53: Up the Mountain
As I entered the structure, about to get back to eating my rabbit, it seemed my words had struck a chord—Milo burst through the entrance right after me.
“Did you say… Ancient?”
I just nodded. Milo collapsed onto the ground near his dinner.
“I really hope the dragon doesn’t know we have any connection to its kin’s killing. If it finds out we have the corpse, this trip up the mountain is going to be… interesting.” Milo shook his head, still in disbelief.
“We’ll be fine. Just stay near Trev, then the cat will just kill it to save him!” Liane said, not letting a little thing like death get in the way of her dinner.
“Plus… I also kind of want to try dragon,” she added, gazing off into the distance. I could only imagine she was dreaming of roast dragon or something equally ridiculous.
“It’s not dragon—it’s drake,” Milo corrected. “And there’s a reason people don’t eat dragon-kin, well, outside of the sheer danger of trying to hunt one.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Liane waved him off.
I, however, didn’t know, and apparently my confusion showed.
“The mana density in their blood makes them nearly impossible to eat. People treat it as if it’s toxic—but it’s not that simple,” he explained.
I couldn’t help but wonder if Purify would work on it. And who would test that? Well… I already knew the answer. It would be Liane.
The rest of the evening passed without incident. I went to brush down Sable and was joined by Milo. I was surprised—her coat looked fantastic, so the stables must have taken good care of her over the past few days.
Once chores were done, Milo returned, book in hand.
“You’re not getting out of learning your runes just because your cat is picking fights with gods!” he joked, waving the book at me.
I sighed. “It’s not MY cat…” I muttered, though I knew my words would fall on deaf ears. Milo sat down beside me, pulling out the notebook I’d been practising in the day before.
The rest of the night was spent learning basic shapes and practising drawing them. Each shape represented a different aspect of a spell: whether it affected yourself or someone else, whether it was offensive or defensive. The example we were working on was a simple shield rune—you had to define the target, determine its size, shape, duration, power, and then the ability itself.
Looking at it all now, it seemed overwhelming—and this was just the basics! How complex could it really get?
Milo reassured me it was all just practice—learning the foundations so that experiments later would be easier, with minimal disastrous events. His wording still made me a little nervous.
I checked my notifications just before going to sleep. I didn’t expect to see much, but a few skills were close to level:
Notifications:
You have reached Level 4 in Butchery!
You have earned 25 experience for making an enjoyable meal
…
With so many skills now at Level 4, I couldn’t help but wonder if they would all evolve—and if they did, what they might become. With Knifework having transformed so drastically into Carving Touch, would the others follow a similar path?
To be honest, even when I lost the Knifework skill in favour of its evolution, I hardly noticed a loss in ability while using the knife.
I fell asleep quickly that night, but my dreams were haunted by the destruction I had witnessed in the city, replaying over and over like a relentless, flickering memory.
It had been a restless sleep, but waking the next morning, I felt inspired by the breakfasts at the inn and pulled out my brand-new pan. I was excited to finally use it, but first, I had some prep to do. I remembered Geo’s instructions: when getting a new pot; you had to season it first, or everything would stick.
I grabbed some Buvul fat from my storage—a big chunk of suet, not ideal, but it would work—and heated it in the pan as hot as possible. The goal was to create a protective layer of oil for future cooking.
While the pan heated, I turned to the smoked boar belly I’d picked up back in Greenstone. Only a couple of weeks had passed, but it already felt like ages ago. Slicing strips of belly like the inn did, I set them aside. Then I pulled out five rolls—noticing, I only had about twenty of them left, as well as just twelve eggs. No way was I breaking into my pancake stock today, so pulling out six eggs just enough to have one egg each.
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Once the pan had heated, I poured off the oil used for seasoning and wiped it clean with a rag, then set the belly strips in. Something struck me: thanks to the minor fire-resistance ring, I could pass my hand through the cooking fire and even touch the pan without much discomfort. I couldn’t help wondering just how hot a fire would need to be before it demanded major fire resistance.
The smell of cooking boar belly woke everyone, even Liane, who wandered over, ready for breakfast while I was still preparing. On the plates, I laid out the belly, the roll, and placed the egg on top. On a whim, I tried to infuse the meal—but of course; it failed. I felt a little silly.
Of course it wouldn’t work—I hadn’t smoked the belly myself, hadn’t baked the bread, and I was trying to infuse the whole plate at once. I could’ve tried the eggs separately, but it didn’t seem worth the hassle. Still, the meal tasted fantastic. The belly wasn’t quite as crispy as at the inn, but Milo suggested I slice it thinner next time.
Once breakfast was done, Crisplet floated over onto my shoulder. Milo stored the fire basket while I finished tidying up. Today, we’d reach the mountain pass village Rockhampton, and after a brief check-in, the plan was to head straight up.
When we hit the road, I noticed that Mount Divinus still had dark storm clouds swirling around its peak. Clearly, the dragon wasn’t over yesterday’s incident. The clouds gave the mountain an almost tangible sense of foreboding—it was hard to put my finger on why, but the atmosphere felt heavy and ominous.
One thing I did notice, though, was that today we were passing far more travellers than I had on the way to Boltron. I wasn’t sure if that was because the Galvonson threat had been eliminated or simply because we were now heading away from Boltron.
The trip to the village cost me all three spiders to Liane, but at least she had shared the buffs she received: Fire Immunity, Minor Improved Stealth, Minor Poison Resistance, and Minor Regeneration.
Going by my notes, I could break it down: Fire Immunity came from Crisplet, Stealth and Poison from the spider itself, and Minor Regeneration must have been from the blood tear. That was good to know.
A few hours later, as the afternoon sun began to dip, the village came into view. I was shocked at how much it had recovered since our last visit. Every house was repaired, and the streets were bustling with life. Honestly, you wouldn’t have guessed that less than a week ago, Rockhampton had been on the brink of destruction.
As we entered, several villagers recognised us and greeted us warmly. Hari seemed to be heading toward the longhouse in the middle of town when a group of four armoured individuals stopped us. Despite the armour, they looked pleased to see us.
“Hello!” the tall lady at the front called as we approached.
Hari dismounted and shook her hand, returning her greeting.
“You must be the hunting team,” she said jovially. “We’re the repair team. My name is Anne. Since we arrived yesterday, it’s been surprisingly calm—no major issues.”
“My name is Hari,” he replied. “Thank you. We were just about to visit Londor to figure out roughly where the Galvonsons came from. We’ll also need to stable our horses; there’s no getting them up those steep slopes, unfortunately.” He bowed slightly as he spoke.
“Oh, we’ve already arranged a place for your horses,” Anne said. “They didn’t have anything when we arrived, so we set one up ourselves. I’ll show you. This is my party, by the way—the Earth Raisers,” she added, gesturing to the three men behind her, who waved weakly.
“Ah, yes,” Hari said, “and these four behind me are my party—the Polite Company.” I turned just in time to see Liane visibly wince at the name. I couldn’t help but chuckle a little.
In the end, Anne led us to the stables she had set up for our horses. Her party left somewhere—probably to relax or continue repairs, I assumed. After stabling the horses and giving them plenty of feed from Hari’s storage ring, we made our way to the longhouse to see Londor.
When we reached the entrance, he was already standing there. He must have heard we had entered the town. But this man looked vastly different from the last time I saw him. Back then, he had looked ragged and utterly defeated, resigned to his fate. Now, the man before us was full of life, a massive smile lighting up his face.
“Welcome! Welcome, my friends. Please, come inside and make yourselves comfortable,” he said, gesturing for us to enter. Anne took her leave as Hari exchanged farewells, and we stepped into the longhouse.
It was modest but functional. To the right was a large table with several chairs around it, cluttered with stacks of paperwork. On the left, there appeared to be a study, with a desk and a small bookshelf. I didn’t get a good look around as we settled at the table, where Hari immediately began asking Londor about the likely direction of the Galvonsons.
Since it wasn’t my conversation, I leaned over and whispered to Liane,
“Drake scales are worth something, right? You might be able to afford a name change with that gold.”
Her eyes widened as the realisation sank in, then a grin—best described as slightly evil—spread across her face. I suspected I might have made a mistake sharing that little piece of information, but oh well.
The discussion with Londor didn’t last long. He insisted we stay the night and sleep in the longhouse, claiming we were always welcome. Hari, however, insisted we move on; we were technically on the clock. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little disappointed by that choice, but duty came first.
As we left the longhouse and began making our way out of the village, a question I’d been holding back finally slipped out.
“Uh, do you think we’d be able to buy supplies anywhere here before we go?”
“No, sorry Trev. You’ll find very little choice at the moment. It’s best not to strip a recently attacked town or village of what little food they have left. You usually only buy excess stock that won’t survive or can’t be used otherwise,” Hari explained. Milo just nodded along in agreement.
“In a tragedy, leave the food for the villages—they need it most,” Milo added.
It made sense. Honestly, I hadn’t even thought of it that way. I’d been so focused on my own dwindling supplies I hadn’t considered the village’s well-being. A flush of embarrassment hit me.
We started up the rocky slope leading toward Mount Divinus. At first, it wasn’t too bad, and I wondered again why we couldn’t bring the horses. About an hour in, I understood exactly why.
The ground had turned to loose dust and jagged rock. Every step forward sent us sliding back, and in the end, Milo had to use his magic to compact the earth just so we could walk on it. The magic slowed everyone down—everyone except Jen and Liane, who seemed almost completely unaffected.
Liane eventually broke off from the group to scout ahead, while Jen stayed behind despite her ease on the rock, worried about the mountain’s monsters and the danger of splitting up. Amusingly, Crisplet had left my shoulder and was now roaming the rocks, exploring with complete disregard for the terrain.
Several hours passed before Liane returned. The sky was darkening; sunset was fast approaching.
“Didn’t spot the nest, but there’s a large cave I couldn’t reach in the rock face,” she said, pointing almost straight up the mountain.
“Will we reach it before nightfall?” Hari asked, squinting at the cliffs in the distance.
“At our current pace? No, not even close,” Liane replied.
“Alright, we’ll camp here tonight and proceed in the morning. If it’s a large cave, it might house some other dangerous creature, if it doesn’t have the nest. I’m not a fan of fighting on the edge of a cliff in the dark,” Hari said.
Milo had already gotten to work. The structure he built was simpler than normal, but the walls were twice as thick. I guessed it really was dangerous up here—but, strangely, we hadn’t seen a single creature all day.
Dinner that night was a simple affair. I pulled out the boar rump I had and sliced it into five decent-sized steaks. Using only salt and pepper, I cooked three at a time in the pan. Crisplet assisted with the heat, and when I took them out, the steaks had a beautiful golden sear on the outside, while the inside remained incredibly juicy.
I had to slap Liane’s hand away at least three times while cooking the remaining steaks. I also chopped some carrots and cooked them in the pan; the fat and caramelization turned them a rich dark brown, edges slightly crisped. I infused everything before plating, of course giving Liane hers first—or I’d have lost an arm!
That night, no one stayed outside on watch. Instead, Milo had left holes in the walls—just large enough to see out, but not wide enough for anything to get in. They kept watch from inside, just in case.