Heretical Fishing

Book 2: Chapter 66: Birds of a Feather

As the sun rose ever higher in the sky, its light stole through gaps in the canopy above. When I’d first come across this patch of grass, it had been a clearing; the space around the blue-trunked tree was free of flora other than grass. Now, four lemon trees stood, all growing bigger by the day. Their branches were filled with glossy leaves, bright-yellow lemons, and countless bees that flew between small white flowers. A soft wind gusted above us, shaking the leaves and making a pleasant sound.

I blinked at the man before me. “Come again, Roger?”

He lifted his chin, his gaze unwavering.

“I want you to make me a cultivator. As soon as possible.”

Lost for words, I looked at Barry. He was studying Roger with an intent look.

“Why do you want to become a cultivator?”

“To protect my family,” he replied, not skipping a beat. A hint of his anger returned, his nostrils flaring and mouth growing tight. “No matter how I feel about you putting my family in danger, it’s up to me to protect them.” He whirled on me, likely seeing the look on my face. “Don’t say a word, Fischer. I don’t care about your reasoning or justifications. You had no right to give Maria your poisoned food.”

Barry cleared his throat.

“Can I speak with Fischer for a moment, Roger?”

“Why?” he demanded, not hiding his suspicion. “So you can decide how to dispose of me now that you know I won’t blindly follow you?”

Barry sighed.

“Because I want to talk to him. There’s no scenario in which we harm a hair on your head, Roger. If we wanted you to disappear—which, to be clear, we don’t—I’m pretty sure Lemon could open up the earth where you stand and swallow you whole.”

One of Lemon’s roots shot up from the ground right before Roger. It nodded, and his face went white as he stared down at the grass beneath his feet.

“I just want to talk to Fischer, okay?” Barry continued. “Can you give us a moment?”

He stepped backward slowly, holding his hands up in a placating gesture as if Lemon would actually eat him up.

Barry sighed again, shaking his head.

“Are you okay with this?”

“With making him ascend even though he isn’t... what? Subservient?”

“Exactly. Are you comfortable with that?”

“Hell yeah, brother. It’s an absolute win.”

“... it is?”

I grinned, leaning in close.

“Riddle me this, Barry. What do people need to do to become a cultivator?”

“Eat food you’ve made...?”

“Exactly.” I nodded sagely, but Barry just raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t get it.”

“Mate, I’ve been slowly converting everyone to the ways of fishing. What better way to make him realize fishing is the correct way of life than to feed him some delicious seafood? Who could have some of my deep-fried fish and not crave more?”

“Er... you know you could just give him lemons, right? Or a sugary pastry? Or literally anything else?”

“I could, yes.”

“... but you’re not going to.”

My smile was the only answer I gave, and he let out a soft laugh.

“I’m starting to wonder if raising you to the pantheon is a good idea, Fischer. You’re diabolical.”

“Not at all! I am but a humble servant to the sea, doing my part to imbibe knowledge upon the uninformed.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said—diabolical.”

I waved the comment away.

“Diabolically pure, you mean.”

I turned to Roger, who was hiding in the treeline away from Lemon’s trunk and glaring at us.

“Good news, mate! We’ve agreed to give you some pew pew food!”

***

The afternoon sun was high overhead, bathing my skin in a pleasant heat. Steam wafted up from the pot before me, bringing with it the scent of beef tallow, fried breadcrumbs, and fish. I breathed it in, a smile slowly coming to my face.

Maria leaned in beside me, putting an arm on my leg that sent tingles coursing through me. “You know, Fischer, you could have just given him lemonade...” She leaned in closer, whispering. “But I’m so glad you didn’t.”

I nodded, shooting a look at Barry, who had clearly heard by the way he rolled his eyes.

“At least someone here gets me.”

“What are you whispering about?” Roger demanded, sitting upright.

“Just saying it’s almost done, mate!”

Sharon kept her face neutral, but I didn’t miss the spark of amusement in her eyes as she rested a hand on her husband’s arm. Some of his rigidness relaxed with her touch—not all of it, however.

“I wanna test something,” I said, peering down at the fish. “I might not hear you for a while.”

“What are you testing?” Ellis asked, his eyes and posture attentive as he lowered pencil to paper.

“My chi control after yesterday’s advancement. I’ll let you know about it afterward.”

I focused all my attention on the chunks of fish frying in the tallow as I closed my eyes, feeling the surrounding world. There were strands of essence flowing all around us, blowing in chaotic directions like leaves in the wind. Those hints of chi, though noticeable, were nothing compared to the chi flowing from my core. It poured into the pot before returning to me in an endless cycle. I sent my awareness along with the flow, and when it hit the fish, some of the chi was left behind. Despite not being in my body, I was aware of my eyebrows shooting up. Someone asked something—Ellis, no doubt—but I ignored the question entirely.

I pushed at the stream, making it flow faster. When it passed by the chunks of fish, I honed in on one of them. More chi poured into it, and it started to glow brighter to my senses. Following a hunch, I focused on another chunk of fish next to it. I tried to push and redirect the essence within it into the one that was glowing brighter. I saw the transfer take place. All the chi that had accumulated in one chunk flowed into the other, making it even brighter. In a matter of seconds, the drained one was free of any essence at all.

I opened my eyes again, returning to the present. Everyone was staring at me, most intent of all Ellis, but I ignored them. The bubbles surrounding the chunks of fish had subsided, so I removed the chi-less one with a pair of tongs. When it was cool enough, I poked it with a finger. The breading was crispy and the fish beneath was firm.

“All right, gang. Lunch is ready.”

“Fischer!” Ellis literally yelled, making me jump

“Whoa, man. What’s up?”

“Details!” he ordered, his hand trembling on the pencil.

“Oh. Right. My bad.”

As I removed all the fish, I regaled them with my findings. I set aside both the drained and emptied one from the others, pointing at them as I spoke of each.

Ellis swooped in, leaning in so close that I worried he might burn himself. “Fascinating. I cannot tell them apart in the slightest...” He withdrew, settling in the sand as he kept writing.

When it had cooled, I grabbed the enhanced one with the tongs and put it on a plate. “You’re up, Roger.” I went to stand, but paused.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his face pale.

“Er, on second thought, this might be too much.” I cut it down the middle, placing half back on the cooling rack. “Give this a crack, mate.”

He accepted the plate with a shaking hand, staring down at the golden brown crumbing and flaky flesh within. He gulped.

“It’s okay, dad. Try it.”

“She’s right, dear,” Sharon added, squeezing his arm. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

He lowered his hand, shook it to stop it from trembling, then scooped the fish up. Before he could change his mind, he threw it into his mouth. I could hear the crunch from where I sat. I leaned in, unable to contain my anticipation. What must have been only a few seconds felt like an eternity as he sat still, only his chest moving with his breath. Roger’s jaw moved, his entire face scrunching as if he couldn’t stand the taste. A single tear escaped his left eye. It rolled down his cheek with glacial speed, glinting in the sunlight.

“Dear...?” Sharon asked, compassion coating her words. “What’s wrong?”

He covered his mouth with one hand.

“It’s just so... disgusting. I can barely... stand it.”

Seeing through him, I shot to my feet.

“Liar!” I cackled, dancing from foot to foot with my excitement. “It’s delicious! It tastes so good that you’re crying tears of joy!”

“Fischer!” Sharon chided, looking genuinely pissed off. “This is hardly the time to...” she trailed off as she turned back to Roger and the hatred held in his face. Her expression turned thunderous, and she flicked him on the arm. “He’s right, isn’t he? Roger, you blockhead, you made me worry!”

“No,” he mumbled, covering his mouth once more, his face still leaking tears. “It’s foul. I hate it.”

“Spit it out then,” she said, crossing her arms.

“I... I can’t. I need to become a cultivator.”

“I knew it!” I continued dancing my little jig. “Roger likes fish,” I sang. “Roger likes fish, Roger likes—ow!”

I rubbed my arm where Maria had flicked me. Unlike her mother, she’d used her full strength.

“Stop teasing my dad.” She shook her head, but the hint of a smile was clear on her face. “You’re both as blockheaded as each other.”

Roger swallowed. He licked his lips and wiped his eyes.

“I think I’ll need some more. I didn’t awaken, so—”

He cut off, his eyes going vacant. I felt it. I felt the exact moment the System reached out to him.

“You were saying?” I said, sitting once more and leaning casually on one arm. “Now that you’ve become a cultivator, would you like some more of my delicious, irresistible, tasty fish?”

His vision cleared as he returned to the present. He licked his lips again. “I might need to have a little more… just in case. I wouldn’t want the awakening to fail because I didn’t have enough...”

“Is that true?” Ellis asked. “That small mouthful of fish worked?”

Roger nodded, his eyes darting around at us all.

“It... it’s asking me to choose a name. Do I just say Roger?”

“No!” Ellis, Barry, and I yelled.

His eyes went wide. “Why not?”

“Sorry,” Barry said. “We have reason to believe that the capital can monitor our names, so we’ve been choosing pseudonyms that will throw them off.”

Roger nodded, his face going thoughtful. “Sharon mentioned that there was a prince you were getting information from. What name do I use, then?”

I threw my hand up.

“I have an idea! I’ve been brainstorming more names to confuse them should someone find the artifact.”

Ellis perked up, watching me intently.

“What is it?”

I grinned.

When I told them the name and my reasoning behind it, Maria laughed so hard that I thought she may wet herself.

***

Augustus Reginald Gormona felt his anxiety slide away as he shed his kingly robes and got into a scalding hot bath.

The castle always got terribly cold this time of year, and no matter what worries assailed him—of which there were plenty- he could always rely on a bath of almost boiling water to recenter himself. He breathed in the steam floating up from the surface, enjoying the heat as it passed his nostrils and went down into his lungs. The water was scented, and even smelling the herbs put him in a good mood, recalling all the baths that had come before. A sharp knock came from the door, and a spike of annoyance lanced his calm.

“I am busy for the next hour. Come back then.”

He took a deep breath, trying to center himself once more, but then the sharp knock came again.

“Come in!” he yelled, only so he could identify and punish this intruder. When the face poked into the room, his stomach dropped.

“Apologies, my king. There has been a development,” Luke, the man in charge of monitoring the artifacts, said.

“... What sort of development?”

Luke winced.

“Another name, my king.”

Augustus Reginald Gormona rose from the water in an instant, scrambling across the marble floor for a towel.

Two minutes later, wearing a bathrobe and with steam still rising from his body, the king burst into the artifact-filled room.

“Where is it? Which screen?”

“This one,” Deklan replied, scratching his neck and staring down. His face was lit by a faint blue light.

The king walked forward on unfeeling legs, the calm of his bath long gone. He knew it would be bad based on Luke’s demeanor, but the name printed on the screen was worse than he could have ever imagined.

He leaned back on the same artifact the guard was using. “Do you know what this means, Deklan?” he asked, his voice faint.

“Not really, no.”

The king swallowed.

“It means they’re preparing for war. They’ve secured a scout—one which we have no hope of controlling.”

Augustus Reginald Gormona stared at the relic, willing it to change, willing this to be a fever dream. The name remained, taunting him. Five simple words that could mean the downfall of a kingdom—of his family. He read the name of the freshly awakened spirit beast once more, printed in bold lettering.

An Entire Flock of Birds.