Chapter 73 - The Cursed Effigy V
The sun had already started to set, but Claire ignored the dwindling light and continued to refine her magic. Despite investing a whole afternoon, she still found herself incapable of true flight. Hovering in place proved outright impossible; turning herself into an arrow was the best she could do, and even that proved inconsistent. She couldn’t apply just a constant force on her own body. The slightest twitch would throw the resulting vector off target and cause her to spin out of control.
The best alternative was to add another burst of acceleration each time she started to fall. On paper, the approach was perfect, but in practice, it was insufferable. The forces she applied to herself had to be relatively powerful. Anything that was too weak would fail to generate the lift she needed and prove itself irrelevant. She would immediately start falling out of the air every single time her speed dropped beneath a seemingly inconsistent threshold. The most intuitive solution was then to opt for larger, more powerful vectors, but they were rarely applicable. Quick bursts of speed came hand in hand with sudden lurches, and though she was slowly starting to grow accustomed to them, they remained forever accompanied by waves of dizziness and nausea. It was a balancing act with no equilibrium. The only two choices she had were to plummet or risk vomiting.
Heaving a sigh, she pushed herself off the ground for the hundredth time and lumbered towards a nearby tent. Sylvia had already set up camp. Apparently, the fox happened to be well-versed in the art of construction, as she had managed to put together a canvas made almost entirely of palm leaves. Unlike Claire, she had spent the afternoon making leaps and bounds of progress. She had scouted the perimeter, put together a shelter, and fished up dinner for two, all without missing her afternoon nap.
Unlike the semiaquatic lyrkress, the terrestrial canid was an excellent swimmer. She retained the full extent of her agility even whilst underwater, and could chase down whatever fish she wanted without breaking a sweat. The entire pursuit was like a game to her. She would match her speed with her prey’s and corner it with her wit, as opposed to simply outpacing it with her magic.
Her victims were stored in a large bubble filled with water, which she kept right by the tent. A few locals had tried accessing its contents, but Sylvia had chased them all away. Baring her fangs and barking had more than sufficed to scare off creatures at least ten times her size.
“Are you finally done? Or is this just another break?”
“I’m done,” said Claire. Using her tail, she made herself a seat in the sand, right next to the fox.
The force mage still had every intention of mastering flight, but she was sick and tired of failing. Even without any more practice, she was confident that she could get up to the citadel, but she had refrained from jumping right in. Using the night as cover would minimize her chances of being discovered. According to Sylvia, her father was the sort to stay up through the night; a lack of sunlight would be no inconvenience to their meeting or discussion.
“Do you want any fish? I don’t actually know what they are, but they’re really good because they’re saltier than the fish I normally eat.”
Claire frowned as she glanced at the prey the fox was keeping in her bubble. She had to admit, Sylvia had made them look incredibly appetizing. The tiny orange fuzzball had stuffed her face with more than twice her weight in seafood. If they weren’t raw, she would have gladly joined in and eaten her fair share. That wasn’t to say that the bluescale couldn’t eat raw meat. She was capable of digesting it without any issues, courtesy of her lamian heritage, but she could never quite bring herself to enjoy it. It was too slimy; she would always be reminded of frog, no matter how delicious the animal on her plate.
“If you can start a fire.”
“Sure I can, but are you sure a fire is all you’re gonna need? I’m pretty sure dad does a lot more than just heating things up. He has all these bottles with this really strong smelling stuff inside.”
The lyrkress shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never cooked before.”
“Me either. I’m not really sure how something is supposed to taste better just because you heat it up. Oh well, I guess there isn’t any real harm in trying.” Sylvia started digging in the sand. “Can you go get some wood? Or something else that’s really flammable, like a cow or something.”
“I don’t think cows are flammable,” said Claire.
Walking over to the nearest tree, she fired a series of Icebolts through its base and severed its trunk from its roots. The fruits attached to it scattered as it fell. Not all of them seemed like they were fit for consumption. Some were a strange shade of brown and looked as if they had rotted without falling off the tree. Making sure to grab only the ones that were still green, and clearly ready to eat, Claire hauled the palm back over to the fox.
“Really? Dad says that they’ll explode if you make them fart on fire. It sounds kinda neat, so we can try it if you feel like it. I think there are supposed to be a few of them on this floor.”
It was a bit of a suspicious claim, but Claire decided not to question it. She wasn’t aware of any evidence to the contrary, and the fox seemed more than confident enough in the conclusion. I want to try it, but…
“That sounds like a waste of good meat.”
“Is it? I’ve never had cow before.”
“They’re tasty.”
Claire tore the palm’s bark off its trunk and threw it into the pit. The wood was brittle in her hands, breaking apart with the slightest application of force.
“Really? How tasty?” asked Sylvia, as she spat a ball of fire onto the wood.
Claire stopped her hands for a moment as she tried to come up with an analogy. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to quantify deliciousness. “Better than fish.”
“What!? There’s no way it could possibly be better than fish! Nothing’s better than fish!”
“Beef is.”
“Fish is the best!”
“Beef is better.”
“I won’t believe it until I try it!” said Sylvia.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“Then let’s go look for cows tomorrow.”
“Okay,” said Sylvia. “But first you’ve gotta try this fish. It’s super good!”
Claire nodded as she ripped a particularly spiky individual out from inside of the bubble, a creature that was roughly the same size as the fox. It flailed in her hands, as if to either break free or bite her with its finger-sized teeth, but it was unable to escape her grasp. The fish didn’t seem like it would be settling down, so she put an end to its struggling by shooting a small bolt of ice through its forehead.
Log Entry 1803
You have slain a level 17 fowlfish, but no experience has been earned.
“What do I do now?” she wondered out loud, as she looked between the deceased sea creature and the flame.
“Uhhh… I guess you put it in the fire?”
Shrugging, Claire tore the fish in two so that it could fit inside the pit, and threw both halves right in, as if they were more firewood. The moisture caused the flame to wane, but a quick breath from Sylvia got it right back to roaring.
“I know I said it a bunch already, but this is my first time stepping out of Mirewood Meadow,” said the half-elf. “I’ve seen bits and pieces of Sky Lagoon before, but being here in person just feels… different.”
Claire didn’t say anything, even when Sylvia paused. She did offer a nod, but only after the fox looked at her to check if she was paying attention.
“It’s a lot prettier and more breathtaking than I thought it’d be, even though it’s hardly any bigger than the Darkwood. Is this how the outside world is too?”
“Sometimes. It depends where you go.”
“I think I might actually like it better that way. You can’t really have ups if you don’t have downs.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Claire shrugged and, following the fox’s example, curled up next to the flame. “I really liked exploring cities. But only without supervision.”
“Oh! Dad told me a lot about cities. Do they really have tens of thousands of people in them? And all at once? That just sounds ridiculous. How are you supposed to fit so many people in one settlement? Wouldn’t it just get really crowded?”
“Ten thousand is nothing. Valencia has a quarter of a million.” The lyrkress broke open one of the fruits, dumped the watery fluid within, and took a bite of its astringent, stringy flesh. For once, the food she was putting in her mouth wasn’t completely devoid of flavour. She didn’t enjoy the fruit’s distinct taste, but she found it far more appetizing than any of the dishes she could summon.
Sylvia’s tail shot straight up. “A quarter of a million!? No way! That’s impossible!”
With a smile, the blueblood pressed the tip of her tail into the sand and started sketching a blueprint of the city. She remembered exactly how it looked from above, her home in the clouds providing a perfect view on a cloudless day. Everything from the manors to the shopping districts to the slums had long been imprinted in her mind.
“It’s a really big city,” she said, as she traced her feathery brush across the seemingly amorphous blob. “Moving from one side to the other takes half a day.”
“Are you sure it’s one big city then? And not a bunch of smaller ones smooshed together? If it takes half a day, then it’s probably almost as big as the meadow!”
“It’s not that big,” said Claire. “You can’t run through the city, like we can through the meadow. The streets are crowded and you have to use carriages to get around.”
The population was only one of two reasons that Valencia was so difficult to navigate, its convoluted layout being the other; even the most direct path contained a series of seemingly unnecessary twists and turns. An uneducated analyst was likely to think that the city was simply unplanned, but that was about as far from the truth as could be. Generations upon generations of city planners had built on each other’s work to turn the streets into a massive, sprawling security measure, a meticulously designed series of paths that would not greatly inconvenience the locals whilst also throwing off a potential invading force. It was nigh impossible for an army to raid the Cadrian capital without telepathic air support.
“Wow, that sounds really neat! Is that the only city like that?”
Claire shook her head. “It isn’t even the only one in Cadria.”
“Uhhmmmm… wait, what was Cadria again?”
“The country Valencia is in.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of names.. I guess there really is more than just the library out there,” said Sylvia. “Oh and umm… by the way…”
“Yeah?”
“I think the fish might be starting to burn. It’s starting to smell funny.”
“It is?”
Extending her hands, the snake-horse magically retrieved the two halves she had thrown into the pit. It had only been a few minutes, but the fish’s remains had already been dyed a deep black. So charred was the skin that it crumbled the moment she laid hands on it. Its flesh was a bit better off, but it still didn’t look very appetizing. Still, Claire decided to give it a try. She bit down on the tail piece, only to find that the interior had somehow wound up uncooked. Everything beyond the crispy outer layer was still mushy and disgusting. The flavour was so bad that she suspected the unpalatable dish a noxious substance.
Log Entry 1804
You have been afflicted with minor indigestion. Your health regeneration has been reduced from 630/hour to 625/hour for 28 minutes.
Log Entry 1805
You have acquired the Cooking skill.
I’m not really sure about that one, Box.
Spitting out the inedible mess, Claire galloped over into the sea with both pieces of fish still in hand and rinsed her mouth with saltwater as she eyed the skill’s description.
Cooking - Level 1
Congratulations, you have discovered that you are destined never to become a chef. If not for the class requirement, you would have acquired the Alchemy skill, as you have somehow managed to chemically process a delicious fish into a lump of coal.
Effects
- You are able to match your cooking techniques to ingredients available to you.
- Increases the rate at which you learn new cooking techniques by 11% (10% + 1% per level) of your wisdom
I don’t think this helps if I don’t know any cooking techniques… It may as well be plain harassment.
Thinking of the goddess and her snarky comments led Claire to a particularly appealing idea. With a grin on her face, the lyrkress placed the rest of the fish in front of her, sat down on her knees, and placed her hands in her lap. With a centaur-like front half, the posture was much more difficult and required greater discipline to maintain, but it was not so bad that it rendered her incapable of focusing on the powers above.
“O great goddess of the eternal flow, divine architect of petty harassment. I offer to you a fair maiden’s first dish. May you feast deliciously on this gift and relish the many to follow.”
It was a bit of a stretch. An offering was meant to be something of value to the individual presenting it, or at the very least, something that had been valuable at some point in time. That was why she had been able to present the goddess with a melted candle. Prior to its destruction, she had certainly thought the waxy cylinder a key item of importance. It was her guide, her pathfinder, the reason she had made it so far. On the other hand, the fish was much more difficult to argue. It would have made a fine sacrifice prior to its degradation, but it had lost its intrinsic desirability when she ruined it. At best, she could argue that it had some sort of vague sentimental value, as it was technically a gift from a friend.
Despite her suspicions, she opened her eyes to find it missing. The system had accepted it; it would only be a matter of time before the goddess was subject to the prank. Assuming Allegra was right about how offerings work.
“Hey, Claire! You okay?” Sylvia walked over, right as the sun finally vanished beneath the horizon.
“I’m fine,” said the halfbreed, as she got back to her feet.
“Oh, whew! I was kinda worried because you suddenly ran into the water and vanished beneath the surface!”
“I was praying.”
“Praying? Really? Wait… where’s the fish?”
Not saying another word, Claire flashed a mischievous smile and made her way back to the campfire.