Warden limped as he walked across the fields. It was more from remembered pain than the real thing.

Yesterday, the Scourge asked him if he wanted to strengthen his connection to the Earth and he readily accepted. Little did he know that it would involve pain — unbearable pain.

He winced as he remembered what happened. Until now, he could still feel the shadow of what he went through.

The Scourge offered him a slate. It had runes and glyphs intertwining in some kind of magic circle. He said it would allow him to absorb and retain mana similar to how mages did. All he had to do was step on the slate and say yes.

Wisps of fire burned his feet — tracing the arcane matrix into the sole of his foot. He could stand the scorching pain — but what followed was worse.

Pain engulfed Warden’s whole body. The Scourge said it was meant to mask the pain on his feet — but that pain he could stand. No. there must have been something else — another reason for the pain that the wizard withheld from him.

The ordeal only lasted a few seconds — but it was enough for him to wish for death to save him from the torment multiple times.

The Scourge didn’t even inspect him afterward. He just told him to try it out, adding that they could always cut off his feet if it didn’t work out.

Warden shuddered. The wizard seemed sincere — even casual —when he said it, as if he was talking about hair.

Now, he was back in the fields — hoping that the marks on his foot would work.

He tried connecting to the Earth. From his talk with the wizard, they came to a conclusion that he didn’t absorb mana the way mages did. Instead, mana flowed through his connection like a living conduit — a stream of sorts that could dry up if he used too much of it.

The arcane mark on his foot should allow him to absorb the stream of mana more efficiently as well as retain most of it — instead of letting it dissipate naturally.

He tried to tell the Scourge that the Earth felt more like a sentient entity instead of an inanimate force — but the wizard dismissed his concerns, saying he was an expert on conduits and flowing energy.

Warden opened himself to the Earth. He felt a wellspring of power coursing into him. What was once a small stream — now felt like a roaring river. His flesh and bones were absorbing the strange mana, instead of merely letting it flow.

Along with the power came knowledge and a single plea. The Scourge warned him about making deals with powerful entities — and the plea was nothing simple.

The Earth asked him to restore the world, or at least do his part to keep it alive. Otherworldly mana had already taken the air and it was slowly encroaching upon the land.

The seas were warped into something sinister — it was bent on destroying all life and starting anew, hence the Ice.

Warden pondered at the revelation. Tending to the fields while connected to the Earth protected it from the sickly mana in the air.

There was also the thing about volcanoes. There was no such thing as a landlocked volcano. Natural volcanoes rose from the sea or stayed underneath. What he thought of as volcanoes — were conduits of mana from another world.

He focused on the air. There was a haze. A yellow tint that seemed to be ever-present in the air. The Earth’s mana should be invisible — even to the best of mages.

Warden shook his head. Did he really have a choice? He was a farmer and he relied on the earth. A world where crops corrupted people and turned them into violent beings didn’t seem that appealing.

Going against the mage guild, and every magic user in the kingdom, was also going to be a problem — especially since their head start was in the centuries.

He wondered if he should tell the Scourge — he was a wizard, after all. His hands strayed to one of the stone necklaces he was wearing — surprised that it felt clean. How did the wizard avoid the corrupted mana in the air?

Then again, there was no avoiding him. The Earth told him about the turtle on his neck. They needed the turtle’s help — or at least its powers to turn the tide.

Warden decided to consult with the Scourge later. The wizard rarely left his home. He was probably in his lab making healing drops or Lifesavers™.

He turned towards the other farmhands. It was time for them to share his pain

***

Sebas stared at the drawings his master made. One was a stamp — a logo of sorts to mark the Corner Shop’s products. It was a hammer and a scythe.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

He doubted that his master was aware of the symbolism tied to the image — nor would he approve of the concept it entailed. His master was a businessman, or a merchant if he used the world’s terms. In his view, the concept of sharing wealth or working for a common good was tantamount to sacrilege.

Every weapon and armor sold in the Corner Shop™ would now have the hammer and scythe mark.

The other stamps were for the healing drops and lifesavers™. Sebas immediately put away the first one. It was a drawing of a healing drop with an arrow leading towards his master’s depiction of a mouth. The drawing could be confusing. He understood that the heart-shaped symbol was supposed to be lips — but it could also be seen as a butt.

Sebas took back the paper. He considered crumpling it and throwing it in the trash — but accidents seemed to happen quite a lot in the shop. It was better to burn the thing to make sure it didn’t soil their products.

The next stamp made him question his master once again. It looked like a barbed spear with two snakes entwining it. On closer inspection, it was an upturned scythe with two hydra heads.

The butler removed the scythe blade to make it a staff, and he changed the barbed point to an orb to complete the caduceus. It now resembled the symbol of medicine in his world — and he was hoping it would attract people like himself. if there were any others.

Beneath the drawings was a letter — one that the butler was hesitant to open. It came from Liliane. It was most likely another appeal for the formulas to their products. She had enough time to contact whoever prince she represented — allowing her to offer more gold or threaten with more teeth.

Sebas opened the letter. To his surprise, it was not about their products at all. Liliane wrote about how she severed her relationship with the prince following Sebas’ gift of the stone necklace. She added that one of their acquaintances was being held hostage in the kingdom — but she went short of naming which prince she worked for.

The butler folded the letter. It was not something his master should be concerned about. Dealing with royalty required a certain finesse — or at least, discretion. His master had none of that. He had as much finesse as a sledgehammer — more prone to grandiose displays and city-wide destruction than silent retrievals. No. This was something he had to handle on his own.

It was time for a trip to the capital.

***

Why would Shelby want a golem of her own?

Jeremy felt the request through their bond. It didn’t seem immediate — but he could feel traces of excitement coupled with irritation in his familiar.

There was always the wemic. It proved to be a flawed product. He even wondered if he couldn’t just chop the lion end to make it bipedal. That probably wouldn’t work.

He finished the last of the Lifesavers™. Nobles certainly used them much faster than adventurers. Then again, they had the money for them. It was their penchant for pain, suffering, and death that bothered the wizard. He remembered the incident in his father’s chambers and shuddered. People were strange. Not all — but not few.

Jeremy saw Shelby with the smaller snails. They were far from becoming similar to the huge snail. Their intelligence was limited — more like pets than anything else. He wondered if he could get some of the mages at the barn to bond with them and make them their familiars. Or would that be an affront to the farmhands who treated Shelby like a mentor?

He remembered her saying the snails were a gift from one of the boys. If so, they should probably stay with the farmers.

The wemic approached him with a mental command. It was stationed outside the Corner Shop™ — more like a display than an actual guardian. It was just a glorified skeleton after all.

“Here, Shelby,” he gestured to the wemic. “You can have this one.”

The snail took a look at the four-footed golem before shaking her head. She was adopting human gestures now, making her easier to understand. What Jeremy didn’t understand was why she would refuse the wemic.

“You want a smaller one?” he asked. There were three more in the forge since nobody was mining. He was going on a trip to the ether anyway, so he could probably spare one of the golems. Hopefully, Shelby would be content with the first one.

They headed into the forge and he quickly asked his first golem to come out. Making the first one was difficult. He and Sebas had to do a lot of experimentation with the dandelion juice to make it human-like. The knowledge they got from the first golem went into the construction of the others — and the two were far superior from the original.

“Will this do?”

Shelby agreed with a nod, adding a few clicks and whistles to show her appreciation.

She inspected the golem, circling around it as if checking for something. She stopped behind it and seemed troubled.

“You want me to take the armor off?”

The armor was there to conceal the golem’s strange skin. It barely looked and felt like skin — but it was a material that blended well with the skeleton underneath.

He took the armor off, revealing the golem’s bare featureless back. A godstone was embedded in its lower spine — making it easier to recharge.

Jeremy wondered if Shelby only wanted to see the godstone. He was sure he gave her enough of them — unless she burned through two dozen already.

Shelby inspected the golem, focusing on the stone on its spine. She seemed quite satisfied. She then turned to him and asked for his staff.

“You want the staff?” Staff funny? Oh, you want the funny staff.”

Jeremy didn’t know why — but the staff was probably safe in Shelby’s keeping.

“Be careful with it,” he warned as he gave the staff to Shelby. “You might hurt yourself.”

The wizard wondered if snails could understand humor. It was surely an amusing joke since his staff was painful to hold.

He watched Shelby flip and turn the staff several times — finally jamming the scythe end downward into the golem’s pants making the barbed end stick out like a flagless pole.

What was Shelby doing? Jeremy couldn’t help but feel curious — even more so when he felt his connection to the golem dissipate.

The golem started to move on its own. It was waving its hands about as if feeling for its surroundings. It took one step before falling.

Jeremy wanted to understand what Shelby was doing and how she easily took control of the golem.

She seemed satisfied. She said with her usual clicks how she was off to do more experiments and improve on the golem’s design to make it better for Staffany.

“That’s Staffany?” Jeremy wondered why Shelby needed to borrow the staff to take control of the golem. It was clearly following her instructions — though their link seemed a bit off, judging from the golem’s movements. Was it to differentiate it from the other golems? Wouldn’t a hat do?

Shelby thanked him and went off with the still stumbling golem. Its connection to Shelby seemed to make it blind — which was strange for a skeleton.

Jeremy shrugged and took the wemic back to the shop.