Chapter 43 — A Small Windfall (Part I)
Traffic in and out of the harbor town wasn’t enough to form lines, but between the noble and common hunting parties heading out and the steaders arriving to buy and sell, it was more than Toren had expected. Most of the other steaders also rode raptor-pulled carts or wagons similar to the one he had rented. He could see why with how far most of the steads were from the town. The Blue Raptor Ranch must do a brisk business.
While they were waiting, Falma got her parents to let her also visit with Joric, her father reluctantly taking over the duties of keeping the raptor happy. Toren continued to play the role of a hired guard and let Warnel handle the greetings of the other steaders.
Many were curious why they were waiting to enter, but most of the brief conversations went similar to:
“New with the recent arrivals? Haven’t seen your family around before.”
“Yep. Came to town to sell our first harvest. Waiting on the [Alchemist].”
“Oh? A harvest already?”
“Mostly just good timing and the zoots keeping the saberbeaks away from the tavi trees.”
“Tavi fruit? Haha, best of luck with that. Most of us burn them from the property to avoid the hassle. Well, see you round.”
By the fifth such conversation, Toren’s attention was solely focused on the people leaving Farharbor. It only took one wrong person to recognize them or decide they were a juicy target to result in future trouble, but thus far, no one had paid them more attention than any of the other steader groups. The helms had been an excellent purchase, not just for safety, but to make the Hatterwicks anonymous.
With how casual things were outside the gates, Toren could almost imagine the town before them was just like any other frontier town.
“Toren, you hearing that?” Warnel queried in his direction from where he had paused in feeding the Raptor—a raptor that was now staring intently in the direction of the jungle.
A repetitive sound like distant yelling echoed off the town’s stone wall, all too quickly breaking the illusion of normalcy. Tension seized the steaders manning the livestock pens as more eyes and snouts turned toward the not-distant-enough jungle, searching for the cause of the desperate cries for help that were becoming clearer with every passing heartbeat.
Toren brought his bow to hand, nocking an arrow. He kept half his mind on [Mana Sensing] and [Combat Awareness] to keep watch around the wagon, watching for any fool trying to take advantage of the disturbance.
They didn’t have to wait long before a teen [Hunter] burst out of the treeline and stumbled into a run for the wall followed by the rapid and eerie creaking of a better-than-man-sized swamp tree running on elongated roots and furiously swinging about vine-laden limbs.
A Hangman Tree. It was a type of ent but without the intelligence of its more ancient brethren. The hunter had annoyed the tree enough that it had uprooted itself.
The carnivorous trees were an annoying threat on the best of days. Short of breaking or removing the mana core, they were almost impossible to kill. Best strategy was to hack off the limbs and roots then deal with the core removal at one’s leisure—one of the reasons Toren kept his [Tree Felling] Skill.
“Good job bringing us XP and credits, boy!” a voice boomed out from above accompanied by mocking chuckles and further jeering.
Toren swapped his bow for the enchanted shortblade. Normal arrows were useless against such ents. That didn’t stop those on wall-duty from taking a few shots anyway.
An arrow made of fire flew past the fleeing teen to splash upon the ent, scorching the trunk and billowing to set its crown of leaves on fire. The licking flames only added indignant shrieking to the ent’s cacophony of noise, doing nothing to slow its progress.
“Amateurs,” Toren muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “The roots are what should be targeted first.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth when a golden hoop of enchanted metal arced through the base of the ent before returning to a cloaked figure atop the wall.
“Dibs on the wood!” yelled an axe-wielding man as he jumped down and sprinted toward the downed but still-flailing ent.
Toren sheathed his sword. The hoop-guy was competent at least—and probably someone to stay away from.
“It’s safe enough now, right?” a familiar voice demanded from where the guards had moved to block the town’s entrance. “The longer I’m out here, the less potions you all will have.”
“Fine. Jeris, go with him.”
One of the tier-1 [Guards] followed [Alchemist] Nalrevin at the tier-2 [Guard]’s order.
“Oh? This is quite the nice harvest,” Nalrevin greeted as he approached the wagon. “With all the mana you’re leaking, I’m surprised you weren’t attacked by something on the way in. You’ll want to get an [Enchanter] to put wards on your crates for next time.”
“Ah, we’ll make sure to do that,” Warnel replied, handing the reins to Emina as he joined the [Alchemist] in his inspection of the wagon’s contents.
Toren mentally groaned. Had he been so worried about what would happen once they got back to town that he would overlook something so obvious? It was less of an issue with beasts, but all monsters were drawn to mana even if they couldn’t directly sense it, especially as they became more powerful.
Stupid. It was beyond stupid. The ease with which he and the Hatterwicks cleared the zoots and seeing other steaders going about their business normally had lulled him into complacency about the jungle’s dangers. They were still tier-1 steaders in a tier-2 jungle! If he didn’t get his head screwed on right, all their recent good fortune would end for naught!
After the cord tying the canvas down was loosened, Nalrevin flipped back the covering to get a better look at the crates of tavi fruit. “The timing on this is excellent. Lord Hanoval already has me preparing potions for the upcoming high-tide. I’ll purchase the whole wagon worth. Olba’s the one with the Ability to quickly get us a count of the tavi and drainworms. Hope you don’t mind bringing the wagon to my shop for unloading?”
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“High-tide?”
“Yeah, between the [Guards] and the jobbers guarding the walls, the monster swarms that accompany the flooding of the jungle tend to push the people of Farharbor to buy out most of my stock, so it’s best to start preparing in advance. Out there in the jungle, you’re going to have to hold them off on your own. I recommend getting arrows for dealing with the tier-2 threats from the [Enchanter] while you’re getting your crates done.”
Warnel and his wife exchanged a glance—as much as they could through the slitted helms.
Nalrevin placed a device thick with mana into the wagon bed. “That’ll draw and catch any stray drain or astral worms.” The [Alchemist] turned to the [Guard]. “Jeris, It’s safe to bring the fruit inside now. Let Gavin know.”
“Alright,” Jeris grunted and made what Toren expected was an ‘all clear’ signal toward the other watching tier-1 [Guard], who relayed it inside the gateway.
“Laiya! Falma!” Emina called over to her daughters. “We’re leaving!”
“How long does the tide last?” Warnel asked, taking back the reins to lead the raptor forward as he kept pace with the [Alchemist]. Emina stayed on the bench.
“About a tenday? The swarming tends to begin prior to the flooding, and it can take some days for the flooding to start and for the tide to recede afterward. At least this one won’t be an extended high-tide where the flooding lasts several tendays.”
Falma pulled herself up onto the wagon's bench and retook the reins. “Joric said he’ll watch the dogs for us.”
“Keep people away from the wagon sides,” Toren advised Laiya upon rejoining them and took up his own position on the opposite side as they slowly approached the open portcullis and the way into the town.
Temporary stalls had been set up under the walkways leading to the raised market square. As they passed a few of the vendors catering to [Hunters] and steaders, Toren caught sight of a familiar face—the Conclave boy that had been tailing Falma and her father.
Watching for arrivals?
Toren’s heart pushed with increased force, a twinge of fear and anger threatening to ignite his blood.
Had the boy recognized Falma or her father? He didn’t see any recognition in the boy’s eyes-
No, upon seeing Toren, the boy froze.
Crap. Was it his armor? Weapons?
Too late, it didn’t matter. There was only one thing Toren could think of. He reached over the wagon’s side for a loose tavi fruit and casually tossed it to the boy.
The boy flailed, dropping what he was holding in order to keep the fruit from hitting the ground. A panicked look drained the boy’s face of color upon realizing what he’d been tossed.
A group of [Hunters] heading for the gate blocked his view as the wagon continued past. Sure enough, the boy used that moment to escape. Toren didn’t really care if the boy ate the dead-worm-filled fruit or not, rather he could only hope the delivered reminder would be enough to keep him quiet.
~~~
Name: Toren of Theravos
Race: Human
Age: 20
Profession 1: Level 5 Burningblood Berserker (4300/10000)
Mana: 72/72
Strength: 16
Constitution: 13
Dexterity: 14
Agility: 12
Wisdom: 12
Intellect: 8
Will Power: 18
Perception 15
Appearance: 8
Charisma: 8
Luck: 10
Attribute Upgrade Points: 4
Traits:
Sacrificial Guardian
Abilities:
Burning Blood (Rank 1) Proficiency: Mid
Control Blood (Rank 1) Proficiency: Low
Flurry of Blows (Rank 1) Proficiency: Low
Ability Upgrade Points: 4
Profession Skills:
Pain Tolerance 5
Severe Wound Recovery 5
Berserker Knife Arts 1
Spear 9
Club 8
Focus Rage 3
Combat Awareness 3
Intimidate 2 → 3
Skills:
Theravos Language (Speaking) 15
Theravos Language (Reading/Writing) 10
Religion 10
Meditation 5
Bone Strengthening 3
Hunting 20
Butchering 13
Archery 19
Stealth 18
Arithmetic 4
Foraging 16
Tree Felling 6
Running 12
Mana Sensing 14
Danger Sensing 1
Wound Binding 8
