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Chapter 209- Occular skills
🕑 Added 2019-07-09 04:43:42 +0000 UTCOccular Skills
Miki rolled on her elastic back while sprawling out on the bed. A soft enticing moan escaped her dainty lips. Her black eyelashes fluttered open, focusing on the heavy, old beams of the barn ceiling. Tossing the quilt blanket aside, she stretched her jaded arms and curled her supple legs.
Long hair, the color of a preened and glossing raven, cascaded over the bed underneath her slender frame. Winter always seemed to cast a lazy spell on her graceful, sprightly body.
Removing her sleepwear, she dressed in warm clothes and then spent equal time brushing and securing her hair. Styling it into a ponytail, her pair of hands unconsciously slid to her upper chest. Fingers squeezed in reflex.
'Who said it again during lunch at Sahara's courtyard? About her maids overhearing the gossip from the tavern girls? I think they declared men liked them big and bouncy?
Big Sis Amanda mentioned they would grow... but what do I feed them?'
Sighing, Miki exited the room into the corridor. Unlatching the nearby window shutter, the early morning sun greeted her. The accompanying blast of chill wind blew away her sleepiness. Looking outside at the clean snow deposited on the farm and out in the surrounding grasslands, she suddenly received a burst of inspiration.
A single gong interrupted her while also signaling the time for breakfast.
Grinning because the thought didn't flee in the fleeting moment, her cleaned boots clattered over the floorboards.
After devouring a piping-hot bowl of porridge, Miki stood in the open field opposite the windmill. Clasping her hands behind her back she paced along the shivering line, formed by the participants. Besides the Sersens, she included Yin and six girls from the farm.
"Hey Miki, can you get on with it? I have my sword training to attend to."
"Save it for later, Ming. I discussed this with Chu already. We are going to have a free-for-all, snowball fight. This entire field within the fence is ours to use. We don't need to worry since Rugol is on watch at the mill. Only one rule exists, Sersens can only throw snowballs at other Sersens."
She explained.
"Eh? What kind of childish games is this? I'm a reputable Sersen, dammit! Chu, I demand to lead the journey to Karst for the supplies you need. I am sure I'll get a good deal at the tavern... I mean general store."
"Pipe down or else you'll be lifting lumber for Halter in the windmill repairs."
Miki nodded appreciatively at Chu before stepping away from the line. Scanning the players under thick clothes and mummified scarves, she rubbed her hands.
"Begin! Let's see who can be the first to dodge all the snowballs."
***
A week and a half later, a small patrol of half a dozen guards visited the farm.
Captain Joss sipped on a wooden cup of hot diluted tea while sitting beside the table.
"Sweeto arrived safely in Karst and delivered the message. We received reinforcements for the garrison along with some supplies to tide us over the winter. My vice-captain just accompanied a few soldiers from the Military to confirm the Bitzer kills. Since we had to pass the farm along the way, I decided to stop and relay the news."
"That is certainly wonderful news. May I ask as to what you have decided to do from here?"
"I think the Military in Karst will handle the decision when they have received our report. The reinforcements did arrive with a few messenger falcons. Most likely, they will scout along the road and grasslands before concentrating to the north. The few farmers who survived will wait till spring to return to their homes."
Chu nodded in agreement while escorting the Captain to the gate. Thankfully he had the common sense to dispose of the demon carcasses along the south road. Most likely, the investigators won't delve too deep considering the low reputation of the beasts. Scouts from the Military wouldn't waste time with Bitzers.
By assisting the men in rising the ranks, he gained a few more friends in the nearby village. The news from the village, however, reopened fresh wounds.
The loss of John hit him hard since the young man possessed the drive and ambition to gaze beyond the village. Chu marked John as the first closest friend to die in this world. He could never forget the gesture when John rushed the garrison Healer from the village to tend to his wounds from the bandit.
South of the farm, halfway between it and the vacant Inyoni paddock lay a small round knoll. Chu informed Clod to prepare stout fences and stones around it. The top of the low hill overlooked a scenic unobstructed view of the grasslands, the forest, and the farm in the north.
A fitting resting place for John and the members of his group who died.
The most he could do was erect a few headstones with carved words since the Bitzers devoured everything. Over the years he would be lying if he said he didn't meet and greet familiar faces in the village. Now, most of them had departed, frozen, starved, or killed by the raiding Bitzers.
He walked towards Jim in the field while depressing thoughts flickered across his mind. Life in this world had always been cruel. No matter the planning, he nevertheless, lost friends. The middle-aged man strung a short bow in his hand while adjusting the string.
"Why so glum? Did Captain Joss bring bad news?"
Jim asked while waving at the top window of the windmill. A white flag replaced the red one, signaling the coast was clear. On the field, several children gathered to witness an advanced exercise. An achievement created from Miki's childish suggestion.
"No, everything is fine but the news from the village left me downhearted."
Jim sighed on hearing his reply. A satisfactory twang sounded from the bow as the experienced trapper then brushed away a few strands of long hair. Small streaks of white were beginning to invade the shoulder-length, blond locks.
"That year when Ming visited May in the slums, did you know I had lost all hope back then? I planned to venture out into the forest one last time, fooling myself that I would return triumphant. Deep inside I knew, however, I was actually going to die."
He glanced at Chu before continuing.
"For me, and probably for nearly everyone here, this life is an extension. The forest has always been a dangerous place. Half of my friends died inside it. The hope you shared with men facing death is not to be belittled. This farm doesn't have ingrates living in it. Have you forgotten how harsh life in the wilderness can be?"
Jim fitted a blunt arrow on the bow. The small bob representing the arrowhead had been dipped in Barrelworm slime. The trapper shouted to the stretching boy warming up over fifty feet away beside the fence.
"Ready?!"
"Let her rip!"
Came the reply.
The stringing of the bow, swishing of the arrow, and the moaning of the boy occurred nearly simultaneously. Chu watched as Ming received the arrow on his thigh and howled. Even coated with thick rubber, the arrow packed a sting.
Smirking, his mood cheered up a little while walking towards the fence. Ming stood leaning against it as he massaged his bruised thigh under the leather greeves.
"Let me show you how it's done. Jim, hit me one!"
Chu stretched and jogged on the spot before standing stationary. On the signal, Jim fired the arrow.
The world slowed.
A simple explanation for a person who once experienced countless motion films.
The pupils in his eyes dilated, and the arrow approached him like a fastball thrown from a distance. His body burst forward while streaking past the arrow in flight. Chu extended his hand to grasp the passing arrow.
Once again he covered half the distance in an instant. His fisting fingers, however, missed the prize. Chu heard a thwack as the arrow bounced harmlessly from the wooden fence.
"Missed it again I see?"
"Yes, but I swore this time I felt the feathers brush past my outstretched fingers."
Chu replied to Jim. Ever since the snowball fights, his ocular vision improved. He had yet to control it fully like Lucy but the critical factor lay in that he unlocked it. First came the snowballs until Ming one day proposed a ridiculous idea of standing in front of a crossbow. The idea seemed viable but the execution demanded modification.
The statement; high risk delivering high returns, appeared modeled for Sersen training.
An adrenaline rush, prompted by fear or excitement seemed to play an integral part in activating an ability. Ironically, Chu didn't rely on academic knowledge but on memories of reading novels and watching anime. In the past years, he cursed himself for not learning more about history and technology.
Now, he regretted not reading fantasy novels and watching sci-fi movies.
***
The Nord Pass
"Why did the commander send us out in this weather? I smell the chill of a blizzard coming. Doesn't he even know demon beasts can't survive the week of deathly freezing it brings? The only thing in the mountains to eat is snow."
The complaints originated from a short man wearing a patchwork of fur, leather, and hide. The thick layers of clothing remained tightly bound on his chest and extremities by leather straps. A travel-worn, matted, fur coat aided in surviving the inhospitable weather.
A leather pack slung over his shoulders along with a crossbow while a curved dagger glimpsed out from under his coat. Using a short staff, he picked along the snow-covered rocks discarded by the mountains. His companion wearing a similar outfit turned towards him while revealing a pair of glaring eyes.
"Stop bickering and save your strength. There is a waypoint cave situated beyond the hill. We'll probably find those bastards singing merrily inside."
After the Bitzer fiasco, twelve cavalry divisions consisting of three hundred riders set out into the pass. Their mission lay in conducting a purge of the main trail towards the Northern Battlements. The divisions scattered along the larger tributaries to ensure the critical waypoints remained untouched.
These stockpiled caves and tunnels provided a safe haven and contained stores of food in this barren landscape. Not only the Military but countless scouts, adventurers, and mercenaries used them. The cavalry task with inspecting this particular side valley failed to report before the snowstorm.
"Even if they couldn't ride out in this deep snow, they should at least have sent out a messenger. Darn fools always treat the scouting divisions like crap. Worse yet, they just had to choose Endless Valley. This damn path leads to only heaven's know where."
"You know better than me since this is your section. Didn't Whitebeard say the Bitzers most likely originated from somewhere inside here?"
"Stop believing everything that old geezer spats. One tankard is enough for him to spout all kinds of fables. It's been three weeks since we have been trekking and hunkering down in this weather. I only want to curl up in a rocky cave and sleep."
The two men chipped their way up a small rocky hill, submerged under tons of snow. The leeward side of the hill offered respite since the snow measured less than two to three feet.
The hidden scree and insecure boulders spelled danger to both experienced and inexperienced travelers alike. With a yell filled with surprise, one of the men misplaced his footing and tumbled down. In a practiced roll, he gathered himself halfway down.
"What the heck. I felt like I stepped on a log or something."
"Where do you think you are? The forest?"
His companion pulled him up as the man gingerly moved his feet and then checked himself. Becoming lame in the mountains meant certain death. The man patted himself while gazing at the rolling trail he pioneered. His eyes narrowed within the bandaged scarf before opening wide.
Walking up, he then reached down tugging at something buried and partially visible under the snow. With a heave, he dropped to his butt while holding the shoulder-thick branch in his hands.
"See, I told you it was a branch."
The older man stumbled in a hasty retreat.
"That... that is no branch, fool!"
His eyes scanned the slope of the hill, the snow betraying countless little clumps scattered all over. Under them, he shuddered in thinking about what they hid. Fear crept over his hidden face as he trembled from something other than the cold.
A gasp and stifled scream originated from the nearby scout as he dropped the frozen shank of a horse onto the snow...
