One Moo'r Plow

Book 1: Chapter 8: Human affairs.

Although excitement coursed through my veins, reality slapped my face. Much as I wanted to immediately study and discern all of the different monster plants, I could not abandon my other farm work. And so, with great disappointment within myself, I instead spent the morning stretching hides across my roof. Or rather, Ishila did, given that she was the lighter of the two.

I tossed her fresh hides and carried materials as the orc girl clambered about and nailed the material down. Shingles, they were not, but I instructed her to fasten them in the same pattern. And go heavy on the nails.

Dont nail them, I called up, only half jokingly. Knit them to the roof.

It took her a few moments to get the joke, and I received only a small guffaw in return.

Gol stubbornly proved to be as unhelpful as ever. Slouched, hungry, and slacking off, the beast provided very little assistance. Instead, it seemed content to grace everyone with his presence and deemed that sufficient.

It looked butt-ass ugly when it was finished, but we hadnt nailed those hides up there for looks. They were there to do a damn job, and ensure I never had to spend another night tossing out pans again. With that done, noon was nearly upon us, and I took stock.

I wanted to go and pore over the plants. By every fiber of my being, I really did. They were new. Fascinating. The first truly magical thing I had encountered in this world. And yet I had so many other tasks that clamored for my attention.

More fields to break open. A task doubly important to me now, given that I would need even more space if I wanted to grow more monster plants. I needed space to safely experiment, I vaguely thought, The farmstead needed a pasture, shed, barn, and feed for animals. Actual animals. By the gods, I wanted some fresh dairy.

Just the thought of fresh milk made me salivate. Okay that might be the minotaur part more than my actual taste for it. But who cared?

For now, although I rejected the idea, and railed against it, it was time for another trip to Hullbretch. For several reasons.

With a sigh, I turned to Ishila.

Take your choice of tool, and just keep clearing the second field as long as you can.

I could see the smirk on the lass face as she glanced over the house where I kept my horde of magical weapons.

I must admit Ive had my eye on a few of those tools, She grinned. Ill have to test several of them, mmhmm.

Dont do anything stupid, I grumbled and stomped off towards the cart, pouch of coins already tucked away.

I make no promises! Came her reply, shouted at my back. Children and their love for new toys.

There was little to remark upon the journey as I pulled the wagon down the gradual slope and towards Hullbretch. But one thing did interest me. There were scores of riders that traveled in the same direction as I, and many of them were heavily armed. No flags announced their allegiance, and crests upon their armor meant little to me.

From these, I garnered wary looks but was left largely alone. A few asked for directions, though I felt they already knew their destination.

Hullbretch fairly crawled with these people. I will admit, they disproportionately gathered around the tavern, but still. The influx of mounted riders would see a great boom for the stables and inns, I supposed. Perhaps trouble on the side, as always followed these sorts of rough men and women. But I was not here to concern myself in their matters. I had need to supplies, and little else.

At least, until Raffnyk caught sight of me. Following courtesy, I parked my wagon and trudged over to where the human sat outside an inn. The sweat on my clothes was obvious, I realized as I wiped some away. I was in decided contrast to the humans worn, yet clean garments.

Garek. He nodded, and I grunted in return. You have come at an exciting time, it seems.

So you say. Enlighten me.

The word has spread of the infestation, and the presence of a Apex Beast. A purge has been declared, and many of my order and some adjacent have seen fit to gather here in preparation.

Hmmm. I nodded along, eyes squinted into the harsh afternoon light. The streets moved around us, and the smell of ale wedged its stench into my nostrils. Celebrating?

No. He grimaced. Fortifying themselves through liquid courage, most likely. Your presence at a purge is mandatory, should you join our order.

Huh. I take there are those who wish to be elsewhere?

A question that went unanswered.

I make it a point of habit not to speak ill of my fellow riders. He smiled ever so painfully.

A good habit. My respect for the man climbed a notch at that. And yet, these people would be passing through my land and past my farm towards Redtip Peak.

Of which there seem to be many. Surely not all of them are perfect.

As if fate itself chose to illustrate my point, an orc chose to drunkenly grace us with his presence.

Stonefang. I forced a smile and stumbled upon his name. The orc guffawed, dropped into another chair unbidden, and belched loudly.

The bull speaks! He declared, to his own great amusement. Truly, a leader amongst your race.

Do not insult my guest. Raffnyks eyes were suddenly narrowed, tone harsh.

But I am merely foisting a compliment, for he is the most intelligent taur I have clapped eyes upon.

The orc was drunk, that much was plain. I could smell the ale in his breath, see it in the way he slouched. As such, I didnt fully take what he spoke or implied seriously. Alcohol had ways of making men and women say things they should not. Yet, his comments did not go unremarked by me.

Perhaps then, you would argue my case before a gathering of my race. I smiled thinly. Foist your wisdom before my peers and argue that I should lead them, since you see such wisdom in me.

Whatever point I had tried to make was lost upon the drunken shores of his mind as the orc just snorted and hacked up spittle.

When will be fuckin go a kill those monsters on the peak, Raffnyk? Im getting bored of waiting. He demanded, words slurred.

An excellent thing then, that your boredom alone does not determine our time and course of action.

You sayin I couldt lead?

Indeed, Stonefang. I would trust you to lead me to the nearest bar or brothel. No further.

Ouch. There was some tension between these two, that much was obvious.

Any further quarrels were interrupted as a man emerged from the building and walked up, wringing his hands.

Good sers, He nodded, and received the orcs spittle near his shoes as a reply.

Good day, innkeeper. Raffnyk nodded politely. How can we be of service?

Yes, good day. Beautiful day. Wonderful day. I agree, ser. He muttered, a thin rail of a man who looked as if he wished to physically be anywhere else right now.

You did not come here to discuss the beauty of the weather, Raffnyk encouraged. Or did you?

Nay, ser. He muttered. Was just bout to say some of your boys made a mess of my rooms, broke some of my things and was wonderin who would pay for it all?

Pay? Stonefang snarled. You ungrateful wretch, were here to keep your lousy hide alive. Men of-

The look on Raffnyks face could have killed. The orc shut his mouth and slouched back, rubbing at his temples. With another glare, the human reached into his cloak and withdrew a small pouch of coin.

How much to cover the damages? Do you have any descriptions of who caused what?

Not much, generous ser. SImply a few beds, a few barrels of ale that were smashed open, and merely a table or two.

Disgruntled was the look upon the human riders face as he counted out the coin and handed it to the innkeeper.

For your troubles. He gestured and handed him a little extra. We would appreciate it if word of this did not spread.

The thin man stammered his thanks, nodded, and hurried back inside as the orc spat upon the cobblestones once more.

You're soft, Raffnyk.

I am your commander, and you will address me as ser, or I will make it known why you are under my command with my blade. The words were cold and hard, his kind tone gone. You disgrace our name, orc. You and your cronies.

We risk our lives for these ungrateful wretches and get not so much as a free drink. The orc spat back. Ser.

Good Queen Elith already pays all your debts, man! The human exclaimed. What need have you of something so petty?

Sounds like a good deal to me. I shrugged, in an awkward situation where I had little context as to what was happening. I could piece together the vague clues, but the larger context eluded me.

Of course the cow agrees with you, ser. Stonefang growled, expression tight. What would he know of respect and dignity?

If you wish to insult me, perhaps be more original. I tossed back, largely unbothered. If I am a cow, what are you then, a goblin?

The orc was on his feet and had cleared steel from its scabbard before Raffnyk grabbed his collar, dead hard look upon his face. I sat warily as the orc fumed, hate in his eyes.

You walked right into that one, Stonefang. He spoke, tone flat. You made it about race and did not like what you found in return.

The orc gave no reply, yet his expression spoke louder than words. Mayhaps I had said the wrong thing. But he had provoked first. Still, that was a childish way to look at it.

Walk with me, Garek. The human abruptly stood and gestured. Given the choice between his company and the crude, drunken orc, I chose the obvious option. I would find little of use sitting here. I joined the human as we walked through the streets of Hullbretch. Although I fairly towered over him, the man did not feel small next to me.

After a while, he sighed, a deep and tired sound.

The situation is not ideal, Garek. I will admit, I think of you decently so far, but I do no not seek your company entirely out of friendliness.

Speak, then, I rumbled. What do you seek from me?

Your sword arm. He admitted bluntly. As it stands, we amass a force to go and slay the Apex, yet we will have to wait a significant time longer. Elite units that could accomplish the task are a long ways into the horizon, and every day we wait is boredom to my men and women. They grow restless, and the townsfolk do not particularly want us here. Some entertain themselves with hunting lower leveled monsters, most merely lounge about town and get sucked into trouble.

And then there is the good baron, He grimaced. Ironmoor has no love for my order, and all know it.

There is trouble?

None yet, but it is a matter of time.

He nodded his head to the side, and I followed his vision to behold several green-clad men that stood at another corner. Hard looks in their eyes and hands close to their weapons. The barons men, I gathered.

You served on the frontier. Regardless of what anyone makes of your leaving, that fact alone has set your honour and worth in stone. You have likely faced monsters such as this and lived to tell the tale. Should you lend us your might, I swear it will not go unrewarded.

I smiled and shook my head.

I am but a simple farmer these days, Raffnyk. My glory days have passed, and my bloodlust has been saked by oceans of carnage too deep for any man.

The man nodded solemnly.

Shame. I would have liked to give battle at your side. But your choice remains your own. I ask another favor of you then.

Ask and you will receive.

That you might allow some of my men to stay the night at your farm as they scout, should they require a place to rest. You will be fairly compensated for their shelter.

I paused then. The monster plants. I would have to ask Ishila about how people would react and prepare accordingly.

I only ask that they do not disturb my crops or farm, then.

The human nodded.

On mine honour.

We parted ways, shortly after. I had many things to be done, and a late day to chase me all the way. It was hours later when I finally left Hullbretch again, my wagon loaded with wood, proper tools to work said wood, more wire than I had initially bought for fences, and entire gate and hinges, actual cheese and herbs to make my food have taste, and a plethora of other things. I was significantly lighter on gold, but heavier on knowledge.

Trouble brewed in Hullbretch, and I wanted to be prepared when it boiled over.