26 – A Man With a Lot of Wood

How long had it been since I last worked a harvest? Not since my death, by my reckoning. So… over a decade ago. But as I went through the golden grains of wheat, cutting the harvest with a sickle of glossy black metal born of my power, I allowed myself to feel good about it.

After all, it was nice to create something after years of nothing but destruction.

Smoke padded along at my side, a wicker basket hitched to his left shoulder. It housed the accumulated grain I’d gathered thus far. “Looks good, doesn’t it?”

“Mrnn… yes, father,” Smoke said, his voice a low growl. He had gotten more used to speaking, but his cadence was stiff and slow. Like he was assembling each word, syllable by syllable.

I, personally, had not gotten used to him speaking. But it was part of my life now, and I loved the cat all the same.

“I have to go into town when we get done here. Folks are saying that Brazio and a few other smugglers from the Shadow Caravan will be here today. That means you’re on watch.”

“Of course.” Smoke… smiled? It was hard to tell. Even if he could talk, that didn’t change his face in any way.

Talking animals… Novos had had a few in his menagerie. Ravens, mostly, and other large birds who could serve as spies on his behalf. But I’d never seen a cat talk. Magicka was involved, no doubt about that, but… well, maybe the cat was just an oddity?

“Any intruders… shall face my wrath.”

I breathed through my nose. “Don’t kill anyone, Smoke.”

Mikan surveyed my grain, whistling as her eyes roamed the basket. “I didn’t think anyone could get anything to grow on that land you bought. You’re pretty impressive, Master Amon,” she said, grinning.

I shrugged. “Land wasn’t the problem. Last fella who had it just didn’t bother to put the right work in. I’m only getting started. Wheat for now, and then… well, ideally Brazio will have some potatoes for me to plant.”

Mikan cocked her head, eyes widening at me. “Po… tatoes?” she asked, testing syllables. “I have not… heard of such things?”

Now it was my turn to look surprised, lifting a brow at her. “Damn. You people have been missing out. I’ll be sure to get you some to try.”

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I had no doubt the locals would thank me.

Rice and fish, rice and fish, they barely ate anything other than rice and gods-damned fish. Potato stew would hit this village like a drug.

“They’re a vegetable,” I said. “They’re pretty easy to grow, and you get a large yield from even a few seeds. Provided you take good care of them. A lot of the peasants back home, myself included, grew ‘em. You could feed your family on potatoes alone, and then sell your more valuable crops.”