Chapter 67 - The Farm in Irttat

 

Chapter 67: The Ship of Exile 01

Through the continuous soft sound of falling snow, Irttat turned the year.

A new spring came.

Lucita had been here a full year now. This body had turned a year older, officially eighteen, though by Irttat’s way of calculating lifespans, she was still considered a minor.

But this year's Lucita was no longer the child who had found everything unfamiliar.

Or so she firmly insisted.

After half a year of growth, her storage space had reached fifty cubic meters in capacity. A space that large, with a single shift of thought, could be rearranged instantly: spatial nodes reconfiguring under her direction in the blink of an eye.

Beyond that, the stability of her spaces had improved considerably. The batch she had made in autumn was still holding steady with no sign of collapse.

As for the duration limit, by now it was essentially impossible to measure, and could only be estimated by feel.

At this point, Lucita no longer paid much attention to the growth of her spatial ability.

The products she had sold had been given a free capacity upgrade and stability improvement during the final autumn harvest, which would hold for at least six months to a year. Meaning that after she left, people would still have storage vessels to use.

Beyond that, her mental control had also improved markedly. The most obvious change was that while walking through the forest, a single glance could now capture a small animal's consciousness.

She had not previously been confident of fully overwriting a creature's will, but now, whenever she chose, she could produce an animal puppet in an instant.

Of course, she had not done this. Using lethal force to test her own abilities, even on an animal, was something she found difficult to accept.

As for control over humans, that was even harder to assess. She had not run any experiments involving it at all. 

Reading other people’s emotions and secrets was not particularly ethical, and long after Garcia’s warning, Lucita had never again casually extended her mental awareness to probe others, with the sole exception of the knight guard in Grande. 

Matters like that would have to wait until circumstances forced her hand. 

She had also found no opportunity to test her self-healing and healing abilities, but a different ability had quietly taken shape — the power of life.

Simply put, she could now do what ordinary elves did, both healing and accelerating plant growth, or causing plants to wither ahead of their time.

The reason was probably that the innate abilities of half-bloods were too weak to manifest more than one. 

Lucita had originally followed this rule too, but after she broke through the world barrier and became a "new entity" integrating the traits of multiple races, she had directly faced the complete underlying structure of the world, broken the limitations of bloodline, and by understanding the dominion of “life”, had effectively forced this ability into being.

At present, the ability was still somewhat limited in use, but its potential for development was considerable.

To say nothing of other examples — Sophia, still a minor, had been able to accelerate vines as a sweeping weapon. With Lucita understanding the essential nature of the ability directly, her ceiling for growth could only be higher.

As her gifts continued to strengthen and her magical abilities continued to improve, Lucita seemed gradually to be feeling her way toward some underlying pattern.

What was the ultimate source of all these powers?

She always had the sense of a faint flash of insight in her mind, and whenever she reached to catch it, it slipped away.

Lucita sat with furrowed brow for a long time, wrote the new question into her notebook, and closed today’s journal. 

She pulled open the cash box and counted her assets.

Nearly all her savings had come from the storage space business. In the second half of last year alone, the storage spaces had earned her close to two thousand gold coins. Nearly half the gold coins in circulation in Irttat had flowed into her hands. 

Fortunately, the town's silver and gold deposits were abundant enough. After Javena confirmed several times over that Lucita would not be releasing the gold coins back into the local market, she had a new batch minted.

At present, Lucita's savings amounted to roughly a full year's income for a very comfortable middle-class family. In a small rural town with a tiny population and no trace of industrial spirit, this was an almost incomprehensible level of income.

Of course, all this money meant little in Irttat, where everyone still ate the same bread, drank the same barley ale, poured spices over their meat without a second thought, and wore clothes of no particularly different quality.

“Respectability” had no meaning in Irttat.

Lucita spent one gold coin having all her coins melted into gold ingots in old Gina's furnace, ready to be exchanged for continental currency at the money changers by city gates out on the continent.

She was not planning to leave money for the household this time, because the entire farm was coming with her.

Violet, five hundred years removed from the continent, still wanted to go back and see, and was especially drawn to the thought of seeing her old homeland.

Linnea was thoroughly content with life on land and had no interest in returning to the deep sea, and was enthusiastic about going out adventuring with Lucita — like Sophia, who had once clamored to go out.

Lucita could only reflect that it was fortunate she was not the male fraudster Sophia had followed back in the day, and resolved to make sure she taught Linnea to be a great deal more sharp-eyed in the future.

As for Delphine, only a few months out of her shell, a “curious baby” if ever there was one, she was the most eagerly excited about leaving of anyone in the household, looking even more impatient than Linnea. 

The only problem was that this left the fields and lambs with no one to look after.

Lucita entrusted the winter wheat fields to Mavis. The sheep pen she agonized over for some time, finding herself reluctant to leave them, and unsure who to trust them with. 

The return date was uncertain, and the little ones had been with them for a real year now. How could she just hand them off?

And besides, Linnea had named every one of them.

The names were a little uninspired. The sturdy-looking one was called Robust, the white-fleeced one was called Snowball. But once they had names, they were no longer just part of some nameless flock. 

After several days of deliberation, Lucita arrived at an answer: rent a boat.

She made inquiries in Tirol, the nearest town with any industrial reach, cancelled the train tickets she had already purchased, and went to the western dockside to buy passage on a small steam vessel.

The area was remote, passengers were rare, and the tickets were not easy to sell.

After negotiating with the captain and adding ten gold coins to the fare, she received permission to bring five sheep aboard, with a separate cabin reserved for them.

It should be noted that this small vessel did not go directly to the capital. The ticket she bought went only as far as Pharos. They would need to change at the Pharos docks and transfer to a boat going to the capital, Viktori.

The sheep problem was solved.

Then there was the question of Violet's appearance.

Setting aside how conspicuous her pointed ears were, even her seemingly normal gold hair, blue eyes, and pale skin, standing alongside humans with similar features, carried differences that were impossible to ignore.

Very few humans had eyes of quite that shape, so narrow and so clear, or hair naturally that brilliantly gold and uniform, or skin tone that matched none of the shades found among pale-skinned humans. 

This was when you really understood that elves were not humans with pointed ears, but an entirely different species.

Going out with an elf’s face would quickly terrify ordinary humans into fleeing, and then draw the attention of those who knew what elven gemstones were, making her a target for the entire kingdom. 

Fortunately, the merfolk possessed a shapeshifting art — the one they used to transform their legs for walking on the continent — the first technique every merfolk learned from birth.

It was also the first technique Lucita had studied after receiving the complete compendium of spirit arts.

The principle of shapeshifting was to use hypnosis on one’s own subconscious, deceiving the world’s rules and altering the apparent form of the body. It was typically applied to oneself. 

To apply it to another person required putting them into a hypnotic state first.

Linnea volunteered immediately, pressing Violet to sit down on the sofa and leaning in close to look her directly in the eyes: "Relax, sister Violet."

Violet looked back into Linnea's serious little face without blinking, feeling faintly absurd.

An ordinary person's mind was already territory not to be entered lightly. A king who had lived through war was another matter entirely. Five hundred years ago, the idea of anyone attempting to hypnotize her would have been laughable.

And yet here she was, opening her mind to a small girl she had known for less than a year.

Even with her vastly superior mental strength, and a thousand ways to sever the connection and even rebound it against Linnea if she sensed danger, the simple act of opening one’s mind still carried risk. 

She curved her lips.

The smile interrupted Linnea's concentration: "Sister Violet, why are you smiling?"

Violet gave a small cough. "Nothing."

She lowered her defenses. Her immense mental energy surged out like a tide, nearly sweeping Linnea’s flickering little light away. 

The ears first, then small adjustments to hair and skin tone…

Linnea moved through her mental seascape with practiced ease, found the thread of consciousness tied to appearance, and covered it over just as easily, resculpting it from scratch.

Some time later, her voice came out light and easy: "Done."

Violet opened her eyes. The color of her irises had deepened considerably.

In the full-length mirror with its cherrywood frame, a perfectly ordinary human with gold hair and blue eyes looked back.

She turned to the mirror, tilted her chin up slightly. The person in the mirror gave her a pleased smile.

Then came the time to say their farewells.

Lucita had older friends and younger friends to bid goodbye. Linnea had her own circle. Violet made one last trip to the forest and settled things with the High Priestess Cecilia.

After several small farewell gatherings, half of January had gone, and the day of departure had arrived.

On the eve of the journey, Lucita sat bent over the study desk writing a letter to Stasia.

“Dear Stasia and Kelsey,

How are you?

Time has moved so quickly. It has been half a year since we parted. At times I find myself missing you both. 

Before long I will be going to the magical tower to study. We will be on the same continent, and perhaps we will meet again in Viktori.

If you wish to write to me, you may send letters to the Spring Tower. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, I will be staying at the Spring Tower for a considerable time. If I am away for any reason, I will check my correspondence there regularly.

I hope your aims are achieved soon.

Your friend, Lucita”

She flicked her quill with satisfaction, added the letter from Astrid, the Spring Tower professor who was Stasia’s old friend, and sealed everything together, pressing one of Irttat’s gold coins into the wax as a seal. 

The gold coins minted in Irttat bore a sword wreathed in flowering vines on the obverse, entirely unlike the standard currency in circulation on the continent. Kelsey might not recognize it, but Stasia had lived here for three years and would know the design at a glance. It lent Lucita's identity credibility, and served something like a personal seal.

She pressed the faint impression into the violet wax and thought to herself that she really ought to carve a proper seal of her own when she had time. 

The next morning, the horizon had barely lightened into fish-belly grey. The clock-roosters were still not fully awake, and every girl on Lucita’s farm was already up.

They locked the cleaned-out house behind them, checked the yard one final time inside and out, slid the gate bolt into place, and turned down the small path ahead, stepping onto Parrot Street. 

Behind them, the bell-flowers on the fence bloomed on, as vivid a red as ever.

None of the four were ordinary humans, and even the smallest of them, Linnea, had extraordinary endurance. They crossed the mountains on foot and arrived in Tirol without so much as catching their breath. 

They walked quickly, arriving shortly after noon.

Few people were out on the streets. A cat on someone’s windowsill, looking slightly wilted in the sunlight, lay half-asleep behind the iron grille.

Lucita went straight to the familiar post office and sent off the letter she had written the night before.

The address was the staging post in Pharos, the city where she and Stasia had parted, and where the two of them had stayed temporarily. 

The postal worker was still the same bad-tempered golden-haired girl. She pushed the window open, saw Lucita, and her manner was almost familiar by now: "You again?"

She glanced at the entourage trailing behind Lucita, family and all, including a small flock of sheep, and couldn’t resist asking, “Are you going on a long journey?” 

"Yes." Lucita nodded, and asked on a whim: "Is this your post office? It's always just you here by yourself."

“Of course it isn’t!” The girl’s tone carried a sharp “are you stupid” edge, “I work for my aunt.” 

Lucita nodded.

The girl asked again: "Where are you going, anyway, that you have to bring the sheep?"

"Viktori."

"Good heavens, that's so far!" she exclaimed, then had the discretion not to ask why, and instead bent down and pinched a blossom from a pot of jasmine in full bloom on the windowsill, and held it out to Lucita. "Here. Safe travels."

It was a recently opened camellia jasmine, its snow-white petals trembling faintly, the flower head small, the stem delicate.

Lucita, giving her the dignity of the gesture, tucked it behind her ear and fastened it with her hairclip.

It looked a little odd.

She touched the petals on her head and laughed. "Thank you. Well then, goodbye."

Tirol's dock was very small, made of old timber that creaked underfoot, and always had a feeling of being slightly unsafe.

Before steamships, this dock had been used by fisherfolk putting out to sea.

When the sea route to the wider world was opened, some adaptations were made to the existing dock, and this was the result.

A handful of passenger steam vessels came and went, scattered and infrequent, moored around the dock.

Thick black smoke rolled continuously from the boiler chimneys.

A long whistle, and another steamship docked. Whether passenger or cargo was hard to tell.

The travelers with their wooden or leather luggage cases were probably the best-dressed group in Tirol: double-breasted overcoats, flat-top hats, leather long boots.

The younger ones wore fewer hats and more braids and hair buns. Older women who cared particularly about appearances even wore grinding-lens spectacles, with gold and silver chains hanging from the temples and looped around their necks. 

Some moved with quick, purposeful steps, they seemed to be merchants with business to conduct. Others looked like tourists traveling with family, strolling at a more leisurely pace. 

Overall, however, the traffic at this dock could be described as sparse at best.

When Lucita’s party arrived, herding their baa-ing sheep, they instantly attracted countless sideways glances from everyone on the dock. 

Decent people didn't make cutting remarks. They simply covered their noses elegantly, gave this strangely dressed group of "shepherds" a discreet once-over, and made a quiet detour around them.

None of the four cared the slightest bit, and simply steered the sheep as close to the edge as possible to avoid blocking anyone's way.

They had timed their arrival well. The small steam vessel "Ginger-Flower" was already docked precisely on schedule, its gangway opened.

The ticket inspector, upon seeing the sheep Lucita was herding, froze completely. Unable to recall any precedent, she didn’t know whether to let them through or not. 

After all, raising animals was the business of farmers and the shepherds they hired. And setting aside shepherds, most farmers didn’t have the means to afford even a cramped lower-class train ticket, let alone several gold coins for passage on a ship.

And even if a farmer could afford it, who would come not properly dressed, but herding a flock of sheep instead?

The ticket inspector stood dumbfounded. Fortunately a sharp-eyed sailor on deck had spotted the situation from a distance and called across: "Their sheep have tickets. Let them through!"

The inspector hesitated, then stepped aside, watching in open-mouthed astonishment as Lucita herded the sheep across the gangplank and onto the deck, her mouth stayed open: “Heavens…”

Passengers in the cabin pressed their noses closed and retreated when the sheep passed. Some had already started complaining to the crew.

The crew knew perfectly well that even freshly washed lambs were not exactly dignified, and the smell was objectionable. But who had told them to take the extra ten gold coins?

The ship was rarely full anyway, so they had reserved a separate cabin for the sheep, on the lower deck, well away from the passenger quarters.

They apologized as they went, herding the sheep down to the hold.

Lucita checked the cabin, satisfied enough to shut the door, and planned to return alone later to feed them. After all, grass appearing from thin air was rather difficult to explain.

Once everything was settled, one long whistle sounded and the vessel began to move slowly away from shore.

Black smoke billowed in great clouds above, then dispersed into the air.

Wind filled the sails with a sharp crack. Yes, this was a somewhat older-fashioned steamship, not yet fully ready to abandon canvas.

Lucita stood on the deck. Her long coat and the red square scarf at her neck were caught by the wind. Her long hair blew into a loose tangle.

She tucked back a stray strand behind her ear and looked toward the Esti Mountains, hazy in the mist on the water.

All things were waking up. Every mountain was fresh green, migratory birds carried twigs in their bills, mist and wind drifted and wandered.

The town behind those mountains, and this battered little city as well, receded steadily as the ship pulled away.

Ahead, a curtain of water-mist, sky and sea indistinguishable, no direction visible.

← Previous Chapter Next Chapter →