24 Winding Down (2/2)

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At sunset, when the blue skies filled with mellow oranges and warm reds, the builders packed up and left. They left their materials out by the cottage and covered them with tarps so that the rain didn't corrode them. They had finished the foundation of the stall, digging out a neat, rectangular pit lined with wood and covered with a tarp to prevent rainfall from leaking in.

By this time, Li and Old Thane had also finished working, having weeded and pruned and tended to all they could. They sat over mugs of rune-chilled water as they reclined in their chairs and looked out the window, watching as the builders started shrinking in the distance, their forms growing darker as the sun set further.

Li glanced at the potted herbs at the windowside. These were the illegal magical ones they had taken from Vincentio. The magical herbs, the mist poppy, fumegrass, and spriteseed, were growing fantastically fast, mystical power flowing through their xylem and phloem nourishing them.

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Where the night before they were just little shoots shyly peeking out from their pots in the cottage, they were now visible stems with leaves growing. In a few days, at this rate, they would grow taller and start to bear their fruits.

The mist poppy would burst forth in beautiful arrays of orange and red flowers. The fumegrass would begin growing little branches covered in thick, grass-like bushy leaves that smelled like gasoline. The spriteseed stem would curve and become bulbous at the end, forming little holes that would whistle like faerie sprites if wind passed through them.

”It feels mighty good to work up a sweat again,” said Old Thane as he downed his water and slammed the mug down on the table. ”It really does seem that sitting around disagrees with me, Li. Hah, to think that some believe old age a time to rot away on cushioned pillows!”

”Sometimes I wish you'd have a little less energy in you, old man,” joked Li.

A rustle sounded overhead, as if something big had landed on the roof. Li saw as a massive feather slowly wafted down the window.

”A bird?” said Li.

Old Thane put his hand down on the table with quite a bit of energy. ”Oh! It's a carrier! My, I haven't gotten a delivery in years!”

”Oh, right.” Li nodded. He had heard about carriers from Old Thane sometime ago, in one of his many stories.

They were essentially the mail system of this world. In Soleil, there were four main cities in each of the cardinal directions, and these cities held crown-funded institutions called the Voliere that trained rocs, low level monsters that looked like giant birds, to carry delivery packages across the rest of the duchy.

The mailing service was too expensive for a commoner to use without a government issued voucher for official business, so it was extremely rare for a roc to ever land on a farm out in the outskirts Riviera, the most peaceful and uneventful of the four cardinal cities of Soleil.

Li had a feeling he knew what it was, though.

”I'll check it out.”

When he came out, the roc fluttered down from the roof. It looked like an eagle the size of a man, its massive talons tightly grasping a fortified rope upon which dangled a sealed wooden chest.

The roc took a good look at Li with its forward facing, fierce avian eyes that looked like it wore a permanent scowl. Once it identified Li's face, it squawked before dropping the rope and letting the chest fall a tiny height to the soft grass.

”Thanks,” said Li to the bird, and the bird bowed its head in knowing appreciation of a forest spirit. It pushed off from the ground, its huge wings flattening the grass below it as it soared into the sky.

Li examined the chest.

A rune inscribed on a piece of solidified wax had been stuck onto it that prevented deterioration and applied minor defense against the elements: a common rune to place on deliveries. The better and more secure the rune, the more expensive the price to deliver.

Li tore off the wax seal and the box opened. Inside were seeds. Almost a hundred of them. He smiled as his knowledge came to use. He could spot Flameweed, Wraith peppers, bone bean, goblin grass, and other mystical plants. All of them were key components to use for elixirs meant to break bones and burn flesh rather than patch up scars and soothe aches.

These were the herb seeds that Sylvie had promised. Though Li did have to wonder why the adventurers hadn't delivered them by themselves. It had barely been two days since he last saw them. But the question was quickly answered when he found a letter at the bottom of the chest, beneath all the seeds.

Li unfolded the letter. The handwriting was elegant with long, curly strokes. One could mistake it for the writing of a noble or a trained scholar, someone who had dedicated many hours into making sure they wrote well and right.

”To Li and Thane,

As agreed upon, here is our end of the deal. It pains us that we could not grant you these seeds in person, but life has taken an errant turn so very suddenly. An official calling by the crown drives all silver-ranked and above adventurers along with their teams north to Montagne. From rumors and whispers, apparently a great Stone Drake has emerged from Mount Noir, enraged at a recent mining incursion into its territory.

By the time you read this, we will be on the rocky roads to the northern mountainlands. Azhar will be fighting off cart-sickness while Jeanne sings at an obnoxious volume. We haven't the heart to tell her she sounds far different than she imagines in her head. If you could utter a prayer for my sanity, I would very much appreciate it, though you need not do so if you wish.

Regardless, when we return, we hope to see the fruits of your labor flower beautifully. We were too young to truly enjoy Aine's skills firsthand, so we look forward to seeing her knowledge and love expressed through your hands.

Good wishes, health, and blessings to the two of you,

Sylvie, Jeanne, and Azhar.

As an aside – we know your herbalist's exam is coming up, and we've heard some concerning things. It is not our place as adventurers to discuss our opinions on politics and laws, but next time you enter Riviera, ask around about the Contract of the Grasses”