Gronk stepped closer and this time Cutter did have the distinct sense of threat. “That’s a Berserker sigil there. A cinder one. My cousin has a sigil just like it.”
The beady eyes inspected Cutter with new interest.
A whirring sound emerged from the vegetation and Gronk’s eyes snapped to take in the sight of Lita approaching.
Gronk’s eyes snapped back to Cutter. “Where’d you get that then?”
Cutter shifted a little uneasily. “What? Where did you get any of yours? I was born with some and won the others. This one’s a beaut though, isn’t she? Got her off a… Kobold Chief, in one of the little dungeons.”
Gronk held his gaze. His brothers seemed to respond to the tension, stepping closer as well. Cutter found himself facing a veritable wall of towering green flesh. He took this moment to glance at the bands and sigils of the three ogres. The big stone one had a symbol of a horned bull on his band, which Cutter hoped denoted some kind of ranching class rather than something with more military applications. The other stone-banded ogre had a symbol of a deer with a bow and arrow, which Cutter guessed meant hunter, and that might come with some combat prowess. The little, little by relative standards, had a book and pen on his clay band.
Cutter said, “What’s your class? Novelist?”
Gronk was unimpressed with the question. “Clerk.”
Cutter’s eyebrows leapt up on their own at that admission. “Riiiight… well, boys, I hope you find your cousin. I can’t stand around here all day, got scrutiny to do and all that.”
Gronk stared longer. Cutter was considering the potential of a fight starting, and the consequences. He was a fighter. None of these big creatures were. But they were awfully big and two of them were armed. He expected that between him, Lita and Tiller they probably would come out on top. But then he’d have three more bodies to bury and the rest of Gronk’s clan to worry about.
Gronk must have been performing a similar kind of calculus. After some more staring he nodded. “Well then. If ya see him, you might send him our way. Tell him his uncle is worried sick about him.”
Cutter said, “I’ll do that.”
As the trio moved away again, he breathed. “I have a feeling this isn’t going all the way away.”
Pod said, “This is not fucking good, that’s what this is. They’re going to be back looking. That body’s going to get us all killed.”
Cutter said, “They were big and stone-rank and all, but they’re not fighters. I reckon me and Lita could take them, especially if Tiller lumped in with his shovel-jutsu.”
Pod shook his head, scowling. “They got fighters too. And there’s more to the clan than just them. If they come looking for trouble we’re dead. D-E… uh… dead. That’s what we are.”
Tiller was pacing. “That body. We need to get rid of the body.”
Cutter waved the idea away. “It’s buried! They’re not going to come digging up the whole place.”
Pod said, “It sticks out like a sore thumb. Besides, if they don’t find him above, and they won’t since he’s dead and under the grass right here, they’ll probably go find someone on a hunting or tracking path. They’ll lead ’em here and sniff that body out right quick. There’s a lady in Medley on a path like that. Then we’re fucked.”
Tiller said, “We could move the body…”
Pod scoffed at him, “What? Out there? You don’t think you’d be begging to get caught red fucking handed?”
Tiller snapped his fingers. “The composter! If we can get the composter we can, you know, chuck him there and poof! That’s how it works, right?”
Pod’s eyes became slits. “Aye, that’d do it. But how the fuck are you going to afford a composter?”
Tiller resumed his pacing, “Well… they’re hardly going to jump right to hiring a bounty hunter or whatever, are they? We’ve got a few days. This harvest, well what’s left of it, will be ready in another seven… that won’t be enough… shit. If we could get some fast cash… I’ll need the composter anyway.”
Cutter said, “What was in Bonk’s coin pouch?”
Tiller said, “Twelve coins.”
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Cutter chuckled morosely, “That’s not going to do it. Well, I could loan you something. Like we were saying. I really want to get my sword, but I’ve waited this long.”
Tiller said with hesitance, “You’d do that?”
Cutter shrugged, “Eh. I mean, I helped kill him. Did it saving your ass, but it’s a bit of my mess too. Besides, gotta help a brother out. Humans one and all and all that shit.”
Tiller said, “How… how much do you have?”
Cutter said, “About a hundred.”
Tiller shook his head, “We’re still way off. The composter is a thousand coins.”
Norris, who had been observing, spoke suddenly. “Well, old boy, I could venture some funds, on a temporary basis.”
Tiller said, “You’d do that too?”
Norris said, “Well, dear fellow, it’s my hide on the proverbial line as well, is it not? I do not want to meet the same destiny as my dearly departed brother. I was the one who completed the grisly deed, was I not? Who can say how I may or may not be associated with the cadaver given the unknown sigils of the hypothetical tracker that Bonk’s extended family might employ.”
Tiller said, “And… what do you have?”
Norris said, “I could venture a hundred gold of my own.”
Tiller stood, scratching his chin. “That’s two hundred. I’m flat broke except for Bonk’s coins… there might be another hundred gold growing here… shit, that’s still not enough.”
Cutter said, “I’ve actually been earning pretty okay, I’ve just been kind of blowing it. Me and… stone robot here could go do a couple of jobs, score some more cash.”
Lita said, “And not blow it at Spinner’s, bruh? You got that kind of restraint?”
Cutter shot him a dirty look.
Tiller said, “You’re going to come back with seven hundred coins though, are you?”
Cutter shook his head, “Jobs we’ve been doing net fifty or so including the loot. Maybe a little more.”
Pod said, “You could try for a loan.”
Tiller said, “A loan?”
Pod said, “Yeah. Could try it. Down at the bank.”
Tiller’s arms sagged, “There’s a bank? A bank that does loans?”
Pod said, “Yes there’s a bank. What kind of hicks do you take us for? Mightn’t be a realm city, but Medley’s civilized!”
Tiller rubbed the back of his neck, “I guess it’s worth a shot…”
Cutter laughed, “Don’t you love this place. It’s got elven whores, ogre dairy farmers and fucking small-business loans.”
Tiller just stood, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to imagine what kind of hellish terms a bank might offer in a place like Scape.
Cutter, Tiller and Lita stood at the edge of the island. Lita had assumed his hover-boke configuration. Tiller looked at the configuration and understood that this was a missing element in his plans. If he was going to generate the kind of money he would need then he would need to trade beyond the confines of Medley’s economy. Even Medley, with its eight-hour round trip, was limiting in its distance. He needed to add transport systems to the growing list of problems in his notebook.
Cutter said, “You thinking all that while you should be focused on getting out of this mess?”
Tiller shrugged, “That’s how I’m built I guess. This mess is just step one, the bigger challenge remains. It’s the bigger one that will get me home to my family.”
Cutter said, “One step at a time though, remember. We’re going to go and get a contract and I’ll try not to blow everything I earn.”
Tiller said, “I don’t know what to say about you helping like this.”
Cutter said, “Hey, pal, it’s just a loan. It’s going to take me ages to make that sword cash anyway. This setup you have here, if it wasn’t all ogre-crushed, I can see how it can turn into a cash machine. You’ll get your composter, grow your money trees or whatever, and you’ll pay me back before long. It’s not really costing me anything. Besides, you’re the only other human out here. Not that it’s a race thing!”
Tiller smiled, “No, I get it. We’re from the same place. It’s been… good to meet you, talk to you. It’s like I’m less crazy with you around. It makes me feel like I’m not going insane for playing along with the impossibility of this place.”
Cutter quirked a smile and nodded. He mounted the frame of his companion-vehicle. With a wave they were gone.
Tiller was left standing alone. He needed to go to Medley, get seed to replace the plants that had been destroyed, explore the possibility of the loan. But he couldn’t drag himself to depart yet. Instead he returned to the mud walls of his shelter, reaching for his notebook. He opened a page and inspected his notes.
The heading on the page was NEEDS FOR SCALE.
Under that were bullet points.
- Land – Not enough here. Need more ground for growing. Get more islands, use composter to make more, acquire more earth. Biggest single limiting factor in rate of production.
- Labor – Already too much to do. Eventually hit ceiling on what own hands can achieve. Need workforce. For workforce need money. Options?
- Pipkins – Been amazing, but limited. Level him up somehow? Get more pipkins? How? Where? Huge advantage in turnaround.
- Market – Medley limited, only so many people, so many stores. More I produce likely to drop price as market floods. Need find more markets to move goods to. Means exploring, making connections.
- Security – Bonk just beginning, as earn will hold lot of gold, need to keep secure, need to protect farm from harm or takeovers. Defensive structures? Security staff? All cost money, complications.
He took the pen and added another item.
- Transport – Takes too long to get anywhere. If get faster way to move then can explore markets, make wider connections, find staff, move goods faster and easier. Achieving this makes all other tasks easier.
He put the notebook down and sat for a minute. This had all come so far. Long gone were the struggles of accepting the reality of this place. Instead there was just the task laid out before him and all the things that needed to be done, the ones he had thought of and the ones that had yet to come to him. He considered the path he had been put on. Cutter’s path seemed to come with faster access to easy money, maybe a more accessible avenue to progressing. But the farming path, if he used it right, seemed to be better as a long-term means to making the kind of money needed to escape here.
Rising again, preparing himself for the long walk to Medley, he considered the other human. He liked him, he was obviously a good guy. But he wondered how much of the bravado and dream talk was camouflage. When the man spoke of his family, he could see the pain and longing behind the easy stance. Tiller might have been having a hard time controlling his obsession but he wondered if Cutter would just lose himself in the game.