”

I beamed with genuine excitement. “I’m doing great! I have something to take care of today, so I won’t be able to help in the fields—it looks like you have things covered, though!”

Roger snorted again and shook his head, causing Maria to let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Don’t mind him—what he means to say is thanks for letting us use your land, and for all your help so far. Right, Dad?”

Who needs to hit the gym when you’re hitting metal all day? My man is jacked!

The hammer fell one last time, and Fergus took a deep breath as he inspected the bar. His eyes ran up and down the length as he checked for any defects or mistakes. Nodding to himself, he dropped it in a quenching pit filled with oil.

“To your liking, mate?”

He grinned at me. “Aye, not that digging bars need a perfect finishing touch—still, it never hurts to pour care into something you make.”

I smiled. “Couldn’t agree more, Fergus. What day is it, by the way? I’ve lost track.”

“Resday.”

So Crafday, Winday, then Resday today, and Sunday tomorr—

“So, what brings you here?” Fergus asked, interrupting my thoughts. “Other than my beautiful face, of course.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me, causing a laugh to escape my throat.

“Purely selfish reasons for my visit, I’m afraid—I wanted to see that beautiful mug of yours. Oh, and craft some things.”

He roared a laugh as he took off his gloves. “You’re only human, after all! What did you want to make?”

I pulled out my bent hook, holding it toward him. “I’ve been sharpening wall hangers to use for my heretical activities, but as you can see, they stand no chance against my foes.”

Fergus raised both eyebrows after accepting the bent hook, and his eyes narrowed as he tried and failed to bend it with his hands.

“What in Hephaestus’s hammer bent this . . . ?”

“Big bloody fish, mate.”

His eyes met mine. “Do I need to be worried? Can you even handle something strong enough to bend this?”

I gave him my best reassuring smile. “A fish is still a fish—they’re as good at fighting on land as you’d be fighting underwater.”

“Just a normal-looking fish? How does it bend metal?”

“You’d be surprised how much force they can exert underwater; their bodies are built for swimming. It felt like the biggest thing I’d hooked so far, but don’t worry—I’ll keep my heresy to my little patch of sand.”

“Still . . .” His eyes roamed back over the bend in the hook. “I’m a little awed by the strength . . .”

“I am too. That’s why I wanted to try my hand at crafting my own hooks!”

Fergus rubbed his chin in thought and turned to peer at a shelf in the back of the smithy.

“One moment.”

He returned with a box filled with casings similar to the one we’d used to create the silver ring. “You can start with these molds; it’ll save you some time.”

“They’re the ones you use to create the wall hangers?”

“Aye. You can reshape them as you need after you take them from the mold . . .”

Fergus looked back at the shelf then gave me a wide smile. He walked over to it, grabbed a smaller box, and brought it over to me.

“If you use these hooks I’ve already made, you can heat and shape them, then use the reshaped hooks to create your own casings.”

“Mate. You’re too good to me.”

He shook his head. “You’ve helped me plenty—it’s the least I could do.”

“Well, thank you. I appreciate all the help. Any advice on the best way to go about it?”

“I can do better than that, mate! I’ll help!”

I grinned at his use of ‘mate’; he gave me a coy smile back.

“I can’t turn down that offer, my man! Are you free now?”

“For you, Fischer?” He set his gloves down. “Always.”