Chương 44: Chapter 43

The following morning, I sat down at breakfast to see Gramps level a serious stare in my direction. I sat up straighter instantly.

"You are to keep what you heard last night to yourself," he stated firmly.

"Heard what last night?" asked my mum in confusion as she served up some leftovers from the feast that she had heated up on a frying pan.

"Bastian snuck out of bed last night to eavesdrop on a conversation George and I were having," Gramps answered. My mother looked at me, obvious disappointment in her gaze.

"You shouldn't eavesdrop, sweetheart. People like their privacy." I drooped my head down, sad at being told off.

"Did you tell George?" I asked, wondering if my swordplay lessons would come to an end.

"I didn't," Gramps answered before raising his fork with a hunk of ham on the end of it.

"Why not?" I said in confusion.

"It's George's job to keep his daughter's secrets and look out for her wellbeing. It's my job to do the same for you," Gramps answered simply, though I caught a wide smile on my mother's face that she was trying to hide as she sat down with us after filling her own plate.

"Still," Cornelius continued.

"You can't tell anyone what you heard. Alright?"

"Alright," I agreed.

"What are coldfang serpents?" My mother's fork clattered against her plate in surprise at my question while Gramps just sighed.

"They are incredibly venomous snakes that live in caves near the peaks of the Horndale Mountains. They feed on birds' eggs mostly, I believe, which is why they have a highly developed ability to go undetected. They're not big, probably shorter than one of my arms. But because they are cold blooded, I can't see them with my Heatsight Spell. I'd get myself killed hunting them alone. One bite and it would be over."

"Why are you hunting them then, dad?" asked my mother, fierce eyes watching her father for an answer.

"Because their ability to go undetected is shadow-based. Powerfully shadow-based. I think if we get a few Magatha could brew something up for Bastian to further improve his Shadow Affinity. And I wanted something decent out of this trip for Bastian if I am going tramping up into the mountains to try and bring down a storm eagle," answered Gramps. It was clear they had already discussed the upcoming hunt before I'd come downstairs.

"Besides, it's a lot less dangerous with George along. The coldfangs only come out of their caves to seek the nests of birds before they return to their sleep. We'll seek them in a cave and George can use his Earth Spells to find them and pin them down for me. Won't be a problem, Penny. I promise." My mother still didn't seem convinced, but she let the topic lie. If she was going to argue with Gramps, I guessed she would do it a little later.

After breakfast, the usual lessons started and my focus was entirely taken up with my Paths and progressing them. Contrary to my expectations, Gramps and George hadn't simply set out for the mountain peaks the following day. In fact, it had taken them almost a week to prepare. Though, to be fair, most of that extra time was due to how long it took someone to track down Hurin. In the end, he wasn't found so much as he showed up at the Millers' place to drop off a kill for Kaylee to process.

He'd agreed readily enough and promised to meet back at the outpost in a couple of days while he prepared. I had no idea what that meant, but he disappeared as quickly as he came. Gramps and George had been bartering for supplies from the Kellins' trading post for the trip. The furs, insulated tents, and trail food were all propped up in a pile against the wall in Gramps' office.

In addition, while Griselda and Martin had agreed to stay with us, Gramps had also roped the local Warden into patrolling the area closely as well. Thomas Pickering, the Warden, and his two sons were going to keep a close eye on the area while Gramps, George, and Hurin were away. I was pretty sure the older son of the Warden, Timothy, was now twelve which meant he had unlocked his Basic Class Path.

If I got a chance, I was going to ask him some questions, but to date, the Warden and his family had avoided showing up at the outpost and I kind of expected that to continue. The avoidance made me wonder if there was bad blood between the Adventurer's Society and the Wardens of Ajinar. My weekly lesson with Magatha had gone swimmingly, and my constant tea brewing, along with her lesson, had paid off. You have advanced the Tier of your Path! Path of Brewing I (27/10) You have advanced the Tier of your Path!

Path of Brewing II (27/25) Reward: +2 Mental The additional Mental Stats were nice but nothing too important at this point. Progressing the Path, though, promised to provide me with some extra Aether Stats from the sixth tier to the eighth, assuming I kept with it. Which, as a budding completionist, I definitely wanted to do. Ultimately, I was just happy to see numbers going up. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

The final change over the week was one I hadn't expected. After watching me race along the obstacle course, even with my paranoia and scanning the sky, George had commented that I needed more of a challenge. Since Griselda was coming to visit anyway, George and Gramps had started drawing up improvements and extensions to the obstacle course. The first was making it less linear. Currently, each section led clearly to the next section and so on. With the changes there was going to be more than one path to the end.

The new connections between the pillars were made to be significantly harder, with greater distances and less wood used as well as incorporating awkward angles. I couldn't wait to try it when it was completed, not just because making it harder should push my Paths to advance more quickly, but also because I just loved a challenge. Unfortunately, starting to build the new course coincided with an event I was not looking forward to. Everyone was gathered to see Gramps, George, and Hurin off.

While I did want to improve my Shadow Affinity, I also didn't like the idea of Gramps putting himself at risk or not seeing him for a week. So, as the three men marched off into the trees in the distance, loaded packs on their backs, I hugged my mother fiercely. We both hoped the old codger would make it back safely. With aethersensing lessons out, I had the mornings after breakfast free.

I was spending them doing workouts in the backyard, mostly focused on my Path of Running, to the sound of hammers and axes as Griselda shaped the wood for my improved obstacle course. In the distance, her husband Martin was chopping down trees for the wood, the shorter and burly man making steady work on the thinner Horndale pines while leaving the thickest ones alone. Puffing from my latest sprints, I sat nearby and watched Griselda work.

I was wearing cream-coloured woolen pants made from the sheep she tended at her homestead nearby. Griselda was wearing similar, her own dyed a darker brown. Her woolen shirt was woven with far finer thread, courtesy of Grandma Lucille while her vest was lined with fur which no doubt had been made by Etta's mum, Kaylee. Watching her work made me see the lines that held our little community together. Griselda was an accomplished builder, working the wood with practised ease and powerful arms.

I was pretty certain that she had built everyone's houses except for maybe our outpost. She also tended a small herd of animals which provided wool and meat for the community along with maybe a little cheese from the goats, and of course eggs from her chickens. Her husband, Martin, both mined and smithed which was likely where most of our tools came from, along with some of the building supplies used by Griselda.

Then there was Hurin, who hunted, bringing in extra meat, fur for Kaylee to work with, and materials for Magatha to brew with. Kaylee of course made fur and leather clothing, along with rugs for everyone. Those same materials also went into things like tents and backpacks, which were sold at the Kellins' trading post, along with items smithed by Martin or brewed by Magatha. Then there was Etta's Grandma, Lucille. The old woman was an incredibly talented weaver.

In fact, all my best clothes had been made by the woman. Using materials provided by Hurin and Griselda, she made clothes for everyone in the community and sold the excess at the Kellins' trading post. Finally, there was Magatha. The Hedge Witch brewed whatever the community needed, be it bug repellants, tinctures for the few domesticated animals, or more specific items like my Scar Rejuvenation potion.

Again, the excess was sold at the trading post, which brought in enough coin for everyone to buy whatever we couldn't produce ourselves during the warmer months when traders passed through. I found it interesting to think through how our small community was interlinked. The Warden's family felt a little like outsiders, never truly engaging with the rest of us except to trade warm bread for food. I guessed most of their supplies were handled by the government of Ajinar, given Thomas Pickering's role as a Warden.

Then, there were the newcomers. The prospectors along with another family that had supposedly settled farther down the road in Etta's old home. The rumour was they were planning to build an inn after the next winter had passed. They had arrived too late in the season to get started immediately, though that made me wonder who was going to do the building.

"Griselda, has the new family asked you to build something for them?" I asked. The half orc woman didn't stop her work as she answered me.

"The Jamisons? No. Don't think they like me."

"Why not?" I pressed, feigning ignorance even though I had a pretty good guess. My Path of Deception ticked up in the background at my acting.

"Because of my orc blood," Griselda stated quietly. I had been right, which if anything, made me feel even worse about my Path of Deception improving. Quietly, I had hoped I was wrong about their reasons.

"Seems dumb to me," I said.

"You're with us, up here in the mountains. Not your fault if the orc tribes on the Ravi Plains start raiding Ajinar." Griselda glanced at me, her dark brown eyes watching me for a moment, before she went back to work. I thought the conversation was over but she muttered quietly.

"They call themselves The People."

"Who?"

"My father's people. The orcs of the Ravi Plains."

"The People," I said, trying out the words.

"Don't like it. Makes it sound like they're the only people." Griselda huffed and I realised she was laughing quietly.

"That is exactly what they think. When the tribes proclaim their number, which is important to them because a bigger tribe means more honour, they only count the orcs. Their mounts and slaves are not included, because they are not people, they are property."

"They don't sound very nice," I commented.

"They're not," Griselda muttered in agreement.

"They are a hard people. Hard on each other too. If they're raiding now, it's because the Matriarchs have demanded more slaves. Means they've lost too many in the Dungeon and need more workers." I blinked in surprise and stared intently at Griselda.

"There is a Dungeon on the Ravi Plains?" Griselda grunted as she lifted the latest trimmed log and moved it to the pile of wood she was creating for the obstacle course before heaving up a fresh thin tree onto her workbench. She began pruning it and trimming back the bark immediately and I watched as she deftly cleaned the wood while not answering my question.

I thought she wasn't going to say anything but after an extended silence broken only by the cracking sound of split wood she finally said quietly, "The People call it The Chittering Dark, and it is where hope goes to die."