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[Villian] Chapter 58: Food or Friend?
🕑 Added 2025-04-17 04:58:20 +0000 UTCPulling his rough overcoat tighter to combat the winter chill, an elderly man glanced around his humble abode. Wood cracked and burned in the simple cast-iron fireplace, illuminating the rustic room. He was a retired blacksmith, and the fire always comforted him and reminded him of simpler times.
A door creaked open, and a middle-aged woman wearing peasant clothing with her brown hair tied in a bun walked in. “Father, it’s getting late. Go to sleep.” She frowned as she looked at her elderly father slumped in a chair by the fireplace. “Are you counting your savings again?”
Looking at the small pile of silver and copper coins stacked neatly on the table, he let out a sigh. “I heard rumors that a new duke arrived today; those money-grabbing nobles that extort the land and its people are truly scum. Remember the last noble a few years ago? He demanded half our earnings every month!” The man slammed the table, causing the coin towers to tumble, and turned his head to face his daughter. “You should run away, Mary.” He looked back down at the table in defeat. “I could sell the house and buy old George’s horse. Leave this bag of old bones behind, Mary, please…”
Mary scoffed while walking over to her father and putting her hands on his shoulders. “As if I would leave, you old fool. What use would a horse be? Where would I go? The capital? I’m a farm girl, not a street rat. I would rather be poor out here surrounded by nature and my friends than in the gutter of a city.” Mary then combed back her father’s hair with her fingers. “Don’t worry about money, okay? I have a good harvest coming that should pad out our savings.”
The elderly man sighed and looked longingly at a blacksmith hammer leaning against the cast-iron fireplace.
Mary noticed and shook her head. “Father, you are almost seventy this year; it’s understandable that you cannot smith anymore; let me handle making money this year.” She readjusted the overcoat to cover his chest and said with a laugh, “You should just enjoy your retirement.”
The elderly man grunted in agreement.
Mary jokingly patted his head and walked off toward a side room. “Although I said to enjoy retirement, that doesn’t mean you can stay up late, old man; I have to sleep now, okay?” She gave him a loving smile and closed the door behind her.
Looking at the pile of coins that resembled a life’s work, the man carefully scooped the coins into his hand and tiredly got up from his seat. His bones creaked and popped as he moved, but his muscular arms showed a life of hard labor. With some effort, the man reached down and removed a loose floorboard, revealing a small hidden space; he retrieved a metal lockbox with his free hand and dumped the coins inside. The sound of coins clinking against one another brought some calm to his heart.
A wave of cold air filled the room as the front door creaked open, causing the man to drop the box in surprise. “Who goes there?” There was no reply.
The man turned and saw the front door wide open, revealing the muddy dark streets and outlines of the houses across the street. There was no sign of an intruder.
The elderly man watched and waited, yet nothing happened. Was it the wind? Maybe I left it unlocked? he thought while cautiously approaching the door. He looked left and right but failed to spot anything in the darkness of the night. Finally, he closed the door with a shrug. He then turned around, walked back toward the fireplace, and bent down to lock the lockbox.
“Ooo, shiny things.”
The man’s hand stopped; a childish voice rang through his mind. He was frozen in fear as he watched a silver coin float out from the lockbox and toward his left shoulder. He followed the path of the coin and came face to face with a rather large pink furred spider.
The coin floated in front of its curious emerald eyes; then it poked the silver coin with its limb and watched it spin around in the air. After a few seconds, it got bored and tried to bite the silver with its fang but hissed in pain.
The elderly man had seen many things during his long life, but a magical spider inspecting coins was not one of them. He felt no malice, and it was clearly intelligent. The man knew many nobles liked to keep pets of exotic variety and debated if this spider was the property of the rumored duke; if so, then offending or killing this spider could implicate himself and Mary’s future here in Blackthorn.
The spider released its control over the coin, dropping it down into the lockbox with a clink, much to its apparent amusement. The elderly man wasn’t sure how to react, so he fixed the floorboard to hide the lockbox and sat back down.
The spider watched the fire with fear as it would shy away whenever the wood crackled.
The man chuckled. “You don’t like the fire?”
The spider looked at the fireplace and then into his eyes. “Fire scary,” it’s childish voice rang through his mind.
Raising an eyebrow, he said, “You find it scary? I rather like the fire; it comforts me.”
The spider seemed baffled by his statement. “Fire scary, night warm. Humans strange.”
The old man laughed, and then the two sat in silence for a while, enjoying the fire’s warm embrace.
***
“Father, wake up,” an irritated feminine voice entered his ears. “I told you not to sleep by the fire; you might catch a cold like this.” He opened his eyes and felt amazing, the best night’s sleep in years.
He threw off the blankets he didn’t remember covering himself with and stood up. His back felt straight, as if he was brimming with energy.
Mary traced his neck with a finger and inspected something. “Did a bug bite you in the night? Father, this is why I told you not to sleep like this!” Mary shook her head and gestured toward the table where bread and an assortment of meats lay. “Breakfast is on the table—help yourself. I’m off.” Mary left the house through the front door and turned left down the street toward the farms.
The old man watched her leave but quickly closed the door. He felt it, the feeling he had missed so much.
Mana.
As a rare human born with the potential to become a mage, he honed his pathetic mana supply and became a blacksmith able to imbue weak enchantments on his creations.
He walked toward the extinguished fireplace and pulled up a loose floorboard. The lockbox was still there, and a quick shake confirmed the contents remained. He breathed a sigh of relief as he rubbed the lockbox surface with his sleeve and inspected his neck in the metal’s shine.
Two small holes.
The man thought back to the curious pink spider while weighing his hammer in his hand. It must have bitten me while I slept. Can a magical spider reawaken a dead mana circuit? He could feel his mana reacting to the hammer, begging him to wield it once more. “Maybe living here won’t be so bad after all…”
***
In the early morning hours, down in the Blackthorn Dungeon, Damien pinched his nose and suppressed a long sigh. “So nobody died?”
Many pink spiders shook their bodies in disagreement.
Damien got closer to the spiders and crouched down, and in a low voice, he said, “Okay…just don’t kill anybody or steal from them. But if you do happen to kill someone, give the body to me, and if you do happen to steal, give me the money, okay?”
Fay rolled her eyes, and the pink spider that rested on her shoulder copied her action. “He’s hopeless,” Fay said with a sigh, and the spider nodded in agreement.
Damien’s silver cape straightened as he stood back up. He removed the creases from his red wine suit with psychokinesis and walked over toward the mountain of vines while avoiding stepping on the somewhat sleeping spiders.
A vine emerged from the mountain, welcoming his presence. “Soon, there will be humans down here to harvest your sap. Do not consume them. I will feed you humans and other creatures myself.”
The vine wiggled in agreement.
Damien turned to Fay and gestured toward the tunnel that led to the surface. “Guess it’s time to employ some workers before the caravan arrives.”
Fay tilted her head. “Caravan?”
Damien grinned. “Indeed, a caravan of slave traders is coming soon; however, whether they become food or friend is yet to be decided.”
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Marin Schmidt
TFTC
