The Slime Farmer - 126 Snatching a Gaggle of Orchard-keepers

Most of them were useless to a user of the Current, but there were one or two that could be modified to increase sensory awareness even if a person didn’t manage to gain the half-meditative state where the Current could be used.

From Farbar’s spiel, Defi got the idea that people who could not manifest their Shade visibly were seen as having weak sorcery.

He was grateful he didn’t have to wrack his brains to explain his lack of colourful sparkles. Telling the people at the tailoring shops that he didn’t want any specific color was vexing enough. It appeared that current fashion in the cities was to wear clothing in the colors of one’s Shade.

The old man patted him on the back.

“No wonder you’re so slender. Don’t let anyone say you’re weak just because you can’t manifest Shade. You’re a glyphmaker, and even if your summons are slimes, that Turq of yours took down a shell-rhino like it was nothing, hah! Those things wouldn’t be possible if your Shade was weak.”

Defi understood the old man’s earnest sincerity and was warmed. “Are you praising me, elder? I’m very flattered.”

“Praise? What are you talking about?” Farbar reddened slightly. “This is advice, advice from someone you should be listening to!”

Defi relented. “Yes, I’m listening.”

“Hmph.” Farbar looked at him with narrowed eyes before he let it go.

Sarel smirked in her seat at nothing in particular. Defi sent her a suspicious look. She ignored him.

“Oh there it is.” Farbar slowed down the wagon.

Defi wondered how much the town spent on its streets, having to accommodate such large creatures as a boar-lizard. There had to be other large draft animals, as the average wagon was built wider than he was used to.

His speculations paused as he heard raised voices. He indicated a residence with a wooden gate. “That house?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think it’s a good time to drop by.”

By that time, the shouting had also reached Sarel’s ears. And a moment later, Farbar’s.

“Ah.” Farbar shook his head. “Another time, then. Let’s go get your fruit.”

But then the gate slammed open, and a man yelled. “Out! Out then! We’ve taken care of you enough. Ungrateful children! Are you not ashamed?”

Haral and another woman were pushed out the gate. The woman was wearing robes, the dishevelment of travel evident on them. She was small, only up to Haral’s shoulder.

“You have lived under my roof, boy. No-one else offered to take you.”

“And who took away the roof we should have been living in?”

“What are you saying, you mongrel?!”

Haral took a step forward, fist rising.

The woman beside him grabbed his shirt, stopped his advance. Obviously, another sister.

She glared at the man. “You do not have to send us out. We will be leaving of our own volition, uncle. I hope you will allow us our personal affects. Or will you take them for rent as well?”

The man’s hand rose, evidently going to slap her. Sarel coughed, pointedly, threatening.

Eyes flickered to the wagon, then the people leaning out of windows and doors in the nearby houses. The man dropped his hand, sneered at everyone, turned his back, and went into the house.

Haral clenched his fists. His sister squeezed his wrist comfortingly, and re-entered the open gate. Haral followed.

Defi didn’t think the two even noticed them.

Farbar sighed. He maneuvered the wagon nearer the gate, stopped.

Sarel and Defi were silent.

The woman stepped out again, a few minutes later, face tight and emotionless but for burning eyes. There were rough-woven gunnysacks in her hand, and a small child cradled to her.

Farbar smiled at them. “Little Siggy, wasn’t it? It’s been some time since you were last in town, eh? It’s good to see you again. There’s space in the wagon for your things.”

The woman blinked up at him, infuriated eyes calming down slightly. “Master Farbar? And Madame Sarel too. I…yes, good to see you also. But we are just going to the inn. It’s a short walk.”

The child in her arms sniffled.

“Is that Gedre’s little Egg?” Farbar continued lightly. “He’s grown a bit.”

“He has.”

“No other place to go to?” Sarel studied the other, slightly frowning.

The woman Farbar called little Siggy forced a smile. “I am sure we’ll be housed within the week.”

Defi could hear the lie in her voice. Sarel frown deepened; she heard it as well.

“It’s the Feast,” Farbar reminded the young woman.

“All the rented rooms should be full,” Haral murmured in agreement. He’d come out lugging traveling trunks, including one with a familiar stain, just in time to hear the last part of the conversation. He looked contritely at his sister. “Sorry.”

Defi realized this must be the sister called Sigrene, whose name Barham nearly remembered.

“No,” the sister refuted. “If anything, it’s mine for provoking them.”

“But university is important! How will you pay the fees?” Haral’s eyes started watering in frustration and anger.

“Hush. I’m part of the scholar’s roll. The school has been waiving my fees for a few years now, don’t worry.” Her tone turned teasing. “And who are you to worry about my schooling, little brother? Have you suddenly become older than me? Eh? Eh? You actually believed that woman when she said they were paying for my education? Gullible.”

Haral pushed the hand ruffling his hair away, nearly pouting.

Defi wanted to snigger at the sight of the small woman all but rising on tiptoe to scrub her fingers against her much taller brother’s hair. But a thought had snagged in his mind, and he was turning it over and over, contemplating the idea from all angles.

“Since you’re not going to the inn, just put everything in the wagon,” Farbar coaxed. “Young man, you can’t make your sister walk all over the place carrying all that.”

Defi jumped down to help the siblings heft travelchests and gunnysacks into the wagon, ignoring the memories stirred up depressingly from the depths of his mind by the situation.

Their situation and his was only passingly similar, he told himself reprovingly; he was only seeing parallels that were not there. Still, he could not help but sympathize.

Sarel helped as well, with Farbar entertaining the little boy called Egg on the wagon bench.

“Do you know them?” Sarel’s contemplative glances at the siblings piqued Defi’s interest.

Sarel pulled up a bag and stowed it away carefully before she answered. “I knew their parents.”

“They were good people then, if you were friends?”

Sarel smiled suddenly at him, a rare grin slashing across her face. “Am I someone inclined to make friends with ‘good’ people?”

He sent her a look. “You know what I mean.”

Despite Defi’s want to be seen as a ‘respectable’ townsman, he considered the affectations of so-called respectability only in relation to his wish not to stand out. Sarel was even more openly ignoring of convention, mostly seeking out and interacting with people of similar mindset just to avoid the tedious mannerisms that went with sociability.

Defi once again considered that he should stop taking social cues from her. It was only that the ‘respectable’ people were of a similar mindset as Leraine’s cousin Agreine and he wanted to not be reminded of that whole disappointing debacle as much as possible.

In any case, his ‘aunt’ did not seem inclined to discuss her relationship with Haral’s parents further, so Defi dropped the subject.

Come to think of it, Sarel gave more care than he thought to the girl Amary. He nodded, mind made up. She’d been friends with the siblings’ parents.

The siblings’ belongings barely took up a quarter of the wagon, and they finished quickly. Farbar returned the boy whose name was Egg to Sigrene and immediately had the boar-lizard move, all of them ignoring the man and woman who had come out of the house to watch with sharp and contemptuous eyes.

“We’ll be needing to pick up the young ones from school then?” Farbar conversed calmly with the still coldly furious young woman who Defi had given his seat on the wagon bench to.

“Yes, thank you, Master Farbar.” Sigrene’s voice was slightly stiff with evident gratefulness and the awkwardness of the situation.

“And young Adtra?”

“She’ll be at work,” Haral admitted from where he and Defi sat. “Our cousin refused to let her go, so I went to the farm in her place. Amary is still unconscious.”

“Didn’t you have work yourself?” Defi asked lowly.

Haral shrugged, affecting casualness. “It was for uncle anyway.”

Probably one more thing that set off said uncle. Defi understood that fewer resources would be given to an invalid member of the family, considering a limited supply.

But the aunt and uncle did not seem poor; their clothes were good quality and the house was in a quiet residential street near the marketplace, the inhabitants wealthy enough to afford yards and gardens and none of the houses doubling as shops.

Not to mention, it appeared the siblings were paying rent and therefore alleviated the burden of having many children in the house.

At this point, Defi’s impression of them was of small-minded and petty people. And not just because Haral was one of the few people he interacted with regularly in the Lowpool.

Haral popping up in many different shops and the nearly always tired look he sported was now explained.

The boy had been exhausting himself with work.

Another point in favour, Defi mused.

There were two sisters in school, who were ecstatic to see their older sister again. Their excitement was subdued a little when the reason all their things were in the back of the wagon came out.

That made seven children in all from one woman.

Adtra was a little more difficult to pry out of her workplace, as the cousin insisted on regular working hours of laboring until sunset.

Sigrene finally told him the reason they needed Adtra.

The cousin frowned at the news.

Defi leaned back discreetly, putting the wagon-cover between him and the man he suddenly recognized. This cousin was the shopkeeper Fraise who banned him from the smithing shop. His presence would likely not be conducive to calm discussion.

“That was poor of them,” Fraise said. “I will let you go early today, of course, to sort out your lodgings. I will pay you the week in advance.”

“Thank you cousin.”

Haral fumed as they left. “He didn’t even offer to lodge us himself. Wasn’t he living alone in great-uncle’s house?”

Adtra sighed tiredly. “Hush, brother. It is not their responsibility to take us in.”

“We are blood,” said Sigrene coldly from the front. “A night would’ve been sufficient.”

“This way is more advantageous to me, though.” Defi said casually.

Eyes swivelled to him. Sarel and Farbar looked amused.

Haral glared. “What.”

“I have a house you see, that isn’t being used.” Defi continued, ignoring the daggers in Haral and Sigrene’s eyes. “I’ve had no idea what to do with it until now.”

Haral blinked, confusion replacing anger. “What?”

Defi grinned at no one in particular. “I must ask, do any of you have experience in orchard-keeping?”

**

**

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 misfortunate author by voting on webnovel.com. Thanks!