41 – Another Westerner
To see my home again filled me with such a great sense of relief. I'd only been gone a few days but those days had been such a never ending fiasco that it felt so much longer.
And, thankfully, it seemed the farm had not been burned to ash in my passing.
As I made my way down the road toward it, however, I could not help but notice that Tiode as a whole seemed a little livelier than usual. A few wagons were in the main streets, strangers in travelling clothes talking to the merchants in the streets.
"Traders?" I murmured. Those heaving, loaded wagons of theirs were a bit of a giveaway. And a decent sum of them too. In all my time here I hadn't seen too many of them passing by the village, usually only the ones who came in by boat.
Haita and Mikan were waiting for me by the fence when I arrived. "Hey, Aniki!" the boy said, waving at me.
Mikan offered us a kindly smile. "Good to see you back again, Master Amon. And you too Smoke." There was no hesitation as she reached out, stroking the hellcat behind the ears. He welcomed the touch, a chuffing sound rising in his throat.
For all her initial fear of him when he'd been a cub, the cat had a way of growing on people. He was pretty docile, so long as it didn't look like there were any threats against me.
I nodded at them, quietly surveying my land. "You did good," I said. "Thanks." Did I trust these two? Evidently, but that was a damn shock to me. Since my resurrection the people I had trusted could be counted on one hand.
Yet these two... they were earnest enough. But it was still strange to have anyone I could even remotely have faith in.
"Aw, it was no trouble. Actually it was kind of nice, having something new to do," said Mikan. She paused, surveying the crate in my arms. "Sheesh. What in the world did you buy?"
"Brewing equipment. Among a few other things," I said, shrugging. They opened the gate and held it open for us as we strode in, and I set the box on my porch. "What's with all the wagons on the main street?"
Haita turned, glancing toward the coast. "Oh, Tiode's been getting more traders in ever since y-" he cleared his throat, "ever since that bounty hunter lady killed those bandits. Good thing too, we needed fresh stuff."
"Pops is in the shop, making a few new friends. We'll have a lot more stock soon," Mikan said, nodding proudly.
That might have been a bad thing, this place getting more popular, drawing more attention to it. But there was no sense in worrying right away.
I made my way over to the potatoes, many of them having grown fat in the soil. Faster than I'd expected to, but that was alchemical magic for you. "I reckon these are good for harvesting," I said, plucking a few from the earth. "And I do owe you too. So how about I cook you something?"
"Oh, you're going to cook us those... things?" Haita asked.
"Potatoes," I said. "A common vegetable back home. Peasants grew a lot of them because each crop had a large yield, meaning you had plenty to sell and plenty to feed your family with. Helps that they tasted good too. My wife was more of a cook than me, but I learned a few things. You stay there now."
Smoke unfurled himself in the sun outside and fast fell asleep. I could hear Mikan trying her best to get some conversation going outside. And Haita was regaling her with the best 'ums' and 'uhs' in all the land.
I sighed as I set three potatoes in the oven to bake. Poor lad wouldn't have cut it as a bard, that was for damn sure. But I suppose I was rooting for him, all the same.
Seemed he hadn't just gone for it like I'd suggested. Well, it still fell to him to do it. Or for Mikan to say something, if she figured him out. Personally, I was too old and craggy to want to throw myself into a mess like that.
I had no butter, getting a churn was on my to-do list (though I'd have to explain a lot to the carpenter), but I was able to season it with some sea salt and a few of the herbs I'd bought in Low Moon.
Mikan looked incredulously at me as the plate was offered to her, and to the wooden fork beside the potato. I'd taken the time to carve a few implements from wood during my sleepless nights, because I'd be damned if I was going to use those blasted sticks the locals were so enamoured with.
Plus good luck to pinching a piece of potato without it crumbling between the sharp little points.
"It's hot," I warned them.
Haita held a steaming chunk aloft on his fork. "Clearly."
Mikan blew on hers a few times, until the billowing steam had become fainter. She took a bite, her expression shifting a few times. "It's... an interesting texture," she admitted.
"Tastes good though!" Haita said, though the redness to his face made it clear he hadn't let his cool quite enough.
I managed a small smile, eating mine without much bothering to cool it. As if I could be scalded... though my tongue and the roof of my mouth did tingle a bit. "What do you reckon?" I asked, looking at Mikan. "Figure these would sell at your store? I guarantee there's a lot more ways to cook 'em."
"It does taste good," she admitted, eating slightly faster. "You'd have to talk to my old man about the pricing but something tells me he'd give you a very good rate, even for just the first batch."
"But do you think people would buy them from his store?"
Mikan hesitated. "Well... people in Tiode are a bit set in their ways. Getting the old heads to try anything new is a little rare," she admitted.
"Yeah but if we get good of mouth going, people are likely gonna at least try them. It's not like they'd go into debt buying these... tater things." Haita caught a portion of the baked potato skin and chewed thoughtfully on it.
"I'd rather sell local than try to make arrangements all the way in Low Moon. But I guess if things don't work here, the traders passing through might buy some."
I was about to say more when Smoke perked up, his ears twitching as he was roused from sleep. The Iudex was riding up on his bird, reins clutched in one hand, flanked by his usual contingent of bodyguards.
Riding behind him was a sight that made my stomach drop, filling my veins with a sharp chill of ice.
The rider was atop a lean chestnut horse, dressed in finely tailored riding clothes, his reddish hair slicked back and a pair of brass-rimmed spectacles on the thin bridge of his nose. His horse's saddlebags were full to bursting with gods knew what, and his belt was lined with slots for all manner of tools.
There was no mistaking it, even at a glance.
Another westerner had come to Tiode.