The Slime Farmer - 61 Leaving Genle

“The scales on this horse are peeling off.”

Defi made the inane observation because Natan’s face was growing darker as he listened to the physicker explain the list of concoctions he insisted Natan had to take.

Natan glanced at him, then the horse he was patting down. “Roc-blood horses molt and shed.”

“Don’t roc-blood horses have wings?” That was the impression he got from Helan anyway.

The physicker was stopped abruptly in his spiel by Natan pulling the piece of paper from his hand and firmly nodding in dismissal. Natan strode to the other horse by Defi and mounted.

Defi watched the slightly shaky action. He said nothing, glancing at the physicker who was still consternated at the sudden end to his conversation.

“Captain, are you sure you should be on a horse?”

Exactly the question Defi wanted to ask but dared not.

The newcomer was maybe a decade older than him, her rich blonde hair cut to her chin, wide dark eyes that had an air of solemnity, and a crooked half-smile. She was in military uniform, hands held behind her back as she contemplated them.

Natan narrowed his eyes at her. “You should not be on your feet, sir.”

The woman grimaced. “You calling me that is strange.”

“Not a captain either.”

“Calling you by name would be stranger.”

“Then I cannot disrespect a superior officer.”

The woman blinked, then snickered. “Captain, that is such a lie.”

Natan turned away from her. “Defi, this is Reisei Larion, she’s currently part of the West Imperial House Guards.”

“Well met, officer.”

“And you, young mestre.” Reisei studied him, then her eyes went to Turq who was lounging on his usual spot on Defi’s head. “I hear you defeated one of the vice-captains in less than a second.”

“An imperial officer would naturally let his guard down when fighting a farmer. They exaggerate.” Not to mention, he lost the second bout. And the third went on for an intense half an hour before Defi won.

“If you wish, I could recommend you to an officer rank in the imperial army.”

What? The sudden question, paired with the piercing gaze, ruffled Defi just a bit.

“It is…not something I’m considering at the moment.”

He had never considered it. Not mentioning that if word that he joined an army got back to Rimet, he would have greater troubles than a war in some far-away dominion.

Ontrean nobles joined wars in other countries frequently, to gain experience, to grow stronger, to internalize the Teachings. He had been a conventional student. It was a path that people would expect him to take. He did not intend to be so easy to find.

He could not enter the universities either, he sighed internally.

She weighed his words, then nodded. “That’s a pity.”

With her face in brief shadow, Defi realized that this was the woman who had been in the same tent as Natan. He stared a moment in surprise before recollecting himself.

Considering it had just been yesterday that she looked half-dead, Defi could only be impressed at the vital cooking in Ascharon.

He had been fed some kind of soup with fish and flowers after the duel yesterday and had felt the healing properties of the Current surge as the vitality in the dish flowed to his injured back and leg, as well as the minor cuts from the duel.

Oh wait, this was…

No wonder she made him the offer of an officer position. Natan probably told her he got the savras from Defi.

Defi thought quickly. “I may not join the army, but I am happy to know that the people of this land are protected by warriors like you and the major.”

The look on her face was surprise, then she laughed softly. “I see. You really are the captain’s student.”

“I could—”

“It’s best my whereabouts remain unknown.”

Defi glanced up at Natan, but hid his curiosity. The man, despite his curtness, was not a rude person.

“Captain! How about just Aoren?”

Natan looked faintly incredulous.

“Then—”

She was interrupted by a shout from the direction of the medical tents. She glanced in that direction in alarm, then straightened up with a cough.

“You can count on me, of course. Excuse me, captain, Defi.” She smiled at Defi briefly. “You can call me Reisei.”

She strolled away, only sharp eyes would be able to see the faint strain in each movement.

Defi waited until the woman was out of earshot. “She really is your student.”

Natan hummed, turned his horse away.

Defi mounted.

Some distance from them, the rest of the Lowpool residents that had stayed in Genlet were readying horses as well. The mayor had some rare ingredients flown in by grand blue eagles from Agamarl, to heal the wounded faster. The gossip praised the man for his generosity.

Grand blue eagles were trained for deliveries, large birds strong enough to carry one meton’s weight of goods. They could cover eighty kilomar in an hour fully laden, their ten-mar wingspan allowing for powerful use of the winds.

A level three summon-beast, they were used more commonly by wealthy merchants and the government.

The cost of mystic ingredients to heal the wounded in Genlet was theorized to reach 600 crescents, not including the pay of the vital chef needed to make the dishes and of the apothecary needed to make salves. The mayor was a low-level official. He did not make even half of that in a year.

Defi idly considered how much of the gossip was created by the mayor’s office.

“You have good skills in the spear,” Natan said quietly, capturing Defi’s attention. “The Thundersnake style, wasn’t it?”

Defi turned to stare. Natan was looking ahead. His hands were on the reins, his shoulders too loose to be expecting combat, his demeanor slightly nostalgic.

“It was a surprise to see it again. I thought it had been lost with my mentor’s death.”

Defi was silent.

“He used to teach Thundersnake style in a small village just outside Temen City on the southern coast. None of us reached mastery before he died ten years ago; a regret that has followed all his students since then. You fight just like he did.”

The Thundersnake Spear depended greatly on the Current, as it needed great accuracy and timing, cold ruthlessness, and flexibility of body. For an Ascharonian to master it, it would be difficult. Perhaps the Air Shade which enhanced intuition or Sunlight which was said to be able to order the thoughts, but then they’d need to train their body to gain the flexibility needed.

“Anyone asks, you learned it from me.” There was a hidden caution in the words. Natan clicked his tongue and his horse left Defi’s behind. Natan hailed another of the Lowpool residents, and settled into relaxed conversation.

Of the nearly hundred people that the Lowpool sent out, six died and twenty were injured enough to stay when the others left. Of course, many of the searchers returned to town on the first day, so less than half were in the fight.

Defi stared at Natan’s back.

It would be a simple thing, to have the man die from an injury that had not been caught by the physickers. It happened all the time. Not even vital cooking was perfect.

Defi dropped into a breathing technique, considered the fear that had risen in him at Natan’s words.

It was not unreasonable to think there had been others like him who had crossed the Gates for one reason or other. He’d been looking, in fact. He did not expect to hear of one from Natan, or find that the man knew an Ontrean spear art.

Natan was not a man to speak of unnecessary things.

Why did he choose to caution Defi? He needed to know more about Natan’s old mentor. The man must have been of warrior, scholar, or farmer lineage – they were the only people allowed to learn the combat arts of the Church learning halls. Merchants and the rest went to lower schools, and would not have known the Thundersnake Spear.

Was it similar to how Ymirin was probably watched by the whole of Ascharon by now?

It was possible. Not everyone who entered the learning halls was of the nobility. But the general view was anyone who had a good grasp of the current was halfway there. Even slaves who were talented in the Current were given opportunities to free themselves and buy their own land. His mother’s long lineage and her talent in the Current was enough that a former slave with foreign blood marrying the lord of Rimet was only a minor scandal.

Or so Defi had thought.

Considering his current position, it was evident he had not known enough of the circumstances surrounding his parents’ marriage.

What circumstances would bring another with similar upbringing to leave heart and soul behind to cross the Gate? It likely wasn’t good. He felt a deep sadness, and looked around at the green lands of Ascharon to dispel it.

Turq plopped onto the horse’s withers, just past the saddle horns.

Defi reached out to pat it on top.

He would trust Natan, but be cautious.

At the moment, he only wanted to sleep in his own bed and feel the now familiar walls of the Garge house around him.

“Defi!” Helan laughed and nudged her horse close enough for conversation. “Is it true my brother defeated dozens of the mercenaries?”

“Hel, that’s…” The brother archer looked exasperated.

Defi took a breath and let the Cuurent calm within him. “He was very heroic.”

“Really? But it’s Han!”

“Oi, what does that mean?”

“You know what it means.” She eyed Defi. “Are you done brooding now?”

Defi huffed a laugh. “I did in fact have something on my mind.”

“Oh?”

“These horses, they have no wings. Aren’t they roc-blooded?”