Libriohexer (Wolfman Warlock Book 2) - Chapter Sixteen

By the time the Sam and Finn had put enough distance between them and the Library, they were halfway across the city and wheezing from the run. Neither were heavily invested in Constitution, so tearing around city streets and back alleyways at a full-on sprint wasn’t inside their typical wheelhouse. Full dark had come long before and the city gates were closed and locked to the night. If they had pushed, it was possible they could’ve convinced the guards to open up for them. If your party got caught outside after dark, there was no chance of gaining readmittance, but technically there was no law saying you couldn’t exit the city after nightfall.

It wasn’t illegal, but no one did, because it was a virtual suicide mission.

Asking to leave would raise some rather odd questions among the guards and navigating the wilderness in the dark was dangerous even for members of the Wolfpack. The Wolfmen wouldn’t kill them, but there were plenty of other threats lurking around every stone and behind every bush. So instead, they headed back to the Square Dog Inn, opted for a warm meal, and got a room for the night. Sam’s egg would hatch in fourteen hour and forty-eight minutes and Sam wanted to be there when it did. So, he and Finn called it an early night, woke up at the crack of dawn, and were among the first wave of adventurers waiting to slip out of the gates the moment first light hit.

Navigating back to the Forest of Chlorophyll Chaos took a couple of hours, made even longer by a pack of feral wolves that decided to waylay them. Five of the shaggy-furred creatures rushed them within sight of the forest, fangs flashing, claws tearing up the earth as they closed around Sam and Finn in a ring of death. The wolves just didn’t realize it would be their deaths. Mages were rare in the game and there were two good reasons for that: one, the Mages College had a stranglehold on all things magic, and two magic was incredibly powerful.

Sam summoned a barrage of floating tomes and unleashed a flurry of paper death, while Finn spammed ice orbs and devastating frozen spears, which easily stabbed through fur and muscle. They siphoned up the experience gladly, then begrudgingly took the time to skin and harvest the pelts. A lot of the human-aligned adventurers had recently taken to the practice of slaughtering bunnies, foxes, and wolves and just… leaving the meat and pelts to spoil on the ground. The wolfmen had very strong feelings about such wastefulness and swore up and down that there would be serious repercussions for the laziness and waste.

Mother nature would have vengeance!

Sam couldn’t quite invasion how it would all work, but he wanted no part in the vengeance of nature, so he mopped up his kills.

Once they made it to the edge of the Forest, however, things were easy going. Under normal circumstances, navigating the Forest was a nightmare—since stepping in would dump you at a random location—but with their handy-dandy totem necklaces, they arrived just a few minutes outside the Irondown Burrows. Velkan was milling around by the Dungeon entrance, crouched on his haunches, ears twitching as he surveyed the forest with golden eyes. He straightened as they approach, and a thin twitch of the lips was the wolfman equivalent of a broad and friendly smile.

“Welcome, friends. It is good to see you returned alive and well. I was starting to worry that the human Mages had captured you.”

“Phft,” Bill said, floating from his chain, “not on my watch. I’ll blow up the world before I let those jerks get their hands on me again.”

“Things got a little tense at the Library,” Sam admitted with a shrug, “but nothing we couldn’t handle.”

“So, your mission was successful then?” Velkan asked.

“Oh yeah,” Sam replied with a smile. He fished the thick tome they’d pilfered from the library from his spatial flask. “We got the book. With this, we should be able to finally decipher Octavius’s blueprints. We’re going to be able to build the LAW, Velkan.”

Velkan grunted and flicked his ear. “Good tidings, indeed. In an unrelated news, the others have returned from their time at the Totem Training grounds—if you have no need for me, I will depart for New Narvik. The O’Baba must know of this new development.”

“You’re good,” Sam said, “I’m not going anywhere for awhile anyway. My first chicken egg is about to hatch, and I need to get inside.”

“You were able to procure sustenance then?” the Wolfman asked, genuinely interested. Unlike the others, Velkan took Sam’s plan seriously—though, soon enough, Sam was sure the others would come around as well.

“More than we know what to do with,” he said. “Thanks to Finn and a little dumpster diving.”

Sam stashed the book and pulled out a bag near to overflowing with left over and discarded food. Even knowing where it came from, Sam had to admit the mix of aromas was tantalizing. Savory mingled with sweet, salty waltzed with sour, all of it creating a potpourri of smells that left his mouth watering. His soon to be hatched chicken was going to eat better than the rest of the Wolfpack combined. But it would all be worth it if his hunch played out.

Velkan closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, tongue lolling out as he seemed to savor the odor. Sam had never seen a body posture quite like it and wasn’t sure what to make of it. The wolfman were a reserved people by nature, but his look was almost euphoric.

“Truly a bounty.” Velkan paused as though he had something more to say. “There is much that is not known about our people, but if we have one great weakness, it is this: food. Our people love to eat. It is in our blood. And chicken meat we love above all things. If you can truly find a way to infuse mana and magic into the meat, you will find a very willing market in the Wolfmen. Speak to me again once you have accomplished this task and I will introduce you to the Wolfman Marketplace.”

Quest alert! Chicken-preneur. Thanks to you your blossoming relationship with Velkan of the Redmane Tribe, you have learned that the Wolfman have a penchant for high quality meat—especially chicken! Hey, I told you being a weird egg might just pay off in the end. Thanks to your unique standing as a Wolfman Noble and a Chicken Keeper, you are in a rare position to become the premier Chicken-preneur in all of Ardania! Or at least for the Wolfmen. Once you have managed to create magically infused chicken meat, speak to Velkan again!

“Best I be off,” the Wolfman said, composing himself. “Luck to the work of your hands.” He turned on his heel and headed off into the trees, quickly disappearing into the thick foliage.

“Fine,” Bill blurted out, “it’s official. You were right. I hate to say it, but it seems like this whole Chicken thing really is a good idea. Though, in my defense, it did sound very stupid.”

“It’s only stupid if it doesn’t work,” Sam shot back. “But I don’t think we should count our chickens before they’re hatched. In this case, literally.”

“Terrible. That was just awful,” Bill groaned, “and I like word play.”

They headed into the Irondown Burrows, sticking to the well-trodden pathways they’d previously cleared and carefully avoiding the sections of dungeon still brimming with traps and bloodthirsty automatons. When they reached the first major juncture Finn and Sam decided to split up. Finn took the path back to the Barracks—opting to fill Dizzy and the others in on what had happened then turn his eye on the Magical Theory of Sympathetic Magic—while Sam took the other branch, making for the Kitchen, Library, and Husbandry Pen.

Sam’s thoughts wandered while he walked, turning to all the things that needed to be done. He now had enough food to keep his new Prime Brood Matriarch fed for a week or more, but he still needed to prepare the Husbandry Pen itself for all the new chicks he was expecting to produce. Right now, it was a mess of stone stalls, more suited for goats or pigs than chickens; he would need wood and tools to fashion a proper coop. That, in turn, got his mind thinking about all the building materials he would require to make the jump from Bibliomancer to his next specialization, Libriohexer.

He trudged up the gentle rise and pushed his way past the gate which stood guard over the Pen. He froze in shock.

“Surprise!”

Kai, Dizzy, Sphinx, and Arrow stood with enormous grins plastered across their collective faces. The nest Sam had painstakingly built had been left alone, but everything else about the Pen was different. They’d cleaned up the room, brought in fresh hay to cover the floors, and had taken the liberty of converting the myriad of stalls into roosting perches and stacked nesting boxes that looked like oversized cubby holes. Wooden ramps zigzagged across the stalls, allowing the future chicken residents to reach the roosting boxes far from the floor.

“What is all this?” Sam stammered, feeling shock bleed through him.

“We felt bad,” Dizzy said with a grimace. “We shouldn’t have laughed at you about your whole Chicken Farming idea.”

“It’s true,” Arrow conceded. “We wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for you and Finn. We should’ve supported you even if the idea did sound wild—and we failed. When we filled Sphinx in about everything, she sort of showed us the error of our ways.”

“Yeah,” Kai said, rubbing at his shoulder, “but she probably didn’t need to use the edge of a knife to do it.”

“I sure enough did,” the Rogue said. “Sam’s ideas may be a little unconventional, but we’re supposed to be a team, and that means supporting each other.”

“She’s right,” Dizzy admitted. “We got to talking after we each did a round at the Totem training grounds and decided that instead of just apologizing, we would put our money where our mouths are.” She waved a hand at the newly renovated pen.

“I don’t even know what to say,” Sam muttered, feeling flabbergasted.

“Usually thank you is a good place to start,” Bill offered.

“Yeah, of course. Thank you. This is incredible. But how did you even managed to do it? Where did you get the supplies?”

“Ah, that part was like totally easy,” Kai said. “I spent some time living on a communal farm just north of San Fran, and like, I had to tend chickens for a month or two. We told Velkan and the fur-brother practically tripped over his own tail to help. Say what you will about the Wolfman, but they know their way around a set of woodworking tools.”

“It set us back a little bit”—Dizzy tapped a leather pouch at her hip—“but we know it’s going to be worth the investment, because your ideas are awesome.”

Sam felt lightheaded.

This was more than he ever could’ve hoped for. And it wasn’t just that they’d gone out of their way to make this happen, it’s that he had friends that cared enough to do it. His parents were well off and they had always sent him to the best private schools’ money could buy—his education had been top notch, no doubt about that. But those types of schools were a breeding ground for entitled trust-fund kids and scions of generational wealth who would never need to work a day in their lives, not if they didn’t want to. And most didn’t want to.

Not Sam. He’d always wanted more than parties and designer cloths. He’d been an outsider. Socially isolated. He’d never had friends like this.

“Thank you all,” he said solemnly. “This means more to me than I could ever tell you.”

“We’re happy to do it. Now, if you don’t mind,” Dizzy said, “we’re going to leave this place in your more than capable hands. We worked through the night to get everything done, so I’m going to go grab a bath and maybe a few hours of shuteye.”

Sam thanked them all again as they headed out. Bill was unusually quiet.

“You okay?” Sam asked, once the others had all left. “Seems like there’s somethings bothering you.”

“Naw,” Bill said. “This is just… Eh, it’s a really good group you got here. I’ve spent the past three hundred years keeping my own company. I forgot how nice it is to have people who care about you around.”

“Are you getting sentimental on me, Bill?” Sam asked.

“No. Never. Obviously. Don’t ruin the moment. I’m just saying it’s a good crew. Now, if you’re done being all weepy-eyed and introspective, I think the fireworks are about to start.” He ruffled his pages toward the golden egg nestled in the makeshift nest. It was moving. Cracks spreading across the golden shell as something inside struggled to break its way free. Sam checked his incubation countdown clock for the hundredth time. Less than a minute to go. Showtime. He hustled over to the side of the nest and dropped into a crouch. He didn’t want to miss a single moment.

A golden beak punched through the shell, the cracks turned into fissures, and a moment later the top of the shell popped off with a *crack* revealing a downy, fuzz-covered head. Big golden eyes stared at Sam for a long beat then the chick chirped and shook its body, shedding pieces of golden shell as it stood, testing out its legs for the first time. It was far larger than a regular chick would be—already the size of a full-grown adult hen—but its puff ball appearance told Sam it was a baby. Its feathers were not the yellow of a baby chick either, but rather were a patchwork quilt of metallic gold and silver.

It was a beautiful little thing and it stared at Sam with strangely intelligent eyes. Weighing him as it stepped from the shell and hopped across the floor on feet that were capped with wicked looking talons.

“It’s okay little guy,” Sam crooned, extending one hand.

He reached into the Spatial flask and retrieved a handful of savory food. Peral Figs covered with Bindwed Puree. It smelled like heaven. The chick eyed the meal approvingly and hopped forward another couple of steps. Hesitant but clearly hungry.

“Come on and eat already you little ball of floof!” Bill barked. “Do you have any idea what we had to do to get that for you, huh? How many dumpsters we had to crawl through? And by we, I mean Legs, because I would never stoop so low.”

The bird stopped abruptly, and Sam held his breath, afraid that Bill had just ruined everything. Instead, the little bird fixed its eyes on the book, floating nearby. Naturally, Bill was scowling down at the chick because of course he was. But her eyes seemed to grow to the size of teacups in awe. She chirped again, infatuated, and rushed toward Sam’s outstretched hand, burying her beak in the food. Gobbling up it all up in seconds. Hungry indeed. Sam hurriedly scooped out another palmful. She blazed through it with a gusto. He offered a third and fourth portion. By the fifth, the little chick finally seemed satiated.

She shook her head, then padded over to Bill and bumped the grumpy floating book with the top of her head.

She was in love.

Congratulations! The Prime Brood Matriarch has imprinted on Sam_Knight and Sir William the Bravi—more informally known as Bill the Book. Though, to be honest she is really into the book guy. They might be new BFFs. But hey, that’s good for you because she is unwaveringly loyal and will follow you to the ends of the earth and fight beak and claw to keep the pair of you safe. Should the Prime Brood Matriarch perish, she will respawn four hours after death. Would you like to fix her respawn location as the Irondown Burrow Husbandry Pen? Yes/No

Sam selected yes.

Nice! Would you like to name the Prime Brood Matriarch? There is no obvious benefit to naming the Prime Brood Hen—there’s no secret reward or anything—but Prime Brood Matriarch sure is a mouthful. Sometimes, I suppose, convenience is its own reward! Be careful, though, once you name her, there’s no going back!

“Whose a good little Fluff ball?” Bill crooned at the bird as it continued to bump its little head against his spine. “You are, that’s who!”

Sam didn’t have to think long.

“Floof,” Sam said, eyeing the way the little chick looked at Bill.

Just confirming here, you want to name the Prime Brood Matriarch, Floof? Yes/No

Sam selected yes.

The chick trilled in happiness and waddled over, already looking for more food. Looked like they could finally start counting those chickens, after all.