One of the apprentices I didn’t know well came over as he realized Norrus and I were finishing up our wrestling session. I knew he worked for Master Kertos Zurrz.
Quorlin Smurm – male Covargh, age 16
Level 13 Blacksmith, Strongarm
Blacksmith Apprentice
“Hello, Forrest. We wrestled several weeks ago when you were still Level 3. I see you’ve gotten a little better, and it looked like you and Norrus were having fun. Maybe he was having a little more fun than you were.” He glanced knowingly at Norrus, who was probably blushing under that fur. “You wanted to move on to someone older so you could really use your strength. How about me?”
At his Level 13, it would be the complete opposite of me wrestling with the unleveled Norrus. Being a strongarm would likely make Quorlin’s Wrestling skill outstanding. Depending on when he started learning it, I wouldn’t be too surprised if it were at Rank B. But we were the same age and about the same size, so this session could be overall more beneficial to me. “Alright. I’m a bit more rugged than last time we did this, so you can go a little harder today. I think my Wrestling is about to reach Level D.”
“Mine might get to B within the next month with the practice we get in these daily apprenticeship sessions. I started wrestling several years younger than Norrus is now.” Quorlin smiled at Norrus, who smiled, happy to still be acknowledged. We had attracted a lot of attention having an early wrestling session, which normally didn’t happen until toward the end of training. “I’ll do my best to fight at your level. It wouldn’t be any fun for either of us if I just pinned you and it was over. Do you want to continue with the ‘no formal rounds’ approach? I’m fine with that.”
“That is fine with me. We know who would win in serious matches. So let’s continue until I get tired. I’ll let you know when it ranks. Then watch out for my awesome D.”
That might have been funny on Earth.
If you say so.
He stripped. Arrjee and a few others had come over to watch. He had confided in me that Quorlin had been a crush, so I was curious what he thought of this. || Which boyfriend are you rooting for?
Arrjee announced, “May the cute one win!” || both!
Sun added, “Toast Forrest.” || Then Forrest is toast.
I was surprised to see Jarine there, and that she was still Jarine. Maybe she was enjoying being young for a while. “We’ll see what Forrest looks like when he reaches Level 13.” || But yeah, toast!
I responded, “You guys are a riot. What if I told you I knew secret wrestling techniques from another planet?” || really!
Not that I could actually use any of that WWE nonsense. Interface would penalize me for ungentlemanly behavior. Not to mention, as a Level 13 strongarm, Quorlin could likely defeat any of those charlatans.
Yes. Most.
Three mental responses hit me at virtually the same time, all declaring the same thing. || toast!
Quorlin stood in the typical start-wrestling stance, waiting for me to do the same. I did, and strove to take him down to the mat. He went down, not easily, but I was pretty sure he allowed it. He was doing as he said, fighting at my level. Still, it was more ‘real wrestling’ than the roughhousing Norrus and I had been doing. This was going to be fun.
----------------------------------------
[an hour ago, Sterbian Morse’ cottage, Rhonda Silverstone’s point of view]
I had spent the night with Sterbian, and assisted him in his store this morning. He had really made a turn-around from that paranoid, distrustful man he had become. He was an even better man than I remembered from years past, but part of that might be I had never given him the chance to show me his true self. Lately he had been a pleasure to be with, and last night he had been the perfect caring, sharing gentleman.
I thought with a laugh, “Well, mostly gentleman.”
He asked me, “Would you like to go upstairs for lunch? The best butcher in town has supplied me with two of the finest steaks I have ever seen. I believe I just might be able to do something with them.”
“Yes, Sterb, I would like that very much. If they are as fine as you say, I just may have to thank the butcher personally.”
It’s true. The way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach.
We went up. He asked, “Would you like to sit on a stool in the kitchen or wait in the den?”
“I would like to watch a professional at work. Except for during your famous public barbecues I have not had the opportunity. I believe you may be the best grillmaster in two worlds. But what can you do in a kitchen?”
He pulled out an old, very black, thick cast iron pan. There were distinct ridges on its cooking surface. “Rhonda, what makes you think I won’t be grilling? The only element from outside cooking which will be missing is no flavor from direct smoke. With judicious use of a few herbs and spices, you will not be disappointed by that lack.”
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“I very much look forward to it, Sterb.” He had a common model of woodstove, but it was larger than mine. I remember he entertained a lot while he was mayor, but somehow my husband and I had never been invited.
He started a fire within the stove, and we talked as it reached the very hot temperature he wanted. Then he added a little oil to his pan, and set it on the stove to get hot. He pulled out the steaks from his icebox, wrapped together in butcher paper. He unwrapped them and started preparing them.
“What do you add?” I asked.
“You would have to marry me to find out,” he flirted.
“What can I find out from sex?”
“Salt,” he replied. “It is the most important ingredient besides the steaks themselves.”
I laughed. “I already knew that.”
“Liberally, on both sides, just like your mind-blowing sex.”
He wasn’t generally that direct, and it cracked me up. “I bet you tell that to all the girls.”
“Just the pretty ones.” He stared into my eyes as he said that and managed to say it with a boyish cuteness which I didn’t recall seeing.
Maybe when we were young.
He had also baked a couple of sweet potatoes. I didn’t see him place those near the burning wood, but he obviously had. They were a little charred on one side. Sterbian said we wouldn’t eat the charred side, but it adds flavor to the rest. He cut them open and sprinkled them with some dark sugar. “You can add more sugar at the table if you want.”
Covargh generally prefer their meat rare, but I like medium rare. I let him know, and I saw the slightest look of disappointment on his face. “Sterby, have yours rare. Maybe it is the Human in me; I just like them a little more brown than most people in town.”
“Okay,” he replied with that boyish grin. “But if this is only the second best thing you have ever eaten, don’t blame me.”
In a few more minutes we were at the table eating. It was indeed one of the best meals I remember. Somehow that potato’s char did add the flavor he promised; I’ll have to remember that. Even though Sterbian considers ‘medium rare’ substandard, he cooked my steak to perfection. Whatever herbs and spices he had added enhanced it to an amazing degree, without at all hiding the flavor of the meat itself.
When we were finished, I helped him clean up. The fire in the stove still burned, but it would be out in less than an hour. We went to his den and sat together on his sofa. “Sterbian, you are indeed as excellent in the kitchen as outside on a grill. Thank you for sharing this time with me.”
“And I thank you as well, Rhonda. For a couple years I felt so alone. I was afraid everything was changing without me. It’s silly, too. It was my decision to not serve as mayor again, and I knew Barrie would do an excellent job. And he did, but I still had that fear I cannot even name.”
“The first time I experienced it – you remember that trip I took to Capital City shortly after Barrie took over?” I had to admit I did not recall. “Well, I was there for about five days, and it took over two days to get there and the same to get back, so I was gone for about a week. I visited some old friends, a couple of museums, and the Duchess held a ceremony thanking me and two others for service to the duchy. We received royal scrolls to commemorate the event. She may have run out and had to get a special one for me. It was a little different from the other two and had a more general message. Here, I’ll get it.”
He continued talking to me as he got up and walked to his bedroom. “The other two scrolls thanked the people individually, with their names in fancy lettering. Mine is not individualized, but it does look nice. Still, I felt a little slighted, almost like I wasn’t important enough to get a ‘real’ royal scroll. Why did I even bother going, you know?”
“When I got home I just left it on the cabinet next to my bed. I don’t think I touched it for years, until finally getting it a frame and hanging it across the room. To tell you the truth, I have barely looked at it since then, either”
As he came out of the room, Sterbian tripped. The framed document slipped from his hands. The cover glass shattered and one of the sides of the frame broke off. I stood to assist him. “Crap!” he said. “Let me get it; I am the one who broke it. Not that I’ll miss the stupid thing.” He moved a small trash bin to where the mess was and began picking up the pieces, dropping glass and the broken frame pieces into it. I could see that he had cut himself on one of the pieces
I’ll have to kiss it and make it feel better.
When he was finished picking up the mess, he licked his bloody thumb and stood. He held the document spread out. His blood and saliva were going to make a stain in the upper right, but he didn’t really seem to care about it anyway. It wanted to curl up without the frame keeping it flat.
It may have been generic, but very attractive calligraphy stood out on the high quality paper.
P R O T E C T O R of F A M I L Y
P R O T E C T O R of H O M E S
P R O T E C T O R of V I L L A G E S
I smiled. “Nice to meet you, Sir Protector.” He didn’t respond, probably feeling embarrassed at having broken the frame. Out of curiosity, I analyzed the scroll.
Service Proclamation, Presented to Sterbian Morse, Mayor of Cottages
High quality, minor wrinkling and bloodstain
Blessed: Comfort among Family
Bared Curse: Fearfulness, Depression, Loneliness, Paranoia
“Sterbian, it is cursed! Drop it!!” He did not respond, standing frozen and staring at me. “Sterbian? Sterbian!” Still no response. I went over to him.
He followed my motion with his eyes, then spoke with a voice which was barely his own. “You wicked fucking whore! This whole time you have been after my scroll. You can’t have it. No one can! Get back. No, I’ll drive you back!”
He let one side of the scroll go and pointed his palm at me. Suddenly he was spraying me with scalding water. I had to shut my eyes to protect them, and I began quickly backing up. “You think you could just sleep with me, whore, and then take whatever you want? Is that what you thought, bitch?! I cooked for you!”
The spray stopped. I grabbed an envelope of pepper dust from my pouch, but was not sure if I should use it. He is not himself, but he does not seem to care if he hurts me. “Should I kill you, or just reveal your true self to your family and friends? I could do both, you know? I think I will. Let your blood boil!”
That made me sure, The envelope was weighted,and charmed for accurate delivery and release. I let it fly. “Bitch, what are you doing?” This time he let fly a narrow beam of hot water, and it immediately cut right through the arm which had thrown the pouch. My hand fell to the ground along with half of my lower arm.
As the pepper dust hit him, he exclaimed, “I’ll kill you bitch, all the Silverstones!” I could tell that he was temporarily incapacitated, and ran out of the den and down the stairs.
He’s done something to me. It’s not just my arm. Inside, I don’t feel right anywhere. – I feel intense pain everywhere. What did he say? ‘Let your blood boil!’ My family, I love you. Need … to warn people.