One Moo'r Plow

Book 1: Chapter 30: Magic within milk.

Book 1: Chapter 30: Magic within milk.

Cold steel in one hand and colder milk in the other, I braced myself for the moment of truth. This idea was frankly ludicrous, yes. But so was every second thing I had encountered since my abrupt arrival on this world. Operating entirely on logic from my old home was a crutch that served to slow me down, I had realized.

There was quite literally magic in the air. And if I refused to utilize it, I was an even bigger fucking idiot than in my old life. I vaguely remembered some bullshit about patient people waiting for opportunity to knock on their threshold. Well, I was more content to go and kick fates door in.

Forget waiting for opportunity. I was going to make my own.

Teeth grit, I pressed the knife against my forearm, frowned as it failed to penetrate, and pressed harder. For a moment I feared the blade would dull before it pierced my hide or somesuch, but I had faith in its prowess. And after a time, I succeeded in cutting myself.

What an achievement.

Sticky, precious blood pooled against the shallow slash as I observed it, detached. But such a small wound did not interest me. I needed to go deeper. I angled the knife in so as to avoid anything important, muttered a quick prayer at whatever god was out there, and then jammed the blade home.

Shock withheld pains vestigial advance for a scant few heartbeats and then was swept aside before its arrival. Eyes wide and teeth ground together, I slowly withdrew the blade and shakily reached for the milk I had set aside.

The moment of truth.

Wounded arm braced against the table, I guided the small cup up and gulped it down between shivers or agony. I had been wounded before, but that was in the heat of battle, where adrenalines fiery surges kept the worst at bay. It was a special sort of hurt when you knew it was coming.

The effect was instantaneous. I watched, eyes stretched open and refusing to blink as my flesh simply flowed back together. This surprised me. The fleshknit potions I had both seen and administered myself were a rough, brutal method that reknit the torn nerves, veins and skin, and was as painful as that would sound.

This felt smooth, for lack of a better word. Again, I delved into Gareks memories for an explanation. His kind held little stock in the clerics of other races, for any minotaur not a warrior was worthless, in their eyes. But he had encountered humans that wielded divine might, and what hazy memories I could glean from his remnants indicated their healing prowess was far superior to any alchemical potions.

What man could create was not equal to divine providence, it seemed. And yet I suspected that these petals were more akin to clerical healing than other forms. I had simply dropped the plucked petals into the milk and let them soak for a while to test my theory. And now, I needed more.

I had a small, finite amount, yes, and would need to use them carefully. But for now, I had work to be done. Ishila had, upon my request, gotten me a few smaller jugs. I would have liked to have more variety in the sizes, but that would have to wait for the future. For now, I had my regular pots and several smaller ones, all of which I planned to sell separately.

With careful measurements, the smaller pots were soon filled, and I evenly distributed the petals among them to soak overnight. With cloth and vines, I covered the tops and kept them chilled. Satisfied, I had one last task to attend to before I could turn in.

I had half a sheet of wood that remained from my various construction endeavors. For a while, I sat and thought, wondering what catchy things I could carve upon its surface to attract the eye. In the end, I came upon the conclusion that simplicity was the best option. My products would speak for themselves. Why promise something flashy and fancy when my quality would best be known anyhow?

Some time later, with it finished, trudged in and retired for the night. Morning came as soon as I had closed my eyes, and with a groan, I prised them open and hauled myself from bed. A new day had dawned, and I was not content to waste any of it on my back.

Tired as I was, the chores seemed like a slog this morning, and I found myself nearly butting heads with my thick-skulled cows. But that too passed, and I had the wagon loaded before Ishila came bounding down the road.

Off again today, eh? She inquired as I secured the new goods properly. The bags of biter pods still wriggled where I had forgotten them yesterday, and I made a note to check the ones I had sealed away inside the house. I had intended to speak to Raffnyk about sales of these, but the subject had been lost in our talks. Ah, well, such was life sometimes.

Aye, I grunted. Should be a better day than yesterday. Didnt know what I expected, honestly. Just rolled up and hoped for the best.

A different plan today, then? She grinned and looked at what I had prepared. Learning from your mistakes and all that?

Something like that, I admitted. Like most people, I did hate to admit -especially to myself- that I could have done better, but here we were. Look after the farm while Im away.

I spent a chunk of the morning walking around and pointing out specific tasks to her that I wanted done, as well as some demonstrations. I took particular time to fil her in on the cleric flower and its properties, and what I wanted done with it. We mused over how to possibly reproduce it, but eventually concluded we knew absolutely nothing about it insofar. I admitted that to her, and Ishila just laughed as I trudged back to the farm and my cart.

With a crooked grin, she waved me off. I set off up the mountain, cart pulled behind me the sun rose up the empty horizon behind my back. I was not the only person on the trail, however. Raffnyks riders were already out on patrol, diligently trotting along. Clouded and flooded as my sense of smell was, I could smell a familiar scent as I passed the trio, and it didnt match my own. Beneath the heavy odor of men, horses, sweat and steel, there was a faint wisp of a more recognizable smell.

Milk.

I frowned, seeing as I didnt quite remember selling these men any of my goods, but shrugged and trudged onwards. In due time, I arrived at the camp, and stopped short as I cleared a rise in the road. Another cart was already parked just outside the half-finished walls, having set up shop. I recognized the short, broad human even as my mind tried to reach for his name.

Pert, I remembered at last. The other supplier of milk in this area. We had the same idea, then. I could see him turn towards me, and then tense up as his eyes took in my form. The odor of baked goods wafted from his cart, and it was plain that he had already made several sales.

Without missing a beat, I kept on moving and pulled my own cart up to where it had been yesterday. If he was tensed for a confrontation, he would be sorely disappointed. I had little time for the man, and did not deign to so much as acknowledge him.

Instead I parked my cart, turned my back to him and began to set up my wares. Which didnt take much effort, in all honesty. Just me loosening some bonds to make it easier to retrieve tied-down items and pulling up my sign.

Gareks Goods: Healing Milk And More. was all it declared and all it needed to. With that sat up, I simply loitered around and waited, content to let word of mouth spread about my ludicrous claim. Word spread slowly at first, I saw. A few people drifted by, curious looks levied in my direction. More followed. One or two laughed at the sight.

I beckoned a young, bandaged man close as he hovered around the fringes of the gate, obviously intent on watching me. After a moments hesitation, he hobbled over and looked me dead in the eye.

What do ya want? He asked bluntly, unable to summon a single fuck to give under the layers of cloth that covered his face. A burn victim, or perhaps acid. I couldnt tell.

Very little. I replied truthfully. You just happened to be in the right place at the right time. How would you like a free sample?

The suspicion upon his face was obvious as he eyed the sign up a down, wary.

What ya sellin? He demanded gruffly, and I gestured to my sign. His eyes followed my hand and evoked nothing. Not everyone has time for your fancy scribbles.

He couldnt read. Wonderful. Instead, I sighed and explained it to him on blunt terms.

So yer claiming you have fleshknit potions mixed into yer milk? He scoffed and scratched at his ginger scalp. What kind of fool idea is that?

Momentary weakness nearly made me send him on his way, but I persevered and did my best to remain patient. Even those offered a cure to their illness were hesitant to take it, lest it be a false hope. I myself had gone through such experiences before this life. And I understood his position, and his right to doubt my words.

Free of charge. I rumbled and held out a cup filled with petal-soaked milk. The cure for what ails you. If it isnt, Ill pay you for your time.

If anything, that seemed to make him even more suspicious. But the offer proposed was too good, and in the end, he accepted. With bated breath, I watched him chug down the cup and then look around. Waiting for something to happen.

What a load of rubb- Anything the young man was about to say was cut off as his free hand shot up to the bandages that covered his face. He blinked blankly several times and groped the skin beneath the wraps that he pulled free.

Huh. Was all the reply I got from him. Well, Ill be damned.

With little else to say, he wandered off, busy feeling at his smooth skin once more. While I would have liked his thanks, they were not strictly required. Others had been watching, and now their testimonies spread. Before I could so much as refill the cup, I had another human striding up to my cart.

How much? She demanded gruffly and pulled out a purse of coin.

I listed my price, and she matched it without flinching.

Your stock. She gestured. Ill take all of it.

The coin tempted me, it really did. Visions of its pale gleams in my hands seemed succulent, but I wasn't here to sell out in half an hour and then trundle home with my main draw depleted.

Two per customer. I returned, although it pained me to pass up that much immediate coin. I knew it was the better plan to spread out my sales and establish long-term interest, but there was something alluring about immediate gratification.

She bargained and haggled, but I remained firm.

Two per customer, I repeated stubbornly. There will be more next week.

Truth be told, I had come with ten small healing pots, used one as a demonstration and wanted to stretch the remaining nine as far as I could.

I have other wares, strictly for the discerning adventurer. I offered once she had accepted that I would not sell her more. Coin she had aplenty, it turned out. Several moments later, I was light one bag of biter pods, a flask of acid and a jug of regular milk.

Not all my customers were as free with their coin as her. Several balked at the price of the healing milk, but I refused to budge. I knew it was a bit higher than was reasonable, but it was still fair, and a precious commodity. The healing pots went far quicker than I had expected, and soon as I was forced to tell interested parties that they were sold out.

Across the road, Pert had a small trickle of customers for his milk and baked goods, but the majority visited me first. Even if I could no longer provide what I advertised, the rest of my wares held the interest of the riders. Giving monster hunters the tools they needed to easier do their jobs was profitable, who woulda thought?

By day's end, my cart was light and my purse was full. Satisfied, I packed up my cart and pointedly ignored Pert as he waved me over. No doubt he had some business proposition in mind, but I had little interest in the man. It wasnt that I thought he was inherently evil, just greedy, or that I thought lesser of him. It was simply that I possessed better ways to waste my time than in his association and presence.

Through polite conversation with my clients, I made sure to spread the word that I would return once every week, each time with a fresh batch of goods. Those who came first would be served first. And then, after a day well-spent, I hitched up my cart and began the trek back home.