The Slime Farmer - 106 Morning After

A good portion of the revellers drank well into the night and Defi sent most of them near-stumbling off the next morning with a bag of bread and a jar of the leftover soup.

Slowly, those who were left started to dismantle the canopies and clean the homestead of the last traces of revelry.

Defi looked around, stretching cramped muscles.

Nearest to him, Renne and Saston grimaced as they used shovels to turn over the spots of vomit on the ground. The orphanage children, due to both Aire and Lergen staying through the night, had slept in the Garge house.

Apart from the orphanage people, Falie and Hames stayed as well. Lemat had flitted off into the trees after helping take down and fill up the latrines – Defi was unsure if he was returning.

Tholme and Racard were carrying some of the building company’s things to their barge. Barrey and another builder called Essa were dismantling the tables.

Old Fabar and Barham from the last farm before the cliffs helped early in the morning before hurrying back. Allise had given birth only recently after all.

“We’re not training today, are we?” Renne asked when she saw him taking a break.

“The others were here yesterday,” Saston growled, using his foot to slam the shovel into the ground under another spot where some reveller lost his dinner. “If they come here today, I’ll kick their heads off because obviously they aren’t using them.”

“Day after tomorrow,” Defi agreed.

Today was Thunders, and yesterday was Founders. Defi decided to set the combat lessons to the mornings of Thunders, Fields, and Moons, then delve into philosophy and strategy on Founders. One every other day, with no physical work on Founders.

He wanted his students to be as well-rounded as he could make them. The older ones were all going to the military and even if the rest of them were not, knowing how to fight and when to fight would keep them safer.

“Don’t neglect the stretches I taught you. Do them everyday.” Defi nodded at the two and shouldered his burden again, walked toward the warehouse.

The canopies and tables were actually knocked together by Karles for the occasion, and the canvas and wood used in them bought with the coin Sarel sent over to Aire, so Defi could keep the dismantled items in the storage area of the warehouse for future use.

By the time they were finished, the sun had nearly reached its zenith.

They sprawled into the few tables left, Defi earlier deciding he wanted some of the tables intact under the sansu trees. The small orchard had taken on a pleasantly relaxing air, with the blooms still on some of the trees and the rest starting to fruit.

Not all the trees were recovered yet, but the rest were nicely recuperating.

Aire and Rocso were toasting what was left of the bread over the makeshift grill Defi had made in the kitchen courtyard.

“It’s useful to have a baking oven,” she commented, “especially this far from town. You won’t regret keeping it.”

“I don’t know how to bake.” Defi considered learning for a moment, then shook his head. He had too many other things about this world to learn, more important than baking.

Rocso chuckled as he flipped one of the arm-sized loaves, used a large knife to slice it into horizontal halves, and stuffed it with shredded leftover pork.

The juices of the pork dripped onto the coals below and sizzled, sending the mouth-watering scent of roasting meat into the air.

“You’re not going to be alone in this house forever, young man.” He slid the stuffed loaf onto a plate, sliced it into two pieces, poured some of the thick bone soup over the whole thing to soften the firm shell of the bread. “Now start getting these plates to those poor starving folks.”

Defi took two of the plates, snagged a barrel of ale by the holding ropes, and hurried away.

The old tavern-keeper was talking about marriage, and the thought brought a sudden memory and a complicated roil of emotion in his chest. He had been engaged since he was ten years old, the lord of Rimet informing him of the fact just before he sent Defi off to the learning Halls.

Defi had forgotten, until now.

He’d never met the other party. It was likely as much a relief for her as it was for him that they had never set eyes on each other, never gave substance to hopes and dreams. The engagement would be transferred to one of his siblings or cousins, as the lord of Rimet would not easily let go of a resource he already had in hand.

It never had anything to do with him, so it was natural to forget. He only hoped the scandal over him that broke out in Rimet would not unduly trouble whoever she was.

He had no especially strong thoughts on marriage. In this other world however, his first thought on the subject was definite opposition.

Marriage was a sharing of truths, a meshing of empathies.

That kind of joining, the situation he was in would not allow it.

Maybe in the future, his thoughts or the situation would change and he would consider it. Until then, it was not relevant to his present plans, so he put it out of his mind.

For now, he’d rather learn how to survive.

As for the oven, it could be used for food other than bread.

He placed the plates and the barrel on one of the orchard tables, to a tired cheer.

The younger children, who had lighter duties, had been sent over by Aire with cups. The older children were also tasked with bringing plates out.

Lemat re-appeared, a large mass of mushrooms in his arms. He insisted on chopping them up and adding them to the plates.

Admittedly, the freshly harvested mushrooms enhanced the aroma and flavor of the meal.

Soon everyone was eating unreservedly.

In the shade of the orchard protecting them from much of the sun’s heat, they enjoyed the food, the drink, the scent of sansu on the intermittent breeze.

The younger ones laughed and talked, cups of samad nearly tipping over from their enthusiasm. The older ones were quieter, tired and more willing to appreciate a comfortable silence.

“We should be going,” Tholme sighed, putting down the cup he’d just quaffed. He and his friends stood. “Thank you for the meal.”

“Aha,” Rocso laughed. “You don’t mind taking this old man back? Adan took the boat, I believe. I haven’t fed Rock today.”

The builders welcomed him.

“Thank you for all your assistance,” Defi stood as well. “Ah, if you could wait a bit, I was gifted too much spice by a friend in the city. It would relieve me if you took some.”

He didn’t wait for them to agree or decline, and took the path to the house. Last night, he’d drawn several jars of wine from one of the barrels he had in the storage basement in preparation for something like this.

Putting together packages that contained a jar of wine and a pot of mixed spices was simple. He paused, then jogged to his room to get one of the bottles of Chossur Lemorne.

He placed it in Rocso’s package instead of the wine jars that the other four received.

A token of gratefulness to the tavern that catered all the drink for yesterday’s gathering. Seeing that most of the tavern-workers were present yesterday, they should have closed just to serve ale for Defi’s guests at the feast.

He should send Karles a similar package later.

Defi handed the five people their packages, as well as the usual bag of bread and jar of bone soup, refusing the protests that they were just doing their jobs.

He knew that if it was just about work, they’d simply have taken the builders’ equipment and the tavern barrels then left, not helped clean up the homestead.

Lemat strolled by, a package already in his arms to Defi’s exasperation. The man only waved cheerily as he sauntered onto the barge.

“We should go as well,” Lergen grinned at him as they put away the washed utensils. “Before this pack of wild children breaks something.”

There was a concert of comments and protests from the ‘pack’ who were solidly within hearing distance.

“Who’re you calling a child?” retorted Saston.

“Yeah, this one’s a toddler, not a child,” jeered Alvis cheerfully. Saston splashed cleaning water in her direction. She yelped and ran around the table to ground her foot into his toes, which had Saston bumping into several other children as he yelled in pain.

The children he bumped into tackled him to the floor of the kitchen, and Alvis laughed.

“They are so immature,” grumbled Renne where she was putting away washed empty jars.

Defi lifted a brow. “Alvis and Saston are your age.”

“I stand by my words.”

“Elen said we’re babies!” One of the younger ones, still sitting on Saston, pointed at Renne, his tufted graceful ears quivering.

Kenso, nine years old, Defi recalled. The ears were quite distinctive and somewhat similar to the ears of the large wild cat, the caracal, from the plains and deserts of Ontrea.

He was impressed that one so young knew what ‘immature’ meant.

Renne gave the younger boy a scathing look. “You’re not?”

“Get her!”

Renne shoved the jar in her hands at Defi and dashing outside.

Most of the mob followed her.

“Good girl,” Falie muttered under her breath as the kitchen cleared of small bodies and the rest that were left were freer to move.

“I don’t think she was thinking of your convenience,” Aire laughed as she tidied the things she brought over from the orphanage.

Markar, wiping down the table, sighed. She really wasn’t.

**

**

Notes:

The days of the Ascharonian week are: Thunders, Seers, Fields, Suns, Moons, Duels, Founders. The first six are work days, with Duels being market day and Founders being the day of rest.

[Curiously, in many worlds that are near and far from each other, with little similarity between them, there exists the convention of the seven-day week that ends in a trade day before a rest day. – from the journal of the Magician of Dimensions.]

*

Hi, this is Jin Daoran. If you see this work on other websites, know that I post exclusively on the Webnovel site. If you like the story, please support this hapless author by voting on webnovel.com. Thanks!