The Slime Farmer

The man had the typical Ascharonian physique, tall and muscular, with a lean body just on the margin of lanky youthfulness.

Compared to that, Defi's body looked like it couldn't hold up to the average gusty day. But Defi couldn't see why the average Ascharonian would have doubts about his combat ability – women were regularly drafted into the Ascharonian armies and from the reports of victories in the circulatories the Ascharonian female soldier or officer was just as deadly even if they weren't as broad-shouldered.

Defi paused. Another thing that proved he was in another world – he was contemplating the relative advantage of a woman's physique in the battlefield. He paled a bit as he imagined one of his sisters with the full understanding of a battlefield Weapon Art.

There were female warriors in Ontrea, but most of the women who learn a combat art do not pursue the style to mastery. Or if they do, they choose styles that were not meant for defense, not the arts that were meant for war.

His musings were interrupted by Jerac, who scoffed at the other man. "Pampered hillsider fancypanders should keep to their dancing classes and stop calling it 'combat'. You even know what a real fight is?"

"Civilized people don't do your kind of brawling, dockrat."

"Was there something I could help you with." Defi interrupted unenthusiastically when Boone looked like he'd reached the end of his patience and Jerac seemed just about to leap up and plant his fist in the other's face. He glimpsed the badge hanging from the man's belt that signified he was part of the town guards.

He'd once seen someone incarcerated for bumping into a very minor official in Ontrea, and didn't really want to spend the feast day in chains.

The town guard showed his teeth. He loomed over their end of the table. "You're cooperating with an inquiry into accusations of maliciously undermining the authority of the town guards."

"Horrifying," Defi said dryly. "Of course I'll assist the town guard in rectifying this terrible miscarriage of justice, love, and truth. Truly, I am flattered you thought of me for such an important task."

"You – ! No more talking! Now come along and—"

"Damy?"

The man paled a little at the sound of the voice from behind him. He straightened in a snap, like a bow after the archer had released the arrow. "Grandma?"

Defi caught a few hidden grins from the eavesdroppers 'lucky' enough to have grabbed a nearby table, as everyone pretended not to have been anticipating a gossip-worthy fight.

"Is there something happening?"

There was an elderly woman approaching them with two plates in her hands and a no-nonsense light in her eyes. Mally was trailing in her wake with a plate of his own and an innocent smile on his face. 

He smiled brightly. "Your grandson is very dutiful, madame."

The old woman nodded briskly. "Of course. It is the honor of our family to help protect the people." She turned to the tense young man who had been threatening the table. "Now, Damy, have you eaten? Tsk, you're too thin! Come and eat this with me."

The red on the man's face was unmistakable. He took the plates from his grandmother's hands and strode away without saying another word.

"Damy! Really now, why don't you introduce me to your friends?" She patted Mally on the shoulder absently as she passed to follow her grandson. "Thank you for finding him, young Mally."

"Anytime, gram!" Mally chirped the words to her back. Then, without ceremony, sat next to Boone and grinned at them smugly. "You can praise me now. How grand am I?"

Jerac snorted. 

Boone pretended he didn't hear anything. Defi could see his shoulders relaxing. That went better than he thought. Maybe the morning wouldn't be so bad.

He went back to his food.

Mally looked between the three of them in incredulity. "You're all just very ungrateful people." Then he scooped Turq off the table and hugged it, pressing his cheek against the slime. "I like Turq better than everyone!"

*

There were many eye-catching sights in the Lowpool during this autumn feast, apart from the places giving away platters upon platters of delicious food. When Defi thought about the weeks of contributions that were smoked and prepared communally, he could scarcely estimate the truly staggering amount of eel and salmon in the warehouses.

There was a troupe of tumblers set up in a corner of the square, eliciting cries and laughter from the large crowd watching. There were stalls upon stalls of trinkets both useful and not, as if the entire town's obsolete storage rooms were turned out just for the day.

Defi lingered near a stall that sold artificed products for a few minutes, then bought a few more warming lamps for his room. He already had barrels of fuel.

His eye was caught by a stall that sold summoning papers but they were all for minor pets and too far out of his price range. He patted Turq reassuringly as he passed the stall by – he wanted something that flew but realistically, the slimes were to be his only summon contract for the time being.

The music from multiple sources melded until he didn't know where what note came from. In some parts of the street, musicians were deliberately dueling each other.

He moved away quickly from the discordance.

What was he doing walking around when he could've been back at the homestead already?

Breakfast ended on a note of contentment, and he separated from the others so he could investigate a suspicion he had.

It wasn't happenstance that Mally thought to run to find the guard's grandmother. Mally's cunning wasn't the type to calculate like that on his feet. But just as the town guard was threatening whips and chains, he'd seen Mally round the street, see them, then immediately turn around and disappear into the crowd.

A strange sight, but on reflection, what if it wasn't the first time that his students had been accosted by people with similar sentiment. Enough times that they had stratagems in place to diffuse such a situation.

Defi felt a surge of anger. 

His students were trying to better themselves – was that worthy of insult?

Just because he was an outsider, they thought they were superior to his students?

Because they could pay for blooded teachers, they thought they could do what they wanted to his students?

By what right did they dare?

The sudden rush of Current agitated Turq. He forcibly tamped down on the Current that flared to intense motion. He let the slime drop down to his arms, petting it absently.

The last time he was mad and let his emotions get the better of him…well, he didn't want to see a massive fake seakrait destroy whole buildings in the Lowpool. Turq would surely lose the hero status he enjoyed in this town.

He took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

In the epics, the master would march to the castle that held the warriors who had impugned on the honor of his students and teachings, stand in the center courtyard of the enemy, then declare in domineering manner:

'If you have the ability to move me one step from where I stand, I will consider your words. If you fail, you will know that you have no qualifications to speak to those who are my own, whom you have wronged.'

Defi wished that life were so easy.

It would be so simple to beat down everyone who upset his kids with the righteousness of a master.

Except he had no real qualification to call himself a teacher, much less a master.

His walk through streets of townspeople who were less guarded than they usually were with drink already told him that rumors of his teaching combat arts had been circulating recently. Enough exaggeration to offend the soldier-run combat school and the town guards that were mostly graduated from there, apparently.

He was so deep in thought that he bumped into someone.

"Oy," cried the other party. Then, "Defi?"

Defi blinked. "Haral."

The other boy grinned at him. "Looking to find another boar-lizard?"

Defi looked around. Oh. He was in the street where livestock was sold. He shook his head. "You? You don't want to walk three hours to town everytime, do you?"

Haral looked longingly at a stable of horses. "No, we're here to see a friend of father."

"Your sisters are here?"

Haral nodded at the building behind him, which was nailed with a sign that said 'grain' and nothing else. "What do you think of quail?"

Quail?

Ascharonian quail was larger than the Ontrean variety, but stringier and less flavorful. Also, the plumage of Ontrean quail was more iridescent. Apart from that…

"It's food."

Haral stared at him, then sighed when there was nothing more said.

Defi glanced at the building Haral's sisters were in. "Is there a reason you're asking?"

"We're going to raise quail. For eggs, mainly." Haral looked excited. "Doesn't it sound like fun?"

"Sounds noisy."

"Do you think quail are chickens?!"

Defi was amused. But before he could retort, someone yelled, "Oy, you there! This is yours, eh?"

A man tossed a large sack off his shoulder onto the muddy street. He was looking toward them, then smirked and sauntered into a crack between the stables.

The sack moved.

Defi felt a chill.

He ran and skidded to a stop. It wasn't a sack. He stared at Mally's unconscious face, then knelt down calmly.

A quick check assured him the boy was not hurt apart from the swelling on the side of his head.

Defi glanced at the alley between stables. Empty.

Some people, he mused as his gaze turned cold, did not know where to draw the line.