The Slime Farmer - 103 The Blessing Feast 1

The preparations went on into the night, setting up tables near the sansu trees and digging latrines in more secluded spots. The latrines were set up as temporary outhouses, walled with debris that was left over from the renovation of the warehouse.

Lon had, after the tables were sorted out, started them on weaving temporary platters from long leaves and reed strips. He demonstrated, to Defi’s fascination, finishing a single platter in less than thirty seconds.

Defi took the sample to study, turning it around in his hands. Amazing. The woven platter was sturdier than it looked.

The canvas sheet canopy tents went up over the tables and the cooking area near midnight when a soft rain started drizzling down.

The stream diverted from the river, running through the refurbished warehouse and the new bath-house, came in handy when cleaning up.

Defi only had the chance to take a nap long after midnight. He woke just as the imminent sun was painting the east in rose and salmon, gilding the underside of the clouds in shining gold.

He stretched, yawning as he made ready for the day.

Opening the door out of the kitchen, he saw that Reon was at the temporary oven they set up near the kitchen courtyard. There was another canopy tent nearby, sacks and barrels stacked under its shade.

On one of the preparation tables, the baker was kneading dough, showing arms corded with muscle as he folded and pushed.

The smell of baking bread was spread by the morning breezes, and there were already a few people eyeing the oven. There was a boy adding wood into the mass of glowing red coals underneath the large baking space of the oven, eyeing those people back suspiciously.

Reon flashed a smile at him. “Good morning Defi. The singers should be arriving around mid-morn.”

The statement told Defi that he should be greeting them as host. He nodded in thanks. “I’m heading to town. Is there anything you needed?”

Marmocha had only given an overview last night, but his role as host was really less involved than in Ontrean gatherings. Here, he only needed to greet people and keep the food and drink in plentiful order.

Reon thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Most of what’s needed is already here. Dyene’s bringing the rest later.”

He dusted flour off his hands and turned to open a platter covered by a basket. “Have some herb twists, Defi. First batch out of the oven, so they’re cool enough now.”

Defi paused. “I didn’t see you last night?”

He had slept only a few hours. Reon should have been here at least that long for him to have already baked and cooled a batch of bread.

He studied the herb bread the baker pushed into his hands. Spirals of chopped herbs ran through the twists of the bread.

He bit into the twist. The herbs were aromatic, the scent spreading up his nose before his tongue registered the earthy, tangy, slightly salty taste, a hint of bitterness. The creamy and slightly sweet bread gently drew all the different flavors into a contrasting but harmonious dance.

“You’re serving these today?” Would he be able to eat more today?

Reon beamed. “Just for the morning helpers. Take a few, go on. Eat them on the way.”

Defi did not decline, taking a second after he finished the first herb twist and secreting a third and fourth in the inner pocket of his coat. When he returned, there likely wouldn’t be any left.

The pre-adolescent boy tending to the oven and guarding its contents narrowed his eyes at him.

Defi broke off a piece for the hardworking little guard as he passed. The boy lit up and thanked him, the words already muffled by the large piece of herb twist in his mouth.

He walked to the docks, munching on herby bread, waving at those who were already awake.

The Garge house had too few rooms and, even if Defi opened the receiving hall for some of the tired workers to sleep, there were still people who had simply taken their rest under the canopies and people who just didn’t sleep.

To prevent accidents, he’d moved the slimes to the basement storage.

If some kind soul fed them, and he knew the children would have been fascinated by how the slimes visibly dissolved their food, all the work he’d done over the last few months may be muddled up.

The slimes needed a consistent diet to create the extracts he needed.

With his contract specifying that he needed to increase his output at least five times by spring of the next year, Defi could not afford to have his production slimes eat items that might unduly affect them.

Jumping onto his scow and poling past the flat barges and other boats that were moored at the dock and at nearby temporary berths on the river, he considered that he could now buy the sable crabs that would make more of the crystal vinegar that Tennar asked so much about.

The fisher’s guild in town should be amenable to a monthly purchase.

He nodded to himself. With the profit that the crystal vinegar already gave him, buying one sable crab a month for one solstice each would still make him profit. One sable crab should be enough to increase the vinegar quality of six or more slimes.

Defi made a face at the thought of summoning too many slimes again. The backlash of the summoning then was similar to the feeling of waking up in the morning after a night of mild drinking.

This time, he needed to summon three to five times that number to find suitable slimes for production. Maybe he could stagger the summoning, and not do the search all at once. As long as he could increase the current output five times before spring, which was over five months away, he didn’t need to rush.

He twitched reluctantly at needing to feel sick multiple times.

Apart from increasing output, he also wanted to do some experimentation on other interesting substances slimes might produce. It was why he bought an apothecary’s trace-table.

It looked like he would be putting the experimenting off and concentrating on the production of the vinegars first.

As for the lotion, it was still in the air. The lotion so far was included in the contract because Tennar was adamant in buying it despite not having a definite way of marketing it.

Defi wasn’t too worried.

If nothing came out of it, then he was still paid. If something came out of it, depending on the path Tennar decided to take, then Defi had the freedom of negotiating a separate contract for just the lotion. He knew Tennar agreed to it because he could see the potential as well.

Everything aside, he knew one thing: the warehouse needed more hands.

The problem was that what he was doing could be easily replicated. Slimes existed wherever there was water. He needed employees he could trust not to gossip about the process.

He paused.

Took a moment to repeat the thought in his head.

‘Slimes existed wherever there was water.’

“Why then, have I not seen any slimes in the Lowpool?”

“One of the reasons we know there’s a blessed land somewhere nearby, young friend.”

Defi whirled at the unexpected voice, tense.

Seeing that he had come up to the shack built over the river, he relaxed. Like always, there was no one visible.

“Leaf ale,” he decided.

By long familiarity, he brought the Current up to enhance his senses. As usual, he could not detect the people that lived in the strange house. Once again, he wondered what Ascharonian sorcery could block detection.

If it were Emblems, the designs would be so far out of his expertise that it was laughable to even think of attempting it.

“That swill again? You’ve been corrupted by that hermit, you.” But a cup appeared on the wide flat plank against the window that was the serving counter.

“You said slimes have a connection to blessed lands?”

“All mystic creatures are connected to blessed lands,” informed the voice. There were usually three voices that manned the odd place. The one talking to him was the second older one. “You know slimes reproduce when they gain power enough that their bodies can bear it. In blessed lands, it’s the opposite. Slimes in blessed lands simply become more efficient at storing energy. They don’t split so easily. That’s why there are fewer of them about in waters near a blessed land.”

“I’ve never heard that before.”

Defi had visited the library in Ecthys briefly yesterday morning. The books they had on mystic creatures were the same as those in Orain’s library, and those he hadn’t seen before only reworked the same information again and again.

“Pah,” said the voice, the single sound holding enough scorn to ripple the air. “What do hunters know? Now you hear me telling you, hm. Is it as believable as what you heard before?”

“I don’t know yet.” Defi drank his ale in one long swallow, the coolness chasing down the warm bread he’d just eaten. “It sounds as plausible as anything I haven’t seen with my own eyes.”

The voice laughed. “As you say.”

Defi placed three rond coins on the counter and grasped the pole to push the scow ahead. “There’s a blessing feast at my place today. Come if you can.”

“Your place?”

“Garge homestead,” he called back as he maneuvered the scow into the more gently flowing waters that led to the town.

It was Founder’s Day, the day of rest, and most of the fishing boats weren’t going back on the lake after returning with the dawn catch.

The docks were emptier of people and more crowded with boats. The dawn market nearby, however, was bustling.

Grenia and Marte welcomed him with smiles when he went to their usual stalls.

“Aha, back again, eh? That animal feed must be effective if nothing in Ecthys compares.”

“How was the city?”

Defi smiled, and vowed dramatically. “How could it be good, when I could not see the two of you everyday?”

They chortled at him. “Did you hone that sweet tongue on the ladies of the city?”

He mimed a stagger. “How could it be? To replace your magnificence with mere glasshouse flowers?”

That particular sally was followed by a coughing laugh that wasn’t familiar. He saw an old man leaning on a cane, a complicated sort of amusement on his face.

Grenia stifled a snicker and mimed surprise. “Oh, there you are. I wanted you to meet Defi. He’s such a sweet young lad.”

Marte put up her hand to cover her eyes and sighed in exasperation.

Defi saw this and immediately placed a hand on his chest, widening his eyes at the man. “No, you are the husband? Alack, what a morning, what a day. My heart cannot be unbroken after this.”

The man gave him a pained smile. “Yes. I am the husband. The one who is no longer sweet and adorable.”

Defi coughed, not knowing if he should laugh. “Sir, you are most blessed in all the lands, for one of these ladies holds you as her own. To meet you is both a fine honor and a great disappointment. I am struck by a hundred arrows and wounded by a thousand swords–”

“Yes, yes,” the husband waved away his words with genuine laughter now. “Stop before you are run over by a horde of cavalry.”

Even the nearer stalls and the passers-by were smiling at them by now.

Defi grinned at the man, surprised. He didn’t think there was a similar saying in Ascharon, but like the architecture it looked as if literature had been shared between the worlds as well.

He thought in passing, how much of Ontrea’s culture was once originally Ascharonian?

The thought made him smile wider.

“I wanted to invite the two ladies myself, and I hope you can all drop by. The blessing feast at Garge homestead.”