7 – Tending to the Morons

The days went by and turned into weeks, and the steady income of money and building materials allowed me to repair the house on my property. In time I’d probably make a home more like the ones from back west, but the one here was serviceable.

I patched the hole in the roof, tore out the rotting wood and replaced it with new wood, and generally set about cleaning the exterior and interior. It eventually looked good at a glance, and I was soon bringing in furniture from the village’s carpenter.

And then, once the house was in order, I started dedicating time to working on the fence.

Years had passed from my mortal life, but the skills had never left me. My uncle had done a lot of carpentry in my home village and I had practised under him in my teenage years. I knew how to work wood, with or without magic. Bit by bit I walked the perimeter of my acres, hammering posts into the dense earth with only the heft of my hands.

After planting one pole, Smoke trailing along behind me, I paused to survey my land. Already it looked more vibrant than it had when I first got here, the grass green while the first of my crops continued to sprout.

I’d used up much of my alchemical solution, but it had done its job. So long as I kept a good watch on things and kept crop rotation in mind, the farm itself could grow stronger and stronger.

“What do you think, Smoke?” I asked the cat. He made a small murring sound, looking up at me. “Wheat is always in demand, I’m sure even the locals here would like fresh bread. Maybe we can grow corn too? Potatoes? Or get some fruit trees to grow?”

Apples would be my first choice, if they had them on Tsukio. But, if not, the smugglers could help. The climate was good enough, and I missed having scrumpy to drink.

Smoke murred at me, rubbing my legs with his broad head.

“Apple trees it is.”

Having company wasn’t so bad. Petting Smoke made me feel a little better, and the little guy was already killing rats and similar vermin in the area I wish he refrained from leaving them on the doorstep as an offering, but the thought was appreciated.

Kenji was the owner of the tannery and was always happy to get hides or pelts. Well, nowadays he was. He had been wary of me when we first met, which seemed the norm out east, but a few quality pelts had been enough to get him more receptive to me.

“Ah,” the portly man said, examining the assortment of fox and wolf pelts and stroking is coarse black beard with one hand. “We might actually run out of wolves at this rate with you around, Westerner.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” I said, glancing to a torn section of my tunic. Frankly the amount of wolves in the Tsukian wilderness was concerning. Small wonder people scarcely left the village unless it was in a large group.

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“There’s supposed to be bears in the groves beyond the sawmill,” Kenji mused, lifting one mass of glossy black fur. “I could do with… one of those, if you were to find yourself that way. I could give you the cost of three wolf pelts, if it’s big enough.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said, shrugging. That would probably be more of a challenge, but only just.

“I’d appreciate it. The Iudex is wanting a cloak, what with the Chilling Season looming on the horizon and all. Bear fur could do him some good.”

I left him with a few extra coins in my satchel. Perhaps it would be best to give the wolves a chance to recover and repopulate, just a little. In time Smoke would have grown large enough to act as a guard cat on my property, warding off such beasts.

Brazio was visiting the village that day, selling goods to those who had the gin to pay him. He looked up as I approached, sunlight illuminating his dark tan and curly beard. He was a Dhagran from the far south, an even rarer sight in Tsukio than a westerner.