Chapter 66. Sweet Lief.

  Lief walked Beck back up to his room. It was a long walk from outside of Scarlett’s workshop. Down flights of stairs. Across corridors. Up more stairs. Another hall. More stairs. More stairs. A colorful hallway. Gods more stairs. An outside garden. For the grace of humanity even more stairs. Up and up. Level after level. Corridor after corridor. Higher and higher. Stairs. Stairs. Stairs.

  Lief took a room in one of the higher towers so he could overlook the courtyards below. Also to tend to his plants. It was there Lief wanted to discuss the protocols of the quest he was going to write for him.

  The dwarf heaved. Pushing off his knee with every step. Clutching the handrail like a life support. Trudging along with all his might. They curled around a steep never ending stairwell. Might as well have been a step for every star in the sky.

  Beck was now giggling with a heavy breath of relief. Relaxing a bit seeing the design and paint of the ceiling stretching the corridors at the top.

  “Damn Lief.” Beck huffed, following his lead up the curling stairs. “Couldn’t have you just told me what you needed on the ground levels?”

  “No Beck, there are too many ears down there.” Lief smiled to himself before turning around. “I want you to be the only one reaping the rewards.”

  His whole demeanor gleamed with menace, before he gently shook his head. Those glassy eyes sharpened with color before blackening again. One even spilled over.

  “Besides a little exercise is good for the mind and body.” He tapped his temple, then patted the Dwarfs belly.

  Beck gave a nod with slight crooked lips of agreement. Shuffling his belly with a chuckle. “Yeah, I supposed I could have used that little climb huh.”

  “Almost there now, just one more level.” Those thin lips were sinister. The gloss of his eyes was uncomforting. And those hollow cheeks sealed the uneasy expression cast about his face. He wiped his cheek and continued.

  Still Beck followed the boy, with a sigh of hesitancy. “Another level is more stairs—”

  He thought for a moment twisting the crunchy stuff in his beard. “Hold it… Lief the next level is the botanical room. Or it used to be. Does anybody go up there anymore?” Beck asked peering into open doors while the two walked through the hall. Lief tried his best to avoid looking into the rooms.

  “Correct Beck, and who do you think it is that tends to the plants up there. Mother always said I had a gift, a natural green thumb to bless her gardens. I was the sweet-leaf of encouragement for the rest of her plots—”

  Lief’s tongue seemed to of forgotten its movements because his words trailed off path, and his thoughts went down memory lane.

  Lief Suvalitol, was a mistaken child conceived through Fornication Under Consent of Tatheliea. That’s right. Lief is a hand me down fuct child of Tatheliea—or a “leftover” in her words.

  What now? The two words fuck and fuct? Yeah they are rather close, aren’t they? Huh, that’s kinda funny. Makes me wonder if that’s where the word derives from. Makes sense, people typically only use such language when being reckless or lustful.

  But yes, Tatheliea would lay with her followers—strange you think? Well then how is it do you think the Goddess of Lust earned her title?

  Sure she had tempting tricks over the feeble mind of her followers, but if she could make enough leftovers her numbers would surely never fall—right? Ehh, well kind of, not that this plan didn’t work but, humans had freewill.

  All she was doing was generating what was thought to be demigods. Hybrids. Ultimate warriors. Wrong. Wrong. And ultra wrong.

  All of such things. The leftovers they would typically look like—well leftover thrown together people. Meaning that they would start sprouting extra limbs and appendages and bonus fingers where nobody needed them. Anything growing wherever it wants to start growing.

  The monstrosities had freewill too. Meaning they could choose a legion of faith to follow. To play for. However, through the cycling of seasons they would figure it out. They were the unwanted leftovers of Tatheliea.

  Most would return to her. Thinking only to continue the spreading of their goddess’s bloodline. Unfortunately, leftovers will never bare children. But are highly wanted to lay in a bed with—the undisfigured ones—as they were the closest thing to sleeping with a god folks could get to—outside of being chosen to lay with her.

  Even if he or she was selected to lay with the disgusting Goddess, they were never heard from again. Where do the rumors come from then you wonder? Well, all while Tatheliea is spitting these kids out like sunflower seeds—her process is far superior to that of the female reproductive organ. It’s all the same just an extremely reduced wait. Almost instant.

  When she has drained the fortunate soul of every last drop, she surely would have had a litter of children—right? Well, not all of them survive. Of all the eggs cracked and seeds spit only this many had the functionality to survive.

  What happened to the leftover leftovers—oh, …well ….we don’t really talk about that. That shit is worse than Lief’s story.

  But those that did survive, is where the rumors come from. No not the children. That’d be insane. I’m talking about the one responsible for finding housing for these fresh leftovers. One I like to refer to as: He who left the infants. Placing wagons of baskets with orphanages and upon the unsuspecting doors of trying parents—like I said, the gods are tricky with manipulation like that. ‘oh Tatheliea sent us a child, we shall tribute our faith towards her. None other of the Siblings could ever accomplish such things, Tatheliea is above all others.’

  Simple minds.

  Who was the one who delivers such rug rats? It was the high ranked priest or priestess. The one right there in the shadows. They would reside in the quiet darks of the room—like a creepy pervert, unaware they were the pioneer of a certain bondage to come.

  Waiting to scoop the fallen product of lust. These mistaken children of ecstasy are littered around the continent, and Tatheliea honestly doesn’t care about any of them. Only so long as her numbers stay high. Besides with enough time, eventually the majority of them return, as does she—she was the queen of that selfish desire and having multiple contestants in the sheet was a game of its own. Her game. A game she won every time.

  Lief jumped around from family to family, each passing him on to another like he was a newly discovered artifact. Only he was far less interesting. In fact he was so uninteresting he never even got a name. Not until he was discovered by the one who he would claim as a mother, it was her who gave him the name Lief.

  She found him in her gardens outside of her mountain hole. The half-naked. Dirty. No named child was pulling at all her spinach leaf. She didn’t mind though, it was nice to see a child eating from her gardens. She was a short woman—well she was female in her species for a better sense.

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  Lief’s mother was named Suvalitol. Nobody in these mountain ranges know what her second name was.

  She had a long narrow snout, with a gentle pink nose. Soft grey whiskers many of such lay flat behind her pink nose pad. She had bright blue eyes and fleshy pink eyelids. Small, gentle, but sharp ears. Both of such covered in soft white fuzz and a warm pink center. Her face was of the softest and easy white fur one could imagine.

  She wore a frayed red dress with many green and yellow stitching patterned around the midsection. She walked upright and wore no foot protection. She didn’t require any her feet had tough pads along her sole and heel. Small tufts of dusty white fur covered her toes. Each toe had a small sharp claw, all the same with her hands. She had a long comforting pink tail that followed gently behind her graceful walk.

  Yes, the one Lief came to know as mother was a Rodentulus, a human rodent hybrid. Very intelligent. Typically extremely friendly. The creature was mostly dominant in their mousey features.

  Really the only thing that made them human-like was the fact they could speak, and stand up right. Not very tall maybe standing as tall as mid chest to a grown man. But lay them down and measure from nose to tail tip, some can be twice as long as they stand.

  Like I said though, they were an intelligent breed. Knowing how to speak not only their native tongue, but also picking up on the rhythms, clicks, snaps, and hums of other languages too.

  Rodentulus are blessed with bright stars in Burrowing. Bold sets in Observation. It was their stars Botany though. Those hybrids took gardening very seriously—when society looks at you differently you must survive by what you know.

  Lief was a jumpy child, and it took Suvalitol many moons, nearly a whole season just to comfort him enough just to eat and drink the tea she left. It was through her garden. No words were ever spoken. Just and only the small interactions of distant observation.

  Each day Suvalitol would come out at sunrise. Greeting the warmth as it peeked into her burrowing. She would then check the urn drying her shredded tea leaves, flower petals and other blends of herbs. Then filling a strain for a tea pot with dry flakes, she went back into her mountain hole. After a short whistling later would she return. Carrying two brass tea cups.

  Lief never took his, but she always made him one just in-case. Then she would tend to her plants nurturing each stock, checking each leaf, snipping the ones that were too dry and brittle. Then it was on to mixing new soils with a fresh fertilizer of her own tincture. Next was watering the twelve heads of citrus cabbages.

  Lief would follow as she made her way to the soft gurgling geyser. The water was a creamy yellow. Thick with bubbling bubbles of sulfur. Layers of crusted rings coat the water’s edge with calcite and mercury.

  This stinky and stale water was not safe for drinking—not in this puddle anyways. Although, after she let it pass through her filtration system. A contraption made of bamboo and coal and sand and porous rock salts. It was mysteriously clear and refreshing—I personally still wouldn’t trust it—you and I, we’ve become pampered and that water would still do something mean to our stomach.

  She would then mix a bit of clay. A pinch or two of her own special tinctures. A handful of minerals and carbons. Finally topping it with a trowel of fresh black soil and when she sprinkled water something activated.

  It was her stars in gardening. Her skills were astronomically good. Allowing her to craft incredible fertilizers. Anything she planted would sprout strong. And quick. All her plants were harvestable in half the time it would normally take.

  After all that work she would then make lunch—or an early 1st lunch depending on how quick she got things done. Lunch typically was a salad consisting of: spinach, citric cabbage, and mushrooms. There were special occasions a juicy fresh grub found its way inside the leafy delights.

  As always, she would make him a salad as well and as usual he would never eat it while she was watching. Young no named Lief just stayed behind the tea plants. Occasionally though, he would pick at one of the sweet tea stocks. The bright lime colored one. He liked to suck the warm indigo from the veins—it was sweet like guava.

  These sweet tea leafs were packed with magnesium, irons, and multiple vitamins when eaten raw. So there were some beneficial properties, but the boy needed to eat something solid. The tea leafs when set in boiled water the leaf will activate with caffeine, calcium, tasting sweet like exotic fruits.

  Suvalitol never mind any time he tore at her plants, he was a child and didn’t know better. In all honesty she was happy he was eating and the company was nice even if they never interacted.

  After lunch she would bring her palate back into the hole, always leaving his behind, because the next morning the palate would be clean. Then it was back to chores, picking the lusher leafs of her spinach plot, then if needed she would take the filtered water and sprinkle the plot.

  Next was the care of her tobaccos. Only snipping leaves she thought would fetch fair trades.

  Trading for the hybrids was hard. Most hybrids were intelligent creatures. And most were friendly keeping to their own in the wilds. Some though were unruly. It was those unruly ones that made such an impact on mankind. An impact that common folk just couldn’t take the chance anymore. So the hybrids would wait for the passing adventurer, and this was the tricky part.

  Adventurers did trade with hybrids, but, typically they were also the ones responsible for exterminating them. Common folk would post quest-lines on the Community Request Board.

  The Community Request Board was self-explanatory—but just to be safe I’m going to tell you what it is anyways.

  Town centers or other large gathering points—like sanctuaries and churches. A special bulletin board would be built. And whatever folks needed help with, they would write down such a requests. Simple contracts—Abram got by through these boards they were in his words ‘the easy quests.’

  These quest-lines more often than others, had the request for the skins, teeth, or antlers from any hybrid. Folks weren’t picky they just wanted them eradicated from the land—no Abram didn’t partake in those requests. Well depending on the hybrid. Things like The Butcher, yeah, he’d hunt one down. Common hybrids, like Rodentulus, no.

  Suvalitol was very precise and careful when she selected one to trade with. Just like she was precise and careful about picking her tobacco snipping. One must be careful after the horrid dawn of Snuffing-Day—don’t even ask. Don’t worry about it. We’re being grimdark cozy.

  One morning the sky was just a bit greyer than usual. She sensed rain and the forest was glum. So Suvalitol made the two cups of tea placing one outside the entrance. Then grabbed the empty salad palate and returned to her hole.

  The hole was not damp, and earthy. It was not dark and gloomy. She had three oil lamps along the burrow. The walls were smooth with a thick baked clay shell, keeping her warm during the season of frost, and cool during the angry heat of Sun.

  There was also the soft glow of her stove. She took a spot next to the potbelly stove, built with two burners, and a side arm with a wood flat for chopping wild onion if she was lucky to find some. Typically she used the flat for preparing dried tea, or slicing mushrooms, just things of that sort. The iron belly was still glowing and warm.

  Getting comfortable she reached for her pipe. Plugging it with a robust tobacco of her own mixture. She sat upon her pillow, sipping on her pipe and tea. Today would be an inside day. Enjoying her free time, with no work she continued to stitch on a rug. Her stars in Patchworks weren’t bright, but as we know ‘everything is skill, the more you do it, the better you become.’

  She gave a gentle ear flick and sensed the child with no name. Never moving from her sitting. She watched from the faint side sights. He carefully entered. Gently placed his tea cup in the grey of the entrance.

  A flash of lightning, followed with a low steady rumble, pushed the child deeper inside the cave. Suvalitol puffed casually, occasionally releasing a small mouthful of smoke, only focused on her needlework.

  The warmth was comforting, and the lingering smell of tea and pipe smoke made it cozy and relaxing. Another flash from outside and the pitter of rain grow louder.

  The boy sat where he was only steps from the entrance. If he had to run he would. But he knew the Rodentulus meant him no harm. He slowly lay down just inside the entrance. Pressing his hands together for a pillow.

  He watched the small stone bedded dig out Suvalitol had made who know how long ago. It slowly trickled and filled. Like a mini stream. He watched while that stream of fresh rain flow away from the entrance. It flowed deeper into the burrow and down past the stove. Trickling into a oval saucer bigger than him.

  Once she thought she had enough water she would dam flow, and the gutter washed away from the burrow. Suvalitol watched the child fight with sleep, as she smoked and worked the needle along her rug. She reached back and opened the stove vents, allowing more heat for the burrow. The opened the potbelly and pushed another quarter into its chamber.

  Standing up she reached for a lamp, dimming the flame. Then grabbing her only other change of clothes. Suvalitol laid a very worn and tattered pansies blue and violet dress across the boy. Taking the tea leaf remnants from his mouth.

  “I will call you Lief.”

  She whispered, pushing the hair from his dirty face. Lief licked his lips still sweet with tea. Watching as she dammed the gutter gate, then sat next to him again, Lief was so cozy warm, and sleepy, he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or not. Only watching while the Rodentulus reached out and pet his head.

  “Sweet Lief.” She smiled at him. Her blue eyes were so warm. Welcoming. Safe.