Kapitel 41: 29-34
B2 | 29 - Tests and Revelations
"Fischer!"
The voice came from far away.
Not right now, I thought back. I need to rest.
"Fischer!"
I tried to roll over, but my body wouldn't respond. Something hard smacked me in the face, followed by an angry hiss, a loud crack, and a soft eeeeeee that faded from hearing.
My eyes fluttered open—Snips was atop my chest, shaking her claw out at the ocean.
"Did…" I rubbed my face, willing my vision to focus. "Did Rocky just slap me?"
"Aye," Peter confirmed. "Slapped the piss out of you, if you forgive my saying. I half thought your head would fly off toward the horizon like he just did."
"Little scoundrel..." My voice came out raspy and ended in a cough. "What happened?"
"Why don't you take a look?" Theo asked, raising his eyebrows.
I squinted and glanced down.
"Wait... what?"
I lay on a surface of dark-gray rock. It was smooth and uniform, and as I shakily got to my feet, I gazed out at the transformed scene.
A colossal slab of stone—around fifty meters long and three meters wide—led back to the shore. On either side, boulders tapered down at a forty-five degree angle toward the ocean. It was high tide, yet we stood a full two meters above the small waves crashing against the rocks.
I turned to take in the fishermen; sensing my attention, they looked back. When I'd met most of them for the first time last night, there had been bouts of awe and joy, but even Theo's face had held some hesitation hidden deep within the lines of his eyes.
When I studied them now, I saw neither doubt, reluctance, nor mistrust.
Hands twitched, weight shifted from foot to foot, nostrils flared, and jaws clenched and unclenched, but they weren't agitated—they radiated anticipation.
My mouth split in a grin as I realized what they were waiting for. "So, fellas—what do you say we take this rock wall for a test spin?"
Theo swallowed and licked his lips. "Do you mean...?"
I nodded, beaming as they seemed to lean in, waiting for me to voice the words.
"Let's go fishing."
When I saw the answering looks on their faces, I ran to fetch the training rods Maria and I had made. Not even five minutes later, all five of them had a line in the water.
"What the...?" Danny punctuated his question by pulling on his fishing rod; it bent, but the line didn't budge. "I think the hook is stuck on something..."
I nodded. "Yeah, looks like you've got a snag, mate. The bad news is I won't let anyone cut their line and potentially hurt some sea creatures, but the good news is we have a gang of hook retrievers."
I turned to Snips. She was wedged between two rocks in the tidal zone, her eye closed in bliss as the small waves crashed over her.
"Snips, would you mind—"
"Hold that thought..." Theo said, raising a finger. "I seem to recall someone losing our race to the shore earlier." His eyes crinkled as he turned to the side. "What was the wager again, Peter?"
The chef grinned maliciously. "The loser was to be the volunteer for Ellis's aerial test."
Keith blanched, taking an involuntary step back. "Now, just hang on one second."
The four men had mischief in their eyes as they approached him from all sides.
"W-we can talk about this, gents. I—no! Wait!"
With Theo and Peter holding his arms, Danny and Ellis picked up a leg each.
"What are the parameters, Ellis?" Theo asked.
"I-I do not consent to this barbarity!" Keith's eyes were panicked. "Unhand me this instant—"
"Subject is to remain rigid," Ellis replied, ignoring Keith's pleas. "This will allow optimal transference of energy."
Peter raised an eyebrow. "On three?"
"On three," Ellis confirmed, adjusting his grip on Keith's ankle.
If I didn't know Danny to be Keith's friend, I'd have assumed the smirk on his face was murderous.
Keith saw the look, and his eyes went wide.
"One..." they said, lifting him.
Keith tugged his arms, trying to escape—it was ineffective.
"Two..." Again, they lifted.
Accepting his fate, Keith's face scrunched up and a soft whimper came from his throat.
"Three!"
They wrenched upward, letting go of his limbs just as Corporal Claws appeared on Keith's chest, a toothy grin plastered on her face and a single paw raised to wave me goodbye.
"Huh..." I said, watching Keith and Claws rocket toward the stratosphere.
Keith's rather high-pitched scream was punctuated by chittering laughter, and within a second, their voices left hearing range. The royal's limbs pinwheeled, spinning rapidly with his ascent.
"Is he gonna be alright...?"
Ellis nodded, his eyes staring skyward. "We have been thorough in our testing. Even if he were to hit terminal velocity..." Ellis held up a hand, interrupting himself. "When he hits terminal velocity, he will not be wounded by striking the water."
"Huh. Neat."
"Can you still see him?" Theo asked.
"Yeah, mate. His spinning has slowed, but he's still going up."
"Marvelous..." Ellis replied, scratching away at his notepad.
Just as his flight was about to turn into a freefall, Corporal Claws hunched her limbs and electricity sparked from her joints.
"Oh… that's not great."
"What isn't?" Ellis asked, still scrawling.
As if in answer, Claws's muscled legs kicked off of Keith's chest. She went soaring higher yet, lightning wreathing her limbs as she rocketed upward. Unfortunately for Keith, the law of equivalent exchange appeared to be active in this world,and he was sent spiraling down toward the ocean's surface at startling speed.
"Claws just used him as a springboard," I answered, not taking my eyes off the human missile hurtling toward us.
Keith spread his limbs out wide, trying to slow himself. I let out a relieved breath; she hadn't shocked him unconscious.
"Is that him...?" Peter asked, squinting up at the rapidly descending cultivator.
Danny grunted. "Definitely him."
Despite his best efforts at wind resistance, Keith approached with terrible speed.
I raised an eyebrow at Ellis. "Is he still going to be okay?"
"Hmm?" Ellis asked, looking up.
I pointed at Keith. "Do you want me to catch him, or is he alright?"
"Oh. No, he should be fine."
Keith started flapping his arms, trying to right his posture, but fast as he was going, he'd mistimed the landing.
"aaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAH—"
Slap.
He belly-flopped with a thunder-like clap. A crater formed on the surface at the impact site, and I held up a hand to block the torrent of saltwater that sprayed up. A collective groan escaped us as we cringed at the hit, and with a synchronized step forward, we all leaned out and stared down at the ocean.
Keith's head breached the surface and he took deep breaths, treading water.
I squinted at his body, seeing no injuries. "You, uh… you alright, man?"
He let out a laugh, more surprised than joyous.
"I think so. I just need to rest a moment—my nerves are frayed."
His torso lifted upward, and he floated on his back with his eyes closed.
I looked up into the sky, glanced down at Keith, then shot a look at Ellis. "Should we tell him?"
Ellis returned the look, his eyes sparkling and a smile barely hidden beneath an indifferent facade. "Tell him what, Fischer?"
I grinned, returning my attention skyward.
Other than Ellis, no one had noticed. That changed when they heard the high-pitched squeal of one Corporal Claws, mischief incarnate. Wreathed in lightning and giving a malevolently toothy grin, she spiraled directly down, her predatory gaze locked onto her target.
At the sound, Keith's eyes snapped open and his body jolted, his limbs not working cohesively to get him out of the way.
"No—" was all he had time to get out.
Claws slammed down into him, flattening her body to reduce the impact.
"Oof!" Keith grunted, his body folding in half like the layers of a croissant.
He reappeared at the surface a moment later with an entirely too happy otter lifting him by the armpit.
Theo hissed in a breath. "You, uhhh, alright, Keith?"
He shook his head as Claws lifted him up onto the rocks. Theo and I went down and grabbed a hand each to haul him up. He collapsed on the walkway, wheezing breaths and clearly winded.
Claws reached into a pocket and rummaged around, then held out an opalescent rock.
Peter cocked his head at it. "Is she saying sorry?"
"Sorry?" I asked, laughing. "No—she doesn't say sorry. She's saying thank you for the fun, I'm guessing?"
Claws chirped and grinned at me, content I knew her so well.
Keith opened a shaky palm, and she placed the stone atop it, pushing it further toward him with little nudges of her padded paws.
"Thanks," Keith croaked, his face colorless.
Ellis, who hadn't stopped furiously scribbling since Keith's orbital strike, flipped his notepad closed.
"All right. The aerial test was a success. Shall we get on with fish—oh, are you well, Keith?"
The royal gave a thumbs up, still looking anything but okay.
A half hour later, the shifting current tugged at my line, pulling and pushing it back and forth every few breaths. I swayed with the motion, my body reflecting the tide's relentless movement. The day's light was just fading as the sun descended in the western sky, heading for the mountains it would soon set behind.
A deep calm washed over me and I let out a sigh. "I can't believe fishing is so frowned upon here. How do people enjoy life without it?"
"It is truly a shame," Ellis said, his face calm as he held a finger to his line. "But such was the weight of the water gods' betrayal and the war that followed."
I turned toward him, raising an eyebrow—as did Theo, Peter, and Danny.
"... what?" I asked.
"The gods' betrayal," Ellis replied, still relaxed.
"Not that," Theo answered, lowering his fishing rod. "The war. Last we spoke, you knew nothing more than the common knowledge that the water gods had betrayed us all somehow."
Ellis's eyes popped open, and he blinked at all of us. "Oh, I didn't tell you? I must have forgotten with all the excitement of arriving."
"Tell us what?" Theo demanded, exasperated.
"About the division in the pantheon and the scope of the war that followed. I have known for quite some time, but when I was still a royal archivist..." He shrugged. "It went against my oaths. Now that we have abandoned such things, I no longer feel the need to keep it a secret."
We waited for him to continue, but as the silence stretched on, Peter's patience ended.
"For the love of—" He cut himself off, taking a calming breath. "What happened, Ellis? What are the details?"
"Ah, of course. My apologies." He opened his eyes, smiling out at the ocean. "Though the details are uncertain, one thing is clear: the gods aligned with water betrayed the other gods, humanity, and the world at large. Before they left, a war broke out that encompassed the entire globe."
As I considered the scope of such a war, we fell into silence. I pictured battlefields of cultivators fighting, the carnage it must have wrought, and the countless lives that must have been lost. A breeze kicked up, and a shiver ran down my spine.
"A holy war with cultivators..." I shook my head. "That's horrific."
"Just so," Ellis agreed. "Eventually, the non-water aligned gods, what are known as the 'allied gods', formed a pact. As their final gambit, they fled from this world. With their departure, there wasn't enough power to sustain the treacherous gods, so they were dragged away too—banished forever to another realm."
"So the allied gods sacrificed themselves?" Theo asked, rubbing his chin.
"So it would appear. Only a god could truly comprehend how many lives they saved in doing so, but as a result, they left our world unpowered—barren."
"That's all it said?"
"That's all?" Ellis asked, raising both eyebrows at me. "That was information hidden within the depths of the royal archive, most of which were almost desolate, which I suspect is the only reason they survived being purged."
"Purged? You mean the information was destroyed?"
"Just so," Ellis replied, and for the first time, I saw a hint of fury in the calm archivist's features. "At some point in the millennia past, a ruler—or an archivist—saw fit to scrub the records. Luckily for us, they were as useless as they are stupid for attempting such a thing in the first place."
I shook my head. "What's a monarchy without a bit of censorship and oppression?"
Ellis sighed "I wish it weren't so."
A silence stretched between us as everyone became lost in their own thoughts.
"F-fish on!" Theo's yelled. Hisa shrill voice cut through the outward melody of crashing waves and the inward musings of revelation both.
"On ya, Theo!" I called back, leaning into the fortunate distraction.
Theo reeled it in, easily handling what appeared to be a small fish on the other end of the line. Its scales flashed at the water's surface, and with a flick of his rod, he lifted it up to the walkway.
Juvenile Shore Fish
Common
Found along the ocean shores of the Kallis Realm, this fish is a staple source of both food and bait.
I dismissed the message and darted a glance at the men.
Peter's eyes cleared first. "What...?"
"Yeah, I guess I forgot to mention that detail. We can kind of inspect stuff—especially fish."
Theo was the last to return his attention from the screen he was no doubt watching, and a broad grin spread over his face. "I got three levels in fishing!"
I raised an eyebrow. "Not bad, mate—I wonder if it took past experience into account…?"
Ellis nodded his agreement as he scribbled away in his notepad.
I peered down at the fish and cocked my head to the side—the hook was nowhere to be seen. I picked it up and looked into its mouth. "Ah, frack."
"What's wrong?" Theo asked.
"It swallowed the hook. I don't feel good about eating fish this size unless it's necessary, but there's little to no chance of it surviving."
Already, its life was leaking away, so I dispatched it with a swift movement. "Sorry, little fella."
"It's probably my fault." Theo winced and shook his head. "I was listening to Ellis speak, then I got distracted by my thoughts—I didn't notice the first bite."
"All we can do is learn from it, I guess. I don't know about you guys, but I don't feel good about bringing unnecessary pain or suffering."
They all nodded, and Theo grimaced.
"It's all right, man. You didn't do it intention... ally..." I trailed off as a winged form glided down onto the walkway beside us.
Covered in white feathers with accents of black on its sides, the Pelican stretched its wings out and took a hesitant step forward, peering at the fish with one eye, its head sideways and neck outstretched.
I looked at the fish, then back up at the pelican as a smile lit my features.
B2 | 30 - The Blade
With the sun setting at my back and a cool breeze tickling my skin, I smiled at the pelican. With a deft cut of my knife, I cut into the fish, removed the hook from its throat, and lobbed the fish into the air.
The bird's neck craned forward and its beak opened, easily catching the fish within its pouch. It tossed its head twice before swallowing the fish whole.
"What in Acanthis's feathered form is that?" Theo demanded.
I raised an eyebrow at him. "You've never seen one?"
"I believe it is a pelican," Ellis answered. "I've not seen one either, but I recognize it from a compendium back in the capital."
"Bingo, mate. It's a pelican." I grinned. "And I intend to make it a pal."
The large water bird peered at us, uninterested in our conversation yet hanging around to see if we had more fish. On seeing there were no more snacks, or perhaps because we were staring at it a little too much, it took flight. Two huge wings beat at the air, and within a few breaths, it was high above, gliding across unseen currents.
Corporal Claws dashed up beside me, resting her forepaws on my leg as she stared up at the pelican's flight. She let out a dreamy coo.
"It'd be wondrous to fly, wouldn't it?" I asked, understanding her thoughts.
She gave an affirmative chirp, still watching the bird as it sailed away.
"You flew no longer than an hour ago when you used me as a launch platform, you little shi—" Keith cut off when Claws shot him a warning glance, and he held up both hands defensively. "Er—shining light! I was going to say shining light!"
She walked forward and held out a paw. She pointed at it emphatically, extending it further toward him and raising her chin, somehow looking down at him from her position on the ground. Keith sighed and gave her back the opalescent stone she'd gifted him.
I shook my head. "Claws is a fickle mistress."
She nodded, grinning as she pocketed the rock and leaped into the water, disappearing without a splash.
That afternoon, as the last vestiges of light faded from the sky, Theo hooked another.
"Oh! Fish on!"
I was down at the water, cleaning two mature shore fish that Peter and Keith had already caught. Theo shifted his weight backward as the rod bent almost in half with the fish's weight. His eyes were alight with expectation, and I couldn't help but smile as I continued removing scales.
"Looks like a big one, mate."
"Feels like a big one!" he replied, holding his rod high so the line didn't touch the rocks.
The fish took a massive run, each kick of its tail and shake of its head causing the rod's tip to jerk down. Just before the light left the sky, I saw the flash of silver on the ocean's surface, right by where I was cleaning the fish. While it was the same shape as a shore fish, I raised an eyebrow at the size.
"It-it's a monster!" Danny roared, his voice tinged with awe.
I leaned forward, hoping for another look. It swam right up before me, but beneath the amethyst sky and dwindling light, I still couldn't make out what it was. The fish, noticing the rocks—or me, leaning down and having a good peep—tore off with heavy swishes of its tail. As determined as the fish was, Theo was more resolute, and he had the tools to back up his claims. He let line out before reeling the fish back to shore, letting it expend energy.
Seeing how exhausted the fish was getting, I grabbed the line with one hand, lifted it, then grasped the fish around the gills with the other. If not for my enhanced body, I'd never have been able to raise it one handed—it was gigantic.
Ancient Shore Fish
Rare
Found along the ocean shores of the Kallis Realm, this fish is a staple source of both food and bait.
"Holy hell, Theo..." I said, my eyes clearing.
I hefted the ancient fish up for everyone to see, and their excited clamoring silenced as their vision went distant.
"Ancient?" Theo asked.
Ellis, ever the reliable sort, started scribbling in his notepad. "And rare! Age may appear to increase the classification of..." his voice trailed off as it lowered to a mutter.
"What do you reckon, Theo?"
He turned to me, cocking his head to the side. "About what?"
"Your catch, your call—is this fella dinner?"
His grin returned and he nodded so hard I thought his head might topple off.
Not long after, as I set the three cleaned fish in a pan and put it atop the campfire, a welcome voice came rolling over the sands.
"Yoohoo!" Maria called, her voice singsong and brimming with joy.
She walked around the corner of the headland with Corporal Claws lazing in one arm. In the other, she held a tray that immediately drew my attention in.
"What have you got there…?"
She grinned at me as we all sat down by the fire. "See if you can guess."
She passed the tray around, and I peered down at the enticing pastries. A sweet, complex scent radiated up from them, telling me they were not long removed from the oven.
I had no idea what they were, though. "I give up. What are they?"
"Cinnamon rolls."
At the mention of her name, Cinnamon's head popped out of Maria's pocket. She launched herself at me, and I easily caught the tiny bunny. I rubbed the velvet-smooth patch of fur between her ears, delighting in the way she pressed into my touch.
"Well," Maria continued, "it's cinnamon if I stole the correct seasoning from your kitchen. I asked Peter this morning what would pair well with a sweet pastry. They're made using sugar refined from your fertilized cane."
Peter broke one in half and breathed deep of the rising vapors. He let out a long sigh. "Definitely cinnamon, and definitely going to be delicious. These are a common pastry in the capital, and would be the closest thing to the croissants Sue makes. They're made using a cheap spice, so they're affordable to even the poorest of the capital's citizens." He gazed down at the rising steam. "I can't wait any longer."
He blew on the open pastry, then took a small bite. His posture immediately melted; he leaned back in the sand and let out a content mmm.
Seeing his reaction, I broke mine in half. The vapors immediately rose to greet me, and I breathed them in, welcoming the scents.
The first smells that hit me were of flour, butter, and sugar—those alone would have been enough to make my mouth water. With the addition of cinnamon's complex scent, it was enough to turn my salivary glands into faucets, and I couldn't help but immediately bite into the pastry.
The surface was crusted with granular sugar, and they crunched between my teeth, highlighting just how soft and pillowy the dough was. The cinnamon came through next; it wiped out all conscious thought. I breathed slowly as I chewed the mouthful, lost to the sensations and flavors. When I swallowed, I opened my eyes. I had lain back on the sand, my hands still holding half a roll each and resting atop my chest.
"What's the verdict?" Maria asked, leaning over me with a smirk.
The campfire's dancing flames lit her face from below, giving her skin and freckled face a golden glow; the rising moon lit her from behind, casting its ethereal light about the hair hanging down around her.
"Perfect," I replied, my eyes crinkling in delight.
***
Augustus Reginald Gormona peered down at a tray covered in dozens of fresh pastries, his mouth dry and brain awash with worries. He picked one up, his usual favorite, and took a bite. The pastry was smothered in a passiona jam reduction, and it was the finest treat his kingdom had to offer.
It tasted bland.
He let go, allowing the sugary pastry to fall down to the tray. It landed the wrong side up, and jam splattered over the surrounding pastries. He pushed the tray away, letting out a discontent sigh.
A creak drew his attention, and the great doors to his throne room swung open. His servant on duty led someone in, then snapped to attention.
"Handler Aisa to see the king!"
Augustus nodded and gestured for the servant to leave them. Aisa bowed at the waist and remained so, waiting for permission to approach.
"Come," he said.
"Yes, my king." She marched forward, stopping right before the throne and standing at attention.
"Thank you for coming on such short notice, Aisa."
"Of course, king. I am your blade to wield."
Her words were curt and clipped, as he knew her general demeanor to be. Which was exactly why he called on her to complete this task. Augustus gave her an appreciative smile.
"We find ourselves in dire straits, Aisa. The very kingdom may be at risk. If there was any time for a blade to be brandished, it is now."
His words had the desired effect; her gaze turned flinty and she set her jaw. Despite her passion, she waited patiently for him to continue.
"If I were to tell you that I believe a number of spirit beasts have awakened close enough to our capital to be a threat, what would you say?"
She chewed her lip for a long moment, considering the statement and question in their entirety. "If anyone else were to make such a claim, my king, I would dismiss them as a fool. From you..." Her eyes grew sharp once more. "I ask their whereabouts and what your orders are."
He let his gratitude show, grinning at the answer. "In that case, I'll get right into it. Five spirit beasts have awakened, all of which I believe to be nearby."
He watched her closely, and though the shock was clear in her eyes, determination swiftly returned, banishing any doubt.
"I have a particular target in mind for you," he continued. "I've chosen this target for you to dispatch because of your proven efficacy in dealing with powerful renegade cultivators. Based on the information we have access to, this spirit beast will be the most magically gifted of the threats."
"Where shall I go in search of this spirit beast?"
"I don't have an exact location, but I believe the most-likely location to be the desert beyond the southern range."
She nodded. "Would you like me to take the usual squad of four cultivators, or does this threat require more?"
"As many as you desire. Due to the danger posed, you will have first pick of the collared."
"Forgive my insolence, my king." Aisa bowed her head. "May I ask a question?"
He waved her concern away. "Of course—please do."
"Thank you, king. Will my sisters and the other handlers also be going on similar missions to eliminate threats?"
"They will be, yes."
"Then I will leave their favored cultivators. Though some are more powerful than my regular team, we will be more effective overall if we take collared whose abilities we know well."
Augustus leaned back in his chair and sighed, letting his facade of calm assurance drop. "Thank you, Aisa. As always, I appreciate your insight." He sat up straight, resuming his regal posture. "Do you have any more questions before you depart?"
"Just one, my king: what is the name of my target?"
Augustus straightened further, stretching his spine to its vertical limits. He gazed up at the stained-glass windows for a long moment.
"Remember this name well, Aisa. If not for your intervention, it could go down in the records as the beast that ended the kingdom of Gormona. The name of your target is…"
He locked eyes with her, clenching and unclenching his jaw. Finally, he ground out the name of his dreaded foe.
"Lizard Wizard."
B2 | 31 - A Blind Fool
Barry smiled to himself as he fed sugarcane into his juicer. His life had felt chaotic of late, especially following the arrival of Gormona's fishing club. Thinking of the five men made his grin widen. They had slotted seamlessly into the church, and it already felt as though he'd known them for years, not days. Even now, they were off with Fischer, no doubt having a wonderful time partaking in some heretical activities.
"What's got you so cheery?" Helen asked from beside him.
She was sitting on the bench, and Barry turned his amusement her way.
"I was just thinking about the fishing club and how much fun they're probably having right now."
"Are you sure you don't want to join them?" she asked, kicking her legs. "The offer still stands."
"Thank you, love, but it's okay." He wound the juicer's handle, feeding a stalk of cane in with his other hand. "I know this is technically work, but something about it is relaxing."
Mischief sparkled behind Helen's eyes. "If you're not careful, people might assume you're a simple farmer that enjoys working with his hands, not the leader of a cult."
"Not you too!" He feigned dismay. "Church! It's a church!"
She giggled, covering her mouth as she shimmied. "I know, but Fischer makes messing with you look so fun."
"Ah, my wife torments me." Barry let out a theatrical sigh. "What did I do to be wedded to such a treacherous woman?"
She snorted, rolling her eyes at him.
They shared a glance as Barry added another stalk of cane to the juicer, and his heart seemed to skip a beat as he took in her beauty.
"Something wrong, husband?" she asked, smirking.
"Just daydreaming about this woman I saw in Tropica the other day. She had these massive—"
Helen whacked him on the arm, cutting him off.
"Ow!" He rubbed his shoulder, laughing. "Watch your strength!"
"You're the one courting death by talking about other women around your heretical cultivator of a wife." She tried to pout, but her smile ruined it. "You got off easy this time."
"Speaking of heretical cultivators, we should deliver this sugarcane juice."
"I suppose we should." She hopped off the bench as Barry wound the handle.
Yellow juice flowed from the spout, and when none of the stalk remained, the cup it flowed into was almost full.
Hand in hand, they walked down the hallway. Before they arrived at their destination, the sound of wood rhythmically striking metal bounced off the walls. They shared an amused glance as they entered the doorway.
Trent had a wooden cup in hand and was running it along the metal bars of his prison.
Dink. Dink. Dink. Dink. Dink. Dink. Dink—
"Oh!" He noticed them and halted his percussive performance. "About time!"
"Hello, Trent," Helen said, smiling at the simple prince.
"Is that mine?" he asked, pointing at the cup in Barry's hands.
"You know," Barry said, "it's usually considered polite to greet someone back."
"Yeah? Well it's also considered polite not to put a collar around someone's neck and imprison them, Barry!"
"He's got you there," Helen noted.
Shaking his head, Barry held out the cup.
Trent snatched it from his hand and immediately chugged it, somehow not spilling a drop. "Ahhh," he sighed not even five seconds later. "When is dinner?"
"How do you feel?" Barry asked, ignoring the question.
"Huh? I feel hungry, which is why I asked when dinner was…?" Trent gave him some bombastic side eye. "You're pretty dumb, aren't you?"
"Sounds like a failure to me," Helen said.
"Yep," Barry agreed.
They turned and left together, ignoring the prince's squawked insults that chased them down the hallway.
Helen squeezed Barry's hand. "So, do you have any theories?"
"None." Barry shook his head, looking at the roof as they walked. "No one has any clue why he won't awaken."
She looped her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder. "Don't stress over it. It'll work eventually."
He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "I hope so…"
***
The room's walls were bathed in flickering candlelight, and George let out a sigh as he rubbed his eyes.
Geraldine lay a supportive hand on his shoulder, and he leaned against it with his prodigious jowls.
"Maybe we should go to bed for the night," she suggested.
"You're likely correct, my love—as always."
"What is it you were reading?" She set her own book down, leaning over to peer at his family's manual. "I thought you might scowl your eyebrows right off your face."
He pursed his lips, but when he realized his forehead was knitting once more, he let out another sigh. "It's the same entry that continuously vexes me."
"Hmm. The same one as yesterday?"
He put a hand into her lap, their fingers intertwining. "And the day before."
She scrunched her nose at the book. "It irks me that I can't read it..."
"Sorry, love. The ancient language is notoriously tricky, and I only know it because my father drilled it into me from a young age."
"I just wish I could help—it's infuriating to sit by and lose myself in fiction while you struggle."
He turned to look at Geraldine. The candle lit her ample face, and love for the woman before him flowed out like thick custard from a piping bag. "Just having you by my side is enough."
She leaned in and kissed him, her lips tugging up in a smile. When she pulled away, the love he felt for her was reflected in her eyes.
"Would you read me the part that you've been poring over?"
"Of course." He skimmed the open page until he found the sentence constantly replaying in his head. "I feel the entire chapter is reflected in this line here."
He cleared his throat.
"It translates roughly as: 'To conspire against your fellow man is to court ruin; to benefit from them unfairly is to invite ruin into your home.' 'Ruin' isn't exactly correct, though—there isn't a word in the common tongue to reflect its potency. It doesn't mean just physical ruin, but also desolation of one's very soul."
She swallowed, licking her lips. "I... I can see why it troubles you."
He pushed the book forward, wanting physical distance from the words that assailed him.
"Before I saw the wisdom held in the rest of this book, I assumed all of it to be the fancy of a long-diminished household. But now..." He ran fingers through his thinning hair. "Now I can't help but wonder if we brought all our problems into existence with our actions since arriving in Tropica."
Geraldine sucked her teeth, and as he watched her, she appeared lost in thought. When her gaze locked with his, her eyes were morose. "I've been meaning to speak to you about that..."
"My love? Talk about what…?"
"As you've been lost in the book most days, I've been busying myself by wandering the village. I've spent some time lingering among the south siders, and the more time I spend there..." She gave him a wincing smile. "Well, I came to a similar conclusion."
"... you did?"
She nodded, looking away and staring at the wall as she continued. "I had assumed that all peasants were just the glum sort. What did it matter if we took extra gold if they wouldn't enjoy it? At least we could use the funds to improve our own standing and try to claw our way back to the capital, right?"
She shook her head, and the weariness etched in her features made George's heart break.
A tear welled in her eye, and she wiped it away with a plump hand. "They're happy, George—truly happy. They gather around that damned bakery like clumps of sugar on a fresh donut, laughing and joking merrily as they eat unsweetened pastries and drink coffee made by a peasant. Seeing the joy such small improvements brought them… it makes me feel terrible about what we did."
George stared at her for a long moment. She peered back, her head cocked to the side, seeing something on his face she didn't understand. Suddenly, laughter bubbled up from within him. Her curiosity morphed into anger as he lost himself to mirth, but every time he tried to explain himself, his voice was cut off by choked laughter.
"I was being serious, George." Her tone was clipped as she leaned away from him. "I don't appreciate being laughed at."
"No. I'm not laughing at you, my love—I'm laughing at myself."
She narrowed her eyes, clearly skeptical, so he continued. "I've been lost in this book, gleaning the writings of generations of my ancestors for the truth, and all you had to do was just go for a walk." He blew air from his nose, shaking his head at himself. "I'm a blind fool."
A moment of silence stretched between them as she considered his words.
"You're no fool, husband," she whispered, pulling him into a hug. "If you were, I'd not have married you."
"Given how long it's been taking me to digest the words in this manual versus how you understood the truth by just opening your eyes, I'd beg to differ."
"We all have different strengths, love."
She squeezed him tight, and he returned the embrace.
"All right—I've decided," he said, pulling away.
She gave him a confused look. "Decided what?"
"I'm going to teach you the ancient language—if you're willing, of course."
Her eyes went wide. "George... I thought you said that was only for blood relatives to know? I don't want to get you in trouble..."
"In trouble from who? My mother and father have passed, and we have no idea where my brother is, let alone if he still lives. Besides, as far as I'm concerned, you are of my blood, Geraldine. I love you, and without you, I would be lost."
Tears welled in her eyes, but this time, she didn't wipe them away.
"Oh, George..." Her lip quivered, and she wrapped her voluptuous arms around him, drawing him into an embrace. "I love you too."
***
As I lay in bed that night, my body felt leaden.
I spread my arms out to either side, delighting in the plush doona and pillows surrounding me. Cinnamon wiggled beneath my armpit, turning into the cutest dang loaf I'd ever seen. As with most nights in recent memory, my mind replayed the soft kiss Maria had planted on me before going home, and a warm-fuzzy feeling unrelated to my bedding washed over me.
With sleep calling to me, my thoughts strayed toward the revelations Ellis had dropped on us. According to the information hidden within the royal library, the water-aligned gods had betrayed not only their kin, but humanity itself. If that were true, it made sense why the world at large had shunned anything to do with them—fishing included.
"But to continue doing so, thousands of years later..." I yawned. "It makes no sense unless their betrayal was particularly savage..."
Cinnamon wiggled, and I lay a reassuring hand atop her fluffy back, willing her to go back to sleep.
After the day I'd had, my consciousness started to fade, and I released the worries. It didn't matter what happened all those years ago. I was here now, and I was going to continue living my life. When sleep finally took me, I was smiling, beyond content with the little slice of paradise I'd carved for myself in Tropica.
***
With the arrival of the sun, Corporal Claws, queen of the forest and conqueror of the sky, let out a magnificent yawn.
She rolled onto her back, allowing the sun's rays the privilege of warming her tummy fur. Using both paws, she rubbed her face, finding it both amusing and comforting to shift her malleable cheeks around. After her tum was sufficiently heated and her face was stretched enough for the day to come, she sat up, chirping a good morning to the world.
She immediately felt the need to go find her master and demand scritches, but then she spied the fish frame sitting beneath a tree. She had delivered one to the tree spirit last night, and wanting to space out its meals—and keep the cheeky thing's ego in check—she had kept another for this fine morning. She leaped from her log, hit the ground running, and snatched the frame in her jaws as she passed. The sooner she delivered the fish, the sooner she could see Fischer and receive her deserved pats.
As she jumped from tree to tree, amplifying her passage with small bursts of electricity, something curious caught her attention. She slowed her pace, gazing up at a trail of small insects that buzzed their way beneath the forest canopy. She had seen bees before, but never flying in tandem like the ocean birds sometimes did high above the waves.
Matching their pace, she followed them, too curious to let them go unwitnessed. Before long, the canopy opened up, and she raised both eyebrows as she realized the bees were flying for the lemon saplings.
When she looked up at the trees, her mouth dropped open and the fish fell to the grass.
B2 | 32 - Flight of the Bumblebee
Five weeks earlier, in a land far to the northeast of Tropica, a lone bumblebee followed a terrific scent.
He flew around trees, through grassy meadows, and over a giant wall, the sweet scent's allure inescapable. Every male bumblebee of his species operated on a series of hierarchical needs that could be boiled down to a single goal: the proliferation of the species. For this bumblebee to do that, he needed to attract a queen. To attract a queen, he needed to create his magnum opus—royal jelly.
Not that he was aware of this; he was a bumblebee.
What he was aware of, however, was that he had an instinctive desire to create the sweetest royal jelly that there ever was. Such an act would broadcast his virility and attract potential queens.
So, when the lone bumblebee caught the scent of fresh honey in the air—a fuel source he could use to make his queen-attracting jelly—it was only natural that he went to steal some.
His instincts told him to prepare for a fight; for honey to be exposed to the air meant that something large had broken into a hive. Despite his size, the bumblebee was agile, and he could utilize that speed to requisition some precious honey for his proliferation endeavors.
As he reached the source of the smell, the bumblebee paused and scanned his surroundings—there was no movement, neither predator nor bee. A series of containers sat within an open crate, and an unmistakably viscous liquid dripped down their sides.
Honey.
The bumblebee darted forward, landed on one of the golden trails, and began its feast.
Suddenly, there was movement from above as something large enough to occupy the entire sky appeared. The bumblebee tried to take flight, tried to flee, but his legs got caught in the honey for just long enough to seal his fate. He bumped into the sky-obscuring object and spiraled down to fall amongst the jars.
Darkness engulfed the prison he found himself in.
***
A mercenary captain scanned the surrounding faces as his client checked the last crate loaded onto his wagon by a well-dressed merchant. He had five subordinates with him: four veterans and a fresh recruit.
"What do you think that one holds?" the recruit whispered.
"It's honey," another mercenary answered. "Worth its weight in gold, that stuff."
"Wow…" The recruit's voice was filled with wonder. "The king's coffers are something else…"
"Eyes forward," the captain growled, gazing at the pedestrians traversing the street.
Each mercenary snapped to attention and made themselves busy, recognizing the threat of discipline in his voice.
The recruit, having been sufficiently chastised, made sure to cast a suitably suspicious gaze over the capital's citizens as they passed by. Many of them looked at the cart and guards with curiosity, but upon seeing the butt-chewing, rock-splitting expression on his captain's face, all averted their eyes.
The form of a plump yet nimble insect caught his attention, and he cocked his head, watching a bumblebee make a beeline for the open crate. He smiled at his wordplay, but then the client, who his captain had repeatedly insisted was someone rather important in the royal retinue, picked up the crate's lid and set it down, sealing the bumblebee inside.
"Wait!" the recruit said, taking a step forward.
In the blink of an eye, four swords were drawn. The captain's body grew tense, and the sea of passing faces froze.
"Report!" the captain roared, glancing at the recruit for a fraction of a second before turning to scan his surroundings.
The recruit winced.
"There was a bumblebee in the crate when it was sealed. It won't survive the trip—our client is going over..." he trailed off as he recalled at the last possible moment that the client's overseas destination was a secret. He flicked a glance at the sea of citizens watching before returning his attention to the client and his captain—both of their faces turned murderous, and the latter grabbed him by the collar.
"Stand down," he ordered the others, then pulled the recruit aside.
"Keep moving, everyone," another mercenary yelled to the crowd of onlookers. "There's nothing to see."
The captain shoved the recruit beside the cart, where nobody else could hear. "One more mistake, recruit, and you're out. I won't have you jeopardizing our lucrative contracts with the crown." He pointed at the hammer and pile of nails that had been used to seal each crate after the client approved their contents. "Nail the lid in place and return to your post."
"Yes, sir."
He grabbed the hammer and a nail.
"Sorry, friend," he said under his breath to the bumblebee as he hammered the first nail home.
***
With each passing day, the bumblebee grew more agitated.
Most weren't aware that bees—including this species of bumblebee—had an endogenous clock independent of its environment. Well, the bumblebee wasn't aware of that fact either—it was a bee—but it was aware of the passing of time despite the lack of light.
Each day within the place of darkness made a sense of urgency grow within the insect, pushing it to find a way out. No matter how much it chewed at the walls of its prison, however, the hardwood didn't give way before its small but powerful mandibles.
The world itself continually shifted, sometimes causing the jars to clank together softly. One day, after a couple weeks of confinement, the movement became unbearable. The jars bouncing together in the confined space made such a loud noise that the bumblebee became completely overwhelmed by the cacophony.
The only break in the monotony of continuous black was immediately after a two-day span of violent shaking. There was a creaking noise, and the lid to his prison came free. If the bumblebee had been well, it could have easily escaped. Instead, it merely lay at the bottom of the crate, its nervous system too overburdened to move.
Odd-tasting air flowed into the crate, cool and thick with salt. The head of a giant peered down, and after moving some jars around, the lid was returned, and darkness came with it.
The only consolation to his confinement was the delicious drops of honey lining some lids—even that small reprieve also vexed the bumblebee, however. He had the means with which to craft royal jelly, yet no suitable hole to build a hive in. If the denizens of the world were aware of the bumblebee's plight, those with a shred of decency would unequivocally recognise the injustice. It was, as the common folk would say, a bunch of bullshit.
Alas, the bumblebee was alone, and there were no gods left to witness his predicament.
When his faculties returned, the bumblebee flew up to a jar and vibrated his wings in annoyance. He drank deep of the last drop of honey within his prison, relishing its sweet flavor.
When its prison opened again weeks later, the bumblebee was ready.
There was no more food, and the second the lid made a creaking noise, it prepared for flight. Light streamed in through a tiny crack—the bumblebee darted through it and out into the sun's rays.
He immediately flew headlong into something gigantic.
***
The man's legs trembled. He had been at sea for much longer than expected.
"Damned Zeus and his storms," he muttered, sitting down on a crate and massaging his knees.
He'd dragged his sloop up onto the beach and started unloading the contents. It was a slow endeavor without his land legs. After a brief rest, he looked down at the crate he sat upon. It was made of a dark, reinforced hardwood, and its contents were the most expensive of all his cargo. He'd checked it after the storm, ensuring none of the honey jars had broken—thankfully, they'd survived the tempest.
"I suppose I should check it again..."
He went searching in the sloop for his crowbar, and as soon as he returned, he forced it into the crack between crate and lid. He pushed down on the bar, and nails creaked as the lid came free. The moment it did, something came flying out. He leaned back instinctively as a bumblebee—a damned bumblebee—bumped into him, then fell backward onto the sand. He rolled over, watching his yellow and black assailant as it flew for the trees.
He shook his head, and all he could do was laugh. "Brought low by an insect—what would my master say?"
He got back to his feet and brushed sand from his leathers. He didn't know how long it would take his contact to arrive, so he'd need to set up a camp and get his wares out of the weather.
After removing rings from his waist pouch and sliding them onto his fingers, he resumed unloading crates.
***
The bumblebee's exuberance at freedom was steadily diminishing as he flew from flower to flower.
There was something wrong with the nectar here.
No matter how much nectar and pollen he fed on, his hunger was never satiated. He tried flowers of every color and variety, yet each time, the result was the same. After three days of traveling, he began to grow weary. His usually rapid speed slowed as his body went into maintenance mode. All the while, he tried every new flower, hoping one of them would alleviate his starvation.
Over a week after regaining his freedom, he was sluggishly droning beneath the forest's canopy when he caught the scent of his salvation. At first, the smell was but a whisper on the breeze, but after only minutes of searching, the taste in the air was undeniable.
He had once more found honey.
He trailed its scent, getting closer and closer with every wingbeat, eventually coming to an unguarded hole. The bumblebee landed far from the opening and walked forward silently, not wishing to alert any defenders of his presence. The opening was large, and he crawled inside, his wings twitching from anticipation.
He didn't have far to travel before finding the life-saving goo; mere seconds from the surface, he came across the hive. It was tiny, consisting of only five chambers, but that was more than enough to replenish his energy. As the bumblebee raced forward to the undefended gold, he came face to face with death.
A wasp, even larger than the rotund body of the bumblebee, stared at the intruder with compound eyes. Before the bee had a chance to react, the wasp's wings buzzed in alarm. The bumblebee turned and fled. He had to escape the hole, had to get back to the canopy of the forest before he was swarmed.
Just as the entrance came into view, the first defender arrived.
A wasp zipped inside, the beat of its wings making a low drone and relaying the alarm to any surrounding wasps. With its mandibles open and legs spread wide, the wasp attacked. The bumblebee tapped into its reserves and took flight; he slammed into the approaching insect. Barbed legs grabbed at him, but he tore free and continued out into the open air.
Just in time for the rest of the defenders to arrive.
Too many wasps to count had come in defense of their hive, and each of them lunged. Barbed feet grasped, mandibles closed, and stingers lashed out. His speed slowed as countless wasps attempted to engulf him. The bumblebee's striped body was a blur as he twisted and spun in response, doing everything he could to get away. Just as he made it through the tangle, his flight hitched to the side.
There was a tear in his right wing, and now that he was past the cloud of wasps, pain coursed through his entire body from myriad scratches and punctures.
His hunger forgotten, the bumblebee fled.
With each passing day, the bumblebee grew more delirious. Scholars could spend days, weeks, and possibly even years arguing whether it was possible for an insect to be beset by delirium—unfortunately for the bumblebee, the opinions of scholarly nay-sayers didn't alleviate his condition.
Wasp venom coursed through his circulatory system where a stinger had punctured his side, and given that he'd eaten nothing he could properly digest in weeks, his body hadn't had the chance to cleanse it. With a halting, almost-drunken flight, the bumblebee flew in no particular direction. Lacking a sense of time and space, the bumblebee followed his basic instincts, continuing to move despite the carnage wrought within and without his body.
An unknowable amount of time later, something pierced through the bumblebee's delirium. A scent, as sweet as it was familiar, called out to him.
He bobbed along beneath the canopy, slowly but surely heeding the call.
B2 | 33 - Pollen
The morning sun filtered through the gap in the canopy above the clearing, and the fish frame made a wet slap as its tail smacked the ground.
Corporal Claws let out a loud chirp that, if spoken in common, would have roughly translated to: "what the frack?"
Each day since the tree spirit had somehow incorporated the lemon trees into its being, the saplings had grown a little in size. Today was no different in that regard. What was different, however, was the carpet of white flowers covering each sapling. The clearing was abuzz with insects, and they darted around chaotically, pausing only to collect the yellow pollen peppering each flower.
She picked up the fish and crept forward, not wanting to spook the bees away from their task. As she walked between two of the saplings, the insects' movement engulfed her vision, and she paused, transfixed by the sight. The buzz of so many individual pollinators combined became a cacophony, and she stood there for a long moment, happily losing her sense of self.
But then a root slapped her across the face.
Claws darted her head toward the blue-barked tree, chirping with indignation. The root that had struck her was wrapped around the fallen fish frame, dragging it back towards its trunk. Claws glared her annoyance at the impatient tree. There was no response, so she walked up to it. Reluctantly, she patted its bark, praising it for a job well done.
After all, her master had wanted to grow lemons.
Claws gave a toothy grin as she continued petting the tree, looking back at the flowers and wondering if they would fruit.
***
With sleep still fogging my mind and a rather cute bunny cradled to my chest, I gazed out at the ocean.
The sun hadn't breached the horizon, yet its yellow and orange glow already tinted the world. A fitful breeze kicked up as Cinnamon lifted her head and sniffed the air, her little nose twitching away. I rubbed between her ears with one hand, delighting in the velvety fur I found there.
Together, we watched the sunrise. With our position at the end of the rock wall, it was as if we stood on the ocean; small waves peaked all around us, reflecting the sun's light from countless undulating points. I inhaled through my nose, smiling at the world as the scents of salt and fresh air assaulted me.
"It's a beautiful day," I said, still rubbing Cinnamon's head.
She squeaked her agreement and wiggled backward, settling further into the crook of my arm.
"Did you want to hide in my shirt while I get a coffee and some brekkie? I can take you to Maria's if you wanna spend the day with her in the fields again."
In response, she crawled up my torso, planted a tiny peck on my chin, then crawled into my open collar. I patted her through my shirt as I set off, lured on by the promise of caffeine, a fantasy croissant, and Maria.
"G'day, Fischer!" Sue called as I reached the front of the line.
"'G'day?'" I repeated. "Where did a lovely young lady like yourself hear such a barbaric word?"
"Lovely?" Sturgill, her husband, called from the back of the bakery. "You should hear the words she uses in private. You'd never look at her the same—whoa!"
He cut off as he dodged—or was struck by—the pair of tongs Sue hurled at him from around the corner.
She turned back to me with a venomous grin as Sturgill cackled with laughter from the back. "The poor man has an odd sense of humor. I took pity on him, which is why I agreed to marry him—isn't that right, husband?"
"Yes, dear!" he called back, still laughing.
She rolled her eyes, but a smile had firmly taken root on her features. "What did you want today, Fischer?"
"Has Roger been by yet?"
"I'm sorry to say he has—he came before dawn." Her smile turned conspiratorial. "If I were a betting woman, I'd guess he was trying to stop a certain fisherman from buying his comely daughter a coffee."
"Hmm. This fisherman sounds like an intelligent and proactive fella."
"And humble," she added.
"Naturally." Our eyes locked and the twinkle in hers reflected my own. "I suppose I'll just grab a coffee and croissant for me, then."
"Won't be a moment!"
I stepped back as she became a coffee-slinging blur, and when I spun to take in the sun's beauty, an unexpected visitor approached.
"Good morning, Fischer," George said.
"G'day, mate!" I turned to the woman beside him. "Geraldine, right? How's it going?"
She gave me a tight smile. "I am well this morning, thank you."
No one spoke for an awkward moment, and their body language grew slightly agitated.
Oh, no, I thought. She gets social anxiety too, the poor thing.
Hoping to make the interaction as carefree for them as possible, I let my mouth do its thing. "Lovely day today, isn't it?" I asked, smiling up at the still-rising sun.
"Y-yes," George replied. "Quite pleasant."
"So," I continued, not leaving a second of downtime for them to overthink. "What are you two up to? Have you come to try Sue's famous coffee and croissant combo?"
"Yes." Geraldine nodded, her features firming. "We have, actually."
I arched an eyebrow. "You have?"
"You have?" Sue repeated from behind the coffee machine, her eyes wide.
"Whoa, Sue!" I shot her a smirk. "I didn't take you for the eavesdropping sort."
"Oh, shush." She threw a coffee bean at me. "I can't help but overhear your annoying voice when it prattles away. I was just surprised—the lord and lady of the village have never paid my little bakery a visit."
Geraldine set her jaw. "We mean to rectify that. Is that the line?"
The two farmers in the queue behind me blanched as Geraldine pointed their way.
"It is," I answered.
The married couple shared a glance, nodded, and made their way to the back of the line.
"Good seeing you, Fischer," George said.
Geraldine nodded. "Farewell, Fischer."
It was my turn to feel awkward—they took two steps past me before reaching the end of the line, still very much within arm's length.
"Er, yeah. See you guys.... later?"
Blessedly, Sue came to my rescue. "Coffee and croissant up, Fischer!"
As I collected my brekkie treats, Sue arched an eyebrow at me, and I just shrugged.
"No clue..." I whispered, then shot her a wink. "Good luck."
As I walked past George and Geraldine, I noted the resolute set to their jaws, and when I stepped between the first set of fields, realization struck me.
"Ohhh! They're trying to push past their social anxiety!" I shook my head, feeling a fool for not realizing sooner. "Good for them. I hope it helps them feel more comfortable around people."
Cinnamon's head popped up from my collar. She nodded sagely, agreeing with my assessment.
***
In a sea of common honeybees, a lone bumblebee flew from flower to flower.
The beats of his wings were slow and sporadic, a far cry from his usually steady wingbeats. The simplest answer to his state of being was that he was a long way from home. There was a complicated tale, too: one of a tasty treat, an accidental bee-napping, and a fight for life and death. The bumblebee, being an insect with little to no cognition, was aware of almost none of this, of course.
With a shaky and halting flight, he had been on the verge of his final rest when he caught the scent of something downright delicious in the air—honey. Though the scent of another hive's honey had initially lured him along, something even more enticing soon caught his attention—something that wouldn't require a fight to the death.
Pollen.
Blessed, harvestable pollen. It smelled of home, and following its scent, the bumblebee found a reserve of strength he wasn't aware he possessed. There was a carpet of white flowers spread out before him, and a sea of other bees harvesting pollen from them. Unlike the ground wasps he had encountered, the common honeybees didn't bother him—they were busy collecting the means to feed their hive.
That first sip of nectar had been the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted—better even than the honey he had eaten while confined in the wooden prison. He buzzed with delight, a large portion of his exhaustion falling away like flower petals after pollination.
When his rear legs were filled to the brim with pollen and both his stomachs were filled with nectar, he looked for a nook to create a hive. Once he could create some royal jelly, the bumblebee could recover from his wounded state. More importantly, the royal jelly could attract a mate. Of course, the bumblebee was too far away for the scent of his creation to reach a female of his kind. As always, he was but a bee, so he was blissfully unaware of this tragic detail.
With the promise of survival and the prospect of creating a hive that would attract a mate, the bumblebee took flight, his movement even slower now that his legs were full of blessed pollen. He followed the path of the honeybees, knowing that if he found a nook near their hive, the other colony could serve as a natural defense.
A more devious creature would also consider that the smell of their honey would be much more enticing should a predator come knocking, but this bumblebee just wasn't that sort of insect. Or perhaps he didn't have the requisite brain for devious planning, but the result was ostensibly the same.
The honeybees he followed streamed into a thick trunk, and as he watched their comings and goings, something caught the bumblebee's attention.
Right next to the beehive, set on the grass beside the trunk, was a white box with a tiny hole. No honeybees entered or left the box as the bumblebee made his ponderous approach. The moment he landed on the hole and crawled inside, he knew he had found his new home.
He ambled forward on faltering legs, climbed onto a sheet he could make wax chambers on, and, tapping into his last reserve of strength, began creating his first ever batch of royal jelly.
***
Beneath the midday sun, I took a deep breath.
The fishing club had returned in the morning, and after a couple days of working with her father, Maria had asked for the day off to come fishing. I'd been impressed with Roger's lack of a blow up—he only called me a fool twice during the entire interaction. Well, he had implied it a couple more times, but that was progress.
By our combined efforts, we'd caught four more fish to have for lunch, along with a bunch of undersized ones we let go. The smell of them roasting over the fire made my mouth water.
I'd kept a single juvenile shore fish; it had been bitten by something while Theo reeled it in, and I doubted it would survive. Because of its small size, it had cooked faster than the rest of the fish, and it now sat cooling on the campfire's edge.
Returning my attention to the task at hand, I pressed the head of my small axe down against the tip of some bamboo I'd harvested, and with one last push, a sliver of fibrous material flew off. I glanced down at the bamboo's sharpened end, nodding.
"Excuse me, Fischer," Ellis said.
"What's up?" I asked, peering back at him.
"What exactly are you doing?"
I poked the sharpened end of a bamboo pole into a raw, unscaled fish on the sand before me and lifted it up. "I'm fishing, mate."
He blinked at me for a long moment, and just when I thought he was going to ask another question, he shrugged.
"That's it?" I asked. "You're not going to enquire further?"
Maria snorted. "He's already worked out that asking questions is just going to lead to a frustrating answer, and that he's better off just waiting to see what happens."
"Quite," Ellis agreed, reading his pocketbook.
I leveled a glare at them. "You guys aren't any fun at all."
"In our defense," Theo said. "Your idea of fun is just confusing the frack out of everyone."
"I thought that was everyone's idea of a good time? It's not my fault you guys have terrible taste."
I planted the unsharpened end of bamboo into the sand and started waving it around slowly with the fish high above.
"Okay, I'll bite." Keith's eyes shot between me and the top of the pole. "What on Kallis are you doing?"
"I told you, Keith—fishing."
"Right. What are you fishing for?"
"Birds—well, a bird, I guess."
Danny rubbed his chin. "Wouldn't that be called birding?"
"Don't be ridiculous, mate—that's..." I cocked my head. "Huh. Yeah, that might actually be correct, but I think birding is used by people that like watching birds."
"There are people that like watching birds?" Ellis asked.
Maria rubbed her temples, and when she looked back up at me, I shot her a wink.
Her eyes moved past me, narrowing on something in the distance. "Is that...?"
I turned, and the moment I spied it, a grin split my face.
"Here it comes..."
B2 | 34 - Abduction
The sun high above cast a broad shadow as the pelican circled the sky around my patented fish-on-a-pole technology. It flew around a few more times, then swooped down, landing on the sand gracefully for such an enormous bird.
The pelican looked up at the fish, then back down at me. Its head turned to the side, its inhuman eye weighing me. I slowly lowered the pole, shuffling it backward until I could grab the fish and throw it toward the bird.
I held the fish in one hand as I reached down with the other to grab the cooked fish from the campfire's edge, then threw the raw fish to the bird.
With a snap of its beak, the fish disappeared into the pelican's pouch, and its neck bobbed up and down, the fish vanishing down its gullet. I licked my lips and held my breath as I grabbed the cooked fish from the fire, then held it up in offering. The pelican watched it intently, and with an underhand throw, I threw it to the bird.
It didn't catch it.
The fish landed with a soft thud on the sand as the pelican flapped its wings and waddled to the side. It stepped in close after the sand had settled, peering down at the cooked fish. It poked the flesh with its spiked beak, but when the meat parted, it lost all interest and returned its attention to me.
"It's fish!" I gestured down at the abandoned meal. "You like fish!"
It glanced around at everyone, and seeing no more snacks forthcoming, the pelican turned and took flight.
I let out a sigh. "Picky thing..."
Maria laid a hand on my shoulder. "What is it you said to me once? There's always more fish in the sea?"
"Or birds in the sky," Danny offered, entirely unhelpfully.
"But I don't want just any old bird—I wanna be pals with that one!" I yelled, intentionally petulant.
Maria petted me, nodding her understanding. "You'll just have to keep birding, dear."
***
High above the waves, a pelican soared on unseen currents of air.
After spending the morning hunting for food, he had been on the way back to his roost when a silver gleam caught his attention—the unmistakable flash of fish scales. Naturally, the pelican had gone to investigate.
He now had a belly full of fish and was on an express path to a well-deserved nap.
The weird, two-legged creature was as clumsy as ever, and it had fumbled another delicious meal the pelican's way. It had dropped something else, too, but after investigating, the pelican deemed it inedible. It had smelled good, but lacked even the smallest of reflective scales, which was just unacceptable.
As he caught sight of his nest on the cliff-side overhang he'd called home for as long as he could remember, bile rose in his gullet.
Someone had invaded his home.
He beat his wings, climbing higher into the air to get a better view. Two birds sat among his carefully curated twigs, their brown feathers an anathematic stain on the illustrious nest. They were similar to his wondrous form; both birds had long beaks with large pouches that could expand to scoop up fish. As with their feathers, though, the pouches were a dirty shade of brown.
The closer he got to the two pelicans rearranging his nest, the more incensed he became. By the time he landed beside them, rational thought had been replaced by the immutable desire to evict them and reclaim his territory. He let out a mighty grunt and clacked his bill together, asserting his dominance.
If an outside observer had been present, they would have seen an awkward and gangly battle. Overlarge bills lashed out, webbed feet scrambled for purchase, and feathers flew. After only a short exchange of ineffective blows, the white and black pelican withdrew, overwhelmed by its two adversaries.
If a bird could feel shame, the oceanic pelican certainly did. He retreated back toward the north, intent on finding a place to lick his proverbial wounds.
***
"What are you guys up to for the rest of the day?" I asked, savoring the flavor of the fish we'd just eaten.
"We have some business to attend to, unfortunately," Ellis replied, similarly lounging.
Theo let out a sigh. "I wish we could spend the day fishing, but Ellis is right."
"No worries," I said, then turned to Maria. "You too?"
"Unfortunately. I got the morning off, but if I'm gone this afternoon too, dad might have an apoplectic fit."
"The last thing I want to do is set your dad off—I feel like he's finally coming around to me."
She laughed. "That's one way of putting it, but I think each time you buy us all breakfast is two steps back."
"Ah," Theo said. "In-law troubles—a universal constant."
I sent a smirk Maria's way, but she gazed down at the sand, a furious blush rising to her cheeks. I wondered at the response. She had taken every previous insinuation of us being in a relationship in stride, often joking along.
Theo noticed her reaction and immediately turned a meaning-laden grin my way. I glared at him, but it only made his grin intensify.
Peter, the ever-empathetic chef, took pity on me—or perhaps her. "What will you get up to for the rest of the day, Fischer?"
I smiled at him, pointedly not looking at Maria. "I have a few projects going on that I've been neglecting, so I might take a trip to the smithy and have a little wander afterward."
"All right," Theo said, getting to his feet and brushing sand from his pants. "Shall we, gentlemen?"
We said our goodbyes, and as the fishing club strode away, I turned to Maria. "Are you okay?"
Her hands were intertwined in front of her, and she nodded.
"I'm fine, just have a lot of work to do, is all. I'll see you later."
"Yeah... see ya later."
She chewed her lip for a moment, then darted forward and gave me a light kiss on the cheek. She barely made contact, then turned and walked away, her posture rigid.
I stared after her, wondering at the shift in demeanor.
***
As I pottered around beneath the early afternoon sun, my overactive mind was left pleasantly occupied by the sun's warmth, the cool breeze, and the feeling of sand beneath my bare feet.
I lost myself further as I walked between rows of sugarcane. My vision was engulfed by their swaying leaves and the soft rustle they made when sliding against one another. By the time I reached the smithy, there was a pleasant smile stretched across my face.
"G'day, fellas," I said, stepping inside
Fergus had his goggles on and was removing a bar of red-hot metal from the forge. Duncan was bending a thin piece of iron at the back of the workshop by hitting it with a hammer. At my words, both men's head's shot to me, and a silence sprang into being, then stretched out uncomfortably.
"You guys alright?" I asked, letting out a small laugh. "You look like you've seen a ghost..."
"Sorry, Fischer," Fergus replied, lifting his metal and taking it over to the anvil. "I was in the zone and you surprised me."
"Aye," Duncan said. "Same."
Fergus lifted a small hammer and started striking the still-red metal, focusing on its square angles to smooth it out.
I waited for him to finish, and after a few moments of the hammer falling, he placed the bar back into the forge. He smiled at me as he removed his goggles and gloves, coming over to meet me at his bench.
"What can I do for you?"
"Remember those cages we made a few weeks back? I created six of them."
He gave me an unreadable look that was quickly swept away. "Aye, I remember. Is there something wrong with them? We can always patch—"
I held up both hands, cutting him off. "Nah, mate. They're perfect. I want more."
"More, huh...?" He rubbed his bearded chin. "We're running a bit low on bars, so you might need to wait for the merchant's visit—it's only a few days out."
"That's all good, my man! I don't want to leave you without the materials for your regular jobs, but I'm happy to pay, as always."
"Well, how many do you want to make?"
I gave him a wide grin. "All of them."
His eyes narrowed. "Define what you mean by all of them..."
"Just that," I replied, laughing. "I want to make as many as you have the metal to facilitate."
He shook his head at me with a small smile.
"I'm not sure Marcus will stock enough mesh for all of them. I'm sure he'd be happy to make a custom order if you pay upfront, but that would mean you'd need to wait another month for their delivery."
"That's all good, my man! I'd love to make them as soon as possible, but there's no rush if the materials can't be sourced."
He nodded as he strode back to the forge, putting his gloves and goggles back on before removing the glowing-red bar.
"Is there anything else I can help you with?"
"Hmm. There was something else I wanted to make, but if you're low on materials, it might need to wait until after the merchant's visit."
"Oh? What did you want to create?" he asked, striding back toward his anvil.
"A bloody big barbecue plate, mate."
"... a what?"
"I'll tell you all about it when you have the materials." I grinned and waved goodbye. "See ya later, fellas!"
"Oh. Right. Bye, then..." Fergus said.
"Bye, Fischer!" Duncan yelled from the back of the workshop, giving me an exuberant wave with one hand.
***
I shook my head as I stepped beneath the shade of the forest canopy.
"Everyone's a little off today..." I mused, thinking back on both the smiths and Maria. I breathed a slow sigh, then inhaled the cool, earth-scented air always present between the trees. "Ah well. Nothing to be done about it, I suppose."
The further I strode from the sand flats, the more distant my worries grew, and before I knew it, the sound of constant buzzing came rolling out between the trees' sturdy trunks. I smiled and picked up the pace. When I caught sight of the beehive, both my eyebrows tried to leave my face.
"Wow, you lot are some busy bees today, huh?"
I smirked at myself, watching the stream of bees leaving and returning to the tree they called home. The industrious little insects were always active, but never this much; a veritable cloud of the honey bees milled around the hive's entrance, waiting for their turn to enter the tiny opening.
I couldn't help but feel a little disappointment when I looked down at the hive I'd made. Not a single bee came or went from its entrance; the colony had yet to expand into it.
Carefully stepping around the back of the tree, I made my way to the unoccupied hive and, with the glacial speed of an iceberg, lifted its lid. As I had expected, there was no sign of life within, so I replaced the lid, not wanting to get my scent anywhere on the internal components.
Just as I let go of the wooden lid, I heard a buzzing that stuck out from the symphony of noise the honey bees were making. I cocked my head to the side, just in time for something small, yellow, black, and furious to fly directly at my head.
***
The bumblebee's stomachs were full and his legs were absolutely covered in pollen as he made his way home.
His hive was well and truly under construction—he had even produced the first few drops of his mate-attracting royal jelly. He happily bobbed along within the stream of common honey bees.
But that all changed when he caught sight of his home.
A giant stood behind it, and was actively breaking in. His royal jelly had attracted someone, all right, but it wasn't a mate—it was a predator. The bumblebee saw red and his wingbeats increased in frequency.
He charged, willing to risk it all for his hive.
***
I leaned back from the angry bee, one hand darting up of its own accord. I caught it between my thumb and index finger, narrowing my eyes as I peered down to inspect the clearly irate insect. It was too large to be a regular bee. Its mandibles opened and closed as it turned its head every which way, trying to get a hold of my fingers. It vibrated within my grasp, still making the low buzzing sound that had alerted me to its presence.
"Angry little dude, huh?"
I thought for a moment that it might be a soldier of the regular bees, but it was too large and different to be the same species. I realized it hadn't stung me, so I looked at its abdomen. It was trying to grip me with its legs and barbed feet, but was lacking the requisite stinger to inject me with venom.
"What even are you? A bumblebee?"
The only response was more buzzing and attempts to bite me, so I decided it was time to let go. I softly pitched it away, hoping it would continue flying in that direction now that it was released.
The bumblebee had different ideas.
It turned on a dime and flew straight for my head again, and I ducked out of the way, letting it soar above.
I spun to watch it. The bumblebee spun too, but it didn't have curiosity in its heart; it had only violence in mind. I ducked again, avoiding the tenacious little thing. Ensuring I didn't hurt it, I ran away, giggling the entire time. The bumblebee trailed, emitting the same low drone as I escaped its pursuit.
***
The pelican soared down to a familiar headland, gliding on the wind to preserve its strength.
It may have possessed the brain of a bird, but it still dreamed of justice. After resting, it could attempt to win possession of its nest once more—no, it had to reclaim its nest.
It angled low over the waves, and with a few flaps of its broad wings, the pelican landed atop the headland's raised rocks. It lowered itself and got comfortable—well, as comfortable as it could be without being in a carefully crafted nest of twigs and grasses.
Just as the pelican closed its eyes, something hard grabbed it by the neck.
The pelican tried to escape, tried to kick and bite its attacker, but it was pinned tight. It attempted to grunt and screech, to make a fuss loud enough to scare off its ambusher, but all that came out was a strained growl.
Its attacker, strong as a rock and immutable as the passage of time, dragged it away.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein