BBook 2: Chapter 26: Upkeep

BBook 2: Chapter 26: Upkeep

Contemplate it as I may, the idea seemed ridiculous.

Just imagining the amount of work involved was staggering in scope and the amount of time that would consumed. The labor and hours required was a massive investment in itself, nevermind the cost. Updated from novelbIn.(c)om

And yet here I stood, picturing all my land neatly walled off from the outside world. I was reminded that in this world, walls did not serve as a scenic distraction, but a bulwark between a mans property and those looking to encroach upon it.

The more contemplation and thought I sunk into this, the more sense it all made.

It would cost a fortune, yes. A fortune that I possessed several times over now.

An insane amount of manpower would need to be directed towards it. That could be hired and delegated. Skills and Classes could overtake even construction equipment with the right application. Magic made all of that trivial.

But even then, attempting to fence off everything was frankly insane.

After more thought, my dreams had slimmed down to merely the main farm. As if that would be anything but a monumental task. The main farm was, at this point, the size of a small town. The crops currently being grown were in their final rotation before I planned to move the fields and put that space to other use.

Barns were being erected to hold more animals for when winter inevitably came. I rubbed my arms as just the thought of the sheer cold to come sent shivers through my already-cold arms. Dark clouds rumbled overhead as I stood upon the hill next to my lodge and observed the farm in motion.

Still felt strange, being able to command progress to be made and not have to take part.

Lidya and her crew of loggers had finished their bunkhouses and were now busy moving equipment to the farm by hand. A task that might have been made easier by the cart, but that was currently..occupied.

The short womans eyebrows raised and kept rising as I detailed my plan. An incredulity that did not stop when once I told her this superseded all other projects.

Just to sum this up real quick, She slowly spoke once my throat had gone dry. We will be, in the followin order: Clearing possibly hostile forest, sawing and drying thousands and thousands of trees, clearing every stump we just untreed, and then begin constructing a singular wall to surround all this?

She waved one arm in the general direction of everything as I nodded patiently.

Not just a regular wall, mind you. The human continued. Thicker and higher than usual in order to provide a proper bulwark against, ifn I did head correctly, Minotaurs?

Correct. I nodded.

Youre dead serious, aint you?

Correct. I confirmed once more.

Well, that should keep employment steady for quite some time. She mused. By rough estimates, that should be in the timeframe of several months to half a year if we push the pace.

Actually, about that. I did not need to fully track her face to see the wince that crossed her features as I spoke. I need it done as fast as humanly possible.

A moment of silence followed.

Might I inquire why? Lidya spoke slowly. Are we expecting trouble from the good Baron?

Gods Above be thanked, no.

Then what has your timbers so shivered?

Spore-mask over her face, Ishila dragged the corpses from the cart with my help. Each dead minotaur I hauled towards a lone patch of dirt next to my lodge. Stone sentinels gazed up at us as we deposited the bodies in the small, heavily warded garden alongside my home. Only two plants grew in this fenced-off and protected garden.

The Clericshines petals seemed to twitched with hunger as I set about slicing veins, by own nose curled with disgust from the raw stench of so many dead minotaurs. Their lifeblood would provide some value yet.

I left them to bleed into the soil and headed right towards the stream. Ishila and her crew of beastkin had already left, off to fetch another load of corpses from the camp. The cart would not make it there, but only carrying them halfway through the forest still beat having to haul them all here by hand.

I wondered if anyone would be shocked, encountering a guarded cart filled with minotaur bodies parked at the roads edge.

After a moments consideration, I decided that distinctly not among my problems and plunged into the stone pool that held back the river to irrigate my crops. Soon, I would no longer have need of this, given that I planned to move the crops elsewhere. I would still keep it, however. An area large enough for me to bathe in was always welcome.

Fully dressed, I submerged myself to get the stench, grime and gore off my body. I would need to handle the bodies more in a bit, but I refused to stink like some hobo until then.

I emerged fully soaked, took a moment to shake myself off, and headed towards the treeline, axe in hand, dripping water with every step. I set myself to work, felling trees at a pace unmatched by entire crews of loggers. With reckless abandon I cleaved through the forest, toppling trees around me. Off by myself, I hoped that hard, repetitive work would take my mind off all the worries that plagued me now.

And it did, if only for brief moments. But try as I might, I could not work my problems away, even temporarily. Soon, I found myself frustrated once more. Axe left buried in a tree stump, I stalked back to the farm, trail of felled trees in my wake.

Another load of corpses were brought in and deposited. Once more, I went through the grim task of stripping off usable gear and hauling the bodies to the blood-garden. Their bled-dry brethren were hauled to another destination; the biter patch. Quite literally tossed to the wolves, I watched as pods descended upon the corpses and knawed flesh from bone.

Let nothing go to waste.

The day had dragged on far too long once the final load was finished. I could not see where the sun was in the sky, so thick were the clouds. Hunger was not there to tell me either, given how thoroughly surprised any signs of appetite were.

I watched as Ishila rolled empty barrels marked with giant red symbols of danger from the carts rear.

Its finished? I asked.

Entire camps doused. She grunted. Wont be a trace left in the morrow. Only thing there will be the stink of acid.

These empty barrels joined their filled brethren in the now heavily guarded storage shed. Specially made by Velton, these wooden containers were some of the few things that could safely hold the fluid extracted from the enhanced acid-pitchers without breaking down and being eaten through.

The biter-patch was engorged now, filled and lethargic from the sheer amount of meat consumed in the past few hours. The final few corpses were thrown in and slowly picked down to the bones. Only when they were truly stripped away did the final chore of the day begin.

Spore-masks clamped over their faces and shaker-poles topped with porous bags, several workers approached the biter-patch. It was slow, dangerous work, but I had advised them to use to take it slow and err to the side of caution. Spread thickly through the air, the spores lulled the biter plants to sleep and allowed the mixture of humans and beastkin to drag the bones from the patch.

Slowly, surely, the nest of fangs was picked clean of any minotaur remnants. They were nearly finished when the clouds finally broke and rain began to pour done. Rain that dampened the spores and began to stir the plants awake.

Leave it! I bellowed across the distance. Get out!

There were no heroes today, I found. The last few bones were dropped back where they lay and left as the workers extracted themselves with all haste. Seemed like such a stupid thing to get your limbs bitten off for, but you never knew.

Only when the piles of bones were tossed into half-full barrels of acid to dissolves was I finally finished with my day.

Slowly, methodically, I had scrubbed all traces of the minotaur warband from the world. So far as any of the coming warbands could find, they had been swallowed whole by the forest. No glorious death in combat or heroic final stand. They were simply gone.

It was at this very moment that the System chose to interject and inform me that my class had advanced.

You have obtained Level Thirty-Six of Bloodsoaked Harvester. Your patron is pleased. I was beginning to suspect that these levels were handed out less on a systemic progression and more on the personal interest of deities watching. Just a hunch I couldnt get over.