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Chapter Sixty-Four (TIBK)
🕑 Added 2025-08-19 21:17:51 +0000 UTCThe faint light of midday did nothing to warm the yard where the refugees huddled for their ration. The queue stretched from the door of the makeshift storehouse made of ice. Leif Fenrir stood beside Yorick's trestle table, who was crossing names off his ledger.
"One scoop barley meal. Quarter ladle rendered fat. Salt pinch." Yorick addressed a woman as she held out a cracked bowl.
"Next!" Leif called.
A burly man shoved past the woman. "That ain't enough!" He slammed his own empty bowl onto the table, making Yorick jump. "I broke my back hauling logs all morning! I need more than slop fit for a sick dog!"
His name was Bodil, Leif recalled. One of the first wave from Frostholme.
"Hold your place, Bodil! Orderly queues! And watch your tongue. This ration sustains us all. Be grateful." Leif gestured for Yorick to continue.
Bodil’s face flushed red. "Grateful? Grateful for scraps while the Talons eat thicker porridge?" He jabbed a finger towards the barracks where the fighters slept, their portions indeed larger, as per Eirik's orders for those on guard duty or heavy labor. "We're freezing and starving same as you lot, but we ain't got swords to wave around!"
A mutter rippled through the queue. "Aye," another voice growled, a woman missing teeth. "My little 'un's coughin'. Needs warmth, needs fat. Where's the fairness?"
Leif felt a prickle of panic. He drew himself up. "The Commander decrees the rations! Talons defend the walls! They need the strength. Your complaints are treasonous! Yorick, skip this man. Serve the next!"
"Skip me?" Bodil roared, slamming his fist onto the table again, sending the ladle clattering. "You spoiled princeling! You think waving that sword makes you above me? Try workin' the logs on barley water!"
He lunged at the small barrel of rendered fat beside Yorick. "We need this!" he bellowed, grabbing for the ladle.
Leif drew the Fenrir longsword Eirik had returned to him. "Back! Touch that barrel and I'll have you flogged!"
The sight of the drawn weapon froze the scene for a heartbeat. Then the mutter became a snarl.
"You gonna kill me now?" Bodil spat, undeterred. "Come down off yer high horse and taste the slop, lordling! See how long you last!"
Leif didn't want to strike. But letting Bodil take the fat would collapse all discipline. How do I…? He felt out of his depth.
"Alright, Bodil. Enough showin' off yer bellyache."
The voice cut through the tension. Olaf shoved his way through the crowd, his bulk parting them. He didn't look at Leif or the sword. His eyes were locked on the burly man.
Bodil whirled. "Olaf! You seein' this? The lordling wants to skewer me 'cause I want enough grease to stop my bones rattlin'!"
Olaf stopped an arm's length away. "I see a big man actin' like a scared pup. Makin' noise 'cause he thinks the runt of the litter gets the scraps." He jerked his thumb towards the woman with the sick child, now trembling near the back. "Her kid's coughin' . She ain't tryin' to rob the stores. She waitin' her turn. You think yer belly hurts worse?"
Bodil faltered, glancing at the woman. "That ain't the point! We're gettin' less!"
"The point is," Olaf growled, "you start a riot over fat today, what happens tomorrow? Guards crack skulls. People die. Food runs out faster 'cause there ain't no logs cut or ice broke. Then we all starve. That what you want? You wanna be the reason that widow's kid freezes stiff? 'Cause that's where this pissin' contest leads."
He straightened, addressing the crowd now.
"Commander feeds the fighters more 'cause they stand watch while you snore. They face Skarl arrows so you can whine about fat. That ain't privilege, that's survival. Don't like it? Take it up with the Skarls. They got plenty of land where no one tells you nothin'." He grinned, a baring of teeth. "Course, you gotta walk there. Past the Ice Wolves."
The reality of Olaf's words sank in. The energy dissipated, replaced by resignation. Bodil grumbled, but the fight had gone out of him. "Ain't right..."
"Life ain't right," Olaf snapped. "Now shut yer yap, get back in line, and take yer damn ration. Be glad you got one. We be mixin' snow into the broth tomorrow if we don't find more game." He shoved Bodil back towards the table. "Yorick! Get ladlin'. Skip that bastard? Skip him, I'll show you how to count ribs on a starved man." His glare silenced the scribe's protests.
Leif sheathed his sword. He'd nearly sparked a riot while Olaf had resolved it with words. I'm terrible at this, he thought.
His gaze swept over the yard. The memorial stones for the dead Talons and refugees were laid out near the south wall, ready for Isolde's ceremony tonight. Even the dead get stones before the living get full bellies. He needed to find Harkin once he returned, and bring this up to the commander. Speaking of which…
Where was Eirik?
——————————————
The sight that met Leif Fenrir and Harkin on the flat land north of Abercrombie was enough to make them forget the trouble inside the walls.
Commander Eirik Stormcrow looked like a disaster run away from a traveling circus.
Riding on the Skarl war pony, Shade, he was dressed in found plate armor – different pauldrons, a beaten chest plate, and greaves. The armor was clearly several sizes too large, making noise and moving with every step of the horse.
Even more strange was the weapon. He held a simple shortbow taken from the Skarl stores. But the arrow he nocked wasn't wood and fletching. It was made of ice.
Thwack!
The ice arrow flew with force, breaking against a straw-stuffed target sack tied to a rock fifty yards away. A notice sparkled in Eirik's vision:
[ARCHERY EXPERIENCE +1]
[HEAVY ARMOR SKILL +1]
[HORSEMANSHIP SKILL +1]
[MANA FRAGMENT +3] '
[MANA FRAGMENTS: 1232/10,000]
Three birds, one ice arrow. Armor's literally suffocating me, and Shade thinks I'm an idiot, but the numbers climb.
He focused inward, drawing on his Frost Mana stores. In the open space before him, he pictured a crate of arrows. Ice arrows. Hundreds of them. Shafts, crystal tips, blue fletching.
[ABILITY: FROST MAKING - Complex Object: ICE ARROW CRATE (x300)]
[MANA SPENT: 10]
[MANA: 10/50]
Ten points for three hundred arrows. Better than draining on the real reaserves. He pushed Shade closer, got off, and touched the crate. It disappeared into his storage ring.
Restock. Ready for the next hour of pain. He pulled himself back onto Shade's back, the plate groaning in protest. This daily limit is killing me. Just need to hit the quota, then I can maybe start on some sort of cathedral structure.
That's when Shade's ears pointed forward. Eirik followed the horse's look. Leif and Harkin were coming across the snowfield.
"Commander?" Leif called out, his voice unsure. "We need to... uh... talk." He pointed at Eirik's outfit. "Is... is everything alright, sir?"
Eirik sighed. Break in work. Just what I needed.
Leif outlined the scene: Bodil's near-riot, the anger about unequal food portions, Olaf's help that worked this time, but barely. "The mood's ugly, Commander," Leif finished. "We stretched Harkin's haul to ten days, but even with rationing... people see Talons eating thicker porridge, they see prisoners getting the minimum, and they get desperate. Tempers are flaring. We need... something more. Fast."
Harkin nodded. "Leif speaks true, Commander. The caravan brought bulk, but bulk only stretches so thin. Hunting's hit-or-miss. What we bring back barely touches the need for three hundred mouths. We need a steadier source. Or... or people will break. Soon."
Eirik stayed quiet for a moment. The Cathedral of Ice needed millions. The daily upkeep for his repair needed hundreds. And now, the need – food – was threatening to start a rebellion within his own walls before Borin or the Skarls even had a chance.
Farming, he thought. We need herds. We need crops. But the land around Abercrombie was snow-locked tundra and slopes. Even in summer, it was harsh. Growing anything would be a task.
Sheep would be the obvious choice. They can survive on scrub and lichen under snow. Best winter animals. He pictured an ice pen south of the fortress walls.
He made a decision. "Harkin." His voice cut through the wind. "Tommorw is your next caravan. Take one thousand Talons from Yorick."
Harkin's eyes widened. "A thousand, Commander? That's... our reserve. For emergencies."
"This is the emergency," Eirik stated. "Your priority: food. Bulk grains, legumes, salted meat. But also buy sheep. As many northern-breed ewes and rams as you can afford and transport. Start a breeding stock. Whatever the coin will buy."
This would still takes months to pay off. But it's a start. At least it'd give people some hope.
"Understood, Commander. Sheep. I know breeders near Flint's Hold. Tricky in winter, but possible. I'll get the best price." He paused. "The coin... it will drain us."
"Do it," Eirik ordered. "I could a pen south of the main gate before you come back. Ice walls, gate. You can appoint someone to oversee it." He'd spend a few hundred pieces if needed. Livestock was basic structure. But still... not enough. Sheep take time. We need food NOW.
Greenhouses?
[Design Custom Structure: ICE GREENHOUSE (F-Grade)?]
[Est. Cost: 1000 Mana Fragments per unit (100ft x 20ft)]
[Est. Upkeep: 100 MF/day]
[Features: Reinforced see-through ice walls/roof, basic air flow, built-in frost-locked watering channels]
Eirik's jaw clenched. One thousand mana fragments. Each. And that's before seeds, soil amendments we don't have, time for crops to grow... and the upkeep.
Even if he used today's absorption cap (2000 MF), that was maybe three greenhouses. Would two greenhouses feed three hundred people? Not quickly enough. He couldn't afford to redirect pieces into slow-growing cabbages while the threat of Borin and the Chanters loomed.
He still hadn't used his Resource Absorption quota. 0/2000 MF. That was something. He needed resources to absorb. Logs? Set aside for heating. Stone? Needed for construction. The dead? He'd cleared most warriors, and the daily cap limited how much he could get from the remaining corpses. Need untouched resources. Something abundant yet unimportant.
Something... that could serve both as his farm and the source of his mana fragments.
Unless...
He focused inward on the Level 2 Kingdom Core again.
[Kingdom Management System]
[Core Level: 2]
[Area of Influence: 2 Mile Radius]
Wait.
The thought hit him so suddenly he actually stopped breathing for a moment.
Radius.
A radius isn't just horizontal. It's a sphere. A complete sphere extending in all directions from the center point.
His eyes widened. If the influence extends two miles in every direction...
"That means up," he whispered. "And down."
The implications crashed into him like an avalanche. He'd been thinking like a surface-dweller, only considering what he could see and touch above ground. But the Kingdom Core's influence extended deep into the earth itself. Two miles of rock, soil, mineral veins, and...
Caves.
Underground caves would be perfect for mushroom cultivation. Unlike surface crops, mushrooms thrived in the cool, dark, humid conditions. It needed nothing else except for feces for its growth, which his people produced plenty of. Most importantly, unlike grain or livestock, mushrooms could be harvested within weeks!
There have to be caves down there. Natural caverns in the limestone and granite. And if there aren't enough caves... I can make them.
What if I don’t just absorb resources? What if I absorb… space? Carve out rooms? Tunnels? Chambers? While simultaneously converting the raw material into fragments?
Essentially, he could fund the expansion as he built it!
His pulse hammered against his ribs. Resource generation and construction could be done at the same time, fueled by the very earth he stood upon.
The advantages flooded his mind.
No. Not just for mushrooms. He could do so much more with this.
There will be no upkeep or cost for whatever he build. Rock walls, unlike ice, wouldn’t need constant Mana Fragments to resist melting. No more daily drain on his reserves.
Tunnels could connect buildings internally, protecting movement from arrows or the elements. Hidden chambers for storage, workshops, even escape routes.
This means he no longer needs to pack everything in this already small fort. The surface would be for spectacle and defense—the Cathedral, the Keep, a marketplace as a start. He still needs to project majesty and power and opportunity. But below ground could be used entirely for survival.
His frustration shifted instantly as he activated absorb.
[Target Material: Solid Bedrock (Granite)]
[Absorption Rate: Variable, based on density and Core proximity.]
[Warning: Absorption removes mass. Structural integrity above may be affected if not supported.]
He could shape it. When he absorbed that beam or that prisoner, he’d willed the entirety of the object gone. But what if he focused his intent? What if, instead of absorbing a whole pillar, he absorbed… a block? A specific shape?
He turned abruptly.
"New priority. Follow me. Now. Leif, fetch Fisk. Bring him to the base of the inner keep wall. Move!"
He saw their confused faces but had no time to explain.
——————————————
Minutes later, Eirik stood in the basement of Abercrombie's central keep. It was a dark space. Piles of broken pieces blocked possible exits. This was where the Skarls had tossed broken equipment and, judging by the smell, feces.
A fitting starting point for rebirth.
Leif, Harkin, and Fisk hurried in moments later.
"Commander? Leif dragged me away mid-test! What needs such urgency?"
Eirik pointed a gloved hand at the stone floor beneath their feet.
"Farming, Fisk. We need food. Fast. You know mushrooms? What types grow fast around here?"
"Mushrooms? Yes, of course! The Frostcap. Tough fungus. Why? Planning a scavenge trip? I could afford a helper, but it's dangerous out—"
"Not hunting. Farming," Eirik interrupted. "Right here."
Leif frowned, scanning the ceiling. "Underground? Commander, the rock here is cracked. Digging… it would take months. Pickaxes, support beams… we don't have the supplies."
Harkin grunted agreement, kicking a loose stone.
"Solid rock. We need teams of men swinging picks for weeks just to make a small room."
Eirik ignored their doubts. He reached out with his awareness, pushing down. The feeling was strange.
He felt the thick layer of soil and broken pieces filling the basement floor. Then the solid granite bedrock began. But within the Core's two-mile radius.
He focused the Core's power: [Resource Absorption].
But this time, he pictured shape. A simple rectangle. A starter trench.
"Stay back." Eirik commanded.
He pressed his palm harder against the stone. Absorb.
[Target: Solid Granite Bedrock]
[MANA FRAGMENTS +50]
[MANA FRAGMENTS: 1282/10,000]
Eirik pushed his will into the Core. The ground beneath him vibrated, felt through the soles of his boots and the palms of his hands. Fisk yelped, stumbling back a step. Leif's hand went to his sword hilt.
A cloud of grey-white dust puffed up from cracks around Eirik's gloves. The vibration intensified for perhaps five seconds, then stopped.
"Commander?" Leif ventured.
Eirik lifted his hand. Where it had pressed, the stone floor looked exactly the same. "Check it."
Harkin knelt, frowned. Then he pulled out his belt knife and tapped the blade's point against the rock. Tink. Solid.
"Rock's still rock, Commander," he reported, baffled.
"Here." Eirik pointed to a crack running near his boot. "Look closer. Inside the crack."
Harkin leaned down, squinting. Leif crouched beside him. Fisk hovered.
"By the Frost…" Harkin breathed.
Deep within the crack was emptiness. Where solid granite had been a moment ago, there was now… nothing.
"You… carved it?" Leif asked, stunned.
"Something like it," Eirik dodged it, kneeling beside the crack. He'd removed the material within a specific volume, leaving the surrounding rock untouched. It was excavation, instead of simple construction.
He focused again.
He pictured a simple shaft: two feet wide, three feet deep. Straight down. But he concentrated on leaving the rock walls around this shaft intact. He had to hold the image clear: remove this volume of rock, but not that. He doesn't want a collapse, so precision was crucial.
He pressed his palm beside the opening.
[MANA FRAGMENTS +20]
[MANA FRAGMENTS: 1302/10,000]
Another puff of dust billowed up. Beneath it, the slit vanished, replaced by a clean, dark hole exactly two feet wide and three feet deep. The sides were smooth, as if polished by centuries of water.
Harkin whistled.
"That's… impossible, Commander. But there it is." He ran his fingers along the interior wall of the shaft. "Solid rock around it. No cracks."
Fisk pushed forward. "Hold on! Farming? Down here? In solid rock? You mean… mushrooms?"
"Yes, Fisk," Eirik said, wiping dust from his glove. "You mentioned Frostcaps before. Tell me about them. Ideal conditions? How do we farm them?"
Fisk's eyes lit up with interest, overriding the circumstances. "Frostcaps! Hardy little blighters. Common as dirt in these mountains, once you know where to look. They thrive in cold, damp, dark places. Perfect for caves or… newly carved rock holes, apparently." He shot a look at the shaft.
"How fast?" Eirik pressed. Days matter. Weeks matter even more.
"Fast!" Fisk nodded. "With the right setup? Spores spread on a good medium… sawdust mixed with dung is best, but straw or even chopped-up grass can work in a pinch… they can fruit in as little as three, maybe four weeks? Faster if the temperature stays cool and the humidity is high. Constant moisture is key! They absorb it readily."
Eirik processed this. "Can we find spores nearby? Wild patches?"
"Yes!" Fisk chirped. "The caves north of the pass are riddled with 'em. Or were, before the Skarls. A small team could gather sackfuls of mature caps in a day. Squeeze out the spore slurry ourselves. Crude, but it'll work."
He rubbed his hands together, already calculating. "We just need… well, a lot of this." He gestured at the shaft. "Space. Lots of dark, cool, damp space."
Eirik turned to Harkin. "Scratch the sheep for now. Change of plans. First caravan run tomorrow: Food bulk, yes. But your priority is gathering mushroom spores. Hire mushroom hunters near Flint's Hold or wherever Fisk knows them. Buy whatever mature caps are available. Bring them back fast."
Harkin absorbed the change without blinking. "Spores and mushroom men. Understood, Commander." He shot a look at the small shaft. "How much space can you… absorb? Fast?"
That's the real question. Eirik looked down into the dark hole. I can carve space. But space needs support. Or the ceiling above us collapses.
He focused inward again. He sensed the granite stretching below the fortress foundations, dense and cold. But he also sensed weaknesses – fissures, layers of less dense rock. I have to be precise.
He visualized the space he wanted beneath the basement: a rectangular room. But instead of just picturing the void, he forced himself to picture what he needed to leave behind. The pillars.
"Ten feet long," he murmured, picturing it. "Eight feet wide. Seven feet high." He traced lines within that space. "Leave pillars… here… and here… and here."
He marked points roughly every six feet along the length and width.
He knelt again, placing both hands flat on the stone floor outside the existing small shaft.
Absorb.
[MANA FRAGMENTS +500]
[MANA FRAGMENTS: 1802/10,000]
The vibration was stronger this time. Dust cascaded from the ceiling above, causing Fisk to yelp and shield his head.
When the dust settled, the hole was gone. In its place, a opening about three feet across gaped in the floor. Cool, damp air drifted up. Eirik leaned forward, peering down.
His Core-enhanced senses confirmed it: a chamber, seven feet deep, carved according to his blueprint. The shadows hid the details, but he could feel the pillars standing within the darkness – columns of untouched granite anchoring the ceiling of the newly formed cavern to the floor below.
"Lantern," Eirik ordered.
Leif retrieved a tin lantern hanging nearby, struck a flint, and lit the wick. He lowered it into the opening.
Yellow light spilled downwards, illuminating the space below. It was rectangular, ten by eight feet. The floor was uneven but smooth, like the shaft had been. The walls and ceiling were the same polished granite.
And standing in the gloom were three pillars of unworked stone, left exactly where Eirik had willed them. They looked like they'd been there for millennia, not seconds.
"Frost Mother preserve us…" Harkin breathed, staring down. "You just… dug a room."
"A cellar," Fisk corrected. He leaned over the edge. "A mushroom cellar! Look at that humidity already beading on the walls! Commander, this… this could work!"
"It will work," Eirik stated. "This is just the start. This is Chamber One."
He turned to Fisk. "Specifications. Ideal conditions for Frostcaps. Temperature? Humidity? Airflow? How do we get water down there? How do we spread the substrate? How many chambers will we need to feed three hundred people?"
Fisk switched to alchemist mode. "Right, right! Temperature – cool is good. That dampness we see is a good sign. But... airflow… would be tricky. Mushrooms breathe, Commander! They need air exchange. Too stagnant, we get mold; too drafty, they dry out. Might need ventilation shafts to the surface later… but for now, opening this hatch will let some air in. We can manage short-term."
He rubbed his chin, thinking. "Feeding hundreds? Frostcaps aren't big. A square foot of well-tended bed might yield… half a pound every harvest cycle? They fruit in flushes. Say, every two weeks once established? A man needs… let's be brutal, half a pound of mushrooms a day just to stave off starvation? Not ideal, but mixed with broth and grain, it'll bulk it up."
He did mental math.
"So… daily, we'd need, say, 150 pounds of mushrooms. Per two-week cycle, that's… 2,100 pounds. If one square foot gives half a pound per cycle… we need over four thousand square feet of growing space for just three hundred people, Commander." He looked at the small chamber below. "This room… maybe eighty square feet of floor space? We build racks, four tiers high… maybe 300 square feet? It's a start, but we need… a lot more chambers. A dozen."
Eirik felt a wave of exhaustion, but a dozen of such caves is something he could manage, instead of making acres of farmable land and herds of sheep appear out of thin air.
"Chambers we can make," Eirik said. He looked at his caravan master. "Priorities are clear. Spores. Substrate materials – dung, straw, sawdust. Hire anyone who knows mushroom cultivation. Pay them in silver or food, I don't care. Bring back tons of substrate."
Harkin nodded. "Spores and shit. Got it, Commander. We move at first light."
"Good," Eirik turned back to the hole. "Leif, put people here. They need to start working as soon as Harkin returns. Get them shovels and baskets."
"Fisk," Eirik continued, "You're the master of this… fungal underworld. Design the rack layout for this chamber. Use scrap wood for now. I'll absorb the next chamber adjacent to this one. We'll connect them."
"Connect them?" Fisk's eyes gleamed. "Tunnels? A whole warren? Commander, think of the possibilities! Not just food storage eventually, but workshops! Cool, stable, hidden! My volatile mixtures would love it down here!"
"One problem at a time, Fisk," Eirik said, though the idea of hidden workshops resonated.
He knelt again, placing his hands on the stone floor beside the first chamber opening. He visualized Chamber Two, identical in size to Chamber One, sharing one wall. He willed that shared wall to be absorbed as part of the new chamber, creating one larger, connected space.
Pillars here… thicker here… absorb this entire volume, including the dividing wall… but leave THESE columns… He poured his will into the Core.
Absorb.
[MANA FRAGMENTS +500]
[MANA FRAGMENTS: 2302/10,000]
Another rumble, another cloud of dust. When it cleared, the opening had widened. Leif lowered the lantern again. Instead of a small square, they now looked down into an L-shaped cavern, twenty feet long, eight feet wide, seven feet high, punctuated by six stone pillars holding up the ceiling. The space where the dividing wall had been was now just empty air.
Fisk let out a cackle. "Look at that! A fungal hall!"
"We continue," Eirik said. "Chamber Three, and Four adjoining the long end. Same dimensions. Now."
He repeated the process.
[MANA FRAGMENTS +500]
[MANA FRAGMENTS: 2802/10,000]
[MANA FRAGMENTS +430]
[MANA FRAGMENTS: 3232/10,000]
[DAILY ABSORPTION CAP REACHED: 2000/2000 MF]
[Further resource absorption disabled until reset]
Eirik hissed in frustration as the notification flashed. The vibration in the Fourth Chamber started but cut off after only a second. Damn it! He could feel the untouched rock waiting below.
He stood up, swaying. "That's it for today."
Fisk looked disappointed but rallied. "Still! Three and a half chambers! Over 800 square feet of potential growing space once racked! It's a start, Commander!" He was already sketching in his notebook. "Four tiers… aisles here… substrate depth…"
Harkin clapped a hand on Eirik's shoulder. "Never seen the like, Commander. Never. I'll be back with spores and shit before you know it."
Leif just stared into the newly expanded cavern. His lantern light cast shadows from the hewn pillars. He looked back at Eirik, covered in rock dust. His eyes were shadowed with exhaustion but burning with purpose.
This morning, he’d felt helpless. They had no stable food source, and even Eirik’s ice magic couldn’t feed empty stomachs. But now...
We're going to make it through this, Leif realized with a jolt. We're actually going to survive.
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