CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SEVEN - A HUFFY AFTERNOON

I wasn’t angry, just very... disappointed.

“Don’t pout at me,” Amaryllis said.

I ‘hmphed’ and turned my head away from the harpy. We were both on the foredeck, wind whipping by and making our clothes flip and flop along with our hair and feathers. It was a bit chilly, probably owing to the extra height.

“Don’t ‘hmph’ me either,” she said.

“Fine then,” I shot back, “but that doesn’t mean that I won’t express my disappointment in you.”

“Disap-- Broccoli, we’re on a tight schedule.”

“We could have made some time,” I said. “Or at least we could have done a slow fly-by to wave to all the little buns.”

Amaryllis rolled her eyes, then set her talons on her hips. “If we did that, then you’d just insist that we stop by for a quick bit of tea, then you’d insist on seeing Carrot and her children, and then you wouldn’t be able to say no to the little ones when they asked for another tour of the Beaver. I know you, Broccoli Bunch. You have the self-control of a lemming.”

I puffed my cheeks out. “I do not.”

“Oh yes, you do. Look at me in the eyes and tell me that you wouldn’t insist on holding the first baby bun you saw.”

I turned, refusing to look her way. “I wouldn’t,” I lied.

She huffed. I didn’t even bother translating that one. “Maybe one day we’ll be back around this area, and we can stop in to see Momma and the others. I’ve no doubt that old bun will outlive us all.”

“How can she do that?” I asked.

Amaryllis blinked, then sighed. She’d obviously been taken off-guard by my ignorance again. “Resilience makes you more resistant to things. The general belief is that it acts as a flat percentage to your body’s own capabilities.”

“Uh,” I said. “So I’m fifty-five percent tougher?”

“More like it takes fifty-five percent more energy to, for example, cut you than it would without any resilience. Even at a hundred or more, you’re not uncuttable. Resilience also makes you resist the impact of aging that much better. Again, even at over a hundred you’ll still age, just more gracefully.”

That was super neat! But I was still miffed at Amaryllis. “Even if I had the most resilience ever, it still wouldn’t protect me from the emotional damage of missing out on baby buns.”

Amaryllis groaned. “You’re such an idiot,” she said.

I couldn’t help but giggle. I really was disappointed that we’d flown right past Hopsalot while I was too busy to notice, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. Amaryllis was right about us being on a tight deadline. I couldn’t afford to turn us around now.

I promised myself that I’d return to Hopsalot one day, and that I’d find all of the cute buns and I’d pinch every cheek and hug them all until they squeaked.

Amaryllis gave me a reluctant hug in apology, then she headed off to do... something. There was surprisingly little to do once the ship was on its way. The skies were clear, and Clive said they’d be staying that way for a while. We had two people taking care of the ship, switching out every six hours, and that was enough. My next turn at the helm wouldn’t be until tonight.

I stepped up to the very front of the ship and climbed over the rails to sit next to the figurehead. Looking down, all I could see were my feet dangling over a couple of kilometres of empty air with thick woods way below.

Good thing I wasn’t afraid of heights.

I leaned against the figurehead, then looked up a bit as Orange raised her head and stared. “Just having a sit,” I said. “I have some free time, so I figured I’d just relax a bit.”

I did have one thing I could do. My talk with Amaryllis about skills and such that morning had been pretty productive. I had points to spend and skills to improve.

Matchmaking, Captaining, Hugging Proficiency, and Makeshift Weapons Proficiency. Four skills for four points. The only problem was that of those four, the only one I could spend points on right then and there was Makeshift Weapons Proficiency.

The other three were all over the place, level-wise. It would take a bit to get them to the top of Rank D.

Makeshift Weapons Proficiency

Rank D - 100%

The ability to use non-weapons as weapons. Your ability to find and use makeshift weapons has improved.

One of my staple combat skills, at least when Cleaning magic didn’t do the trick. Way of the Mystic Bun allowed me to move and strike, but it was Makeshift Weapons that really helped smack things down. I think having a more specific weapon skill would probably be stronger, but this skill made up for it with versatility.

I couldn’t be weaponless if everything was a weapon.

Do you wish to increase Makeshift Weapons Proficiency to Rank C for One General Skill Point?

“Yes please,” I said to Mister Menu.

Makeshift Weapons Proficiency was a Stamina-based ability. That meant that at Rank C, it was likely to gain some sort of Mana-based sub-ability, at least if the current pattern held.

Congratulations! Makeshift Weapons Proficiency is now Rank C!

Makeshift Weapons Proficiency

Rank C - 00%

The ability to use non-weapons as weapons. Your ability to find and use makeshift weapons has improved. You may push mana into a non-weapon to increase its durability and strength.

“Oh,” I said as I read the prompt. That sounded really neat! “What do you think, Orange? What kind of effect does pushing magic into a thing have? It says it makes it tougher and stronger, but that’s not super precise. Maybe... Cleaning magic wrapped around the weapon?”

I could already do that, I was pretty sure. My magic control wasn’t that good, but with Cleaning magic it was easy.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Could I do it with Fire mana?

“I think I need to experiment,” I said.

Orange looked at me, then started licking her paws.

“Yeah, you’re right, not now. Especially with fire. Not on the ship.”

I leaned back against the figurehead, then grinned as Orange got up, stretched so that her back was like a banana and her butt was way up in the air, then she hopped down and plopped herself onto my lap.

I scritched her ears while looking out ahead. There was a big fogbank hugging the bottom of a big mountain range. From looking at a few maps I know that those were the Crying Mountains, though some people had called them the Screaming Mountains too.

My ears twitched forwards. I could hear a sound on the wind, a distant call that I couldn’t quite make out. It sounded like wind chimes. Was that the mountain range?

As we moved ahead, and I settled into my spot with Orange warming my lap, I watched the fog slip off the mountain. I couldn’t help but gasp.

There were huge pillars all across the mountainside. I couldn’t tell how big they were, exactly, but they had to be massive if they were visible from all the way where we were. Some of them started halfway down the mountain and yet were tall enough that I was certain they passed the peaks.

I leaned forwards, eyes wide to take it all in.

More crystals appeared, some no bigger than a house, others like huge pillars, and the closer we came, the louder the song grew.

And it was a song. There were calls and repeats, a chorus that returned every so often, and deep bassy, bell-tolls.

The clouds parted around the tallest peak, and I stared at a pillar of teal crystal that reached for the heavens.

I had to turn my eyes away when the sun caught on the crystal and sent bright flashes across the sky.

Orange got up, spun around once, then slumped back down, obviously she didn’t appreciate my twitching. “Sorry,” I said as I rubbed her ears.

“We’re getting close.”

I jumped about a foot in the air, arms windmilling to stay on the rail. Orange jumped off me, then floated in mid-air, relative to the Beaver, and glared back.

“Forgive me,” Bastion said. “I didn’t mean to spook you.”

“You’re so quiet!”

“I flew a little,” he admitted.

I settled back down on the rails and let out a breath. “It’s fine,” I said. “No harm and all that.”

Orange gave me a look. Obviously her petting time had been harmed, which was very important to her.

“What’s up?” I asked Bastion.

“Just came up to see the sights,” he said. “I’ve heard of the Crying Mountains. They’re about as far from Sylphfree as the Nesting Kingdom is, but there’s just not as much of interest this way. Still, I learned about them without ever expecting to see them.”

I nodded and looked back at the mountains. “Are they natural? The big crystals, I mean?”

“No, those are Crys crystals. We might meet some of them at the Grey Wall.”

People who built using giant crystals. That was cool. “And that noise, the song?”

Bastion tilted his head. “I can barely make it out over the wind. You must have better hearing than I. That’s just the sound the crystals make. It sounds like a high-pitched scream. I’ve heard that it’s impossible to visit the Crying Mountains proper without being driven out by the noise.”

“It makes you crazy?”

“I think it’s just much louder by the source.”

Oh, that made sense. It would be kind of hard to sleep while what sounded like thousands of wind chimes were clanging away.

“I’m glad I caught you alone,” Bastion said.

“I have Orange with me,” I said.

“Mostly alone, then. I... this is difficult.”

I turned, one leg slipping over the rail so that I was straddling it. “What is it?” I asked. He seemed a little conflicted, which was strange for Bastion.

“I’ve determined, after much observation and research, that you aren’t a bad person.”

“Um, thanks?”

“Nor are your friends. Awen is a little sheltered, but she’s a kind young woman. Amaryllis has a bit of attitude, but she tends to want to do the right thing. They’re both, in their own way, noble. And I do mean that in the sense that they’re good people.”

“Thanks,” I said, a little less confused. “You’re pretty good yourself.”

Bastion shifted, his posture drooping. I’d never noticed just how straight he made himself. He was about three feet shorter than me--if I counted our heights from the tip of my ears--but when he slouched he became much smaller.

“Broccoli, I know you’re a good person, but some of the things you’ve done... You’ve all but admitted that you have broken cores before.”

“And that’s bad,” I said.

“It’s... it’s not good. You have extenuating circumstances. A quest from the World itself. There can’t be a better reason to do what you have, but I still suspect that there are some people in Sylphfree who would react negatively to the news, regardless.”

“Even if we tell them about the quest?” I asked.

“Even then. Worse, some might think that by removing you, the World might give that same quest to others in order to accomplish its goals.”

I settled back. “Oh.”

“As much as it might hurt my career, I won’t be telling anyone. I would like to think that I’m an honourable sylph first and foremost, but I think we need to be ready to deal with some difficult questions.”

“Like make up a story? I could lie to people, tell them that it’s all some big conspiracy.”

“Maybe we can all pretend that you’re mute so that you let others do the convincing?” he tried.

I huffed. “I’m not that bad.”

“I should have approached Amaryllis first,” he muttered.

What was with people today?

***