Chương 16: Home Sweet Home 2.0

0 One man's trash is another man's treasure. A fitting proverb, at first glance. Unfortunately, our treasure seemed to have teeth. —The Artificer's Guide to Country Living With the day wearing on and our destination far from decided, Ernie roughed out a map from our aerial viewpoint on the back of one of our cease-and-desist letters. I found it oddly poetic. We decided to use the existing settlement ruins as a landing point, until our intrepid chairman and headstrong builder could agree on a place.

Despite the proximity to the woods, we wouldn't be drawing attention to ourselves, so we felt confident that it would be the safest of our options. The wagon rumbled forward, and we descended the hill toward the valley floor. The lower we got, the more we realized the size of our surroundings. The trees and lakes looked so small from above, but it wasn't until we got to the first landmark we'd marked that we saw the true scale. Someone put an arm around my shoulder, and I looked over to see Gene smiling.

"Never thought I'd see the day. Me, hiking at my age!" He laughed and withdrew his arm with a small pat.

"I'll tell you what, Logan, as terrible as some things are… This is special." Nibbles barked his agreement.

"You really think we can make a life out here? I mean, if we were back on Earth, that'd be one thing. But out here? This is the wilderness of a magic world, Gene. No one knows what's out here." I wished I shared his confidence. I didn't want to be a downer, not when things felt better than they had since we'd arrived.

"We can. This here bow? You made this with magic, Logan. I always admired your work, but I reckon you can do so much more than this old thing." He waved dismissively at the bow.

"I'll wager the pansies that chucklehead sent out here didn't have a magical crafter."

"That is true." I nodded in agreement at Gene's banter.

"Not sure what kind of compliment that was, but you're right. They also probably didn't have an old coot like yourself as their scout." He sputtered, failing to come up with a retort.

"What's that they say about an old dog and new tricks? I'm just worried you might have a hard time keeping up, is all…" I followed up, hitting him with the ol' one-two.

"Now you listen here—""What's that, Darby? Yeah, one sec." I called out, ignoring Darby's look of confusion as I jogged toward him before the old man could see me laughing as I broke character.

The walk to the expeditionary camp was quiet, aside from the HOA. I could finally see some walls coming down between folk. We stayed out in the open where possible, maintaining a good bit of distance between ourselves and the forests. Judging by the birdsong, I don't think we had anything to worry about. I'd always heard that when predators were around, the birds would go quiet. Right now, the world was absolutely alive with twittering birds that flew above us, curiously observing our band of merry members.

A whispering brook signified our next landmark. Testing the water, I slipped a hand in. It was cold and refreshing. With zero doubt of the quality, I knelt and cupped my hands, taking several long drinks of the crystal-clear water. It wasn't like we had much other choice of where we'd get water from; we were at the last of our reserves. We filled our containers and left the stream after a few miles, once the expeditionary settlement came into view.

The stone structures revealed themselves for what they were once we were in range. Ruins. Few of the structures retained a roof. They had mostly collapsed over the years, either due to rot or fire. The settlement was laid out in a circular fashion, with eight buildings facing one another. Sadly, the quality of the buildings wasn't unlike those in the lower quarters of Fairfield. I guess we'll feel at home.

The majority of the caravan stayed back to allow a group of us to clear the buildings before they began to unload. I took what appeared to be an old smithy. The door was splintered, and an old, pitted arrowhead was lodged in the middle, like a doorbell. It resisted my attempts to open, and the rusty hinges proved stronger than the rotten wood. It cracked and freed itself from the doorframe. I nearly stumbled at the sudden cave-in and stepped onto the now sideways door to keep my balance.

Dust floated on the air, catching the light from the doorway. I climbed over the mangled mess and found myself in a surprisingly untouched smithy. The roof was half caved in, and the tools in the surrounding area were a mess of rust, but one end of the room wasn't as bad. The men here before us must have left in a hurry, to leave this all behind. Truth be told, they probably didn't care, with it all being on the duke's dime, though.

Looking through the mess of bird droppings and nest material, I found what I'd been hoping for. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. > Blacksmith's Hammer > A steel hammer, useful for forging. > Quality: Common > Grade: Medium > Value: 6s 50c It was a shame that the workbench was so exposed to the elements. It would have been a great way to start my work, if not for the rot. Not that I had any real way to get it where I needed it.

Matching tongs made up my second find for the day. They were rusty, but a little elbow grease would get them in a functional state. The anvil had some rust, but was otherwise undamaged. Heaving with all my strength, I barely got it to budge. It was heavier than it looked.

"OH DAARRRBY!" I called out from the doorway, looking for my big, strapping friend. I spotted him and waved, grinning widely.

"Oh god… What do you want?" He slumped his shoulders in defeat.

"Right this way, good sir!" I guided him to the anvil resting on a stump and put my hands on my hips.

"We need this."

"No way, that thing probably weighs like three hundred pounds." He furrowed his brow.

"Darby, what level Laborer are you?"

"Ten. Why?"

"Brother. Have you even tested how strong you are? You're like three times as strong now."

"I don't think it works that w—" I cut him off.

"Just try it. Trust me." I stepped back for him to lift the anvil. He caved and gripped the anvil in both hands, bracing his feet to the sides, and heaved upwards. The anvil ripped free, and I had to grab it and pull in my direction to keep him from falling backward. He just stood holding the anvil, wide-eyed in amazement at his strength, before laughing loudly.

"Ohhh yes!" He hefted the anvil up onto his shoulder and held it with one arm. I knew he was strong, but I didn't realize how strong.

"Jesus! Watch what you're doing with that thing!" I stepped back, and he dropped the anvil onto the stump with a crash.

"Good God, man. What's your strength at? Do I even want to know?"

"Twenty-nine." He smiled sheepishly.

"I told you, I was going to stack it with another class."

"What do you mean, you unlocked your combat class? Why didn't you say something!?"

"I only unlocked my second class a couple of days ago and have been doing a lot of thinking. I didn't actually select one until earlier today." He put a hand up.

"If I'm honest, I didn't want people to try and convince me to pick something I didn't want. I wanted to do things my way."

"I mean, that's fair. But it's me, dude." I felt bad that he didn't feel like he could tell me.

"I know, man. But… you kinda like to fix things. Y'know?" He nervously scratched at his head, like he was afraid of hurting my feelings.

"I just really wanted to do this on my own, that's all. I've spent my whole life working for the man, and this time it's all me." I'd never thought about it, but maybe he was right. I had a habit of inserting myself whenever I thought I could help. It was a moment of self-reflection that I wasn't expecting or prepared for. I changed directions, not ready for a therapy session with my best friend.

"How did you get to unlock the other class? And what did you go with?" I was eager to unlock a combat class myself. It was an uncomfortable feeling, being surrounded by people and creatures far stronger than myself.

"Level 10. That's it. Your next class unlocks, and you'll be able to choose Combat or Support, or upgrade production. As for my class, I did a lot of thinking. I originally wanted to go straight strength, but I don't think that's what this place needs. And I meant what I said about helping you, about changing things, but I went with a support class instead of combat." He sighed, like he'd been holding his breath.

"I'm a Hearthkeeper. I'm going to open an Inn." My jaw went slack, and my look of disbelief must have made him realize he'd left out some details.

"Well, there's a lot more to it than that!" He hurriedly added.

"It's more about creating a home for people. With war coming, I figured there's going to be a lot of people looking for a home, and this valley is pretty big." It was a genuinely well-thought-out plan for the future, and I was pretty proud of my friend for thinking not only of the others in our group, but those of this world.

"Uh-huh. Well, alright then, Hearthkeeper. You can start by carrying my luggage to the wagon." I struggled to keep my expression flat. I failed.

"Aw, you're an ass." He picked up the anvil anyway.

"You better tip well."

"Get that to where we're going, and I'm sure I can spare a fiver."

We gathered scrap metal that could be repurposed, and with the wagon all loaded for the next day's trek to our final destination, we cleared the area for dinner. Darby had tried to put the anvil into the wagon and immediately got yelled at by Tim, and was told that 'If he wanted the giant hunk of metal, he'd have to carry it himself.' I made myself scarce and helped clean the dishes before he could find me to complain.

The others cleared out the sleeping spaces, bracing roofs where needed, and ensured everyone who needed one had a safe place to sleep. The usual defensive crew would sleep outside, keeping watch, as there just wasn't enough space among the three houses for all eighty-four residents. Night fell, and we kept the fire indoors to avoid drawing any potential attention. Gene came through with several rabbits and a strange creature that looked like a wild boar mixed with a wolf that he called a 'Tantar'.

He had to convince us that no, it was not related to canines and was a known game source in this part of the world. Wild onions and garlic added some flavor that had been missing for far too long. I couldn't wait until we could forage more vegetables, and I was happy for the change. There was more than enough food for everyone, and with our bellies full, we retired for the night. One thing I'd come to love about Ossia was the starry nights. The most vibrant celestial display was waiting for me every night.

It was mesmerizing and calming, lulling me towards slumber. My eyes grew heavy, and just before I crossed over to that land of sleep, I noted the curious, winged shape that crossed the moon.