One Moo'r Plow

Book 1: Chapter 3: What hard work?

I had every right in the eyes of gods and mortals to just go sleep when I got back to the farm.

Long, hard day filled with bribery, merchants, and most stressful, pulling a fully loaded cart back up the mountainside. That was stretching it, I had to admit. It was more akin to a gentle slope upwards towards the general area of Mount Redtip, but still.

And yet I had work to do. The plow I set off in the general area of where the fields started, then continued to the clearing where my house now was. I parked the wagon, wedged slabs of hewn rock beneath the wheels and began to unload. In the faint moonlight, I carried most of my items inside and stored them atop the crude counter and table I had crafted.

The meat stayed inside the wagon, for now. The cooler night air, along with the straw and burlap would keep it from going bad, for a time. I would begin to dig a cellar next to the house come morning. But for now, I had other things in mind. It took far longer than necessary to fumble through the darkness and light the wood piles I had stacked earlier.

A majority of the meat could be stored underground, but it would need to be dried first. From what I knew, at least. Proper refrigeration was still a long ways off, if I had to judge the technology of this world. With a large fire started inside a brick firepit, i wrestled the bulky wooden stand I had made over. The large, impractical thing had one use; to hang meat from so it would smoke and dry above the flame.

With newly acquired hooks in hand, I jammed one end into the wood and drooped long strips of meat over the iron. I had built and tested it specifically for this, and it worked. Finally, I covered the entire structure with burlap sheets I had begotten.

Would it taste good? Hell no. Was it edible and would serve a purpose? Likely.

I had several of these set up, and was in the process of readying the final one when torches came into view. Horses came down the mountain, or so I guessed from the sound of hooves and the height of said torches. Didnt take a genius to guess who it was.

The Riders of the verdant Dawn had returned down the mountain. They saw me in the firelight, and once again drew near.

Once again I hail you, traveler. Came the tired voice as they sat mounted at the roads edge. Tis a long ride back to Hullbretch, and we would ask to join your fire for the nights remnants.

I did not particularly welcome company, tired as I was. I could have sent them away and had very few people fault me for it. Yet they had been decent to me on the road, and asked for very little. In a world where I could be anything, I chose to be kind.

Come then, I called, still not used to how deep and rumbly my voice was. Sit and warm yourselves by my fire.

They needed no further invitation, I found. I observed them as they dismounted, only half paying attention as I maneuvered my smoke-stand away from the final firepit. The meat could wait until morning. The human was gentle with his horse, plentiful neckrubs distributed as he fed the horse from his own palm. The orc simply threw his reins over a low branch, tossed a bag of feed before his steed and lumbered over to the fire. The quillman seemed strict, professional with measured movements and careful distribution.

They were seated round the fire, none of them with their backs to the Minotaur when I approached as well. Venison, bread and nuts were what they ate. A simple meal, but still more than I could offer. With a grunt, I seated myself and extended a skewer of meat to them.

A surprise, The human smiled. But a welcome one, aye.

The orc declined to wait for his meat to cook and simply ate it raw as the others watched.

How went the hunt? I queried after a few moments of silence. A look of annoyance flashed across the humans face, followed by a pained sigh.

We arrived, culled monsters, found Apex Monsters, retreated. The orc grunted between bites. To save you the long story.

Another look of annoyance appeared.

Ser Stonefang is blunt, but he speaks no lie. The human sighed and pulled his mustache with one hand. We came upon the Redtip Peak late in the day and set about our cull. Twas but a few hours in when we encountered an Apex Monster. With our foe made clear, we chose to immediately saddle back up and head for Hullbetch once more.

I nod after disgesting his words for a bit.

No shame in leaving a fight you cant win. I searched Gareks memories for what an Apex Monster is, and found my answer. Effectively, a secret boss of a species, to put it in terms I was familiar with.

You speak as if you have experience in this matter. The quillman smiled thinly.

I fought on the frontier for years before my retirement. I spoke carefully. Their expression shifted minutely after my rewards, and I could see..was that respect?

Except for the orc.

So you deserted your post, then? He asked bluntly, chewing on the last chunk of meat.

I retired. With the blessing of my chief.

Words were chosen carefully now, by either side.

Perhaps Ser Stonefang would like to continue instigating our host? The human spoke, voice harsh. Or is the warmth of his fire and taste of his food not good enough?

Dont really care. The greenkin grunted and tossed his skewer into the flames. No love for deserters.

Thrones Above, man! The human exclaimed, anger in his voice. We have bellies filled with food, a warm fire before us, with ale and women to await us in the morrow, and you want to provoke this until one of us lies in the cold, hard dirt before the night is out.

This is why I dont work with orcs, Raffnyk. The quillman spoke solemnly. First he wants to stay and fight the Apex, and now he wishes to pick a fight with a minotaur to salve his wounded honour.

Fuck you two. The orc growled and folded his bare arms across a bulky chest.

No fuck your childish sense of honour. The quillman returned flatly. We are not dishonoured because we chose to leave a fight we would not win.

In your eyes, maybe. The orc threw back, face even more sour than usual. But not in the eyes of my tribe.

I just sat sort of awkwardly, not sure what minefield I had just stepped into. There were obviously some hard feelings between the three riders.

I must confess, I am new to the area. I spoke after a moment. What sort of monsters did you encounter that roam Redtip Peak?

Krakks, mostly. The quillman replied. Shellmongers, stonewings and a few Arasks mixed in.

I nodded along as if I had any idea of what he had just said.

How much danger is there of them coming down the mountain?

As of present? Raffnyk replied, expression guarded. Very little. They are content to fight amongst themselves and hunt other monsters for food. Once that runs low and they begin to compete for territory and meat, you will find their presence immediately noticeable.

Should we have our way, that will not come to pass.

I nodded at the quillman's words and returned to my meal.

The next few hours are idle chatter and exchanged stories. Over this time, I learn more about the land and a little about its politics. Their order is not welcome everywhere, as many nobles, tribes, kingdoms and other such authorities often use these incursions to test and train their troops. An often foolish and costly thing, or so their side tells me. Gotta be a little bias when someone interferes with your entire lifestyle, I suppose.

Still, there is no small amount in danger involved. Raffnyk sighed and wiped the grease from his face. I imagine whoever sold you this land must have given warning.

They had not.

Look, I am sure you are very well and capable of handling yourself, given your armament of enchanted weapons, general past and somesuch, but Apex Monsters are not to be trifled with. The human spoke. If you see one, just run. Better to rebuild this place than dead.

I promised to keep that in mind, though I had no intentions of doing so. If anything wanted to have a go at my farm, theyd have to go through and then over me. This was mine. I left them to their sleep shortly after, though dawn was but a few hours away. Quick checks of the meat revealed most of the fires had burned down to their coals and were smoking nicely. Some fresh fuel provided, I headed off to sleep myself.

I woke up later and discovered the riders were gone. Only a burnt-out fire and horse droppings remained of their presence. Some coin under Raffnyks seat expressed their gratitude for the company, but I had little need of it.

Garek, for some foolish reason, did not possess a magical pickaxe. Nor a shovel.

With little other options, I began to hew the ground open with his axe and scoop the loosened dirt away with my hands. A process that went much quicker than its description might apply. The perks of having this amount of strength. I roughly gouged a diagonal tunnel into the dirt a bit away from my house and then spent most of the morning and afternoon hollowing out a space below ground. Turns out freakish strength was great for packing the dirt above and around me. Once finished, I had a rather large, cool space below ground, with wooden beams for both support and to hang meat from.

Lacking a trapdoor, I instead opted to drag a stone slab over the entrance, for now. Even more time later, I had the remainder of the meat hung inside from hooks and rope, well cooled with how far down it was. If I had any vegetables in the future I could modify this as well to store them.

It was frankly amazing how fast I could work. This thought hit me once I had emerged. I was essentially on a scale similar to heavy construction equipment with none of the bulk and problems that came with those.

Next, I had the fields. The property had come with a rather generous amount of acres, sold at dirt cheap prices for reasons which I now knew why. Overgrown with weeds, roots and littered with stones, this would be a week-long, backbreaking job for any full team of men and horses.

Not for me. Axe in one hand, I walked in and set right to work.

By god -or gods, I wasnt too sure with this world- I loved being built like a fucking tank. Garek went right through vines as thick as his calf with a single swing, and ripped out tree stumps with his bare hands. Boulders, stumps, anything that vaguely resembled an obstacle was unceremoniously ripped loose and hurled out of the fields.

The fact that I was strong enough to hurl a half-tonne boulder overhead gave me so much joy I wanted to dance. Only when the sun had set upon another day well spent did I retire.

For a while, I just sat and rested, my supper over the fire and my back against a massive oak tree.

In my head, I envisioned what this place would be when I was finished. The farmhouse there, on the hill, because farmhouses and hills were always together. A chicken coop, a barn for some cows. Okay the thought of a cow-man owning cows seemed weird at first, but humans did own pigs, if the skin similarities were what I was going by. But they were on every damn farm because they were a universal good investment.

But most importantly, I wanted fields. Big fields that overflowed with crops and life. Profit, too.

And just like that the System kicked in.

Farmer Level 2 reached. Sleep to apply.

The dopey grin on my face spoke everything about how eager I was to do exactly that.

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