Joe led Gruff away from the docks and towards the town, ignoring the amused glances of the onlookers. Their next stop was Eggins' General Store to acquire some canvas. As they entered the store, the bell above the door tinkled softly. Eggins, the store's owner, looked up from his ledger, a frown creasing his forehead as he saw Gruff.
"Joe," he began, his eyes never leaving Gruff, "You know animals aren't allowed in the store." Joe just shrugged, "Eggins, he won't be any trouble, promise." Eggins gave a doubtful glance at Gruff, who was already eyeing the barrels of apples near the entrance. Joe quickly made his purchase, a large piece of sturdy canvas, perfect for spreading out the coffee beans. He ducked outside to throw it in a wheelbarrow.
As they were about to leave, a loud crash echoed through the store. Eggins, rushing to investigate, found Gruff happily munching on an apple, surrounded by a few spilled barrels and a sea of apples. "What is this beast doing." Eggins roared, turning a shade of red that would make a ripe apple jealous.
Eggins was poised to blow a gasket, his face a unique shade of red that even a sunset would envy. Gruff, unperturbed, continued munching on the apple, his placid gaze meeting Eggins' fuming stare.
Just as Eggins was about to launch into a tirade, something unexpected occurred. Gruff's eyes seemed to shimmer with an inner light, a strange aura beginning to emanate from him. It was subtle at first, a faint glow that washed over him, but it quickly intensified, an ethereal light engulfing him.
Eggins, mid-rant, froze as the aura flared, the sheer pressure of it making him stagger back. His face paled, a stark contrast to the red hue from earlier.
Just then, Joe walked back into the store, having secured his purchase. "Oi, what's all the commotion about, Eggins?" he asked, taking in the sight of Gruff in the apple sea and Eggins' pale face. Gruff merely shrugged at him, an apple core held delicately in his mouth. Joe's brows knitted together in confusion as he turned to Eggins, who seemed to have lost his ability to speak, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly.
With a noncommittal shrug, Joe patted Gruff on the head, "Alright Gruff, let's get going." As they exited the store, Joe chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "Eggins is one odd bloke," he mused aloud, attributing Eggins' unusual behavior to his quirky nature.
As they walked back from Eggins' store, canvas in tow, Joe's mind began to wander to their coffee farm cultivation. He mulled over the simplicity of using a tarp for drying the beans - the so-called 'dry method.' It was a straightforward process: spread out the harvested coffee cherries on the canvas under the sun, turn them occasionally to ensure even drying, and voila, the beans would be ready for the next stage.
On the other hand, there was the 'wet method,' which involved soaking the cherries in water and separating the beans from the pulp. This method required quite a bit of water and was labor-intensive. And yet, it was said to produce beans with a cleaner, brighter taste.
Joe scratched his head, unsure of which method to choose. His gaze fell on Gruff, who was still munching on a stolen apple, seemingly without a care in the world. "What do you reckon, Gruff?" Joe asked out loud, to which Gruff responded with a soft bleat, not bothering to look up from his treat. Joe chuckled. "Well, simplicity does have its appeal," he mused, deciding to stick with the dry method for now. After all, there was something impressively grounded and authentic about letting the sun and wind do most of the work.
Although their preparations were currently focused on the dry method, he couldn't deny the allure of the wet method. It was said to bring out the best flavors in coffee beans, after all. A slow smile spread across Joe’s face as an idea took root. He could put in a few orders in advance for the equipment needed for the wet method. It was always good to prepare for the future. He chuckled to himself, imagining Gruff's reaction to seeing the large water tanks.
With Gruff in tow, Joe headed to his next stop - Cohen's Smithy. As he strolled down the dirt road, he pondered the list of parts needed for the pulping machine for his coffee farm. Pulping, an essential step in processing coffee beans, involved removing the skin and pulp from the coffee cherry. This would leave only the seed, which would be dried and eventually roasted.
As he pushed open the warehouse door, the heavy smell of oil and metal greeted him. Cohen, a burly man with a bushy beard, was busy organizing his shelves, the clatter of metal on metal echoing in the large space. "Oi, Cohen, need your expertise here mate," Joe called out, waving a piece of parchment with the list of parts.
Cohen, wiping his hands on a dirty rag, ambled over, squinting at the parchment. He scratched his beard thoughtfully, his gaze flicking between Joe and Gruff. "Pulping machine, eh? That's a first." he asked, a gleam of curiosity in his eyes.
Joe shrugged, a casual grin on his face. "Just a little something I'm working on."
Their conversation was interrupted by a loud clatter as Gruff knocked over a pile of gears, which rolled in every direction. Joe sighed, rolling his eyes. "Gruff, mate," he said, shaking his head, "Let's leave the chaos for the coffee farm, eh?"
Cohen merely chuckled, already pulling out parts and jotting down numbers. Joe knew he had come to the right place. His coffee farm dream was starting to take shape, one chaotic step at a time.
At the same time, Beth, was gathering materials for the bakery. Her eyes skimmed over rows of bolts, and screws, a list clutched tightly in her hand.
Gruff, who ran over to Beth, was creating his usual ruckus in the store. Picking up a strip of fabric from one of the bins, Beth approached Gruff. "Alright, Gruff, you need to behave. We can't have you causing a commotion in every store." she admonished gently. With a deft hand, she tied the strip of fabric around Gruff's head, turning him into a pseudo-ninja goat. She stepped back, examining her work, and burst into laughter. "Now be still as the mighty warrior shinobi of the Southern Continent."
Gruff, looking rather comical with the fabric tied around his head, seemed to understand his new role. He bleated softly, lowered his head, and dutifully followed Beth around the store, causing significantly less havoc. Beth couldn't help but shake her head, a smile on her face. Despite everything, she was glad for Gruff's company and his antics.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of activity. Joe and Gruff spent their time setting up the canvas in an open area on their farm, ready for the coffee harvest. Joe and Gruff next tackled the thriving coffee plants. Armed with baskets in hand and the sun slowly creeping up, they diligently stripped the few growing plants of their cherries. The air was filled with the earthy scent of the coffee plants, punctuated by Gruff's occasional bleats and the rustle of leaves as they moved from one plant to another. It was hard, manual work, and yet, there was something joyous and fulfilling in the process. Each plucked cherry brought them one step closer to their dream of their very own coffee, brewed from beans grown, picked, and processed by their own hands.
Joe and Gruff began to spread the coffee beans out on the tarp to dry. It was a slow process, ensuring that each bean was spread out evenly to facilitate proper drying. Just as they were finishing, two young goats from the herd wandered over, their curious eyes fixed on Joe. He paused, looking at the two new arrivals, and then a slow grin spread across his face.
"Well, aren't you two a sight for sore eyes," Joe chuckled, crouching down to their level. He extended a hand, letting them sniff it curiously. "I suppose you two are planning on sticking around, eh?" he mused aloud, receiving a pair of enthusiastic bleats as a response. "Alright then, you need names," He decided, looking at the two goats thoughtfully.
The one in the middle was a bit larger than the others, with a stout body and a rugged look about him. He reminded him of a mate from back home, stout lad with a nose for trouble. "Billy," Joe declared with a nod, "You look like a Billy."
As for the smallest one, it had a certain sparkle in its eyes that caught Joe's attention. It was the runt of the litter, but there was a sort of tenacity about it that made Joe smile. "And you," He said, turning to the smallest goat, "I think I'll call you G.O.A.T. – the Greatest of All Time."
Gruff, having finished his snack, looked at the two new 'disciples' and bleated. The other two bowed low, accepting their masters titles.
It seemed their little coffee farm was quickly turning into a goat sanctuary.
###
Just as the sun began to set, back in the bustling Capital, a flash of light erupted in an unassuming alley. There was a brief moment of disorientation as Hiroshi and Akio reappeared, the result of teleportation from one of Hirsoshi's old relics. They stumbled slightly, their senses still adjusting to the sudden change of scenery. The relic in Hiroshi's hand crumbled to dust and he frowned.
"Hiroshi," Akio grumbled, clutching his head, "Your relics suck. That one took a lot out of me."
Hiroshi merely chuckled, clapping a supportive hand on Akio's shoulder. "You just need more practice," He joked, his eyes already scanning their surroundings. The Capital was still very much alive, with lanterns illuminating the streets and laughter and chatter echoing into the night.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Akio vomited on the cobblestones and gave him the finger.
"Well I could have left you strung up for the masses." Hiroshi said.
Akio hissed. "I told you, I was ambushed, likely by the 'First Among Equals' cult."
Suddenly, the sound of clattering armor echoed in the alleyway, causing both men to straighten up. A troop of royal guards appeared, their expressions stern under their polished helmets. The lead guard stepped forward, his eyes scanning Hiroshi and Akio with a suspicious gaze. "On the orders of his Majesty, the King, you are to come with us," he announced, his tone leaving no room for argument. He extended an arm, gesturing toward the direction of the palace. With a brief glance at each other, Hiroshi and Akio exchanged resigned looks. Wiping his mouth, Akio stood up straight, and the two followed the guards, each step bringing them closer to an unforeseen audience with the king.
The King did not tolerate failure.
They were marched through the town and Hiroshi took a minute to admire the sight. The town's architecture was a majestic blend of might and mirth, a testament to the resilience of the people and their unbowed spirit. Buildings of stone and wood lined the streets, their rooftops glistening under the moonlight. The residents had created a fortified city within the basin. Most cities were built on the top of a hill, but not Stonebrew Haven. It was a bustling metropolis built with the castle at its lowest point. A might lake sat around the castle itself, the drainage point for the surrounding hills, before it fed into the local water table.
The guards led Hiroshi and Akio through the winding passages of the castle, under arches of stone that echoed with the sound of clanking armor. Their path gradually descended, leading them to the heart of the castle. Old lines of damage that had been rebuilt through mighty cultivator's talents showed the way.
As they neared the throne room, the air grew heavy with anticipation. The room was grand, built from the basin's heart stone – a rock known for its strength and mystic properties. The walls were adorned with intricate carvings, depicting glorious battles of yore and the rise of the town from its rocky grave. At the end of the room, on a raised platform, sat the throne – a commanding chair made from the same heart stone, polished to a smooth shine.
King Juryoku the Gravity Sovereign, sat the throne. He ruled over the land with an iron fist and the weight of the world. His cultivation technique, the Gravitational Edict, allowed him to control the forces of nature, bending the gravity to his will and making him a formidable adversary.
Akio swaggered into the room, his gaze locked with the king's. He stood tall, his body language oozing confidence as he began to tell his tale.
"Your Majesty," Akio began, his voice echoing throughout the grand throne room, "There's a town that's defied your rule. It's a rebellious thorn in your otherwise flawless kingdom." He paused for effect, his gaze flicking over the faces of the courtiers, before turning his attention back to the king. "I was ambushed there by a band of thirty cultivators. I might have fought them off if not for Hiroshi's incompetence."
A gasp echoed through the room at his words, and a murmur of disbelief spread among the courtiers. "They were skilled, Your Majesty," Akio continued, his voice carrying a note of respect for his adversaries. "Most likely, they were shinobi from the southern continent, or perhaps even servants of the Devilish Rogues. Still I might have bested them if I wasn't burdened with a goose with clipped wings."
His words hung in the air, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. The King's face remained impassive, but the flicker in his eyes hinted at the storm of thoughts brewing in his mind. The throne room was silent, save for the echo of Akio's words, as they waited for the King's response. The defiance of the town and the audacity of the ambush was clear - a challenge to the King's rule. The next move was his.
With a swift motion of his hand, the King signaled to his courtiers and guards. His voice, carried with the weight of his royal authority, echoed in the majestic throne room, "Leave us." There was surprise etched on the faces of the nobles, but they knew better than to question the King's decision. The room quickly emptied, the glamourous gowns and shining armor becoming a receding wave of colors. The heavy doors of the throne room closed with a solid thud, leaving Akio and Hiroshi alone with the King. The grand room, moments ago filled with whispers and gasps, was now eerily silent.
Upon the throne Juryoku was an older, grizzled version of Akio with the same sharp eyes, the same stubborn jawline. He looked the pair over, his gaze piercing and unsettling. "I'm aware of your failure," he stated bluntly, his words reverberating around the chamber. His focus landed heavily on Akio, bearing down like a weight, his dao pressing out despite the stern control of the King. "Akio, you will require a leave of absence." His tone was definitive, not a mere suggestion but a command. The king's gaze lingered on Akio a moment longer, something indecipherable flickering in his aged eyes. "Time for reflection and regrouping is invaluable," he added, a hint of wisdom softening his otherwise stern countenance.
Akio nodded, offering a wry grin that belied the gravity of the situation. "Like the pleasure house in the north, Your Majesty?" His light-hearted jest echoed off the stone walls, falling flat in the grand chamber.
The King's gaze hardened, his forehead creasing into a frown as he looked down at Akio from his heart-stone throne. "No," he stated, his voice resolute and final. "You will need to leave the kingdom." His words hung in the air, a palpable reminder of the seriousness of this decree. The throne room was eerily quiet, the King's decree echoing off the stone walls and heavy silence draping the room like a shroud.
"For how long?" Akio asked, his tone unbelieving.
The King's brow furrowed, a severe look settling on his face. "Until the shame of being beaten by a local peasant is erased," he responded sternly. He paused, letting his gaze directly meet Akio's. "I imagine ten to twenty years should do it," he finished, his voice echoing around the chamber with finality. A heavy silence fell over the room, the magnitude of the King's words hanging thick in the air.
"But, Your Majesty!" Akio protested, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice. He took a step forward, his fists clenching at his sides. But before he could make his plea, the King's dao filled the room. It was like a falling meteor, an overwhelming force of authority and power that was impossible to ignore. The very air seemed to shudder under its weight, and a sudden gust of wind tore through the throne room, causing banners to flutter and dust to swirl. Akio staggered, the sheer intensity of the King's dao threatening to topple him over. His eyes widened in shock, his protest dying on his lips. With a last glance at the King – his face stern and unyielding – Akio turned on his heel and fled the room, the heavy thud of the throne room doors echoing behind him. The silence that followed was deafening, the King's final words still lingering in the air: "Until the shame of being beaten by a local peasant is erased."
The King's gaze flicked to Hiroshi. Hiroshi had remained kneeling throughout the dramatic exchange, his form rigid but not subservient, his eyes revealing a calm defiance. He looked up, meeting the King's gaze steadfastly. His silence was not one of fear, but of discernment, his mind ticking through potential strategies and outcomes. Hiroshi was a seasoned cultivator, his stoic demeanor belying a mind sharp as a blade, ever analyzing, ever ready. The King’s stern gaze bore into him, as if attempting to pierce through his thoughts. But Hiroshi remained unyielding, his calm gaze holding steady against the gravity of the King’s stare. He was not one to be easily rattled, not even by the great Gravity Sovereign.
The King sighed deeply, his gaze fixed on Hiroshi. "Hiroshi, someone must take the fall publicly, old friend," he lamented, his voice holding a note of deep regret. The words hung in the air, a sobering reminder of the state of affairs that had befallen their kingdom. The gravity of the situation was not lost on Hiroshi.
He nodded in quiet agreement, a somber expression etching onto his weathered face. "Have things really fallen that far," he murmured, the question more to himself than the King. His voice echoed in the grand chamber, a reflection of the heavy atmosphere that had settled over them. The King merely grunted in response, the weight of his rule resting heavily on his broad shoulders.
The King, with a heavy sigh, rose from his throne and gestured for Hiroshi to accompany him. Together, with the quiet echo of their footsteps bouncing off the high ceilings, they traversed the long, ornately decorated corridors of the castle. Their destination was a room hidden deep within the castle, a place known to few.
As the King unlocked the heavy door, a faint aroma filled the air, an intoxicating blend of rich, earthy notes and a hint of something... magical. This was the kingdom's Elixir Catalyst stockroom, where the kingdom's precious stockpile of freeze-dried instant Catalyst. The room, once brimming with bags upon bags of the sacred granules, was now alarmingly bare.
"We're nearly out," the King stated, his eyes lingering on the dwindling supply with a hint of dread. The usual jovial twinkle in his eyes was replaced by a solemn glint, the gravity of their predicament reflected clearly in his gaze.
"The grove?" Hiroshi asked.
With a heavy heart, the King led Hiroshi to another part of the castle that many had forgotten over the years. In the heart of the castle lay an ancient grove, a secret sanctuary of coffee trees cultivated by generations of the royal family. Yet, where there once stood a lush oasis, filled with the vibrant green of flourishing coffee trees, there now lay a pitiful sight. The grove was withering, the once robust coffee plants standing feeble and frail, their leaves a sickly yellow.
"Our Elixir Catalyst," the King said, his voice barely a whisper, "is dying." The sight of the withering grove, once the pride of the kingdom, felt like a body blow. Hiroshi, ever the stoic, swallowed hard and nodded, his gaze hardened with determination. The gravity of the situation had indeed sunk in.
Hiroshi set his shoulders, his gaze unwavering as he addressed the King. "I shall leave you to the weight of your duties then, old friend," he stated, his voice calm and steady.
The King, caught off guard, looked at Hiroshi, a bitter smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "And where shall the storm goose fly?" he asked, his eyes reflecting a mixture of sadness and amusement.
Hiroshi shrugged, the faintest ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Anywhere I suppose, birds are not meant to bear heavy weight after all," he replied, his voice light, almost teasing. The hint of humor in his words did nothing to lessen the gravity of the situation, but it brought a momentary respite, a brief respite from the impending doom that loomed over them.
As Hiroshi prepared for his leave, he gathered his sparse belongings into the portable dimensional sack. The sack, a small pouch of enchanted cloth, was capable of storing much more than its outward appearance suggested. His steps were measured and steady as he climbed the road leading out of the capital. The sight of the kingdom slowly receding in the distance filled him with a mixture of longing and determination.
Turning his gaze toward the town of Chicory Harbour, he uttered softly, "And how did the young master end up tied to a boat..." A hint of scepticism tugged at the corners of his mouth, his eyes gleaming with suspicion. He did not believe Akio's fanciful story for a second. It was too convenient, too carefully constructed to be a simple coincidence.
"I know I smelt it." he mused aloud, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. His plans solidifying, Hiroshi turned to continue on his journey. As he did so, golden light flared around him, bathing him in a warm, ethereal glow. Lightning cracked overhead, and Hiroshi set a new path.
Back in the castle, a solitary figure watched the storm from a high tower. The figure, clad in royal robes adorned with intricate emblems stood still as a statue. A gust of wind blew through the tower windows, making the heavy tapestries billow and the flames in the hearth flicker wildly. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely discernible over the howling wind. "Find the way forward for us, old friend," he murmured, his voice echoing through the hollow tower. "What was it they say about geese and golden eggs?"