by Pirateaba
A group of sixty elites lined up, laughing and joking. They held blunted practice weapons—bundles of sticks or crude swords made of wood—while another group mounted Carn Wolves.
It would be a slaughter, no matter what Rags had done. They had many levels and Skills on the other warriors, and even if they had real weapons, the Redfang Warriors would beat them into a pulp with sticks alone. Unless they were carrying the magical artifacts, that was. But that would be cheating.
To their amusement, the Redfang warriors saw Rags had created a traditional wall of pikes, about forty in a tight wall of Goblins. There were two Goblins or more to every pike out of necessity—they were so heavy only a Hob could lift them!
The Redfang warriors laughed hard. The pikes were dangerous, yes, but all they needed to do was fight past the tips of the pikes or flank them. If you got past the tip of the pike—which was dangerous, granted, a good [Pikeman] could run you through with one solid thrust—then you were fighting in close quarters and the pikes were useless.
Lazily, the Redfang warriors advanced while the mounted warriors sat back on their Carn Wolves. They had no desire to charge that.
The Redfang warriors were still joking when they realized something was wrong. The pikes were moving. Towards them. And not just slow—the warriors blinked and then got worried when they saw the wall of pointy pikes was coming at them at a dead run.
The Goblins were charging! That wasn’t fair! And they were moving in pretty good formation—it was easy for Goblins to move together. The Redfang warriors faltered, and then moved quickly to the left.
The pikes swung left to target them. Now the Redfang warriors were getting really worried. They backed up, tried to form a shield wall. But just one look at the twenty foot long pikes rushing at them and they had a terrible premonition of how well that would work.
The Redfang warriors hesitated, turned. They tried to split up, but the pikes just split up to follow them. They were coming closer, closer—
The warriors broke and ran. The Goblins cheered as the other Goblins fled the prodding pikes, cursing. It was at this moment the mounted Redfang warriors, irate at their companions’ disgrace, leapt into action.
The Carn Wolves howled as they charged around the pikes, seeking their rear. Fast they might be, but these cocky Goblins wouldn’t laugh so hard when they got a few sets of teeth to their backs—
The pikes, which had been pointed in the opposite direction, rose up as the riding Redfang warriors watched. The two or three or even four Goblins assigned to each pike hauled it up fast, and then lowered it towards the riders. The riders immediately pulled their mounts away—the wolves were already shying away from the new wall of points that had appeared in front of them.
The riders broke up, circled. But the pikes came up, and suddenly they had formed a square with pikes in every direction. And then one wall of pikes came at a rider, making him curse and the Carn Wolf run yelping—
Sitting on a felled stump, Rags grinned as she stared down at the mock battle. In the end, the Redfang warriors won. The pikes were susceptible to a charge from the side if the enemy surrounded them. But this was a new group, after all, barely trained. What if you had multiple groups of pikes, all ready to charge in any direction? You could turn them fast if you trained hard enough, Rags was sure.
She glanced over at Redscar and Pyrite. The Redfang warrior was clearly unhappy, but Pyrite was smiling slightly.
“Well?”
They turned to her. Redscar grumbled.
“Weak to arrows. And magic.”
Pyrite nodded. But he looked at the Goblins. They weren’t hardened warriors like the Redfang warriors. They weren’t even proper warriors, most of them. They were just Goblins. They ran as one and moved together because that was natural to them as breathing. He looked at Rags and she knew he was seeing what she was seeing.
“Lots of pikes?”
She nodded at him. Rags stared around at the lovely forest she’d chosen to settle in. Tall trees created a canopy of pines, dusted with snow. It was a tranquil place, a place to rest and find oneself. A place where animals could live, where nature was peaceful.
A nice place. Rags eyed the trees and grinned at Pyrite.
“Get chopping.”
3.30
Some days Erin woke up with a smile on her face. She yawned, sat up, and felt the quiet of the morning wash over her.
It wasn’t like how she lived back on Earth, back home. There Erin needed alarm clocks to get up, and the instant she was awake she had a phone to check, things to do. But in this world things weren’t as pressing. Or maybe it was just that Erin took the time to appreciate what she hadn’t before.
The cold of winter still had not let up and Erin shivered a bit as she threw off the thick wool blanket. It was scratchy, and there was no central heating in the inn. But she slept soundly each night, from being tired as much as anything else.
Yes, in some ways this world was better for her. In others—Erin touched her chest and remembered all she’d left behind.
Some days she would cry. Others she would laugh, or just try to forget. But Erin couldn’t forget what she’d lost. She still remembered a house in Michigan, her mother and father, neither of whom could play chess well.
Some days she imagined her mom would wake her up because Erin had slept in till eleven or twelve. She’d be upset because Erin missed the breakfast she’d made and tell Erin not to stay up looking at chess games online, especially because it was bad for her eyes. Then her father would grow serious and talk about how Erin was pursuing her passion and how they should support her—
Erin dressed and went downstairs, caught in the memory. She only came out of it when she found herself in the kitchen and realized she had to cook.
What to make today? Erin was used to cooking for many people by now and she moved on autopilot. Biscuits and gravy, yes, that would be good. She could make a thick sauce with the remains of the meat she’d used for last night’s dinner. Thick and full of energy from all the fat and stuff. That would be good. And eggs. Everyone always liked to eat good eggs.
That was how Erin spent around thirty minutes, cooking before everyone else woke up. She was brisk, efficient, and inhumanly quick in the kitchen now. Erin wondered if a professional chef would be able to make a meal faster than her.
“If I go back home, I’m definitely going on Iron Chef and kicking everyone’s butts.”
She smiled to herself as she looked at the large pot of meaty gravy and the biscuits she’d taken out of the stone oven. They were hot and steaming. She took a bowl out, filled it with gravy, and dipped the biscuit in it.
“Mm.”
It was good. Erin ate it, and then another biscuit while she listened to people waking up above her head. Miss Agnes would be down soon, slightly annoying and cheerful as always. Erin…didn’t feel like dealing with her today.
She’d done what needed doing, anyways. The pot of gravy could serve a small army, which is pretty much what descended on the inn for breakfast most mornings anyways. And the biscuits were easy enough to make that even Miss Agnes had a hard time messing it up. Unless she let them burn in the oven, that was.
And if she did, too bad! Erin filled a basket with thirty of the biscuits she’d made and found a smaller pot and a lid for the gravy. As an afterthought she looked around for a drink as well, but there was nothing portable. She wasn’t about to carry a keg.
That was what this world lacked, Erin reflected. She left the inn and walked down the snowy cobblestones, out of the inn before anyone came in or went downstairs. It was still very early, so Erin made good time through Celum’s streets.
This world lacked…certain things. Good containers, for one thing. Oh, sure, you could transport in bulk pretty well with barrels and so on, and they were remarkably waterproof, but what about water bottles, or…or covered pitchers? Then again, who would need it that badly?
“Globalization? Or is it industrialization? Modernization? Convenience?”
>
Probably all of the above. When you had the time to think to yourself that a mid-sized container built specifically to hold liquids was a valuable time investment, you probably had too much time on your hands. But it was convenient.
Erin sighed, and took another bite of one of the biscuits. It tasted good. But—it was sort of flat.
“Needs baking powder.”
How could a world live without baking powder? Erin was sure there was a substitute the people of this world used, but she hadn’t found it yet. In the meantime, she had to live without vital necessities like cake. Or delicacies like cake. Or what Erin considered essential for mental health: cake.
It really was a shame. Erin sighed and watched her breath trail upwards, the vapor dissipating over her head. No cake. She could make cookies, though. But wait—didn’t that need baking soda or something?
“Drat.”
Erin glared at the ground, but without any real anger. She still felt pretty good.
Baking soda, baking powder. What was the difference between the two? One made things rise and the other…did the same thing. But there was a difference!
If only Ryoka was here. She might know how to make it. Then again, Ryoka had told Erin flat-out that she couldn’t replicate half of the things from their world for lack of funding, resources, or interest. Or all of the above. But baking soda was critical! If Erin could sell cookies she’d rule the world.
Who could help her in her quest to create more unhealthy things to eat? Erin passed by a few people walking down the street, smiling at them but saying nothing, and then turned down another street. She’d gone this way so many times she didn’t need to think about it.
Who made baking powder in her world? That was a really good question now that Erin thought about it. Baking powder…companies? But who invented baking powder to begin with?
“Chemists.”
Erin hazarded a guess. She knew it had some weird stuff in the powder, which is why she couldn’t just grind up a rock or something to make it. But if she needed this world’s equivalent of a chemist, then—
For a few seconds Erin blinked. Then she slapped herself lightly in the head and nearly dropped the basket of biscuits and pot full of hot gravy. She caught herself and kicked open the door of the shop she’d arrived at.
“Octavia!”
Some people were morning people. Other people were not. Erin saw a comatose form draped over one of the tables jerk at her loud voice. Octavia raised her head and glared at Erin.
“Go melt yourself.”
“Don’t be grumpy. Wake up! It’s morning. I’ve got food.”
Erin looked around. Octavia’s alchemy shop was the usual clutter of magical potions and mess it normally was. She went into the kitchen and came out with a mostly clean bowl. Carefully, she poured some gravy into it and put some biscuits on the table in front of Octavia.
“Do you have any water? I wanted to bring something to drink, but there was nothing I could take back at the inn.”
Octavia blinked slowly at the food in front of her, still not quite focusing on the world. She took a biscuit and stared at it as if it was foreign to her.
“Water? I’ve got some…I think. Do you need to drink it? What’s for breakfast?”
Erin took that as a sign she shouldn’t drink anything in Octavia’s shop at the moment. She pushed the bowl towards Octavia.
“Gravy and biscuits. Eat. Also, I’ve got a job for you.”
That made Octavia sit up.
“Really? How much does it pay? Do you want potions or alchemical items? If you need to defer payment I can give you extremely reasonable—”
“Shut up and eat. I want baking powder. And soda. I’ll tell you what it is—you be quiet.”
Erin scowled at Octavia, but this too was part of her day. She was used to Octavia and she liked the other girl, although neither she nor Octavia would ever admit that out loud. Some people Erin just couldn’t quite gel with. Especially if they kept trying to sell her stuff like Octavia.
“Seems doable.”
That was what Octavia said as she finished the biscuits. She wiped her finger in the bowl of gravy and licked it—Erin winced a bit because Octavia hadn’t washed her hands. Then again, the [Alchemist] was scrupulously careful about washing ingredients that got on her hands off before she ate, so she was probably fine.
“I’ll take your offer up. Business is slow thanks to all those damn Goblins out and about and if you’re right about people buying this baking powder from me, I’ll gladly let you finance me.”
Erin rolled her eyes.
“Good. I’ll give you two gold coins to start with. And why is business slow? Wouldn’t tons of people be buying your potions if they’re fighting Goblins?”
“Five. If they were fighting, I’d be selling everything on my shelves. But the cities are waiting, not sending out armies, Erin. Fighting Goblins is a lot easier when you’re on top of a wall and Esthelm falling scared everyone. Once this Goblin Lord’s main army and smaller ones are located, everyone will breathe easier. Until then…”
Erin nodded.
“Three gold coins. And eight silver ones. And no arguing!”
Octavia chewed on her lip, but nodded in the end.
“I can survive on that, I suppose. Barely. But I’ll need you to make dough for me and tell me if it’s rising right.”
“You’ll be able to tell. And making the dough is easy. I’ll teach you the recipe. Stop complaining—it’s just like alchemy!”
“Hah!”
In the end, Erin paid Octavia and felt good about it. She wandered over to one side of Octavia’s shop, where the usual clutter had been cleared aside and the potions on the wall had been stored somewhere else.
“Anyone come by last night? I mean, after I left?”
Octavia shook her head.
“Nope. And no one’s come by—not after I started charging people for lingering in the store.”
Erin smiled.
“Well, if anyone does come by—”
“I get to sell them stuff if they won’t wait for you in the Frenzied Hare. Got it.”
Octavia was already poring over her ingredients, searching for the things that might work as leavening agents. She barely turned, but she did glance out of the corner of her eye as Erin walked over to the innocuous wooden door that had been set into the wall.
It was just a door, and it couldn’t possibly lead anywhere given that behind it was solid stone. And yet—Erin swung the door open, and suddenly she was staring up into the sky. She blinked a few times and tried to get her brain to understand that she was looking up at the sky because the door this one was connected to was lying on the back of a wagon. Then she took a deep breath and stepped through and up and—
The door closed behind Erin. Octavia shook her head, blinking a few times to regain her own sense of balance. The [Alchemist] had a very strong stomach due to all the things she had to handle and smell. But that sight made her stomach lurch a bit. And yet, it was still incredible to her.
“What a door.”
That was all she said. Then Octavia got to work. And Erin travelled many miles to a bumpy wagon travelling down a snowy, empty road towards Liscor. And the best part was that she didn’t spill the gravy.
—-
Some things in this world were slow and wonderful. But the fast, magical moments were just as great too. As Erin stepped through the magical doorway in Octavia’s shop, she stepped upwards, into the sky. That was disconcerting, but Erin knew what to expect and didn’t stumble as the world twisted around her and she was suddenly walking the right way onto the back of the wagon.
“Woog.”
It still made Erin want to puke a bit every time she did it. But the experience of it—walking through a portal made by magic—was still novel.
And it was so convenient. Erin looked around the wagon and saw several people who’d been huddled in their cloaks or with a blanket and pillow look up hopefully at her arrival. She
smiled brightly and raised the pot and basket.
“Good morning! Anyone want breakfast?”
“Morning, Erin.”
“Food!”
“Good morning, Miss Solstice.”
“Food! Oh. Morning, Erin.”
Yvlon, Pisces, Ksmvr, and Ceria all sat up and smiled or stared at the food Erin had brought—or did both. Pisces and Ceria both seemed especially keen for breakfast, but Yvlon and Ksmvr both eagerly accepted the food Erin had brought. The adventurers who were now the new Horns of Hammerad clustered around the pot and began sharing out the biscuits.
“Good morning, Mister Termin! Would you like some biscuits and gravy? They’re hot—I just baked them!”
The wagon driver gave Erin a gap-toothed grin as he accepted some of the food she’d brought.
“Thank you kindly, Miss Solstice. This is the finest journey I’ve ever had, riding along with you serving such good food morning, noon, and night.”
“My pleasure. I’ll bring you all lunch too, if you’re not planning on stopping and eating at a village or something.”
“No fear of fhat.”
Pisces mumbled around a mouth full of food as he ate appreciatively. He gulped, and went on, ignoring the disgusted look Yvlon was giving him. Ceria was eating just as fast.
“Why should we stop? With a constant supply of food, we need not rest—”
“Except to give the horses a break.”
Yvlon leaned towards Ksmvr as Ceria tried to cram a biscuit covered in gravy into her mouth. The Antinium was the only person who ate with good manners on the wagon. Two hands delicately held a biscuit up for him to nibble while a third hand held the gravy pot out for the others to dip into.
“Don’t you worry about that, Miss Byres. My Skills will keep these two old plodders moving all day. A good night’s sleep and rubdown is all they need, don’t fret.”
Termin smiled as he pointed to the two older horses that were pulling the wagon this early in the morning. Erin eyed them as she found a place to sit with the other adventurers in the back. The horses, Erma and Fox, looked old, but they both had feedbags on and seemed happy enough to eat and walk along. Besides, the wagon wasn’t going that fast.