Lumanel surveyed the eight people before her, Krow included. "Baskets?"
They raised their harvest baskets.
"Check for holes, weak points, breaks in the weave. If there are, replace them. The baskets are enchanted to keep the herbs fresh. A hole may mean a problem with the enchants. Now, gloves?"
They held out their hands.
"Gloves are essential, as a number of secretions and saps may be irritating to skin…oh my dear, what's wrong?" She held the hand of the slightly agitated Rurel, one of the sirens.
Krow looked over. Ah. Sirens didn't like hemming their fingertips in. "Do you have fingerless gloves?"
Frai glanced at him, but didn't speak.
Krow noticed her fingers were twitching though.
Gloves were uncomfortable for mafmet too?
"Oh. Oh, of course. One moment." Lumanel rummaged in the mass of equipment in her storage room. "Some herbs need a delicate touch, a warmth…aha, here we are."
She waved a bag at them, opening it to reveal a collection of fingerless gloves. "They're a bit more delicate than the others, but don't worry if they tear, I have a whole bag, hm?"
Frai and the two sirens, Gaven and Rurel, quickly replaced their gloves. "Thank you."
"Now." Lumanel returned to her inspection. "Knives?"
A raft of hunting knives was presented to her, and then two fillet knives. Only Atimur had a proper harvest knife.
She was silent for a long moment, then sighed loudly. "Alright then."
She tested each for sharpness. "I'd be stricter about this, but that one does well enough...with that thing…"
Krow, who'd been relegated to the title of 'that one', clutched at his chest exaggeratedly, twirled the fillet knife that was disdainfully called 'that thing'. "Whoa now, don't sing my praises so enthusiastically. There are tender ears listening."
Lumanel ignored him. "So, I'll just imagine you're all trained to wield your knives for multiple uses."
"A knife is a forester's greatest friend," Krow beamed at her.
"Follow me to the fields, my dears."
Krow chuckled as he ambled behind them.
When they got to the fields, he split them into groups. "Gaven and Rurel with Atimur, Talebrech and Dennari with Lumanel—"
"It's Nari."
He nodded at her. "The rest with me. If you have questions, ask."
They scattered.
He turned to Frai and Ban, his group.
Krow couldn't stick the sullen Ban with Lumarel who was the employer, or Atimur who had a mostly quiet and slightly meek disposition. Frai seemed to be the only person the human boy listened to besides their uncle.
He waved them to follow, gesturing to the grassy fields strewn with a shrub composed solely of drooping twigs, like a skeleton caricature of a miniature willow. "These are whitebark shrubs."
He knelt beside one, plucked a green twig, about the size of a finger. The shrub had no leaves. "The important part of it is the bark, as the name implies. The harvest should be the green twigs, young and tender. Take the bark off like so…"
He secured the twig against his left palm, slid the blade edge down the length of the twig in a single smooth motion, then twisted the fingers holding the twig.
The cylinder of bark rolled off the woody pulp.
"When the bark dries, it pales to a cream color, so not quite white." He smiled at them. "These shrubs were harvested two weeks ago, and won't grow stalks anymore, so after taking the green stalks, just pull them out of the ground…"
Krow twisted the shrub out of the ground with a single powerful pull, shaking the dirt off the shallow roots.
"Then pile them to the side."
He looked up.
Frai's expression was focused, she nodded on meeting Krow's eyes.
Ban looked away.
Krow ignored that the way they were standing, the mafmet obviously was stepping on the boy's foot in warning.
"Whitebark is used in creating Low Heal potions." He tossed the bark into his basket, dusted off his hands, then moved to another shrub. "It's—"
"They make Heals here?" Ban met his gaze finally, a flash of interest, quickly hidden in an indifferent expression.
"Ah, no. I'm afraid not. They supply the apothecary in Rakaens that does. Heal recipes are hoarded viciously, you see. Only a handful of apothecaries ever get to know the recipe for Low Heal. The recipes for High Heal? Good luck seeing one in several lifetimes."
Ban opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked irritated at himself.
The Low Heal potion had 63 ingredients, and needed three weeks of brew time. Different parts were brewed simultaneously in multiple brewer's cauldrons, and precision timing in combining the different parts was needed.
Krow knew that because in an attempt to prevent more deaths, a group of transmigrated craftmasters publicized the Low Heal recipe. Every transmigrator group had at least one person who memorized that recipe.
As StrawmanScare, who didn't really have a permanent group, he took several months of reciting it before bed to learn it by heart. Even now, he had a hard copy tucked into his realworld bedside drawer.
The dissemination of the recipe caused a storm in Zushkenar for a while, numerous bounties appearing for those craftmasters. They were never caught.
"No questions about the procedure?"
Ban stomped away. Frai sighed, stopped him awhile to say something under her breath, then let him go.
Eh, as long as they did the work, Krow would call it a good morning.
He didn't choose Lumanel and this quest on a whim.
The workshop quest had several sub-objectives, one of which was 'harvest 100 plants'.
He figured, since Lumanel had dumped her family members' fields on him several times before, she'd not object to clearing them all at once.
"Why did you agree to an apprenticeship?"
Krow glanced at Frai, who was tugging at a whitebark shrub stump several rows over. "I suggested it, actually. Your uncle, he's a master forester. I wanted the forester wright skills."
"The workshop then?"
"That was the village head's suggestion."
"I've never heard of a forester workshop before."
Krow nodded. "Most foresters tend to open butcher shops or herbalist shops, if they decide to open one at all. Forestry isn't a profession that really needs a workshop."
"Then why…?"
"I'm a wright-rank butcher. If a butcher shop was opened, it would be under my name. This village has enough herbalist workshops already. The forester workshop is...I suppose you could call it a semi-fiction. We are building the place to train hunters. Your uncle, as a master forester, was the logical choice to head it."
"We benefit, huh?"
Krow paused. There was a slight edge to her words, a cynical disbelief.
"Certainly. So do I. So does the village. I, specifically, want a place to manage the merchantry and production side of my hunting. That's why I gave the workshop my recipes. Gysavur, in particular, wants to give the children of the village a chance to learn a profession other than herbgrowing. That's why he leased the workshop a tower with an option to purchase. Your uncle, I believe, wants a safe place and a bright future for all of you, which is why he agreed in the first place."
Frai mulled that over.
"You're saying uncle has decided to settle here."
"I'm saying he intends to give you the choice." Krow tossed a whitebark shrub onto his growing pile. "You do realize, that since the workshop is in your uncle's name, it means your family would own land in the draculkar nation?"
Not just land, but a tower.
Her eyes blinked in an unusual manner – one after the other, instead of simultaneously. "Draculkar don't sell land to outsiders."
"Yes. Well. Not often. So don't tell anyone."
"I'm surprised you didn't ask for more."
"Because it's my apprenticeship that gives your uncle the residency options needed?" Krow hummed. "It's a good deal, a deal which helps everyone in the long-term, even if we all lose a bit in the short-term."
Frai made a considering sound.
"Besides, I don't think you've run your numbers right," Krow informed her with a grin. "If certain things were taken out of the equation, I'm actually sharking both your uncle and the village head on this. It will change as you become wrights and we have more products come out of the shop, of course. But that's later."
Her eyes narrowed. With her vertically elongated pupils, it was more alarming than most.
He beamed.
Despite the papers saying he would own just a quarter of the workshop with an eighth of the profits as dividend, when his contributions were all tallied he would in fact be raking in half the gross revenue.
Krow set his focus to the harvesting.
She stared at him for a long moment, before silently returning to the matter of the shrubs.
It took four hours to clear all the fields, and it was definitely a happy feeling to see the quest numbers tick up without his input.
[You've finished the party quest |:The Last Whitebark Fields:| with 301/200 Whitebark pieces harvested, gaining +20 Experience Points each, +2 Reputation Point in Cerkanst Village each, +20 Silver Serpens!]
[Quest Completion: A]
They washed up at Lumanel's, guzzling down the cool cider she served.
She waved them off happily. "If you're free, come for the planting next week!"
They waved back.
As soon as she closed the door, Ban glared. "Tell me we're not returning next week."
Krow made a vague sound. "Depends on what next week's like."
Ban scoffed.
Krow just tossed two serpens at him, distributing the quest reward to everyone.
He jingled the remaining coins in one hand. "Someone find your uncle and the others."
"Why?"
"Lunch at the tavern."
Frai inclined her head. "I know the way."
"See you there then." Krow glanced at his clock. It was twenty minutes or so before twelve noon, in-game time. "Come along, the rest of you."
Kalorke was the bartender today. He nodded greeting, smiling a bit at his son.
"Fourteen people," Krow informed him. "Two adults, the rest aren't drinking age."
"Maga will need Talebrech in the kitchen."
Krow looked around at the full tavern, smiled. "We can help, if you want a few more servers?"
Ban, right behind him, made a protesting sound.
Kalorke studied their group, eyes taking in each new face. "Mh. Alright."
"Great." Krow turned to the group. "It's time for our next task this morning! Isn't it exciting?"
A chorus of sighs answered him.
This had nothing to do with the workshop quest, but it was excellent for bonding, right?
