Chương 155: Wells

Keeping my head down and my hood drawn, I followed Cuthward out the tavern and through the city. First, we stopped on the old bridge over the river. It was made of ancient, patinated marble, and each pillar boasted a pedestal for a statue—most of them were gone now, though, and if they did remain, they were missing a limb or two. I looked down over the water flowing below. It was a slow river, cloudy and murky, and there was far too much silt in it to consider it drinkable.

I wanted to say I'd be fine, considering my increased Vitality, but even then, I didn't want to test my luck. Like the water we drank at Castle Urcia, well water seemed much cleaner.

"Does Tunmod have a well for himself?" I asked softly, glancing over at Cuthward.

"Well, yes, he does," Cuthward replied.

"We don't know where it is, though."

"Ah, yeah."

"Do you see the little reflective particles in the water?" Cuthward asked.

"Some flecks, yeah."

"That's only part of it." The old seer shook his head.

"We can't filter it out of the water. Like I said, it turns it into a mildly poisonous potion. Not enough to wipe us out, but enough to claim us before our time." I nodded.

"What about the old wells?"

"This way." I followed Cuthward across the bridge, then turned. We walked along the valley shore, travelling toward the old aqueduct. As we approached, I asked, "What about the aqueduct? Does it still work?"

"That old thing hasn't flowed in centuries. It would've taken fresh water from the far mountains, though, and fed the old empire's settlements around here. Orcs, of course, destroyed most of the aqueducts during the Dark Age—before the Warlord's time."

"Could we fix them?"

"We don't know how, and it's not the most practical solution."

"Seems like it'd be better long-term than just using healing potions to undo the damage that the poisonous river causes."

"Perhaps it is something to think about, but that would take decades. If you are truly going to be our thegn, you must learn to act realistically." I shrugged.

"Well, I'll keep it in the back of my mind. But yeah, the wells are more important in the short term." We left the city as quickly as we could, following a road of wagon ruts along the river bank—slightly removed from the river, but not far enough away that it wouldn't be a victim of flooding.

"Now, next question for you," I said as we walked.

"How come they hold the festival late summer? Why not spring? Isn't spring usually when rivers flood?"

"Oh, yes," Cuthward said.

"Tunmod says it's to prepare for the coming spring. The cynical part of me knows he picked it because it was spaced away from the other holidays—not a harvest festival, not a solstice festival, and there were already spring festivals. He wanted this one to be unique." He paused.

"Also, with it being before harvest, the farmers and ranchers don't know exactly what their yearly yield will be. They're forced to estimate their taxes. The estimates are always higher than the actual yield." I sighed.

"Of course."

"It's not just the taxes that are bleeding us dry, though," Tunmod said.

"Something else?" I didn't want to ask too many questions—because I could be too annoying with how much I asked—but I also needed to know all the problems we were facing here.

"The festival itself. No one wants their sons sacrificed, so they send them away to other lands, out of Tunmod's reach. We're running out of productive workers." I stayed quiet as we passed a pair of ox-drawn wagons and their drivers. The family leading them bowed their heads to Cuthward, though, and he bowed his head back.

"So we have a corrupt reeve, a corrupt seer, roving bandits, useless guards, and poisoned water…" I began.

"Not a good start." Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

"Indeed. I have a suspicion that our previous thegns gave up on us." We walked in silence for a while longer, until finally, the path curved away from the river and travelled higher up the slope. We passed into a copse of healthy, leafy aspens. At the very center were the ruins of a well. A cylinder of stone bricks delved deep into the ground, sheltered by a thatched roof. The wooden supports were rotten, and the bucket on a chain was broken. Still, it looked like a relatively average well. I stepped closer.

"What's wrong with this? We could just fix the chain, couldn't we?"

"Take a look inside." I approached, then leaned over the edge of the well and looked down. The walls were broken. Something had smashed through them, breaking up the stone. The walls were sagging, threatening to collapse, and debris filled the bottom basin. What little water remained glowed a faint green shade, but you'd have to squint to pick it out. We couldn't just reach down there and pull it out.

"It is not a powerful potion," Cuthward replied.

"But it can be a strong base for other potions. And even alone, it's enough to reverse the worst of the effects of the river water."

"True," I replied, knowing nothing about potions.

"You think we could sell it?"

"If we were allowed to increase our production of it, yes."

"Will the wells run out?"

"They refill themselves as time goes on," Cuthward said.

"We could draw ten times the amount from the wells and still be steady." He pressed his hands down on the edge of the well.

"It's a shame. The Path gave us these aquifers for a reason, and we're violating its will by not using them. The current Seer, however, would disagree."

"What destroyed the well?"

"If you watch long enough…" I raised my eyebrows, then turned around and scoured the ground for a branch. I didn't have my spear or dagger with me, but that didn't mean I had to be defenseless.

"They won't attack you if you don't attack them," Cuthward warned.

"Whatever it is already attacked us by destroying our wells and poisoning us." I found a long aspen branch. It was straight enough, and I could use it like a spear. Being a Silver, if I thrust anything hard enough, I could probably pierce flesh.

"Us? You've been here less than a day."

"And I'm an Atoning too. Does it matter to you?" Cuthward snorted.

"I suppose that would explain some of the irregularities I saw inside your soul." Before I could say anything else, the ground rumbled. I braced myself, taking a fighting stance with my makeshift spear. At the same time, Cuthward stepped back from the well.

"Here it comes!" he called. I rushed back to the well and leaned over the edge, and just in time. A blur of brown and white blasted through the side of the well, using a pre-existing hole in the wall. It travelled through a tunnel, crossing in a single leap. If I hadn't enhanced my Focus and Perception as much as I had, I would've missed it. But I had. It was about the size of a black bear, and similar proportions. Shorter fur, though, and a larger head. Rounded ears, massive front teeth.

A massive squirrel, but fatter. Without even getting a good look at it, I threw the stick, attempting to skewer it. I grazed its hind leg, but only grazed it. A thin trickle of blood sprayed out, and that was it.

"Oh my god…" I muttered.

"It's a gopher. A giant gopher."

"And now you've done it," Cuthward grumbled.

"It'll be back for you. They used to only be Irons. But now they're Steels, and some are reaching Titanium."

"So they're the ones destroying the wells?"

"Indeed. They're an invasive species. Caught a ride on a wagon once, and started making their homes underground. They gorged themselves on the potions, growing massive and greedy. They think our wells are stealing from them, and they target them specifically." I hunted for a new stick, and found another suitable, spear-length one. Once I had it in-hand, I gave it a whirl to test its weight. The ground kept shaking, and the rumbles grew especially intense beneath me.

"Seems like a pest that could use extermination," I said. Was there a huge difference between what we were doing and what they were doing? Not particularly. But I'd have to choose between us and them. It wasn't like we could just make a deal with them. At least we could use the potions sustainably.

"Careful," Cuthward warned.

"They always go for the ground right below your feet." The ground beneath me shook more and more violently. My knees buckled. The trees swayed, and the dirt churned. Bushes disappeared beneath the ground, and boulders bounced and rolled. Finally, a maw opened up beneath me. I jumped back right before the gopher's teeth closed on my legs, then steadied myself. Three gophers all emerged from the ground around me, encircling me—as if they knew I had thrown the spear. I didn't wait for them to attack first.

Triggering my art between two of the gophers, I triggered a gravity well, tugging with two channels of gravity opposite directions and drawing them together. Their skulls smashed into each other at a high speed, and they dropped to the ground, dead instantly. The third jumped at me from behind. I didn't have a resonance Skill with me, but I didn't need it. Whirling my spear, I smashed the overgrown gopher in the side of the head, sending it skidding across the ground.

Before it could get up, I sprinted toward it, then rammed my spear into the side of its neck. There was no sharp spearhead, but the wood still pierced its flesh. I shouted, driving it in with all the force I could muster, then wrenched it to the side. The gopher writhed, but it was done for. I gave it one last jab through the eye to kill it quickly, then turned back to Cuthward.

"Three down. Where are the others?"

"They'll be harder to deal with. Unless you wait here for days, you'll never find them."

"Maybe," I said.

"Or we make bait."