Book 2: Chapter 65: Could Have Gone Worse

Book 2: Chapter 65: Could Have Gone Worse

As I lay in the shade with a sausage dog on his back between my arm and body, I drifted in and out of sleep. Each time my awareness returned to the waking world, I smiled and rubbed Borks’s belly. The filtered sunlight peeking through Lieutenant Colonel Lemony Thicket’s canopy was just right, providing the perfect amount of warmth to counteract the chilly forest air. All things considered, it was a wonderful day to be ambushed.

I cracked an eye as I felt Barry coming.

That’s something, I thought.

I’d never been able to discern who each person was before, but that flicker of chi striding through the forest was definitely Barry.

“Over here, mate,” I called, closing my eyes and letting a smile cross my face. “Next to Lemon.”

Borks stretched, and I scratched his belly as Barry drew closer.

“How did it go with Roger, by the way?” I asked, knowing he was close enough to hear me.

“Not good,” came the gravelly voice of definitely not Barry.

I bolted upright, and Borks responded with the same level of surprise. He shifted into his nightmare form in an instant, his large torso standing over my shoulder. Roger’s stride didn’t falter for a moment. He marched toward me and Borks, his‌ gaze flinty. Barry followed behind him, looking as confused as I felt.

I reached under Borks’s chest, patting his shoulder reassuringly and letting him know it was fine. I was sure he wouldn’t attack Roger, but I didn’t want him to scare the farmer. As Roger drew closer and I got a better look at his face, I realized my worry was misplaced.

His jaw worked inaudibly as he looked from me to Borks, then at the tree.

“I take it this is Brigadier Borks and Lieutenant Colonel Lemony Thicket, then?”

“Er—yeah, mate. Borks, Lemon—this is Roger.”

Borks nodded, and Lemon sprouted a leaf, waving it at him.

He bit down, the muscles at his temples flexing with the effort.

“I need to thank you for healing Sharon.” He spared Barry a glance. “Both of you.”

I rubbed the back of my head. “It was all Barry on that one, mate. All I did was exist.”

His face didn’t change as he stared down at me.

“If you weren’t a cultivator, a traveler, as Sharon tells it, then she’d never have been healed.” He looked at Barry again. “Correct?”

“Uhhh... yeah. That’s right.”

Roger’s eyes came back to me.

“You saved my wife—Maria’s mother—from a terminal illness. So, I thank you.”

The cold indifference on his face didn’t match his words. Without another sound, he lunged for me. Any of us—Barry, me, or Borks—could have stopped him. None of us did. Roger’s hand held my collar. He pulled it toward himself as much as he could without ripping another of my shirts.

If looks could kill... I thought, seeing the fury etched in every line of his face. His upper lip twitched, then peeled back to reveal clenched teeth.

“But,” he said, jaw trembling, “you did so by making her a cultivator.” The last word was venom-laced, and he spat to the side as if he couldn’t bear its flavor. “Then, you made my daughter a cultivator, potentially dooming all of us to death if the capital were to find out.”

“Fischer had nothing to do with Sharon’s awakening, Rog—”

“Shut! Up!” he roared, whirling on Barry. “Everyone keeps calling it awakening, or ascending, or some other pleasant bullshit that makes it sound like something good!” He took a deep breath, but it didn’t still his anger. “You turned my wife into a gods’ damned cultivator!”

Barry nodded, steady as a boulder.

“I did. And I’d do it again.”

“What gives you the right?” Roger let go of my collar, stomping toward Barry and poking a finger into his chest. “Who gives you the right? You’re not a god, so stop acting like one!”

Barry gave Roger a tragic smile, his eyes filled with compassion.

“She would have died, Roger. Soon, too, by my estimate. I regret that I couldn’t give her a choice, but she wasn’t lucid enough to understand me, let alone consent. As I said, however, I’d do it again. I’d do it a hundred—a thousand times over if it meant saving her life. As for Maria—”

“Don’t!” He screamed, his voice like gravel. “Don’t even speak her name! You two turned my little girl into an abomination!”

“I certainly am.”

“Workshops? What kind of workshops?”

“Oh, you know, nothing too impressive.” He made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “Just a tailoring room, a woodworking shop, a smithy—”

“A smithy?” I interrupted, yelling. “Do Fergus and Duncan know?”

“Know? They’re in there right now, working on cages.”

My mouth practically salivated at the idea.

“What’s in there?”

Barry went on to describe a room filled with what sounded like a mountain of different tools. When he mentioned there were two forges powered by System shenanigans, my jaw dropped open. I had spent plenty of time in the smithy of late, and I couldn’t help but picture the joy that the smiths must have had when they first set eyes on the room. Moreover, the lack of metal for oyster cages was the only thing gatekeeping the acquisition of more pearls, so having two forges fueled by chi or the System or whatever was a massive boon.

“That’s wild, mate... I can’t wait to see it.”

“It’s even more impressive than what I’m describing, Fischer. I don’t really understand anything about blacksmithing, but I know Fergus and Duncan are beyond chuffed with it.”

“What about the woodworking and tailoring rooms?”

He described their features, both of which were just as impressive as the smithy. I shook my head.

“I can hardly believe what I’m hearing, mate.”

He gave me a pride-filled grin.

“You’ll have to come see it for yourself, then.”

“Hang on,” I said, raising a finger. “I cut you off before. What else is down there?”

“Oh, right. I almost forgot. There’s a tannery for Ellis, too.”

My eyebrows furrowed.

“A tannery? Like... a solarium?”

“What on Kallis is a solarium?”

“You know—a place to tan.”

“A place to tan?”

“Yeah. Your skin?” I pointed at my browned arm. “Tan. I know Ellis has a buff bod now, but I didn’t take him for the type to work on his complexion.”

Barry shook his head, sheer incomprehension plastering his face. “No, Fischer, I don’t mean a place to tan. What are you even...” He stilled, giving me a flat stare. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

I gave him a smile so wide that my cheeks hurt.

“Would I do that, Barry? Mess with you for my amusement?”

“Yes. Often and flagrantly.”

My grin widened even more, and he shook his head. Before I could say anything to make Barry more disappointed with me, a bark grabbed our attention. Borks sat on the grass beside Roger, whose chin was raised and gaze fixed on us. His eyes were red‌ and puffy, but his face was resolute.

“I’ve reached a decision.”

Barry and I shared a glance, then I turned back to Roger.

“Er... that’s good, mate. But what decision are you talking about?”

“The only one there is to make.” He breathed deep, firming his shoulders and standing taller. “I want you to make me into a cultivator.”