All The Skills - A Deckbuilding LitRPG

Book 5 Ch35: Annoying The Healer

Instead of risking the vertical flight up the top of the crumbly throat of the eruption cone, Brixaby once again opened up the dark portal. Everyone simply walked in, and after a short rowboat ride, emerged outside of the cone.

The rower gave no indication he had seen them only a few minutes before.

Arthur told Horatio to flash a light signal to Sams, who gathered the rest of the wing up and had them land nearby.

Once they were all settled, Arthur gave a brief overview of what had happened, downplaying his visit to the proto-nests by saying he and Brixaby had harvested more Commons.

“The air is toxic—much worse than in the eruption cone. I don’t think anyone should go in who doesn’t have access to a healing card.” His rough voice and double set of black eyes lent truth to his words.

Then he once again admonished them to keep tonight’s “training” within the wing.

Looking around at the satisfied faces, he doubted he would have any problems. His riders had found not only wealth, but as far as Blood Moon Hive was concerned, an extension on their life. No one would give up that kind of secret to others lightly.

Also, as Arthur had noted, anyone who wanted to copy their trick would need a purple’s extreme agility to fly into the mouth of an eruption cone.

They returned to Blood Moon Hive a few spare hours before dawn.

Unfortunately, Arthur still had to rise early the next morning. Harvesting an old eruption had been a success, but he had other ideas to gather shards and continue his wing’s prosperity.

He wasn’t done changing things to his satisfaction yet.

If the seers were right, there would be an eruption soon. Either late today, or even during the night.

Thankfully, even a few hours of sleep had done him a lot of good. The magical backlash had felt terrible in the moment but hadn’t lingered like when his card anchor had disintegrated.

No need to bother Marion, he decided. Not for a couple of lingering bruises.@@novelbin@@

He got started on the stewpot for the dragons’ breakfast. By now, the Common purples knew to go to the ledge for their food. Their happy chatter helped wake him up and lifted his spirits.

Once Candy Floss arrived with Thackeray, Arthur pulled the man aside. “Once Candy Floss is done, go down to the training rooms and let her know to meet up at the cave three doors down from here.”

Thackeray nodded, an interested expression on his face, and Arthur went on ahead to prepare for the meeting.

He went to the empty cave Brixaby had found. He had originally envisioned it for training the hatchlings, but they were now getting an education in class. Now, the space was sitting unused.

With an extremely regretful sigh, Arthur started to unload the objects from his Personal Space.

Cressida and Brixaby might have had a point that he was becoming a bit—a touch—like a pack rat. It was just so useful to have anything that he needed at a thought. And where he had grown up, tools had been invaluable, and food had been scarce. It always made him feel better to have what he needed at hand. Plus a few extras. And a few more for good luck.

So he’d collected useful items wherever he went. But . . . he was risking running out of room in his Personal Space.

Arthur went through his mental inventory list and started to remove duplicates. For example, he did not need five coils of long rope . . . so he unloaded three of them.

And it was entirely possible that he didn’t need extra pieces of furniture, like the ten bedrolls or the extra chairs.

He kept all of his cooking equipment, except for several pots that he simply didn’t like. Every cook had a few of those. However, he had more utensils than his retinue would need if they had three times as many people in it. Some of the spoons and forks were good silver, which at least should sell at a fair price.

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On and on he went, sighing to himself as he had to make terrible decisions, including unstoring some paintings he had found . . . actually, he couldn’t remember where he’d found those. He’d had them too long.

A couple of things he flatly refused to give up: the LED flashlights that he had taken from his time in the Dark Heart. The same with the tiny solar panels that collected from the sun to recharge the batteries. They had such quaint technology back then, he wished that more of it had survived over time. Though a lot of the machines had been replaced by card anchors.

And instead of removing the fertilized chicken eggs, newly hatched chicks, turkey pullets, ducklings, adult ducks, and the milk cow and her calf, he simply wrote down the numbers on a list. Better to keep the live animals in the timeless space. Same with boxes of produce, which would always remain fresh as the day he had stored it.

By the time he was nearly done, Thackeray and the others arrived.

Thackeray looked around the half-filled room of odds and ends with interest. “Did you manage to wrestle more from the quartermaster?”

Arthur winced. “No, I collected all this at my last hive. I want you to go through it and figure out what is the most valuable.”

“I don’t understand,” Thackeray said. “Are we going to sell this back to the quartermaster? Because I don’t think that we will get the best prices if we do.”

“No,” Arthur said. “Just work on sorting this and write down the general market price that we should get if we sold to stores. Say . . . in the central cities.”

He perked up. “That’s where you’ll probably get the best prices. Or just outside of them,” he added with a knowing look. “There are country folk who would appreciate not having to travel all the way into the city for basic goods.”

This was a big reason why he was glad to have an ex-merchant on board. “If you have any suggestions on where to sell, it would be appreciated.”

“I do, in fact,” he said with a grin.

Amanda had picked up the list with the produce and was reading it over carefully. Glancing up, she said, “Sir, if you’re in the habit of, um, finding items to sell, I may have a suggestion.”

“Go for it.”

“Seeds,” she said simply. “Me and my dragon don’t have the cards to fight, but we can force-grow fruits and vegetables to the flowering stage. After that . . . I think we can help nurture the plants, but that gets them more than halfway to harvest.”

“You would have been the most popular person back in my home village,” Arthur said with a smile, ignoring the fact that any card user would have been valuable to the borderlands. “Is it just seeds, or can I add potatoes and bulbs to that list?”

“Those flower, too, sir. They’ll work.”

He nodded and got himself out of the way so she and Thackeray could get started. It felt good to delegate, and not do all the work himself.

By the time he returned to his own place, the purples were done eating. A few had even cleaned up afterward. Newly washed pots were set out to dry in the sun.

Cressida and Horatio had gone for practice with their own wing.

Marion, though, stood there looking impatient.

“Brixaby just told me you were nearby an explosion,” he said. “What happened to your face?”

“Well—”

“I don’t want to hear it. Stay still.” Marion then started casting his card power. Then, after a few moments, he made a strangled, frustrated noise when the card told him . . . whatever it was.

“Sit down. I’ll need to give you the full workup. It seems that your spirit was affected by whatever this was, too. And that’s something only time can heal. Unless you found a new healing card in that eruption cone . . .” he added with a look at Arthur.

“No, not this time,” Arthur said. “But . . . there’s always the hope.”

“Indeed,” he said shortly. “Sit down.”

The moment Arthur found a chair, Marion’s energy washed over him. His fatigue vanished, and so did the lingering muscle aches and the headache he had been steadily ignoring.

Okay, so maybe he could have spared a few minutes to see the healer last night. They had arrived so late that all Arthur had wanted was sleep, so he had used that as his excuse.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a heart murmur?” Marion demanded.

Arthur opened his eyes. He didn’t remember closing them. “Hmm? What’s that?”

Marion frowned at him. “It doesn’t matter, I just fixed it. But I found other signs of past malnutrition.”

“Not all of us grew up royalty,” Arthur said pointedly. He didn’t feel like explaining his childhood. Besides, he had been eating well for close to ten years now. It didn’t matter. “Any signs of scourge-rot? The air in the eruption cone wasn’t the best. Oh, and the cut—hey, that’s gone too,” he realized, looking at his arm.

“I fixed that, too, and there’s no sign of scourge-rot. Brixaby told me about that, so I had Asha look him over. She didn’t find anything, either.” Marion frowned. “Still, from what he said, I don’t feel comfortable letting the Commons or the Uncommons go to those—what did you call them?”

“Proto-nests. No, neither do I.” Arthur sighed. “If Brixaby and I visit them again, it will have to be done secretly. I don’t want to build resentment in the rest of the wing.”

Marion shrugged a shoulder. “You’re the captain, and the people in this hive have been conditioned to believe the captains will always take the best out of every harvest.”

“That’s not the type of captain I want to be,” he snapped.

Again, Marion shrugged. Then he reached to adjust his glasses. “That is why I am glad you ended up with the Legendary dragon, not me. Also, the way I see it, you have bigger problems.”

“What’s that?”

Marion pointed. “Your pocket is glowing.”

Arthur looked down, and sure enough, light was showing through the fabric. He pulled out the metal shard that Brixaby had given to him.

Larry was trying to contact him.