We had to pause experimenting with the plants that survived the Plague since the bugs cut off our farming route, and the only plants we had were what we had stored so far, which wasn't much. The animals in the pen were also struggling due to all the bugs surrounding and biting them, and diseases became widespread. It wasn't just the animal pens that were affected; the people suffered too.

Since I had free time and did not need to oversee farming while the bugs demolished the local ecosystem, I decided to help treat people. The medical center in the town hall was currently used by the most ill, so I was on walking duty. I had to visit people in their homes who were sick enough to need treatment but not sick enough to lie in a bed all day.

"How's the fever today? Did the medicine help?" I asked as I turned to Shen. The old man coughed as he swiveled to look at me. The furs and cloth everyone was decked in made moving difficult for him. Inside of the houses some herbs were burned to help combat the insects, but there was only so much they could do. Most ended up just getting as much furs and cloth between the skin and the outside world as possible.

"I'm doing much better today, Sage! It is all thanks to your great knowledge that I am so well," Shen exclaimed under all those layers.

Seeing him buried under all that, I grew frustrated, "I told you already that being under all those layers while having a fever is only going to make your recovery take longer or worse." I tried pulling the clothes off him, but he wouldn't budge.

"No, I will not. Do you wish me to be sucked dry by all the bugs?! Aren't you also dressed from head to toe?" He shouted, holding onto his layers of clothes.

I wasn't about to start manhandling the guy, so I quickly stopped pulling on him. I myself was also dressed similarly. The difference between us was that I wasn't the one with a fever. He risked boiling himself alive under all those layers, almost literally. But I've had this argument for the past week with this patient. I was considering stopping his treatments, since he wasn’t taking my advice seriously. It wasn’t a serious consideration, but still, the intrusive thought did cross my mind.

"It's not the same, Shen. I'm not the one boiling alive in my own skin," I almost growled.

"Bah, you're a Sage. Your medicine will work regardless of whether I'm covered up or not."

Frustrated, I gave up on the man, "Here are the herbs for this week; I'll be here to check up on you tomorrow to ensure you didn't croak."

"Of course, I'm not gonna croak. We have you!" he answered. These old folk were the most reverent about their beliefs in the myth of the Sage, while somehow also being the most stubborn about taking my advice. They thought that ignoring the wisdom of the 'oh so great Sage,' who is the embodiment of wisdom itself, wasn’t a foolish idea. Specifically this old toad.

I left the hut and decided to walk along the river, my trusty guards following behind me like the five ugly ducklings they were. They were following thanks to the previous deal I'd made with the Priest. Once we were out of the slum area, I turned around. "I don't think my life is in any immediate danger; I'd like some space to think to myself."

They looked at each other and considered it before seeming to reach a consensus: "We can agree, Sage, but we want to keep you within eyesight."

"Of course. That works with me." I agreed before stepping away from them and walking further towards the river. I didn't hear their footsteps, so they must've honored my request and are waiting for me to get further from them.

I could do very little to improve the bug situation; smoke would ward off the worst of it and remedies for any diseases the bugs brought were all I could do. It felt good that they weren't solely relying on my knowledge and wisdom, and were also doing their own thing. For example, the whole idea of layering clothes and furs came from someone in the healer's center. I didn't know how smart of an idea it was, but outside of sweating like a hog, it sounded… well… sound.

Learning with Lian was going great. Even if I felt slightly demotivated after she pointed out how inefficient it was regarding storage and time, she still deemed it important enough to learn. But what could I do? I didn't know nearly enough about making paper. I knew you needed reeds or something. Mash them together and then do something else. Perhaps water it? To get paper. I'm sure if I had enough time, I could eventually figure it out, but with the insects already here and the imminent arrival of the Plague. I simply didn't have the time.

I almost tripped and fell as I accidentally stepped on some mud, and my foot sunk in. "Godamnit. It's impossible to wash out these fur pants."

After a few seconds of struggling, I freed myself and simply stood there and looked at the situation I got myself in. I tracked the footsteps that slowly led up to here, before it suddenly turned into mud, where I had sunk. Grass and reeds spread throughout the place, and looking further, I saw old hoof tracks that had been dried due to time.

"Wait… is that the answer to my problem?"

I turned around and hurriedly rushed back to my guards. Seeing me jog up to them, they went alert and looked around for any signs of danger. "Is everything alright?"

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

I nodded as I slowed down. "Everything is going well. I got the inspiration I needed."

They gave each other funny looks but followed me back nonetheless.

* * *

Lian watched me skeptically as I dropped a bunch of clay on the table. “What is this, a lesson on pottery?”

I chuckled, “How’d you guess?”

She looked at me with wide eyes, “Wait, we actually are learning pottery today?”

I laughed harder, “No, I was just messing with you, but it’s not too far off.”

She glared at me, but it didn’t last long as her face softened into one of curiosity. “What could get you all excited like this? After I broke the news to you how the writing wasn’t all that useful due to the time and space it would take. I thought you would be sad for the rest of your life.”

I threw her a dirty look, and she lowered her head to avoid my gaze. She’s gotten comfortable talking to me like an average person. Maybe I should scare her a little? Nah, that would be too much after all the hard work to make everything casual. “We are going to be writing on the clay.”

“But why are we writing on clay?”

“Because it solves the problems you mentioned. Both the speed problem and even the space problem if we do this right.” I answered her.

I started rolling the clay in thin slabs, taking care not to make them too thin so that we could still write on them. She watched me through the process, and once I was done, I grabbed a charcoal stick from the fire and gave my first shot at it. My idea was that the charcoal would better contrast the background, letting the words pop out.

Unfortunately, I realized immediately that the stick was too thick, making the letters take up too much space on the tablet. I threw out the charcoal idea and scoured the inside of the room before finding a thinner stick and trying again. It worked better, but when I tried to write using strokes, the stick left what looked like clay crumbs on the edges. I stuck through it and tried brushing them off, which kinda worked. I moved the clay tablet and placed it on top of the fire.

While waiting, I started the next batch, but Lian spoke up. “Can I try? I’ve worked on pots before and have done illustrations, so I should be able to do this relatively well.”

I shrugged, not seeing a reason to refuse, and let her have the stick. She put the stick down and rolled her own clay tablet, making it thicker than the one I made. She then started to write much more elegantly than I did. Her eyes squinted in concentration as the stick moved around the board. Unlike me, who dragged the stick on the tablet to write, she mostly pressed the stick down to create the letter, making the letters look a little better than my own.

She kept looking at the fire as she wrote. I glanced at the fire, and not seeing anything out of place, I decided to ignore her glances. After finishing, she set aside her tablet instead of placing it on the fire. Now, it was my turn to be curious. “What are you doing?”

She smirked, “I just felt like letting it dry by air would be better.”

Almost as if on cue, I jumped and nearly tripped over myself at the sound of a pop. I turned around to see what the problem was, only to see that my precious tablet was in pieces.

“Wha-?” I stammer out as I try to process what just happened.

I heard a giggle from behind me and turned, only for the giggling to stop and for me to see a serious-looking Lian staring at the fire in concern. I narrowed my eyes but decided not to pursue this slight. I would surely get her back for this. I went around the room to collect the shrapnel my beautiful writing had turned into.

I sighed and put them aside. I’d need to get rid of them later. We both continued to experiment with the tablets. After some trial and error, I started to primarily rely on pressing lines into the tablet like Lian had done, instead of drawing it across the board. However there was a problem with this, as some lines were too thick, making the letters bigger than they needed to be.

I broke the calm silence, “We need sticks with an edge to them.”

“Huh?” Lian asked distractedly, looking up from the desk. I glanced at what she was writing, and she quickly covered it up.

“We need to carve our own sticks to make this more effective.”

“You’re right; a stick with an edge would let us write in thinner lines.” Hesitation crossed her face, before looking at me seriously and speaking up, “but I don’t know about this whole writing on clay thing.”

I was confused, “What do you mean? It’s perfect! It’s way faster than carving wooden tablets. We might need to play with the thickness, but we could get it thinner eventually. And it also won’t catch on fire! What’s wrong with any of this?”

She shook her head, “You are aware of the clay pots and jugs the city makes, right?”

I slowly nodded, not understanding where she was leading.

Seeing me nod, she continued, “And on those jugs and pots, you have noticed that there is usually art drawn on them. Right?”

It dawned on me what she meant. They were aware they could write on tablets… But then…

“Why not write with clay tablets? Since it’s obvious that I’m not the first to think of it.” I asked, genuinely confused at this point. Why would they carve and spend so much time on wooden tablets when they had clay available?

“It is due to the goddess.” I stared at her blankly. She huffed in frustration but elaborated, “The goddess is one with nature, and we use wooden tablets to show her our thoughts and history. We record on wood so she can see. Have you ever visited the Priest outside of business?”

“I…”

“There is no need to explain yourself; I understand. A Sage and a Priest are equal, so looking to the Priest for guidance probably never crossed your mind.”

She made me realize how little I knew about the culture. All I knew was what I heard in passing. I thought I knew enough, but it seemed that if it wasn’t for her, I might have offended the Priest with my clay suggestion.

“Will it be a problem if I write using clay?” I asked, really wanting to avoid looking like an idiot.

She shook her head, “Since you aren’t planning to pray to the goddess, nor are you keeping records for the city, there should be no problem.”

I sighed in relief before realizing the implications. “Are you not able to write on clay then?”

She smiled wide, “Wood is still available for prayers, and since I’m not a Priestess yet, I am not in charge of keeping track of history.”