[Shrubley, the Monster Adventurer] Chapter 116 – The Flower of Friendship

“There are many tasty berries over in this bush,” Shrubley told Konko. “Would you like to try them? I do not know if they taste good to humans as well.”

“This is it,” she muttered to herself. “This is how I die. He’s going to poison me and make it look like an accident, but if I don’t do it, I’ll look like a jerk and the others won’t accept me. They’ll leave me out here in the cold. I’ll just wake up one day and they’ll be gone, and here I’ll be alone and without any essences or–”

“What are you saying?” Shrubley asked politely. “I can’t hear you when you mumble like that. Are you telling me you would like something a bit sweeter? These berries are a little tart, but I thought it might be nice paired with those root vegetables you found.”

Konko stared ahead. She looked at the large circling glowbug that illuminated the area for them. Ordinarily she hated bugs, but she didn’t mind his familiar.

Besides, having a mobile light source was pretty cool, even if it was a monster.

“I’ll try them,” she said finally, holding out her hand as Shrubley deposited the spotted berries into her palm.

She gingerly chewed on one, ready for the violent reaction, but was pleasantly surprised when nothing happened. Konko enjoyed sour candies as a child. They had been out of her financial reach for some time, but these reminded her of those little lemon drops her mother used to buy for her at the Turnwise Festival every year.

“Good, no?” Shrubley said.

“Yes!” Konko was surprised at the vehemency in her own voice. “You’re much better at this than I am, you know.”

“I am a shrub,” he said as if that explained everything.

Maybe to Shrubley it did. Konko didn’t bother to inquire more because sometimes it was best not to peek behind the curtain. She preferred her ignorance.

The last time her ignorance was shattered it… had not gone well for her. She still remembered screaming at monsters coming over the walls of Taamra, intent on its destruction while she tried to get them to answer questions to determine if they were sapient or not.

She hadn’t lasted long.

It had been much easier to lob poison vials over the wall. If the invaders didn’t get the message, then it wasn’t her fault. They were practically walking right into the poison.

“Shrubley… about before–”

His bright lamplight eyes looked up at her with such innocence that Konko nearly lost heart. “You don’t need to say anything more,” he told her. “I can see how much it pains you. Growth is about healing from our past wounds, but also our past decisions. You must heal, Konko.” He reached out and gently took her hand.

It’s so smooth, she thought, staring at the finely articulated joints. She remembered his hands looking more claw like and frightening before. But maybe that had been built up in her head?

Did I try to turn him into the monster I thought he was?

She couldn’t be sure.

Patting her hand gently, Shrubley said, “We all make mistakes. It is part of living. Holding onto that mistake forever is like refusing to let go of a hot iron. It keeps hurting you, and it stops you from healing. Let it go, Konko. Accept you did a bad thing. It is part of you, but it need not define you.”

She tried not to cry, but she did.

Even Smudge rolled up against her and made a soft, “Pyuu,” of forgiveness. He did not like to see people hurting, and it was clear to the empathic slime that Konko was torturing herself for no good reason.

“I… I will try,” Konko said, scrubbing viciously at her eyes. “Thank you… both of you, for forgiving me.”

“Of course, we are your friends.”

“Pyuu!” Smudge said in agreement.

***

“Vhere did you say they vere?” a voice whispered in the dark.

“The master said they vere in the mountains,” another voice replied.

“Mountains!” The first voice cursed. “There is nothing but mountains over here! Vhy does he give us such poor assignments? Are ve not loyal?”

“Ve are, brother, ve are! Count is entrusting us vith this mission, that is proof enough.”

“But ve vere asleep so long, vhy vait?”

“Maybe because you talk like that,” a third voice said with a bitter sigh. “Honestly, you don’t need to buy into the lifestyle so hard, fellas.”

Both vampyrs rolled their eyes. They rose to full height among the tumbled stones of the Ranmount pass. A group of scattered bandits lay at their feet, the remains of their midnight meal.

“Shameful shade!” the brothers hissed together. “You besmirch our family!”

The third voice sighed. “We are all the same damn family, you idiots! We’re triplets!”

The two vampyrs gasped and splayed their pale white hands across their refined evening dress. Each brother had a perfectly executed widow’s peak and slicked back hair as black as the starless night.

Their third brother, meanwhile, wore simple but effective clothes that were practical to the task at hand. He blended into the environment and his clothes weren’t made of silk that would tear and rip at the very first encounter.

He wore a hood to cover his ruby red eyes that often warned people of his intent. But most of all, he didn’t talk like an idiot from an old wives’ tale and he hadn’t changed his name when he was turned.

“Corbin, I think ve should do this ourselves. Show Count vhat ve can do!”

“Just the two of you?” the third brother asked. He barked a piteous laugh. “Sure, sure. I’ll make sure to scoop your ashes into a dustpan and bring you back to the Count so you can tell him in person how excellent your tracking skills are.”

The well-dressed brothers looked at each other. “Styx, I believe he is right. Ve need him. He is family, after all.”

They both looked rather disappointed by that fact.

In their minds, they could not understand anybody who would willingly choose to keep their boring and mundane birth name after being turned into a Creature Of The Night.

They had given him a perfect name to celebrate his turning. Demetrius was a great name and sounded sufficiently spooky, like Corbin and Styx.

“Demet–” Styx began, but his mundane brother raised a hand.

“You will call me by my real name,” he told them. “I call you by those names you associate with. Why is it so hard to give me the same courtesy? You want to call yourselves Corbin and Styx? Fine. Whatever makes you happy. I’m not going to dead name my brothers, but my choices are not yours. Please respect that.”

Corbin and Styx looked at each other. Had they more blood in their bodies, they would have colored in shame. It was true that their brother was always supportive of their choices if sometimes a little judgy.

“Perhaps ve should be a little more understanding,” Styx said.

“Yes, ve could stand to be better brothers,” Corbin agreed.

They both turned to him. “Ve vould be happy to have you help us…” They gulped simultaneously. “Doug.”

“That’s all I ask,” Doug said. He gently nudged a groaning body on the floor. “Are you going to finish your meal or–?”

“Oh, no, ve couldn’t eat another bite,” they intoned together.

Doug shrugged and rolled the body over. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but he had a great distaste for bandits. They stole what wasn’t theirs, so it only seemed right to steal from them.

***

“This is amazing!” Cal said, spooning the sauced vegetables into his mouth. “Who knew that food foraged from the wilds could be so good. It’s rich in calcium too!”

“Didn’t even have to use any of my ingredients from Talvar either,” Sose said, sounding impressed.

“Shrubley showed me the berries,” Konko admitted with a blush. “And once I tasted them, I knew they would go well as a sauce. All it took was a little extra work to find some herbs that would complement it.”

While Konko did feel more comfortable with Shrubley and Smudge now, that shadowy tongue Cal had was immensely concerning. It wasn’t always there. Where did it come from?

Konko was starting to feel like she was building a long list of horrifying mysteries.

“You did well, my dear,” Miranda said. “Alchemy and cooking are often intertwined. Knowing how to balance the flavors is not too unlike how to balance the various types of mana of herbs and potion ingredients.”

Konko ducked her head appreciatively. “Thank you, Countess. That is high praise indeed.”

Together the group ate while giving their praises to their new cook, Konko, and to Smudge and Shrubley who helped to find the ingredients they were now enjoying.

When the meal was over, they all tried to fit into the [Autotent]. Luckily it was quite a bit larger on the inside than the outside made it seem, but the Countess still took up the bulk of the room. She had to lay down right in the middle while everybody else was squeezed to the sides. If she didn’t curl up a little, her feet would stick out into the cold.

“Where did you ever come across such a thing?” Konko asked Shrubley.

“One of the Steel adventurers gave it to me as a gift,” he said. “Henry.”

“The Archer?” Konko asked, her eyes turning all dreamy. “He’s the strong and silent type.”

“...yes?” Shrubley asked.

“Pyuu.”

“Smudge says he has a kind heart,” Shrubley interpreted.

“I’ll bet he does,” Miranda said from the middle of the group. “Now shut up and get some sleep.”

“Your elbow is in my ribs,” Cal told her.

“It’ll be through your ribs if you don’t pipe down,” she warned him.

That settled the various squabbles for space. Nobody wanted to outrightly address the vampyr in the tent, as it were.

Shrubley fell asleep easily. Granted, he could have fallen asleep on a battlefield. Sleep had, for some reason, rarely eluded the young monster.

Konko, meanwhile, tried her hardest not to toss and turn. At least Smudge was kind enough to shape himself into a pillow for her head.

I could get used to a life like this, she thought to herself. A life on the road, going from town to town on various adventurer contracts, wasn’t a bad one.

Traveling alone between places of civilization had been rough. There was nobody to keep watch while she slept. And without any essence powers, every encounter with a feral monster could easily end in death.

Though she was still torn up about what she had done, Shrubley’s words and Smudge’s continued kindness both went a long way toward helping Konko to recover and improve herself.

Sleep didn’t come easily, but eventually it did.

No sooner had Konko fallen asleep than she was woken up again when the Countess got up and out of the tent. She groaned and grumbled the whole while, but as soon as she was gone there was a collective sigh of relief.

There was space for everybody now.

Too bad it was morning.

Everybody woke up and joined the Countess around the embers of that morning’s campfire.

They hastily ate a serving of their leftovers, sealing the rest in the Countess’ inventory where she assured them the meals would stay fresh.

By the time they broke down the camp–the [Autotent] doing the work itself–the sun was cresting the distant Ranmount Pass. The valley below was shrouded in a sea of fog.

“I made some rope before we retired last night,” Shrubley announced. He held up the rope, which had been easily made with Nature essence and a helping hand from some of the nearby plants.

It was amazing what Shrubley could coerce the plants to do if he put a little Nature essence into it. Sometimes he had to remind himself that they were just plants, and not aware like he was. At times, it felt as if the natural world wanted to help him, but surely that couldn’t be true.

It was comforting all the same.

“Will it… stay as a rope?” Cal asked, unsure how long Nature essence manipulated lasted.

“Probably!”

“Good enough for me,” the Countess said, tying off one end around a massive boulder and throwing the rest down into the ravine. “You first, Cal.”

“Why me?!”

“Because if you fall, we only need to gather your pieces together again. If anybody else falls, they might get hurt.”

Grumbling about osseousism, Cal slowly shinned down the rope.