Chapter 6 - Deliberations
All through the night Hollie tossed and turned uncomfortably. The few times she did manage to drift off to sleep, her dreams were anxious and troubling. In one, she found herself in a dark house standing before Mr. Albus Grimsworth, a tall, bony figure of a man who looked more like a corpse than a living person. Hollie was delivering a basket to him, and inside were three Spotted Redcaps, whimpering and screeching and trying their best to escape as Mr. Grimsworth peered at them with evil eyes and a wide smile of crooked, yellowing teeth.
“These will make for a wonderful soup!” he exclaimed as he handed Hollie the payment for the job.
In another dream, she found herself in the village square surrounded by a throng of angry villagers. Among them were the figures of Buffin and Gilda Willowroot, and sturdy, square-jawed Alice Chipping, and even Isobel Bowens. Each one of them was scowling, their brows furrowed and eyes filled with rage.
“Hollie has broken the terms of her job contract!” Alice Chipping shouted to the crowd. “She failed to deliver the Spotted Redcaps to Mr. Albus Grimsworth, and in so doing has proven to be a person of dishonor! Shame!” she yelled, directing all her fury on Hollie now. “Shame on you!”
The crowd followed, chanting as one.
“Shame! Shame! Shame on you!”
When Hollie awoke from this last dream, the rays of the morning sun had just begun to peek through her bedroom window. She bolted upright, her breath heavy, her heart pounding, and cold beads of sweat gathered upon her brow. Her eyes darted about, and when they took in the familiar surroundings of her room, she breathed a sigh of relief.
“Just dreams,” she reassured herself. “Just dreams and nothing more.”
Hollie's Room [https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53846292396_627707d75e_z.jpg]
She rubbed her forehead and tried to shake the grogginess away. Breakfast would help, but before that, a hot bath. More than food, Hollie felt that washing all the sweat and grime of the previous day away would help her to wash all the unsettling remnants of her nightmares away too.
And it worked just as she had planned.
Bathed and in a new set of clothes, Hollie felt refreshed once more. She walked into the kitchen, opened up the Cookbook, and asked it to prepare a [Simple Hearty Breakfast]. Within moments a plate appeared, and the kitchen was filled with the familiar and comforting scents of fried bacon, eggs, and a thick slice of toasted sourdough spread with fresh butter.
Hollie relished every bite, and when she was done, used [10 Magic] to have the kitchen clean up the mess.
“Now, what to do today,” she deliberated. “I’ll need to water the garden, of course. And there’s no way I can bring myself to catch any Redcaps until I know more about this Mr. Grimsworth and what he wants with them. I guess I’ll start getting the other garden bed cleared out, and maybe tomorrow head back into the village and see what I can find out.”
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When Hollie had changed into her work clothes—a pair of solid boots, thick pants, a long, woven jumper, and a wool cap—she made her way to the back garden, retrieved the watering can and hoe, and took a deep, satisfied breath as she looked it all over.
The day was bright and beautiful, still cool, but pleasant nonetheless. The smell of pine needles and spring flowers and fresh, churned up earth graced her nose. It was a simple, rustic scent, but Hollie thought it was also one of the most wonderful. It was the smell of a new day, of new adventures to be had and new memories to be made, and the smell of things made new. It was her favorite thing about spring mornings.
She slipped her gloves on and got to work, first watering the potatoes and onions that had been planted the day before, and then taking a hoe to the remaining garden bed, breaking up the old soil, tearing out the dead plants and weeds, and finally, when it was all cleared, mixing in the remaining bags of compost and fertilizer to form a fertile, deep brown layer ready for planting.
This garden bed would grow peas and bush beans. She knelt on the ground, drilling shallow holes with her fingers into the soil and dropping the seeds inside. When she’d finished, she filled her watering can once more and gave the new garden bed a thorough soaking.
Garden [https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53846554938_b0a1c92415_z.jpg]
Satisfied with her labor, she brushed her hands together, removing the soil that had been caked on, then washed and dried the rest of her garden tools before returning them to the outbuilding.
Her outbuilding inventory had been drastically reduced over the past few days. The only remaining seeds were for herbs. Those she had planned to grow indoors in a small planter. Every bag of fertilizer and compost had been used. She’d need to get some more soil and containers for the herb garden when she went back into town—and when she got some more money.
And that was a major problem.
But Hollie decided she’d worry about that tomorrow. It was well past noon. She’d skipped lunch, too caught up in the work she was doing. She was bone tired now, and only had [30 Energy] remaining. A bowl of [Willowroot Lamb Stew] was just what she needed. The kitchen whipped it up for her quickly enough, and the Cookbook informed her that she was out of supplies to make any more later.
Hollie sighed. She’d figure that out later too. For now, it was time to eat and rest and be thankful for the progress that had been made. With all of the work she’d done, she’d gained another [10 XP] towards [Cottager Level 2], leaving her only needing [40 XP] more until she completed her first quest objective.
And for that, at least, she could be thankful.
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Settled comfortably into the armchair next to a roaring fire, and sipping from a cup of hot, chamomile tea, Hollie opened the Codex to see what further information she could glean about the world and about being a [Cottager].
“Good afternoon, Codex. How have you been today?”
Ink began to swirl across the blank pages.
Just having a bit of a rest. You haven’t been off on any more wild adventures without me today, have you? Because I highly advise against it!
“Not at all,” Hollie laughed. “Just finished up preparing the second garden bed and planting the rest of the vegetable seeds. Which brings me to my question.”
Yes?
“What information can you give me about raising the crops that I’ve planted? I didn’t know if that was information you had or if it had been erased too.”
Well, the way it seems to work—and I am still figuring this all out for myself—is that, insofar as you have discovered or encountered something, all of my knowledge about it returns to me. So, for instance, tell me one of the crops you planted.
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“Well, today I planted peas and bush beans.”
Bush Beans: These should be planted in warm soil, after the last danger of Spring frost. If planted too soon, the cool soil may stunt growth and prevent germination, but planting too late may result in a poor harvest. Plants require 8 hours of sunlight per day. Seeds should be planted in raised rows, several inches apart from each other. Beans are ready to harvest about 60 days after planting. Plants should be harvested every other day. Known pests are fae mites, aphids, jitterbugs.
Hollie raised her eyebrows, impressed with the Codex’s knowledge on the subject.
That was only a general overview. I can give you more detailed answers on everything from planting, fertilizing, maintenance, soil needs, and more. All you have to do is ask.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Hollie said to the Codex.
She spent the rest of the evening asking it questions about the other seeds she had planted and gleaned from it that the peas would be ready to harvest in 70 days, that onions could be harvested green or mature, and that the potatoes would be ready to harvest about 100 days later, when their leaves had begun to yellow and to droop.
She also learned that average spring temperatures in Spritespring Hollow, which, from the little she could tell on the Map seemed to be in the northern part of the kingdom, ranged from chilly lows in the 30s to the occasional high in the mid 70s. It was a pleasant season, with days of plentiful sunshine interspersed with a rain shower or a thunderstorm here or there.
It was a great season to be outdoors, tending to the garden, strolling through the woods and observing this strange and beautiful world. Hollie thought of the Spotted Redcaps again.
In the morning, she’d head back into town and see what she could find out about this Grimsworth fellow. Maybe there was a good reason for his request. But the image of the Redcaps squealing in the basket as she handed them over to the cadaverous figure in her dreams weren’t so easily pushed aside. She shuddered.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow she’d know.
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The morning started off with a light mist, but by the time Hollie had finished breakfast, it had tapered off, leaving only a dewy trace of its presence on the surface of the grass and leaves and the colorful petals of wildflowers. Clouds still streaked across the sky, mingling with the watery sunlight to paint it a grayish blue. As Hollie neared the outer edges of Foxley Cross, the scent of fresh rain and newly plowed fields made their way merrily to her nose and lifted her spirits.
Soon the first farmsteads appeared, exactly as she’d remembered: sheep grazing lazily in their fields, small clumps of green spouting up from rows of furrows, and smoke drifting from the tops of chimneys.
It was such a tranquil scene. Everything here was. Each time she paused to take in the beauty of her surroundings, her heart was filled with inexpressible joy and gratitude that she was here. Of all the places she could have woken up, she was here. It never failed to bring a smile to her lips.
Foxley Cross [https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53846555053_fa5395d7b4_c.jpg]
Several farmers were out and about, busy working in their fields and with their livestock, but the village streets themselves were fairly quiet. Hollie only passed two people on her way to the village square, and even there, only two women and two small children were chatting at the well.
Hollie glanced up at the clock tower that loomed over the square.
Only 8:46 in the morning.
Hollie’s first stop was Chipping's Village Shop, but it was closed. A sign posted on the door noted that it would open for business at 9:30.
She shrugged, then looked across the square at the large building whose timbered frame seemed imbued with the warmth and cheerfulness of its tiny yet big-hearted proprietors. A steady stream of smoke chugged from the fireplace, its puffy gray clouds only dissipating once they were high out of reach of the surrounding rooftops. Hollie wasn’t sure if The Jolly Gnome would be open for business so early, but it was worth a shot. And if anyone could tell her anything about Mr. Grimsworth, it would probably be Buffin Willowroot.
Hollie tried the door to the inn only to find it locked. Unlike Alice’s shop, there was no sign indicating when it might open.
Hollie sighed and considered her options. She could wait in the village square for Alice’s shop to open. There was a lovely stone bench seated beneath the great spreading oak outside the inn. Or—Hollie could feel the adventurous side of her stirring now—she could explore the village on her own. Peruse the little alleyways between the shops and houses and see what, if anything, she could find out about Mr. Grimsworth herself.
She grinned, knowing as soon as she thought it that she would choose the latter. She took the Map from her pack and asked it to reveal Foxley Cross in detail. In a few short moments, the ink began to form a picture. There was the square, and the tree under which she sat, and The Jolly Gnome and Chipping's Village Shop, all nicely labeled. Everything that she’d seen of the village so far had been filled in, but there was still much that was missing: buildings without names, roads that led to who knew where, and parts of the village that faded into empty space.
Foxley Cross wasn’t a big place. She was sure she could have the rest of the map filled out and have the answer to who the mysterious Mr. Grimsworth was all before day’s end.
Foxley Cross Map [https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53842445423_9af7302cf3_c.jpg]
She started south down the main road, putting the village square behind her. Across a small, unpaved road from The Jolly Gnome was Glimmering Grove Bakery. It was a pretty building, built of honeycomb bricks and with a brown slate roof. The overhang above the entry was decorated with intricately carved flourishes. Through the window, Hollie could see what appeared to be a young woman, with skin as white as ivory, and long, coppery locks that shone like the sun. Her features were delicate, almost perfect, and her ears ended in soft points at the top. No doubt this was Elara Copperleaf herself. An elf. The first elf Hollie had ever seen in her life.
Elara Copperleaf [https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53846654239_8172a404ff_z.jpg]
The smell of fresh baked bread, with sweet notes of honey and butter, wafted from the shop, and Hollie was tempted to enter the store and see what Elara had for sale. She reminded herself that she only had [8 balnochs] to her name and that there were probably better, more necessary uses for her remaining funds. Disappointed, she continued on.
Stonehammer's Forge [https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53846654129_9e48367b9e_z.jpg]
She wound her way through town, noting the village hall and guild hall—though Hollie had no clue what exactly a guild hall was—Fergus Stonehammer's blacksmith forge, a lumber mill, and a smattering of houses, some with small gardens planted with vegetables and herbs and flowers. The houses had name plates above the doors, with the names of the families who dwelt there painted on in white lettering: Tynfell, Cobbleheart, Greyhawk, Reddell, Muddlebrush, Applebrook, Dunforth, Stackhouse, Silverhelm, and finally, on a massive timber-framed house whose second story hung over its first to such a great extent that the whole building seemed to be tilting forward, Grimsworth.
Hollie stood glued to her tracks.
So, this was Mr. Grimsworth's house. It had a dark look to it, though perhaps it was only the shadow cast by the overhanging upper floor. Weeds grew amongst the bushes and flowers that bordered the walls, and the white paint with which the home had once been cheerfully covered was now stained with dirt and chipping away.
Grimsworth House [https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53846654269_b6ae52ea57_c.jpg]
She hesitated for a moment, but willing herself to be brave, she stepped up to the door and knocked.
There was no response. Hollie considered turning away. Did she really want to come face to face with whoever lived in the only unkempt house in the village? The only house that seemed shrouded in secrecy and shadow? But she had to know the truth.
She knocked again.
This time, she heard a faint shuffling, then a sound of all sorts of things crashing and clattering to the ground, then a high-pitched yell and finally, the sound of footsteps shuffling to the door. When it opened, Hollie found herself face to face with a bespectacled man with graying red hair and a scruffy, unkempt beard to match. He wore a black vest over a white shirt with long, puffed-up sleeves, and brown pants with numerous pockets, each one overflowing with all sorts of small gadgets and tools. He looked intelligent, disheveled, and possibly a bit unhinged, but he smiled brightly at Hollie, and the green eyes behind his spectacles twinkled.
“I do apologize,” he said with a voice more refined than Hollie had expected. “I’m sure that commotion with the pots and the pans could be heard all the way to the village square. I really do need to learn to pick up after myself a bit better. Anyhow, I was rushing downstairs from my study, carrying all of my notes, stacked so high I couldn’t see, and ran straight into the pile of pots and pans that I’ve been meaning to wash. And they all fell and made a right mess. And of course, running into it all didn’t feel too nice either, hence the yelling. I’m sorry if I’ve frightened you. Your face does look a bit pale and all. Now, how can I help you?”
The man didn’t look anything at all like the evil figure she’d conjured up in her dreams. And he didn’t sound like him either. If anything, he appeared quite friendly, if a bit odd.
Mr. Grimsworth [https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53846292511_9e0a5d3c70_c.jpg]
“Are you Mr. Albus Grimsworth?” she asked.
“I am indeed,” he answered, reaching out an ink-stained hand.
Hollie took his hand and gave it a friendly shake, already feeling much better, but still full of questions.
“Hollie Townes,” she told him.