Heretical Fishing

Chapter 85: Fisticuffs

Corporal Claws pressed her ear to the stone, feeling and hearing the vibrations from within the home.

"Fischer came by the workshop today," came the voice of a man, "and it happened again."

There was a long pause as no one spoke, and Claws pressed her ear against the cold stone.

"You're sure, Brad?" a female voice asked.

"Yeah—I'm positive," Brad responded.

Another male voice spoke up.

"Did you see it too, Greg?"

"No, Steven," a deep voice, clearly belonging to this 'Greg', said. "I was out getting materials."

So, the men are Greg, Brad, and Steven, Claws thought.

She shook her head.

Whatever—I'm really good at this sneaky-sneaky stuff.

The conversation resumed, snatching Claws from her self-satisfaction.

"What was it this time?" the female asked.

"I have no clue—just a couple boxes with hollow frames inside. I was trying to look busy, not alert him I was watching."

Another silence stretched, then the voice of Steven broke it.

"So, what are we going to do about Fischer?"

Claws' self-centered pleasure was shattered like a clam beneath an opalescent rock, and her lips spread to reveal razor-sharp canines. It took all of her significant willpower to not explode through the wall.

The female sighed.

"I don't know. I hate knowing that he might be a cultivator. Fischer is such a nice person, and has been nothing but a boon for everyone since coming here..."

"On the other hand," Steven said, "he might bring the crown down on us."

"Or worse," Brad added, "he's working for the crown. I don't know how powerful or well-connected a cultivator would need to be in order to have his shackles removed, but whatever the answer, it’s bad news."

"Well, whatever we do," the female said, "I don't want to put Fischer in danger, but I also don't want anyone else being put in danger..."

Grunts and murmurs of agreement came from the others, and Claws’ lips receded, once more hiding her vicious teeth from the world.

She continued listening.

***

I stretched my legs and rolled over, curling myself beneath the luscious blanket.

For a moment, I'd expected to wake beneath a shelter, Maria beside me—but the illusion was shattered as I felt just how comfy I was.

As nice as it was waking up beside her while we were camping, I had to admit I'd missed sleeping in my bed.

I threw the covers back, stretching my arms high as I unleashed a mighty yawn.

A smile came to me at a realization—I could once more indulge in Sue's coffee.

I made my bed in a hurry, then rushed out the door.

***

I basked in the daylight creeping between buildings as I strode through Tropica, my steps fueled by the thought of my first love—blessed, ever-dependable caffeine.

I'd thought it my imagination when out camping, or perhaps a side-effect of sleeping beneath the trees, but the night appeared to be getting cooler, and a chilly breeze blew between the buildings, waging a battle on my skin against the sun's warming rays.

I rounded a bend, and my heart climbed in my chest as I caught sight of the bakery. Sue was behind the coffee machine, working herself into a tizzy.

With how late I'd slept, there was a sizable line, and I raised an eyebrow. My surprise held not even a hint of annoyance at having to wait; I was happy that more villagers had caught onto the blessing of coffee.

"I hope Sue is making a killing," I said with a smile, then joined the line.

As I waited for my turn, my thoughts went toward the beehive I'd made yesterday—I still couldn't believe it had changed so drastically.

When I'd opened the boxes up, they had transformed even more than the outsides. The frames had been made without any wax or plastic sheeting to show the bees where to build honeycomb, but sheets had materialized from nowhere, filling in the spaces between each frame. Not only that, but the extra box had been an exact clone of the others, filled with seven frames, all of which had the same sheets affixed.

I'd taken it to the bees in the tree hollow immediately, placing it on the flat ground right next to their home. I felt a desire to go check it, but worried I might scare the bees away from using it.

Better that I just leave it alone for a while, I thought.

Anticipation welled up inside me; I hoped the bees would find it suitable and expand their nest.

A gruff voice spoke from behind me, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Fischer."

I spun, and when I saw who it was, beamed.

"G'day, Roger. How are ya, mate?"

"I'm well."

He paused a moment, then continued awkwardly.

"How are you, Fischer?"

"I'm great, thanks! Camping was really fun, but there's nothing quite like Sue's coffee."

I couldn't read his intention as he clenched his jaw, but then he spoke.

"I was hoping to talk to you about some things."

A spike of anxiety rose at the request, and I gave him my most-disarming smile.

"Of course. We can speak now, if you like..."

He shook his head.

"No, I'd prefer some privacy, and the ladies back home are waiting for their breakfast. Can I come see you later?"

"Er—yeah, that shouldn't be a problem. I'll be building some stuff on my property, and I imagine it will take me most of the day, so come by whenever."

"Morning, Fischer!" Sue called, and I turned to her.

"G'day, Sue!"

She planted her hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes with a smile.

"And where have you been, young man? Not getting your coffee fix elsewhere, I hope!"

I laughed.

"I told you I was going away for a couple days! That's why I wanted all that coffee!"

She sniffed, playing up her annoyance as she moved to the coffee machine and started preparing a cup.

"That was more than a couple days, Fischer. You had me worried my coffee wasn't to your liking anymore..."

"Your coffee," I said, bowing grandly, "is the best in Tropica—nay, the best I've had in this world. I beg your forgiveness, request that you make this humble customer your finest of brews, and pass him one of your most delicate pastries, my lady."

She smirked.

"How could I turn down such a request? I suppose I can forgive you just this once..."

***

I finished the last bite of croissant as I got back home, and cast about, looking for my animal pals.

I didn't have to look far.

Snips, Pistachio, and Claws were all sitting by the fire. Unexpectedly, they had a guest—the rock crab that Snips had launched out to sea yesterday.

They all greeted me in their usual ways; Snips and Claws rushed me, Pistachio raised a claw, and the rock crab blinked at me, as indifferent as he was yesterday.

I caught Claws as she leapt at me, and Snips followed suit, latching onto my arm with her legs.

"Good morning, ladies! Did you sleep well?"

They hissed and bubbled, rubbing their heads against me.

Snips glanced back at the rock crab, and upon seeing his complete lack of a greeting, hissed an order.

I thought the order was for the crab; I was wrong.

Claws dipped a hand into her pocket and removed a pretty stone. With a blur of speed and a spark of lightning running up her arm, the stone flew like a rocket.

Tink!

It slammed into the crab, and he let out a startled noise as he flew backward, landing on the top of his carapace.

Snips and Claws cackled with laughing hisses, and I joined in as the crab's legs sought purchase, finding only air.

"Does he have a name, Snips?"

She shook her head as she jumped to the ground, blowing bubbles in the negative.

She scuttled to him and flipped him upright with one claw.

The rock crab glared at Claws as she retrieved her prized pocket-rock, and Snips bonked him on the noggin.

Sufficiently chastised, the crab settled into the sand, looking everywhere but at us.

"I've thought of a name," I said, and everyone's eyes—including the insubordinate crab—turned toward me.

"Your name is Rocky, my friend, because you just keep on getting up."

Snips blew questioning bubbles, and I shook my head in response.

"It seems like he is here to support you, not me, so I don't think he needs a title like Sergeant, Corporal, or Private."

I smiled down at the rock crab, enjoying the way his eyes sparkled at being given a name.

"You don't have to serve or support me, Rocky. Every creature here does so of their own accord, and if your only purpose is to serve Snips, you're more than welcome to chill with the gang."

He nodded at my words, then gazed at the fire and the pot of crabs boiling atop it.

"Thanks for making brekkie, by the way. You guys are the best."

I strode toward the fire.

"I'll need you all to hide out somewhere today. Roger is coming by at some point, and I don't think he's ready to meet a gang of sentient creatures."

They all agreed with myriad nods, hisses, and bubbles.

I peered down at the boiling water; the sand crabs' shells within were red and pink, ready to eat.

"Alright. Let me serve up breakfast and add some seasoning before you all take off for the day."

***

The flavor of crab, lemon, salt, and assorted spices lingered on my taste buds as I waved goodbye and left to collect the materials I'd need for the day.

Snips had prepared all the lumber when I left for the woodworking shop yesterday, and I felt another wave of gratitude for my violently capable crab.

Guard crab, snuggle buddy, friend, and now lumber mill, I thought, shaking my head with a smile. What doesn't she do?

I grabbed all the poles first. They were saplings cut in half length-ways, and would serve as the foundation for my construction.

I marked a spot in the sand, lifted a pole high, then slammed it into the ground.

After a few twists, the pole was firmly in the ground, and I leaned against it, pulling and pushing to assess its stability; it held firm.

I measured the length between poles with one of the wooden slats, then slammed another pole into the ground and started twisting it down.

***

I nailed the first paling between the two poles, and seeing it stayed strong, did the same with the rest of the wood.

As I finished nailing the last paling to the panel, I saw someone approaching from the corner of my eye. Roger marched across the sand, making a beeline for me; he arrived in no time at all.

"G'day, Roger. How did the ladies like their brekkie?"

He nodded his greeting.

"They enjoyed it. I must admit that coffee is a bit of a winner in our household."

"Glad to hear it! I feel exactly the same..."

I trailed off, not really knowing what else to say.

"So, what did you want to talk about, Roger?"

He clenched and unclenched his jaw, looking at my in-progress fence.

Then his eyes darted up, and his gaze focused.

"Thank you for taking Maria, and for keeping her safe. She had a good time, and I'm told you were respectful."

A weight lifted from my shoulder as he spoke, and I let out a breath. I'd been worried he was gonna challenge me to fisticuffs, and I hadn't been looking forward to the prospect of holding down an old soldier until he stopped trying to swing at me.

"And, you were right," he continued. "Maria is her own person, and she can make her own choices. I hope you don't look down on me for being protective of her. She's my only daughter, and I love her more than life itself."

I smiled at his admittance of affection; I suspected it was the sappiest thing I'd ever hear from the rugged farmer.

"You're welcome, Roger. I know we've had our differences, but I hope you know by now that I'm a trustworthy bloke. I'd never do anything to hurt her."

As I spoke, his eyes returned to the fence, and with every word, his face grew more annoyed.

"Er... something wrong, mate?"

"Is that supposed to be a fence, Fischer?"

I looked at it, furrowed my brow, then blinked at him.

"I mean, it is a fence... but yeah. Why?"

"It looks like shit."