Arc II – Agrarian Revolution
Chapter 8 – Where to Find Resources?
1 Month and 2 Days Since the Summoning
Kamelia simply sighed.
“I know, but I thought you had thought this through…
or knew some other way, so I did not ask,” she said calmly.
Alan closed his eyes and ran his hands down his face.
‘This is why I’ve always despised absolute monarchies or tyrannies.
Everyone fucking thinks you know everything, but no one understands that you’re also a living person who can’t remember everything!
Oh fuck…
playing the know-it-all is a terrible idea, good thing it only resulted in me forgetting about the plows…
could have been worse.’
He moved his hands away from his face and looked at the countess.
“Kamelia, I can’t keep everything in my head either, so remind me of absolutely any little thing, even if you think it’s obvious.
Okay?”
Kamelia didn’t answer for a few seconds, but then replied.
“Okay.” Her face remained calm, but not entirely, as if she were trying not to show anything.
Alan sat up straighter.
‘Alright, plows, seeds, that’s…’
He buried his face in his hands and groaned hollowly.
“Aaaaaagh…
let me guess, there aren’t really any spare plows lying around anywhere, much less seeds, and absolutely ZERO horses, right?”
The countess pressed her lips together.
“Correct.”
Alan almost wanted to drop to his knees and scream at the sky.
‘This is fucked!
I finally thought everything was finally going to go smoothly, but hell no!
Nothing, NOTHING EVER GOES ACCORDING TO PLAN!
WHEN WILL I EVER REMEMBER THAT ACTUALLY IMPLEMENTING COMPLEX THINGS ISN’T PREPPING A PROJECT FOR THE NEXT HISTORY CLASS!’
“Then I will make a suggestion,” Kamelia began.
“We can make the plows ourselves, for a start.
If we find the materials for it.”
Alan raised his head.
“Speaking of plows…
yours are probably…
wooden ones, on little wheels and with that one thingy that plows?”
The countess nodded.
“Yes…
how did you know?”
“We had the same ones in my world,” he muttered.
‘Uh-huh, so they have classic Early Middle Ages plows here.
And they’re also..
very inefficient, as far as I remember.
You have to expend a whole ton of strength just to plow a measly row, they catch on roots, and all that…
hmm…
what if we modernize them a bit?
A bold statement, sure, but still…
what’s the point of making the same plows we already have, if we can just create new and experimental ones?
Like…
add iron discs so grass doesn’t get tangled…
wrap the sole in iron to reduce friction…
actually, that shouldn’t be too hard for a local blacksmith.
The only thing is…’
“Kamelia, how’s your iron situation?”
“Poor,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Iron in the mountains to the east is mined by Baron Utew, and he…
says there is almost no iron and he cannot give it as a tax.
Lying, of course, but I do not really want to clash with him right now.
And the situation with the dwarves there is a bit tense…”
Alan blinked.
“Dwarves?
Wait…
those are the Southern Mountains, you said the Dwarven Mountains are outside the kingdom entirely.”
The countess nodded.
“Yes, but those mountains are called Dwarven because the majority of dwarves live there; otherwise, they inhabit many places.
In the Southern Mountains, for instance, they have several settlements.”
Alan retreated into his thoughts.
‘Dwarves, then…
and they’re nearby…
classically, they should be excellent blacksmiths…’
“Alan, no,” Kamelia interrupted his thoughts.
He flinched.
“No what?”
“I know what you are thinking.
We are not going to the dwarves.”
Alan blinked.
“Why is that?”
“Hah, I will tell you why.” She raised her hand and began ticking off her fingers.
“It is far,” one finger folded.
“The mountains are dangerous, all sorts of beasts roam there.” A second finger folded.
“Dwarves are hostile toward humans, or at the very least, they do not trust them.” A third finger folded.
“The dwarven settlements are located who knows where, but certainly not in my domain.
The Southern Mountains outside Armenas are divided between the duchies of Unotra and Homqui…
do you realize what will happen to us if we are caught by someone?”
Alan opened his mouth, closed it.
“Damn…
actually makes sense…
are there any other options at all?”
Kamelia lowered her hand.
“I do not know…
except perhaps to ask the blacksmiths from the capital…
although they are always complaining that they lack iron as it is.”
“And if we ask for iron and their time for who knows what…
they might actually rebel.”
“Exactly.” Kamelia kicked a pebble.
“Our situation is not just bad, it is very bad…
even going to the dwarves does not seem like such a bad idea.
The county is already in a poor state…
and if we start spending crucial resources on some newfangled ideas…
the commoners will not stand for it.”
Alan blinked.
‘Wow…
all it took was taking the brakes off her, and look at the analysis she spits out.’
He sighed.
‘Okay, the dwarves will wait then…
the closest option is…
unless it’s that baron with the iron mines…
but how do we beg iron off him anyway?
Maybe…
aaaah!
My head is spinning!
I’m out of cognitive resources for these past few days.’
He looked at Kamelia; she seemed to have spaced out, or perhaps she was suddenly interested in the color palette and average height of the grass.
There wasn’t a single clear thought in her eyes, just a blank stare.
“Hey, Kamelia, tired?”
She flinched slightly at the question.
“I…
no…
just…”
“You’re tired,” Alan stated.
“I am too, honestly.
Working with your brain is work too…
let’s just rest, and then we’ll figure out what to do, eh?”
She was silent for a few seconds, cast a sidelong glance at Lorgi, and then slowly nodded.
“Only for a little while.”
Alan smiled.
“Super.
About damn time.”
Closer to lunchtime, Alan was wandering near the village, right by the forest.
‘Alright, perfect, Kamelia passed out right away, Lorgi stayed to guard her…
and I finally got a free minute.
I’ll look at nature, take a break from this hustle and bustle, get some fresh air…
alone at last…
awesome.’
Something rustled in the bushes; Alan quickly looked in that direction.
Something green flashed behind the leaves in the forest.
‘Ah…
a shinnor?
Or what is that?’
Soon a characteristic green cat face peered out from behind the bushes, staring intently at Alan.
He squinted.
‘Ah, yeah, a shinnor.
What was his name?
Kane, right?
What’s he doing here…
by the way, I didn’t even get a good look at him then, I was too freaked out…
what do these green cats even look like?’
He slowly and unhurriedly walked right toward the shinnor into the forest and crouched down; the beast remained absolutely still and just watched Alan.
He got very close to the animal.
“Hey, Kane…
I don’t have any meat, obviously, but can I at least get a look at you?”
Naturally, the shinnor didn’t answer…
it arched its back and let out a long hiss.
Alan flinched.
“Wow, aren’t we angry…” he held his hands up.
“Got it, I’m leaving.” He stood up and began to turn around, when the hissing only intensified; the beast began taking slow steps forward, baring its sharp teeth.
Alan’s heart skipped a beat.
‘What…
what is it doing?
Or rather…
FUCK!
THIS ISN’T KANE!’
Too late.
The shinnor had already made a powerful leap, knocking Alan to the ground and sinking its teeth into his throat.
Blood immediately began to fountain out, and Alan’s mouth opened in a silent scream.
The beast continued tearing at Alan’s throat; his legs twitched frantically trying to break free from its grip, and his hands tried to push the beast off him, but the shinnor only sank its sharp claws deeper, straight into Alan’s chest.
Alan’s face contorted into a gruesome grimace; the blood gushing from his throat had already completely covered the grass, his face, the shinnor’s snout, and his shirt.
For some reason, Alan continued to twitch frantically, which puzzled the beast, causing it to clamp down on his throat even harder.
Alan wasn’t thinking.
He was just twitching with his mouth open.
He wanted to scream, call for help, or at least pass out from shock.
Nothing.
Suddenly his throat and chest began to close up, causing Alan to twitch even harder.
The shinnor continued tearing at the regenerating throat, but its strength was gradually fading.
The whites of Alan’s eyes began to turn red, and instead of twitching, he grabbed the beast by the throat and began to choke it with all his might.
Alan’s eyes bulged from the effort, he bared his teeth so hard that saliva flowed from his mouth in rivers, but he didn’t have enough strength.
The shinnor continued to tire, and Alan took advantage of this; he grabbed its jaws and tried to pry them apart.
The beast, whose jaws had already grown numb, gave way for a second, and Alan instantly rolled over, sitting right on top of the beast.
His throat and chest had already closed up.
The shinnor bit fiercely into Alan’s hand, causing him to howl in pain.
He barely managed to pull his hand from its jaws; his fingers were completely covered in blood and simply hung by scraps of skin, and suddenly the bones began to fuse together with a crunch.
Alan no longer noticed; like a beast himself, he rained punches right down on the shinnor’s head.
The beast began to squeal pitifully like a wounded cat, but Alan didn’t hear it.
Foaming at the mouth, he continued to land blow after blow, not even realizing what he was doing.
The shinnor had long since ceased making any sounds; Alan only just noticed that the beast’s head looked like bloody minced meat with fangs.
He finally stopped and stood up.
His legs were shaking so violently that he simply fell onto the grass.
Before him was a massive puddle of blood that had dyed a good portion of the clearing red, and the green, motionless body of the beast with a red head.
Alan’s hands were completely covered in blood, as were his face, shirt, and trousers.
He just sat there gripping the grass, his body shaking uncontrollably, gasping for air.
He was breathing as if he had just surfaced from the water after swimming across an entire lake, and stared with wide eyes at what he had done.
Or rather, he didn’t even understand what was happening yet or who he even was.
He just sat there for a few more minutes, then his eyes widened.
‘Fuck…
fuck fuck FUCK!
WHAT WAS THAT?!
WHY DIDN’T I DIE?!
WHY DID IT ATTACK ME?!
WHAT AM I GOING TO TELL KAMELIA?!’
He sprang up abruptly, examining himself, covered entirely in blood.
‘Shit, shit, SHIT!
If Kamelia sees me like this, there will be WAY too many questions that even I WON’T BE ABLE TO EXPLAIN!’
His eyes rapidly darted around.
‘What do I do, what do I do…
the corpse!
I need to get rid of it!’
He quickly walked over to the shinnor’s body, grabbed its hind legs, and without squeamishness, but frantically, began dragging it away.
He tossed the body into the bushes, then his gaze fell on the blood on the grass.
He dropped to his knees and began scrubbing it with the sleeve of his trembling arm, then froze after five seconds.
‘IDIOT!
WHAT ARE YOU DOING?’
He jumped up sharply, almost falling.
‘Right…
clothes..
clothes…
what do I do with them?!
I HAVE TO THROW THEM AWAY!’
Alan immediately stripped off his shirt, trousers, and boots, and tossed them into the bushes, left in nothing but his underwear.
‘Idiot twice over!
The boots are easy to wipe clean!
And they’re valuable!’
He dashed into the bushes, quickly found his bloodied boots, and put them on.
‘Fuck I’m naked!
And what am I supposed to do about this?!
HOW THE FUCK AM I GOING TO EXPLAIN THIS?!’
He frantically began scanning the area, when he suddenly noticed clothes drying on a line in one of the yards.
Without thinking for a second, he bolted straight for it, easily hopped the fence and stopped for a second, then snatched a shirt and trousers from the line that were more or less similar to his old ones.
Alan, pale, sweating, and trembling, hopped the fence back and frantically, awkwardly, pulled the new clothes onto himself.
He looked back at the spot where the grass was covered in blood, and instantly bolted back there.
Without thinking much, Alan began tearing branches with leaves off trees and methodically tossing them onto the massive bloodstain, not to do a thorough job, but simply to hide it for as long as possible.
Then he noticed that it was suspiciously drafty in the back; he touched the back of his trousers, and discovered a hole.
‘Fuck, well of course!
THIS IS A BEASTKIN VILLAGE!
THEIR CLOTHES HAVE HOLES FOR TAILS!
FUCKING FANTASTIC!’
He simply collapsed under a tree out of sheer exhaustion and clutched his head.
‘What.
The.
Fuck.
Was that?’