Chapter 7. Calm
The gentle sound of a stream mingled with excited squeaks as Quint stood up from the plant he had been examining and stretched his back with a sigh.
A few other bushes grew nearby as mice eagerly ran from one to another, catching and eating any bugs on their branches.
Quint had been inspired by his trip into Hamilton to grow his own food. As a dungeon master, he could likely even speed up their growth with skillful manipulations of mana.
Unfortunately, the plants from Hamilton and ones growing naturally nearby reacted similarly to the bugs: not at all, or withering and dying if he imbued too much mana into them.
After a week of experimenting, Quint had finally isolated a local plant resistant to death by mana overload on the very outskirts of the Dungeon, the one he had been examining just now.
The blackberry bush.
Though the effect of mana was faint, it was there. He could sense the mana changing the plants even now.
They might serve as both a source of food and a defensive obstacle, as the plants themselves grew into a rather intimidating tangle of thorns and brambles that was sure to discourage intruders.
Quint was interrupted from his ponderings by a wet nose poking his side.
It was Pipsqueak, the micekin leader, looking curiously at him and the bush.
“Hey there, Pipsqueak. Just looking at these blackberry bushes here.”
“Cheese?” the giant mouse asked, and Quint had to suppress a grin.
“No, not quite. But I assume we’ll be able to eat the berries from this bush once they’re ripe. Food.”
“Food!” Pipsqueak exclaimed, eyes glinting with excitement, and Quint let out a laugh.
“Yes, food. But we have to take care of this plant, like the mice are doing!” Quint pointed at a regular sized mouse who had snagged a caterpillar off of a bush and was gulping it down.
Pipsqueak squinted his eyes and nodded seriously.
“And make sure it gets plenty of water, too.” Quint said, thoughtfully.
He walked back to the tower to grab a wooden bucket, and shouted at the other micekin who were lounging about in the sun and the grass.
He could see a few of the barn-mice that he had picked up from Hamilton, as a few of them had entered the same hibernation that the original mice had, including one mouse so old that its fur had bits of white in it and was missing a paw and an eye.
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Quint enjoyed having the micekin around.
They were curious and energetic, and followed him around like a puppy might. Master Woggins had been a good master, but he had not been always around, always reading some esoteric text or away on a research trip.
In fact, he had only taught Quint a few 1st-circle spells and mostly left him to his own devices. Quint was extremely grateful that his master had rescued him from a life on the streets, but it had taken him a year to realize that anything he learned, he would have to learn on his own.
“Hey fellas! Follow me, I’ve got a job for you all.” Quint called, and the micekin perked up excitedly.
Quint walked the short distance towards the stream with the gang of micekin trotting behind him.
A few of the micekin even dipped their heads into the water to drink while Quint dunked the bucket in to fill it.
Quint and the gang carried it back to the bush, and he made sure to pour it generously in the surrounding soil while explaining what he was doing to the micekin.
“...and so plants need water. So you all are going to be responsible for watering the blackberry bushes in our territory every day, understand?”
He coupled this explanation with mental images of the bush, watering it when the sun was up, and delicious berries first bloomed and ripened.
He could see it when it clicked for the micekin, because they threw up their arms and began cheering while squeaking “Food! Berry! Food!”
Quint smiled at the crowd, and imagined living a very calm life as a farmer of magical berries of some sort with his mice.
A deer from the other side of the stream, startled by the cheers, looked curiously at the strange gathering of creatures before snorting and walking away.
.
.
.
The people of Hamilton were having a great day when one of the farmers out on the field spotted something in the distant sky.
He called to his son, who ran to get his mother, who told their neighbors, one of whom got the village elder, before running out to the field to all stare in wonder at the slowly growing dot.
“It’s a bird!”
“It’s a man!”
“You idiot, men can’t fly!”
Soon, the people of Hamilton realized that it was indeed a man.
A man of prodigious girth was being carried through the sky by four, clearly struggling, abnormally large sparrows.
“I have arrived!” proclaimed the plump man as he landed, spreading his arms in a majestic gesture.
“Er… and who might you be?” asked a villager. An elder cracked him on the back of the head with a cane.
“Me? You do not recognize me? I am Flimbo the Great! A new Dungeon Master of the Dunbar Kingdom!”
“Of course, your wizardness! Who could mistake the master of such wondrous creatures for anything else!” cried the elder, throwing himself on the ground while throwing a meaningful glance at the others.
The other villagers quickly bowed, tearing their eyes off of the strangely large sparrows who were huffing and leaning on each other for support in an oddly human manner.
“More like Flimbo the Plump.” muttered one of the villagers in the back, but a quick pinch in the side by his wife shut him up.
Flimbo glared suspiciously at the elder, but accepted the bow for the proper show of submission.
“The proper term is lord! But I wouldn’t expect peasants to know the proper etiquette, of course.”
“Of course, of course, your wizardness. A thousand apologies! If I may ask, what has brought you to our humble town?”
The plump wizard harrumphed.
“Hmph! I am here to visit the one called Woggins the Wise.” He spat with as much contempt as his significant belly could allow. Which was a lot.
“But of course,” The elder replied while wiping off the spittle from his face. “He is but an hour’s walk from the village. We can send one of the younglings as a guide if you would like, your wizardness.”
“I know where he is, you fool! I’m here simply to make some… inquiries.” Flimbo waved off the offer like an irritating fly. “Have there been any strange occurrences of magical or non-magical beasts near this town?”
The villagers looked at each other curiously, before an old man wearing overalls strapped over his belly (which was still impressive, despite not being as big as Flimbo’s) stepped up and spoke in a drawl..
“I might have, your… er, wizardness. An apprentice of Woggins by the name of Quint, bright young feller he is, came into town a week or so ago and put some sorta spell on some mice that were infesting the barn…” he said.
“Hm, yes… Interesting that Woggins still hasn’t been moving about himself. Very well. I will purchase some food for my sparrows, then be off to visit the dun… tower.” Flimbo replied.
The villagers parted before him and watched in wonder as he sauntered into town with the four sparrows trotting behind him like men.