Chapter 254
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Chapter 254
It aint right, Jorani grumbled as he wiped the sweat from his brow, the chill autumn air hurting his lungs as he puffed in exertion. It aint right. We signed up to be Bekkies and do the bossman's killin and lootin. Said wed be in fer some training or something, teaching us how to fight right and proper, but hes had us choppin bamboo like damn woodsmen fer days now. It... it aint right.
His words went unheeded over the rhythmic thwack of Rals axe, adding to the din around them. Wearing a shit-eating grin, the lumbering oaf put his back into every swing, felling the thick trunks faster than anyone without a Spiritual Weapon. The thought put Joranis temper back on edge as he tossed his hatchet to the ground and continued his tirade. Treatin us like free labour. Im Hangman Jorani o the Mothers Militia, I fought against the Defiled hordes of Butcher Bay. A right proper hero of the Empire is what I am, coulda done anything I pleased. If I wanted to work like a dog, Id never have left Sanshu. Plenty o work to be done back home, and I woulda been much appreciated there too. Horseshit is what it is.
Bah. What use was there in being a hero? A few drinks at the bar and a few kisses from the whores, the sum total of all his rewards. Meanwhile, Falling Rain loots Yo Lings manor and leaves nothing for the rest of them. Even if the bossman eats meat, he ought to know enough to let those beneath him drink broth, right? Its only whats proper. Jorani made more money as a thief and looter, though he couldnt imagine going back to that life. The lack of respect ruined it, he could never be a mere scavenger again.
The creak of timbers signalled Rals work had borne fruit, and the big oaf opened his mouth to shout, Timber! A handful of voices echoed the call, but there was no one in the path of Rals falling tree. After watching it crash to the ground, Ral turned to Jorani with a solemn look. You shouldnt slack so much Jor. Wes Bekkies now and Chey says the bossmanll treat us right if we pulls our weight, which means earning our keep, which means-
I know what it means, ye slack- Swallowing his words with a guttural groan, Jorani reigned in his temper. Ral dont mean no harm, he muttered to himself, a habit hed picked up during their journey to the Bridge. Wasnt much else to do while sitting in a wagon for three-quarters of the day. With Ral and Chey all lovey-dovey and Kabi deader than dirt, Jorani had no one else to keep him company. Its lonely at the top. Cant keep snapping at him like ye used to, hes done right by ye, saved yer hide more times than he can count. Now, he cant count too high but its still an accomplishment to be sure. Remember, he had a choice, coulda gone with Chey but hes here with ye, thats sayin something. Aint much but more than ye got without him, so be grateful.
Ignoring Ral's concerned queries, Jorani unleashed his frustrations on the innocent bamboo tree. For the better part of the day, he grumbled and chopped, only pausing to shout Timber or wipe his brow. Discriminatory is what this is. Dont see Mister Rustram out here breakin his back, or Ravil and Bulat either. Black-hearted scoundrels is what they are, probably back at the bridge drinkin and whorin like proper soldiers, havin themselves a proper laugh at my expense. Hangman Jorani, Leader of the Mothers Militia, reduced to labouring like a common peasant...
He wasnt even good at this. Thirty strokes was his record, thirty strokes of the steel hatchet to fell a bamboo tree no thicker than his thigh. Meanwhile, Ral felled thicker trees with five or six sturdy chops, while Ulfsaar took them down with a single swipe of his battle-axe, yielding more than twice the results with half the effort. Using a Spiritual Weapon to fell trees, whatever beastie died for that weapon died a dogs death.
A damn shame Jorani couldnt use his cord the same way.
...Or could he?
The way others described Honing as using Chi to form a blade, so if the Chi was doing all the work, then why would it matter if his weapon lacked an edge? Unwinding the cord from around his waist, he wrapped it around the base of a bamboo trunk. Bracing one foot above the cord, he sawed the chain back and forth, using the soothing grating to lull him into a meditative state. Eyes narrowed in concentration, he emptied his mind and imbued his Chi into the Spiritual Weapon.
According to the old bastard, visualization was the first step to controlling your Chi, but it wasnt as simple as imagining the cord slicing through wood. He had to visualize how it sliced through the wood, give his Chi a function to carry out, a goal to achieve. It aint a cord Im holdin, Jorani mumbled, all his attention focused on the task at hand. Its a thread, a wire, like the ones Ma used to cut clay with. Wood aint much harder than clay, dont see why this wouldnt work. Only a handspan of cord needs Honing, not the whole damn thing. Keep it simple and short, aint no reason to work harder than ye need to.
In his mind, Jorani pictured his Chi gathering along the section of finger-thick cord scraping against the bamboo. He envisioned all manner of things, from adding an edge or three to his cord to heating it until itd melt through the wood, but nothing worked. Finally, he tried a different tack, adding short, rough teeth to the Chi layered on the cord, like the fraying threads of a wool garment. The abrasive surface bit into the wood as he worked the cord left and right, and slowly but surely his weapon carved deeper and deeper into the wood until the trunk gave way under his braced boot with an ear-shattering crack. Timber!
Letting the cord hang free, Jorani welled up with a sense of self-satisfaction as he watched the tree topple over, his cheeks stretched in a grin and shoulders aching with strain. Hands on his hips, he glanced about to see if anyone had noticed his handiwork, only to find himself standing alone in a cleared grove with the day almost done. What the hell? How long did he spend taking down this one tree?
After stripping off errant leaves and flowers, Jorani exited the bamboo grove dragging the tree behind him. Finding his crew packing to leave, he waved at Ral who greeted him with a loud, Jor! Bounding over, Ral clapped him on both shoulders, the big oaf forgetting to control his strength. Im so happy youre better now, Jor, Ral gushed, too excited to notice Joranis wince of pain. I was so worried. You wasnt answering, no matter how much I talked, you kept standing there rubbing your rope around the tree and muttering to yourself about clay and teefs.Follow current novels on novelb((in).(com)
Er... How long was I out fer?
Plenty to go around, all them horse, garo, and ursadon skins aint gonna do any good sittin in storage.
Except they belong to the army and I doubt theyll hand em over for a failed tent-building venture. Look, be reasonable and accept that this won't work. How ye gonna keep heat from leeching away into the ground or from escaping out the door every time it opens? Tents aint good enough fer winter living, enough is enough.
Eye twitching at being ignored, Jorani scoffed at their idiocy. Easy to tell neither Chakha nor Diyako had ever lived in poverty. Charcoal? Iron stoves? Leather walls? These were luxuries few peasants could afford. Instead of charcoal, burn dried animal shit, he said, expecting to be ignored again. Theres plenty of it and its free. Dont need no fancy iron stove or piping either, any copper or stone brazierll do nicely. Sides, youll want the tent- Chakhas glare gave him pause and Jorani reminded himself that this fox-eared carpenter was the Young Wolfs father. The ger, he corrected, to breathe, on account of all the dung yer burning. Ye hang a quilt in front of the door, put the gers on raised wooden platforms, and its plenty better than anything I slept in growin up.
By the time he finished speaking, the two craftsmen were staring at Jorani with wide-eyed wonder. Not the same look of admiration he got from his Mother-lovers, no this was the look you gave a flying chicken or talking pig: pure disbelief. Oh, Jorani added, enjoying his moment, Leathers no good fer keeping warm, only fer keeping dry. Wools best, felt or linen works too. In a pinch, ye can also stuff the shirt yer wearing with other clothes or hay and yell be fine.
Oh Jorani, came a sing-song call, and he turned to see Tursinai calling him over as his people rushed off for food. A word, if you please.
By yer leave, good sers. Giving Diyako and Chakha a cursory bow, Jorani marched over to the buxom, flirtatious Senior Captain. Not that he had any designs on her, no, hed seen what Tenjin did to Yo Lings armour, but a man couldnt be blamed for taking in the sights. Yes Senior Captain? What can I do ye for?
Her giggle made him realize how inappropriate his greeting was and he inwardly cursed. So, Great Hero Jorani, Tursinai drawled as she linked their arms together, any new Insights to share?
While explaining his insights, Jorani glanced around to see if Tenjin was nearby. After finding no sign of the brooding Bekkie warrior, he relaxed and enjoyed Tursinais company, happy to be near such a lovely woman. Seemed like there were damned couples everywhere he looked these days, Ral and Chey, Ulfsaar and Neera, the boss and his ladies. Even ugly Bulat had himself a pretty young thing, a lovely lass named Dei An. Meanwhile, the most intimate relationship Jorani could remember was the one he had with the tree back there, spending hours trying to get it on its back and strip it bare.
As Tursinai led the way to dinner, Jorani spotted the bossman with his little family. A touching sight seeing the Undying Savage flying kites with a pair of kids, all three of them laughing as they ran across the field with a train of happy animals in tow. It was easy to forget how the boss wasn't even twenty years of age. Hell, he looked even younger with a smile on his face, barely old enough to drink and without a whisker on his cheeks. Still, Jorani had to say something, it wasnt right how the former bandits were being treated like common labourers. Not wanting to interrupt the bossmans family time, he leaned in to Tursinai and whispered, Begging yer pardon miss, but do ye know how much longer were gonna be stuck playin lumberjack and labourer?
Affecting a pout, the charming woman fluttered her lashes and asked, Are you not satisfied with the work? Should I bring it up with dear Rain on your behalf?
No, no, he said, shaking his head vehemently. This provocative woman would be the death of him. Were doin good work here, helpin the people, and I dont dare question his orders. Its just... well, the bossman promised hed train us to heal and fight, and weve all been eager to get to it, is all.
There was something unsettling about Tursinais grin, a worrying delight which raised all sorts of alarms in Joranis mind. Dont you worry, Hero Jorani. Our dear Rain wanted to give you all some time to rest, but since youre so eager to begin, Ill let him know he can start tomorrow. Hell be thrilled to hear how... enthusiastic you are. Her words didnt sink in until he finished watching her sashay away and a cold pit of dread drilled itself into his stomach.
By the Mothers sagging tits, if hard labour was the bossmans idea of rest, then what was training going to be like?
After thinking things through, Jorani was certain hed just made a huge mistake.
Chapter Meme
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Chapter 254
It aint right, Jorani grumbled as he wiped the sweat from his brow, the chill autumn air hurting his lungs as he puffed in exertion. It aint right. We signed up to be Bekkies and do the bossman's killin and lootin. Said wed be in fer some training or something, teaching us how to fight right and proper, but hes had us choppin bamboo like damn woodsmen fer days now. It... it aint right.
His words went unheeded over the rhythmic thwack of Rals axe, adding to the din around them. Wearing a shit-eating grin, the lumbering oaf put his back into every swing, felling the thick trunks faster than anyone without a Spiritual Weapon. The thought put Joranis temper back on edge as he tossed his hatchet to the ground and continued his tirade. Treatin us like free labour. Im Hangman Jorani o the Mothers Militia, I fought against the Defiled hordes of Butcher Bay. A right proper hero of the Empire is what I am, coulda done anything I pleased. If I wanted to work like a dog, Id never have left Sanshu. Plenty o work to be done back home, and I woulda been much appreciated there too. Horseshit is what it is.
Bah. What use was there in being a hero? A few drinks at the bar and a few kisses from the whores, the sum total of all his rewards. Meanwhile, Falling Rain loots Yo Lings manor and leaves nothing for the rest of them. Even if the bossman eats meat, he ought to know enough to let those beneath him drink broth, right? Its only whats proper. Jorani made more money as a thief and looter, though he couldnt imagine going back to that life. The lack of respect ruined it, he could never be a mere scavenger again.
The creak of timbers signalled Rals work had borne fruit, and the big oaf opened his mouth to shout, Timber! A handful of voices echoed the call, but there was no one in the path of Rals falling tree. After watching it crash to the ground, Ral turned to Jorani with a solemn look. You shouldnt slack so much Jor. Wes Bekkies now and Chey says the bossmanll treat us right if we pulls our weight, which means earning our keep, which means-
I know what it means, ye slack- Swallowing his words with a guttural groan, Jorani reigned in his temper. Ral dont mean no harm, he muttered to himself, a habit hed picked up during their journey to the Bridge. Wasnt much else to do while sitting in a wagon for three-quarters of the day. With Ral and Chey all lovey-dovey and Kabi deader than dirt, Jorani had no one else to keep him company. Its lonely at the top. Cant keep snapping at him like ye used to, hes done right by ye, saved yer hide more times than he can count. Now, he cant count too high but its still an accomplishment to be sure. Remember, he had a choice, coulda gone with Chey but hes here with ye, thats sayin something. Aint much but more than ye got without him, so be grateful.
Ignoring Ral's concerned queries, Jorani unleashed his frustrations on the innocent bamboo tree. For the better part of the day, he grumbled and chopped, only pausing to shout Timber or wipe his brow. Discriminatory is what this is. Dont see Mister Rustram out here breakin his back, or Ravil and Bulat either. Black-hearted scoundrels is what they are, probably back at the bridge drinkin and whorin like proper soldiers, havin themselves a proper laugh at my expense. Hangman Jorani, Leader of the Mothers Militia, reduced to labouring like a common peasant...
He wasnt even good at this. Thirty strokes was his record, thirty strokes of the steel hatchet to fell a bamboo tree no thicker than his thigh. Meanwhile, Ral felled thicker trees with five or six sturdy chops, while Ulfsaar took them down with a single swipe of his battle-axe, yielding more than twice the results with half the effort. Using a Spiritual Weapon to fell trees, whatever beastie died for that weapon died a dogs death.
A damn shame Jorani couldnt use his cord the same way.
...Or could he?
The way others described Honing as using Chi to form a blade, so if the Chi was doing all the work, then why would it matter if his weapon lacked an edge? Unwinding the cord from around his waist, he wrapped it around the base of a bamboo trunk. Bracing one foot above the cord, he sawed the chain back and forth, using the soothing grating to lull him into a meditative state. Eyes narrowed in concentration, he emptied his mind and imbued his Chi into the Spiritual Weapon.
According to the old bastard, visualization was the first step to controlling your Chi, but it wasnt as simple as imagining the cord slicing through wood. He had to visualize how it sliced through the wood, give his Chi a function to carry out, a goal to achieve. It aint a cord Im holdin, Jorani mumbled, all his attention focused on the task at hand. Its a thread, a wire, like the ones Ma used to cut clay with. Wood aint much harder than clay, dont see why this wouldnt work. Only a handspan of cord needs Honing, not the whole damn thing. Keep it simple and short, aint no reason to work harder than ye need to.
In his mind, Jorani pictured his Chi gathering along the section of finger-thick cord scraping against the bamboo. He envisioned all manner of things, from adding an edge or three to his cord to heating it until itd melt through the wood, but nothing worked. Finally, he tried a different tack, adding short, rough teeth to the Chi layered on the cord, like the fraying threads of a wool garment. The abrasive surface bit into the wood as he worked the cord left and right, and slowly but surely his weapon carved deeper and deeper into the wood until the trunk gave way under his braced boot with an ear-shattering crack. Timber!
Letting the cord hang free, Jorani welled up with a sense of self-satisfaction as he watched the tree topple over, his cheeks stretched in a grin and shoulders aching with strain. Hands on his hips, he glanced about to see if anyone had noticed his handiwork, only to find himself standing alone in a cleared grove with the day almost done. What the hell? How long did he spend taking down this one tree?
After stripping off errant leaves and flowers, Jorani exited the bamboo grove dragging the tree behind him. Finding his crew packing to leave, he waved at Ral who greeted him with a loud, Jor! Bounding over, Ral clapped him on both shoulders, the big oaf forgetting to control his strength. Im so happy youre better now, Jor, Ral gushed, too excited to notice Joranis wince of pain. I was so worried. You wasnt answering, no matter how much I talked, you kept standing there rubbing your rope around the tree and muttering to yourself about clay and teefs.Follow current novels on novelb((in).(com)
Er... How long was I out fer?
Plenty to go around, all them horse, garo, and ursadon skins aint gonna do any good sittin in storage.
Except they belong to the army and I doubt theyll hand em over for a failed tent-building venture. Look, be reasonable and accept that this won't work. How ye gonna keep heat from leeching away into the ground or from escaping out the door every time it opens? Tents aint good enough fer winter living, enough is enough.
Eye twitching at being ignored, Jorani scoffed at their idiocy. Easy to tell neither Chakha nor Diyako had ever lived in poverty. Charcoal? Iron stoves? Leather walls? These were luxuries few peasants could afford. Instead of charcoal, burn dried animal shit, he said, expecting to be ignored again. Theres plenty of it and its free. Dont need no fancy iron stove or piping either, any copper or stone brazierll do nicely. Sides, youll want the tent- Chakhas glare gave him pause and Jorani reminded himself that this fox-eared carpenter was the Young Wolfs father. The ger, he corrected, to breathe, on account of all the dung yer burning. Ye hang a quilt in front of the door, put the gers on raised wooden platforms, and its plenty better than anything I slept in growin up.
By the time he finished speaking, the two craftsmen were staring at Jorani with wide-eyed wonder. Not the same look of admiration he got from his Mother-lovers, no this was the look you gave a flying chicken or talking pig: pure disbelief. Oh, Jorani added, enjoying his moment, Leathers no good fer keeping warm, only fer keeping dry. Wools best, felt or linen works too. In a pinch, ye can also stuff the shirt yer wearing with other clothes or hay and yell be fine.
Oh Jorani, came a sing-song call, and he turned to see Tursinai calling him over as his people rushed off for food. A word, if you please.
By yer leave, good sers. Giving Diyako and Chakha a cursory bow, Jorani marched over to the buxom, flirtatious Senior Captain. Not that he had any designs on her, no, hed seen what Tenjin did to Yo Lings armour, but a man couldnt be blamed for taking in the sights. Yes Senior Captain? What can I do ye for?
Her giggle made him realize how inappropriate his greeting was and he inwardly cursed. So, Great Hero Jorani, Tursinai drawled as she linked their arms together, any new Insights to share?
While explaining his insights, Jorani glanced around to see if Tenjin was nearby. After finding no sign of the brooding Bekkie warrior, he relaxed and enjoyed Tursinais company, happy to be near such a lovely woman. Seemed like there were damned couples everywhere he looked these days, Ral and Chey, Ulfsaar and Neera, the boss and his ladies. Even ugly Bulat had himself a pretty young thing, a lovely lass named Dei An. Meanwhile, the most intimate relationship Jorani could remember was the one he had with the tree back there, spending hours trying to get it on its back and strip it bare.
As Tursinai led the way to dinner, Jorani spotted the bossman with his little family. A touching sight seeing the Undying Savage flying kites with a pair of kids, all three of them laughing as they ran across the field with a train of happy animals in tow. It was easy to forget how the boss wasn't even twenty years of age. Hell, he looked even younger with a smile on his face, barely old enough to drink and without a whisker on his cheeks. Still, Jorani had to say something, it wasnt right how the former bandits were being treated like common labourers. Not wanting to interrupt the bossmans family time, he leaned in to Tursinai and whispered, Begging yer pardon miss, but do ye know how much longer were gonna be stuck playin lumberjack and labourer?
Affecting a pout, the charming woman fluttered her lashes and asked, Are you not satisfied with the work? Should I bring it up with dear Rain on your behalf?
No, no, he said, shaking his head vehemently. This provocative woman would be the death of him. Were doin good work here, helpin the people, and I dont dare question his orders. Its just... well, the bossman promised hed train us to heal and fight, and weve all been eager to get to it, is all.
There was something unsettling about Tursinais grin, a worrying delight which raised all sorts of alarms in Joranis mind. Dont you worry, Hero Jorani. Our dear Rain wanted to give you all some time to rest, but since youre so eager to begin, Ill let him know he can start tomorrow. Hell be thrilled to hear how... enthusiastic you are. Her words didnt sink in until he finished watching her sashay away and a cold pit of dread drilled itself into his stomach.
By the Mothers sagging tits, if hard labour was the bossmans idea of rest, then what was training going to be like?
After thinking things through, Jorani was certain hed just made a huge mistake.
Chapter Meme
Chapter 254It aint right, Jorani grumbled as he wiped the sweat from his brow, the chill autumn air hurting his lungs as he puffed in exertion. It aint right. We signed up to be Bekkies and do the bossman's killin and lootin. Said wed be in fer some training or something, teaching us how to fight right and proper, but hes had us choppin bamboo like damn woodsmen fer days now. It... it aint right.His words went unheeded over the rhythmic thwack of Rals axe, adding to the din around them. Wearing a shit-eating grin, the lumbering oaf put his back into every swing, felling the thick trunks faster than anyone without a Spiritual Weapon. The thought put Joranis temper back on edge as he tossed his hatchet to the ground and continued his tirade. Treatin us like free labour. Im Hangman Jorani o the Mothers Militia, I fought against the Defiled hordes of Butcher Bay. A right proper hero of the Empire is what I am, coulda done anything I pleased. If I wanted to work like a dog, Id never have left Sanshu. Plenty o work to be done back home, and I woulda been much appreciated there too. Horseshit is what it is.Bah. What use was there in being a hero? A few drinks at the bar and a few kisses from the whores, the sum total of all his rewards. Meanwhile, Falling Rain loots Yo Lings manor and leaves nothing for the rest of them. Even if the bossman eats meat, he ought to know enough to let those beneath him drink broth, right? Its only whats proper. Jorani made more money as a thief and looter, though he couldnt imagine going back to that life. The lack of respect ruined it, he could never be a mere scavenger again.The creak of timbers signalled Rals work had borne fruit, and the big oaf opened his mouth to shout, Timber! A handful of voices echoed the call, but there was no one in the path of Rals falling tree. After watching it crash to the ground, Ral turned to Jorani with a solemn look. You shouldnt slack so much Jor. Wes Bekkies now and Chey says the bossmanll treat us right if we pulls our weight, which means earning our keep, which means-I know what it means, ye slack- Swallowing his words with a guttural groan, Jorani reigned in his temper. Ral dont mean no harm, he muttered to himself, a habit hed picked up during their journey to the Bridge. Wasnt much else to do while sitting in a wagon for three-quarters of the day. With Ral and Chey all lovey-dovey and Kabi deader than dirt, Jorani had no one else to keep him company. Its lonely at the top. Cant keep snapping at him like ye used to, hes done right by ye, saved yer hide more times than he can count. Now, he cant count too high but its still an accomplishment to be sure. Remember, he had a choice, coulda gone with Chey but hes here with ye, thats sayin something. Aint much but more than ye got without him, so be grateful.Ignoring Ral's concerned queries, Jorani unleashed his frustrations on the innocent bamboo tree. For the better part of the day, he grumbled and chopped, only pausing to shout Timber or wipe his brow. Discriminatory is what this is. Dont see Mister Rustram out here breakin his back, or Ravil and Bulat either. Black-hearted scoundrels is what they are, probably back at the bridge drinkin and whorin like proper soldiers, havin themselves a proper laugh at my expense. Hangman Jorani, Leader of the Mothers Militia, reduced to labouring like a common peasant...He wasnt even good at this. Thirty strokes was his record, thirty strokes of the steel hatchet to fell a bamboo tree no thicker than his thigh. Meanwhile, Ral felled thicker trees with five or six sturdy chops, while Ulfsaar took them down with a single swipe of his battle-axe, yielding more than twice the results with half the effort. Using a Spiritual Weapon to fell trees, whatever beastie died for that weapon died a dogs death.A damn shame Jorani couldnt use his cord the same way....Or could he?The way others described Honing as using Chi to form a blade, so if the Chi was doing all the work, then why would it matter if his weapon lacked an edge? Unwinding the cord from around his waist, he wrapped it around the base of a bamboo trunk. Bracing one foot above the cord, he sawed the chain back and forth, using the soothing grating to lull him into a meditative state. Eyes narrowed in concentration, he emptied his mind and imbued his Chi into the Spiritual Weapon.According to the old bastard, visualization was the first step to controlling your Chi, but it wasnt as simple as imagining the cord slicing through wood. He had to visualize how it sliced through the wood, give his Chi a function to carry out, a goal to achieve. It aint a cord Im holdin, Jorani mumbled, all his attention focused on the task at hand. Its a thread, a wire, like the ones Ma used to cut clay with. Wood aint much harder than clay, dont see why this wouldnt work. Only a handspan of cord needs Honing, not the whole damn thing. Keep it simple and short, aint no reason to work harder than ye need to.In his mind, Jorani pictured his Chi gathering along the section of finger-thick cord scraping against the bamboo. He envisioned all manner of things, from adding an edge or three to his cord to heating it until itd melt through the wood, but nothing worked. Finally, he tried a different tack, adding short, rough teeth to the Chi layered on the cord, like the fraying threads of a wool garment. The abrasive surface bit into the wood as he worked the cord left and right, and slowly but surely his weapon carved deeper and deeper into the wood until the trunk gave way under his braced boot with an ear-shattering crack. Timber!Letting the cord hang free, Jorani welled up with a sense of self-satisfaction as he watched the tree topple over, his cheeks stretched in a grin and shoulders aching with strain. Hands on his hips, he glanced about to see if anyone had noticed his handiwork, only to find himself standing alone in a cleared grove with the day almost done. What the hell? How long did he spend taking down this one tree?After stripping off errant leaves and flowers, Jorani exited the bamboo grove dragging the tree behind him. Finding his crew packing to leave, he waved at Ral who greeted him with a loud, Jor! Bounding over, Ral clapped him on both shoulders, the big oaf forgetting to control his strength. Im so happy youre better now, Jor, Ral gushed, too excited to notice Joranis wince of pain. I was so worried. You wasnt answering, no matter how much I talked, you kept standing there rubbing your rope around the tree and muttering to yourself about clay and teefs.Follow current novels on novelbin.comEr... How long was I out fer?Plenty to go around, all them horse, garo, and ursadon skins aint gonna do any good sittin in storage.Except they belong to the army and I doubt theyll hand em over for a failed tent-building venture. Look, be reasonable and accept that this won't work. How ye gonna keep heat from leeching away into the ground or from escaping out the door every time it opens? Tents aint good enough fer winter living, enough is enough.Eye twitching at being ignored, Jorani scoffed at their idiocy. Easy to tell neither Chakha nor Diyako had ever lived in poverty. Charcoal? Iron stoves? Leather walls? These were luxuries few peasants could afford. Instead of charcoal, burn dried animal shit, he said, expecting to be ignored again. Theres plenty of it and its free. Dont need no fancy iron stove or piping either, any copper or stone brazierll do nicely. Sides, youll want the tent- Chakhas glare gave him pause and Jorani reminded himself that this fox-eared carpenter was the Young Wolfs father. The ger, he corrected, to breathe, on account of all the dung yer burning. Ye hang a quilt in front of the door, put the gers on raised wooden platforms, and its plenty better than anything I slept in growin up.By the time he finished speaking, the two craftsmen were staring at Jorani with wide-eyed wonder. Not the same look of admiration he got from his Mother-lovers, no this was the look you gave a flying chicken or talking pig: pure disbelief. Oh, Jorani added, enjoying his moment, Leathers no good fer keeping warm, only fer keeping dry. Wools best, felt or linen works too. In a pinch, ye can also stuff the shirt yer wearing with other clothes or hay and yell be fine.Oh Jorani, came a sing-song call, and he turned to see Tursinai calling him over as his people rushed off for food. A word, if you please.By yer leave, good sers. Giving Diyako and Chakha a cursory bow, Jorani marched over to the buxom, flirtatious Senior Captain. Not that he had any designs on her, no, hed seen what Tenjin did to Yo Lings armour, but a man couldnt be blamed for taking in the sights. Yes Senior Captain? What can I do ye for?Her giggle made him realize how inappropriate his greeting was and he inwardly cursed. So, Great Hero Jorani, Tursinai drawled as she linked their arms together, any new Insights to share?While explaining his insights, Jorani glanced around to see if Tenjin was nearby. After finding no sign of the brooding Bekkie warrior, he relaxed and enjoyed Tursinais company, happy to be near such a lovely woman. Seemed like there were damned couples everywhere he looked these days, Ral and Chey, Ulfsaar and Neera, the boss and his ladies. Even ugly Bulat had himself a pretty young thing, a lovely lass named Dei An. Meanwhile, the most intimate relationship Jorani could remember was the one he had with the tree back there, spending hours trying to get it on its back and strip it bare.As Tursinai led the way to dinner, Jorani spotted the bossman with his little family. A touching sight seeing the Undying Savage flying kites with a pair of kids, all three of them laughing as they ran across the field with a train of happy animals in tow. It was easy to forget how the boss wasn't even twenty years of age. Hell, he looked even younger with a smile on his face, barely old enough to drink and without a whisker on his cheeks. Still, Jorani had to say something, it wasnt right how the former bandits were being treated like common labourers. Not wanting to interrupt the bossmans family time, he leaned in to Tursinai and whispered, Begging yer pardon miss, but do ye know how much longer were gonna be stuck playin lumberjack and labourer?Affecting a pout, the charming woman fluttered her lashes and asked, Are you not satisfied with the work? Should I bring it up with dear Rain on your behalf?No, no, he said, shaking his head vehemently. This provocative woman would be the death of him. Were doin good work here, helpin the people, and I dont dare question his orders. Its just... well, the bossman promised hed train us to heal and fight, and weve all been eager to get to it, is all.There was something unsettling about Tursinais grin, a worrying delight which raised all sorts of alarms in Joranis mind. Dont you worry, Hero Jorani. Our dear Rain wanted to give you all some time to rest, but since youre so eager to begin, Ill let him know he can start tomorrow. Hell be thrilled to hear how... enthusiastic you are. Her words didnt sink in until he finished watching her sashay away and a cold pit of dread drilled itself into his stomach.By the Mothers sagging tits, if hard labour was the bossmans idea of rest, then what was training going to be like?After thinking things through, Jorani was certain hed just made a huge mistake.Chapter Meme
