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HC: Handyman | Ch. 154 - Needs Salt
🕑 Added 2025-02-05 09:00:30 +0000 UTCJack kept his eyes on the pot, watching the Romie meat darken in the oil. A few minutes earlier, he'd let himself get distracted, and the result had been a few charred, bitter pieces that he’d had to toss. He wasn’t about to let that happen again.
This time, he watched closely as the meat sizzled, the oil bubbling around the edges. The rich, roasted scent filled the air, mixing with the faint smokiness from the fire. Once he was satisfied with their golden-brown color and slightly crisped edges, he quickly lifted the meat from the pot and set it aside to cool. Thankfully, in the weather of the Breach, that didn’t take long.
You've crafted [Sautéed Romie Meat].
+20XP in [Bushcraft]
Sautéed Romie Meat (Common)
Crafting grade: C
Meat that has been lightly cooked and gained some flavor. It's a little raw but still eatable.
Item effects: 1 HP per second for thirty seconds.
Durability: 7
So far, he’d only been using the sautéing technique to impart flavor to his stews. Sautéing alone didn’t do much for the meat’s effects, but it was enough for what he was doing now.
He glanced over at the tray where the meat was cooling. Judging it ready, he grabbed one of the pickling pots and unsealed the lid. A sharp, acidic scent filled the air, making his nose twitch. He tossed the meat into the vinegar and watched it sink beneath the surface.
A progress bar appeared over the jar. 30 minutes.
At least it’s less than it takes for mead to age.
As he closed the jar, his mind went back to the cooking tutorial. The chef had mentioned that a pickling brine required vinegar, sugar, and salt. Jack had brought some sugar in case he needed to craft smoke bombs. He hadn’t found any bats yet, but he wanted to hold on to it for now. Maybe they would need it later on. As for his salt reserves, they were nearly gone. In hindsight, he should have just let the meat picked up by Esther rot. He sighed. It was what it was.
It had taken Jack a little under 30 minutes to lightly fry all the meat in his inventory and put it in vinegar. He looked for the very first jar he’d filled. The pickles were almost ready. He picked it up, watching the progress bar inch toward completion. His fingers tapped against the side of the jar as he waited.
He had no idea what to expect. Would it be edible? Awful? Better than he hoped?
A chime rang in his ears, and text flashed in his vision. The pickled meat was done.
Jack exhaled and tightened his grip on the jar. Time to find out if this was a success—or just another experiment gone wrong.
You've crafted [Vinegar Pickled Romie Meat].
+50XP in [Brewing]
+50XP in [Bushcraft]
Vinegar Pickled Romie Meat (Common)
Crafting grade: C
Meat that has been lightly cooked and gained some flavor. It's a little raw but still eatable.
Item effects:
1 HP per second for one minute.
1 stamina per second for one minute.
Durability: 98
Jack plucked a piece of the pickled meat from the jar and popped it into his mouth. His jaw clenched almost instantly, his lips drawing back at the vinegar’s sharpness. It hit like a slap—rough, acidic, and overwhelming. His tongue curled from the sheer tang of it, and for a moment, he could taste nothing else.
It wasn’t like normal vinegar. The mead that had soured into it left behind faint traces of honey, adding an odd, clashing sweetness beneath the tartness. The Romie meat itself was as gamey as ever—dense and sinewy, fighting back against every chew. Its wild, iron-rich flavor clung to his tongue, refusing to be washed away by the vinegar’s bite.
He exhaled through his nose and chewed slowly. The pickling had softened the meat slightly, but without salt to mellow it or sugar to balance the acid, the flavors clashed in a way that wasn’t exactly bad but wasn’t pleasant either.
Could be worse. Could be a lot better.
Jack sighed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He regretted not having salt and sugar, but this was all he could do for the moment. He’d still gotten a C crafting grade for following the [Survival Pickling] recipe to a fault. At least it worked. At least it lasted.
If he could just get his hands on more salt and sugar, maybe he could tame some of the strong flavors. He’d have to experiment once he had better supplies.
Despite the room for improvement, pickled meat was still an ingredient he could cook with and a new flavor to add to his cooking. Once he perfected his pickling technique, he could use it to enhance the flavors of his stews.
At least pickling gave him bushcraft and brewing XP. Bushcraft XP store upgrades were expensive, and brewing had a long road ahead—going all the way to the expert tier.
Done with pickling meat, he moved the pots away from the fire, stacking them neatly inside the tent. The sight of rows of jars filled with preserved food was reassuring. Even if he went away for a longer expedition, his colleagues would be able to keep their health and stamina topped up with these.
Jack stepped out of the tent, stretching his shoulders as he took in the sight of the newly fired pots stacked nearby. Esther had been busy.
Might as well take care of those now.
He placed them in his inventory before making his way down to the dried-up well.
As he descended, his gaze landed on the three remaining amphorae. Jack ran a hand over the surface of the nearest one, feeling the faint warmth of fermentation beneath his fingertips. The odds of all three making it to Tier IV were slim. Maybe none would.
Please, let at least one of you make it.
With a slow exhale, he shook off the thought and got to work. He checked his vinegar stock—plenty left—and refilled the new pots. Once each pot was filled and sealed, he climbed out of the well.
Jack stole a quick glance at his clock. 80 minutes until the next wave. Just enough time to head outside and see what else he could find.
“Esther, Christoff! I’ll be back in a bit.”
Esther barely looked up from her work. “Of course, sir. I’ll continue making pots as instructed.”
Christoff gave him a silent thumbs-up as he kept making arrows
Jack made his way toward the fortress gate, already thinking ahead. He needed variety. If he was lucky, he'd find something new to pickle beyond these walls—something to break the monotony.
Jack ran out of the fortress and down the road, careful to follow the little flags that Riku had planted to mark a safe path. His heart pounded, but not just from the run. He was finally about to see the Breach’s forest for himself—a whole new world of ingredients waiting to be discovered. But more than that, he was about to see an old friend. It had been too long.
As soon as the last of Riku’s traps were safely behind him, he skidded to a stop. His fingers twitched in excitement. Time to fix that emptiness he’d felt all day.
Jack stretched his arms wide, getting ready for a hug, and called Snowy.
Summon!
A puff of smoke burst into the air, revealing a massive, furry lump standing motionless. Jack waited. Nothing. Then, a deep, steady rumble filled the air. He squinted. Was she… snoring?
“She’s asleep?!” Jack crouched and patted her neck. No reaction. He tapped her more firmly, and finally, Snowy stirred. With a slow, deliberate motion, she lifted her head, cracked open one eye, and studied him with a look of sheer exhaustion.
Why did you wake me up? I was having such a nice dream! she seemed to say.
Jack chuckled. He’d been expecting a grand reunion—maybe an eager chuff, a happy grunt, something. Instead, Snowy had been dreaming of who-knows-what while he’d been stuck brining squirrel meat all day. He sighed. Some things never changed.
“There’s a forest up ahead. Feel like munching on some bark?”
Snowy perked up at the word bark. Then, without so much as a grunt, she turned and lumbered toward the forest, completely ignoring Jack.
“Where are you going?! Wait for me!”
Jack jogged forward and vaulted onto the rope saddle, settling into place just as Snowy picked up her slow, determined pace down the mountain pass. The road ahead wound along the mountainside, gradually curving out of sight from the carriage and the field of traps.
Just as they made the turn, Jack’s instincts flared.
Something was off.
A fresh pile of rubble lay at the base of the cliffside, dust still clinging to the cracks. Deep gashes marked the stone wall as if something massive had clawed at it in frustration. Higher up, where the rock face should have been solid, a large, gaping hole had been torn open.
Jack’s stomach tightened.
Is this where the bear moved into?
The den was nestled into the cliffside, hidden from view until this exact point in the road. Jack grimaced. I completely missed this while looting.
He held his breath and strained his ears.
At first, silence. Then—
A deep, rumbling sound. Steady, rhythmic.
Snoring.
Jack exhaled slowly. Okay. Okay. The bear’s asleep. It’s not going to maul me today. That’s great.
Still, he didn’t linger.
If bears held grudges, Jack was probably near the top of this one’s list. He’d lured it from its home, then literally blew the ground out from under it. That wasn’t the kind of thing predators forgot.
Jack gave Snowy a light nudge. “Let’s keep moving.”
Snowy, thankfully, didn’t need convincing. She trudged forward at her usual slow but steady pace, carrying Jack further away from the bear’s den. Only when the sounds of its deep breathing faded into the distance did he finally allow himself to relax again.
A few hours ago, this same trip had felt like a slow, grinding trek—nothing but his own footsteps and the wind. Now, with Snowy beneath him, it felt different. Calmer. The rhythmic sway of her steps was almost hypnotic, her sheer size a quiet reassurance.
And, if he was being honest, he looked way cooler like this.
Just as he was about to reach the bifurcation that led to the forest, a distant, muffled boom echoed through the mountains, faint but unmistakable. Jack straightened.
That… wasn’t normal.
He listened for a few seconds longer, but the world remained quiet. Maybe just my imagination?
A few seconds later, though, the game’s system let him know that he wasn’t hearing things.
Marie has found a hidden package! [The Short-Faced Bear] has been upgraded into [The Two Short-Faced Bears].
Hidden Package Description:
Over these mountains, short-faced bears hibernate during the winter. They are fiercely territorial, but they tolerate each other's presence due to how much game there’s near the fortress these days. After you dislodge two of these bears, they relocate and establish a new home closer to the road—nearer to the fortress.
The short-faced bears will occasionally attack incoming waves of enemies. Their presence adds additional pressure on the beast waves, diverting some of the burden from the fortress's defenses.
“That was fast!” Jack exclaimed. He had taken so much longer to tackle the same kind of package. In his defense, though, he had to do a lot of setup to get things ready. Marie was a walking arsenal. She had probably been able to cause a landslide with no trouble at all.
Jack waited for the taunt to come from her, but it never did. The grenadier seemed satisfied enough with the record speed at which she’d cleared something that had taken him much longer.
Shaking his head, Jack gave Snowy a nudge. “Left. Toward the forest.”
Enticed by the scent of pine, Snowy didn’t need to be told twice. She picked up her steady pace, her claws dragging against the packed dirt as they descended.
Jack exhaled, letting his mind wander. He had a lot to think about. Pickling, foraging, maybe even—
A deep, guttural sound rumbled behind him.
It wasn’t a growl. It was something heavier—a shifting of weight, a slow, deliberate movement.
Jack’s instincts flared. He twisted in the saddle just in time to see a massive shadow in the exact spot he’d been standing in moments ago.
Dark-matted fur. Powerful, heavy steps. The massive snout.
Jack’s stomach plummeted. It was a Short-Faced Bear.
