I’m not a fitful sleeper, no matter what ill winds blow my way. The actual wind on the other hand woke me in the middle of the night, a winter wolf gnawing at my ears. No status effects came with it, but it was not pleasant being woken up. Staring into the night sky, the large, white moon shifted in its path. Where it used to cross west to east through the center of the night, over the weeks it began to drift towards the northern horizon. Bone chilling cold is not a sensation I am averse to, but I am very much a warm sleeper. Grumbling at the weather, I headed inside the hut.
I can’t believe I made it through all those weeks without once sleeping in that shack until then. Actually it is very easy to believe, not only having lived it, but considering how uncomfortable the cot felt as well. It was a slab of wood with straw available for cushioning. I had just been sleeping in the grass, but there’s a difference between nature and man-made objects. Manmade objects are built for a purpose, they should vastly surpass their natural counterparts! There’s no one to complain to if the grass isn’t soft, but I can blame someone for making an uncomfortable bed! Doubly so since the turf outside felt rather downy.
Well they were just complaints for the sake of complaining. I fell asleep after tiring myself with insulting the bed.
Murmuring in the morning, still grumpy about being woken up from pleasant slumbers, it was getting cold enough to keep the fire in the shack going constantly. A stone pit in the center of the room, at first I’d been wary of the house burning down; the fact that the beds were covered in straw did not help. I made a few changes during my stay, but essentially the structure of it didn’t change. After my weeks of observation I realized that the chance of a fire breaking out were slimmer than they seemed. That being the case, I made sure I fire, or at least a substantial amount of embers remained at night. Now that the chill of fall seemed to encroach upon the hut, it was time to keep the fire burning.
To keep the heat going, there needed to be fuel, and for more fuel, it seemed like it was time to head out with Ross and Troy again. We headed out together one or two times after the Poran left, it seemed like it was about time again. Personally I didn’t need any more firewood, several logs that split after being felled made their way into my inventory, and I also possessed large amounts of branches. Goblin bones were apparently flammable as well, but I wasn’t going to use those.
The real reason I wanted to set out was because I only had a few weeks left in Salt Village. Haa~, those grandiose dreams of making money for the village to revive it, the world has denied my application for a city-building plot. Dreams of jingshi were only that. I did try making containers of my own for concocting, but nothing in the area was resistant enough to the potions. A marginal amount of materials were lost seeping into some self made pottery. The primitive glazes I barely recalled either were done incorrectly, or just didn’t work for alchemy, probably the former. So like a Gaibara’s Jar, the only thing for the dream to do was shatter.
Though unable to solve all the village’s problems, I could at least make the effort to help ease the coming winter. There weren’t a great deal of long-term benefits I could set up in such a short period of time, so I just had to do what I could. Spotting the brothers, I headed over to join them.
“Ah, Twig! You’re finally free! I can’t believe you’ve been making us haul this stuff by hand again.” Troy called excitedly.
“Oi, can you even be called a lumberjack if you let a twig carry the trees?”
As usual the three of us bantered on our way through the forest. Their chosen path slowly changed as they went out so as to discover new trees. Coming to a younger tree, Ross and Troy stopped. Ross presented me with a simple timber axe, an extra I hadn’t noticed.
“Hey you guys, it’s really too much at this point.” I took the axe in hand anyway. The haft was solid, and the head firmly attached, even if it wasn’t a work of art. “How’d you even get this? We’re days away from the city…”
“Don’t worry so much Twig! You’re not the only one who can do things around here you know.”
“You have helped the village out, probably more than you think.” Ross followed up his brother. I dare say I must have helped out more than I thought, this is getting ridiculous. “It’s not a big place, all the little things add up. For example, all times you’ve come with us before have already gotten us plenty of firewood for the winter. You’re the only one who thinks we need more; but if we keep coming out here, at this rate, everyone would have a new house in the next few years.”
“Er,” Scratching my head, I decided to readjust my ponytail. “You guys know I can’t stay that long here.” I told them before when we headed out to the forest. I was fairly sure I’d actually told them multiple times.
“Do you really have to leave soon?”
“Much closer than before. There isn’t really a way around it though.” Troy frowned at my response, but not angrily. Ross looked a thoughtful for a while before breaking the momentary silence.
“Hmm, is it something to do with Ria’s illness?” He finally asked, surprising me a little. Calling them meatheads was a bit of an exaggeration, but Pan kept the exact situation of his daughter mysterious. Apparently by his word, the villagers avoided the hut where she stayed. That was enough for them to realize that whatever she’d come down with wasn’t ordinary, but then again they still lacked any specifics. So managing to guess on the nose without much information was either wildly impressive, or a wild guess. For some reason it didn’t seem like the second though.
“How do you figure that?”
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“Hah, I’m right aren’t I?” Ross started beaming, and instantly Troy looked mollified again, clapping me on the back.
“Ah, I knew you were a good man Twig! Sorry I ever doubted you!”
“Hey, what? I didn’t say anything, why’re you all celebrating now?” I really didn’t get it, one moment they’re sad that I was leaving, but the next they were happy. Tell me, what’s Ria change about the situation, huh? The two were rather altruistic towards the other villagers, but it seemed a little much.
“I should have known,” Ross shook his head, disappointed he hadn’t realized it sooner. “You made a promise with Pan didn’t you? Your wizardry isn’t something that we understand, but the village couldn’t stop you for something like that, so we’d just have to let it be. But you’re just heading off to keep up your end of the deal. That makes a world of difference.”
It really shouldn’t, I planned on leaving eventually anyhow. This was just a chance to get out of here; the village was nice and all, but I didn’t want to stay forever. Though I kept my promise in mind, it’s not like that’s the only reason I was leaving, you’re giving me too much credit.
“Yes, well, that is a part of it.” I admitted. “You and the rest of the village are giving me a few too many things though, keep it for yourselves; I’ll be fine without it.” Limply offering the axe back to them, the refusal was clear.
“What did I say, Alric? You’ve helped us out more than you realize. The past month has been the most prosperous in a long time, and the future looks brighter. If it makes you feel any better, this was just a spare we had, and we can make do without it, especially with all the wood we’ve gathered recently.”
“Alright, alright.” Knowing they wouldn’t cave, I decided to accept their gift. We proceeded with a little makeshift ritual, Troy giving a longwinded and pointless speech about cutting the right trees, and saplings growing and other such nonsense. It was a bit hard to follow as he kept laughing at double entendres. It seems crude humor is not bounded by the barrier between worlds; where there is life, there are jokes about getting wood. It was dumb, but amusing.
Then, it was my turn to chop down the tree with my axe. Cheering at first for a few minutes, Ross and Troy quickly enacted their plan to descend into sarcastic cheers, and wondering aloud what was taking me so long. The tree was rather thin, but it still took 45 minutes to cut down. Meaning the lumberjacks were idly standing by for 35 minutes rolling their eyes and insulting my physique. Apparently underestimating how boring just calling out to me was, they started a flexing match between the two of them; making it my turn to roll my eyes.
Crashing to the ground, they cheered, insisting I had to choose one of them to christen my axe with a name. Knowing what was coming, I didn’t pick either of them, so they came to a consensus together; of course they already thought of something beforehand. Reciting the lines they gave me, I went along with it.
“By the forest and by the trees, I am a man! Nothing will keep me from what I want, and that is wood! With my…” Letting out a deep breath, I looked over to the brothers to supply the name.
“Longshaft!” They called together in an uproar. I couldn’t help but sigh again.
“...With my Longshaft in hand, I know happiness! Seriously, you guys? You think it’s that funny? Why don’t you take out your handaxes and actually get to work?”
Laughing like middle schoolers for a while more, eventually they composed themselves. With a new resurgence of Strength and Stamina, larger timber could be lifted into my Inventory. Less time spent cutting logs into board lengths, and my own faster timbering speed meant even more lumber was acquired.
We spent a lot more time than I thought beneficial on timber trees, that is, the ones not meant for firewood. Of course they could be burnt, but they didn’t do so as easily. Oddly enough, the same species of tree could be classified both ways; older trees usually being less suited to burning, but it wasn’t always the case. I had some difficulty telling them apart, but a tree fit for firewood could have bits of bark peeled off more easily. Lumberjacking was a true art, requiring knowledge as deep as the sea.
Spending the day in the forest, we acquired twenty good trees, not including my own ‘personal tree’ from the ritual. Those two were in a good mood, continuously making things up, like how I was supposed to graft my tree onto a stump hear my home, chopping it down to take with me wherever I went. Actually, I started wondering if I could do that in the future when I got better at magic. There were spells to heal plant life.
No worries, I wouldn’t actually waste a spell on that sort of thing.
Back in the village, we spent the time before dusk de-limbing the trunks, and applying a resinous ointment to the ends and where branches were cut off. Apparently doing so helped keep the wood from rotting, although to me that seemed speculative. At this point, the work from all the days past was becoming apparent, with large sets of logs splayed out to the east of the village. Near their own house, numerous cords of firewood were looking like they might burst out the sides of the shelter built to keep it dry. Effort brings rewards, and it seems that in at least one aspect I had really helped out the village.
The temperature rose a bit again, but deciding not to take a chance, I slept inside. I needed to be well rested for the mental exertion of commanding my minions on the morrow.
A/N:AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!
You other peeps should go work on that TV tropes page, that would be super good of you. Props to fsb5 for setting that up again!