by Logan Jacobs
When I’d cut the log perfectly, I stepped aside and let the other men work on the rest of the timber. I helped strip bark off some timber before it was cut, and I used the large two man saw with Niconor for a while. By the time our pile of timber was stacked into neat piles of green lumber, my entire body ached from the physical exertion.
The day was far from over, though, so I dipped my hands into the river and splashed off my face to refresh myself before moving on to the next task on my list.
I wanted to make sure the occupied houses were all in good shape, as well as the businesses the town needed to survive, so I worked with the men of the town to patch up roofs, fix boarded up windows, and install new railings to the porches. The lumber was still green, and could have used a season to dry, but we didn’t have a season, and I figured I could just replace anything that warped once my little community had acquired more wealth.
Once we were done fixing up most of the low hanging repair fruit, I moved on to my own house. I started by removing all the items in the room, moved on to tearing out the living room floor, and finally I brought in some of the lumber I’d made. By the time a few hours had passed, the men and I had replaced the floor, and I finished with putting the furniture back.
Elissa swept into the room like a breath of fresh air, and Mahini came in on her tails. The two women held armfuls of fabric, and the red-haired beauty carried a basket of sewing items on her elbow.
“We’re making curtains!” my redheaded wife announced after she gave me a quick kiss.
“Lissy is making curtains,” Mahini corrected with a wry smile. “I’m just here to help. I know little of sewing, only war and battle. My mother always said I was all thumbs.”
“Like I said,” Elissa assured the desert goddess, “I will teach you how.”
Mahini shook her head, but she didn’t argue. Then the two women laid out their materials and got situated on the raggedy couch.
Once my house was improved a little, I decided to use the remaining sunlight to work on some more of the town. After a quick survey of the state of the buildings, I realized Gerulf’s farmhouse was in the worst shape, so I gathered my men and headed that way.
We found the farmer out in his field with a plow, and he waved over his head when he noticed us approaching.
“What brings the Great One to my humble farm?” Gerulf asked as he set down his plow and crossed the field.
“We’re working on the town,” I informed him with a friendly smile. “Your farmhouse is in pretty bad shape, and it’s a key part of keeping the town supplied, so I figured we’d bring some lumber over and get to work.”
“That’s wonderful!” Gerulf gushed as his mouth hung open for a moment, but then he smacked it closed and grinned. “I was just working on the fields so I could provide more food to the rest of the town.”
“I’d be happy to learn a little more about planting and harvesting,” I said with a hopeful look toward the fields. There was no limit to the skills I could learn with limitless attempts, and I wanted to know everything.
Then I truly would be a god.
While the men worked to repair Gerulf’s roof, I helped him in the fields. The agricultural land surrounding the town had grown fallow after so many of the population had died, and only the one farmer was left with anything to cultivate. His oxen had all died or been sold to people in nearby villages, and while he had a handful of small horses and mules, doing everything by hand would be quite a workout, and I wouldn’t mind a godly physique to go with my godly powers. The plow was heavy in my hands after a short while, but I eyed the farmer’s lean muscles enviously and pushed on. Farm work was physically intense just like felling trees and sawing logs, but I was determined to have the bod of a god.
And being in better shape would probably mean less chimes in battle.
I made a mental note to replace the farmer’s draught animals, though, so the townspeople could work on the other fields more efficiently.
Suddenly, Dalwin popped up and tilted his head to the side as he watched me and Gerulf throwing out seeds into the rows we’d created with the plow.
“What are you doing?” the young boy asked in a curious voice.
“Making food,” I explained with a grin, and then I waved him over.
Once the kid was standing beside me, I transferred my bag of seeds from my shoulder to his, and then I showed him the motion needed to spread the little kernels into the dirt.
“This is fun!” Dalwin laughed. “I used to help my dad in his garden, but it wasn’t nearly this big!”
“Maybe you could get the other kids to come help Gerulf work the fields,” I suggested as I did my usual hair tousle on the lad.
“I bet they would!” The kid’s face lit up with excitement.
The sun was starting to set, and I missed my women, so I passed off the rest of the task to the kids and bade Gerulf goodnight. Dalwin and his pals waved enthusiastically with big grins, but then they turned their attention back to finishing their task.
I waved goodbye and headed for my newly remodeled home. It was far from being completely done, since I wanted to add another bedroom or four to it for when I decided to have children, or for the women to have some personal space if they wanted. I also wanted to extend the porch and make it more comfortable to socialize outside where I could see the sky.
I’d always enjoyed the idea of porch sitting on a summer evening, after all.
I was almost home when I noticed a shadowy figure stomping toward me from the direction of the tavern. I frowned as I wondered what their hurry was, and then Stryker’s angry face came into view.
“You!” he shouted. “What do you think you’re doing to Addington?”
“Uhh…” I looked around for any witnesses, and I made a new save point so I wouldn’t have to redo my entire gardening lesson if this turned ugly. The familiar tingling sensation started at my toes and slowly covered my whole body. “Making it better?”
Stryker scoffed. “Far from it.”
What was this guy’s deal? I glared at him and considered my options. I could kill him where he stood, but what kind of example would that send to the rest of the town?
My town.
I had to get to the bottom of it. I could figure out what Stryker’s problem was and turn him to my side.
After all, what kind of god would I be if some of my people didn’t love me?
Chapter Four
“Don’t you want the town to get better?” I asked in a casual voice. I kept my posture straight and prepared myself for the worst, while outwardly I projected calm and cool.
“It was fine before you showed up!” Stryker yelled, and someone down the street turned to stare in our direction. The barkeep’s arm muscles bunched as he clenched and unclenched his fists, and the muscle in his jaw was jumping up and down like he was chewing on a bouncy ball.
“Why are you mad?” I was starting to lose my patience with the unreasonable man. “I’m helping the town.”
“Yeah, bullshit,” Stryker muttered as he spat, and then he swiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re helping yourself. You’ve got the nicest house in town, now, don’t you?”
“The major’s house is actually nicer at the moment,” I argued, but my voice fell on deaf ears.
“And another thing, who told you you could take all our women?” the barkeep continued to rant. “Just because you’re a god doesn’t give you the right to take what you want whenever you want it. These are good people, they don’t deserve to be treated like sla--”
“Hold on right there,” I interrupted in a loud voice. “I’m not treating anyone like a slave, and if you speak about my women again, I’m going to have to smack your bitch ass around.”
Stryker glared at me, but he shut his mouth with a snap. He obviously believed I would be true to my word, but he also looked like he would take me up on the threat.
I hoped it didn’t come to that, but if it did, I knew I would come out on top.
>
“You’re changing things around that no one asked you to mess with,” Stryker growled. “Making a new council of elders and picking who gets a say in the town. Everyone I see just goes on and on about Bash, Bash, Bash, well…”
Stryker gave me a dark look as he pulled himself up a little straighter.
“It makes me want to bash your head in.” The barkeep crossed his arms to emphasize his strength, and his muscles rippled as he flexed.
“If that’s the way it’s going to be,” I said in a calm voice, “then take your best shot.”
Suddenly, Stryker lunged at me, and it was only my split-second reflexes that saved my face from his flying fist.
I ducked beneath his overhead swing and danced out of reach on the balls of my feet. I’d watched enough boxing to imitate the movements, plus I’d gotten loads of experience from my recent battles. I could handle a fist fight with an angry tavern owner easily.
Stryker growled and came at me again, but this time he held his clenched fists up in front of his face. I couldn’t see his expression, but his anger and hatred radiated off him like a cloud of negativity.
We paced in a circle, and I noticed a crowd beginning to form out of the corner of my eye. Stryker definitely had some balls to even go up against a god in the first place, so I was sure everyone in town would want to see how well he did against me. I spotted Elrin’s worried eyes in the midst of the horde of people who surrounded us, and I wished there was a way to reassure the mayor without revealing too much.
Stryker swung again, and he aimed for my midriff. I blocked his punch with my forearm, and then I swiveled away from him again.
I decided it was time to go on the offensive, so I bounced from left to right to entice him closer, and when he took the bait, I popped out a right hook and smacked my fist into his temple.
I could practically see the stars in his eyes as he shook his head, but when his eyes met mine again, they were even angrier than before.
I considered resetting to my previous save before we’d exchanged blows, but then I decided I wanted to see how this attempt played out, so I hopped forward a few paces and then ducked beneath Stryker’s wild haymaker.
My battle instincts kicked in, and I saw the opening before me almost in slow motion. Then I tackled the barkeep around the waist, and I knocked him down to the ground. It only took me a second to position myself on top of him, and I started to rain my fists of fury down onto his head. I slammed punch after punch into his face until it was nothing but a swollen pulp, but then I realized what I’d just done.
Stryker didn’t move as I scrambled to my feet. My hands were covered in his blood, and they shook too much for me to be able to make a fist, so I figured they were probably broken. I was breathing hard, and my vision was tinged with red.
The crowd around me was completely silent.
“You killed him!” a voice suddenly called out.
Then everyone was clamoring at once. They were incredibly upset at the death of one of their own, and I realized I’d been right about killing the barkeep. Everyone loved the person who served them alcohol, and I didn’t really present a good reason for beating him to death before I did it. In the blink of an eye, I’d lost all the love, trust, and admiration I’d built up over the last several days, and there was no way I was going to let all my hard work go to waste.
I didn’t want to rule these people with fear, so I let out a heavy sigh and reloaded my save point.
Chime.
“You!” Stryker shouted. “What do you think you’re doing to Addington?”
“Stryker,” I began in a cautious tone. “The town was renamed in my honor. I believe Bastianville deserves the best, don’t you?”
I was determined to keep the conversation as civil as possible. I didn’t want it to get to the point of a fight again, so I’d have to tread very carefully.
“I’ve lived here since the town was formed!” the barkeep spat. “I think I would know better than some boy playing god.”
“You think I’m playing?” I asked with a coolly arched eyebrow.
Stryker barked out a mirthless laugh. “You may be a skilled fighter, but you alone cannot save this town.”
“I’d love to hear more of your suggestions for how to make the town better,” I said in a calm voice. “Perhaps we could discuss it over a beer? I’ll pour.”
“Well… no one’s ever offered me a beer before,” the barkeep said as he furrowed his brow and narrowed his eyes. “What’s in it for you?”
“I know you are concerned about the changes I’ve been making around here,” I said with a small shrug of my shoulders. “It would benefit me to figure out how to make you happy.”
“You want to make me happy?” The disbelief in his voice was obvious.
“Of course.” I gave the angry man a broad smile. “You are one of my people, after all. My job is to increase the standard of living for every citizen of Bastianville. It’s the least I could do after how generous everyone’s been toward me.”
Stryker mumbled something unintelligible, and then he jerked his head toward the street behind him. “Well, come on, then. My tavern is that way.”
Then the tavern owner turned and walked away without another word. I followed in his wake, but I didn’t try to make idle conversation while we walked. He was obviously intent on waiting until we had beers in front of us before he’d say any more.
Once we entered the tavern, I took a moment to look around, and I made a new save point. It looked like the place may have been very well decorated in the past, in fact there were shadows of grime on the walls that signified where paintings used to be. The ceiling was low, and the beams were bare wood wider than my arms. The bar was made from the same kind of lumber, and it was burnished to a shine from some kind of oil.
The tavern was clean and free of cobwebs, but the tables were all empty with the chairs turned upside down on top of them. Stryker claimed a barstool and leaned against the counter with a loud exhale.
I maneuvered around the bar, scanned the area, retrieved two mugs, and filled them with beer. I handed one to Stryker and kept the other, and then I took a barstool by his side.
“Something is weighing on you,” I said in a vague knowing voice. “Why do you doubt me? Have I wronged you in some way.”
“Not yet,” Stryker scoffed, and he took a long swig of his drink. “Knowing your type, though, it’s only a matter of time.”
“Time is meaningless to me,” I said flippantly with a wave of my hand. “Have you encountered someone like me before?”
“Yeah,” the barkeep grumbled, but he avoided my eyes. “There was a man who came through a town I once lived in…”
“Ahhh,” I said. “I can see where this is going.”
“Aye,” Stryker snorted. “Just like you, he called himself a god. Half the idiots there believed him.”
“What did this fake god do?” I asked in an innocent tone, and I took a long drink from my mug as I gave him a moment to gather the words.
Stryker glared at me and muttered something into his beer that I couldn’t hear.
“What was that?” I asked as I leaned forward.
“I said I don’t want to talk about it!” Stryker roared in response.
I rolled my eyes at the melodramatic barkeep, and then I reloaded my previous save.
Chime.
Stryker sat down, I poured beers, and once we’d both drank for a moment, I cleared my throat.
“You have encountered a false god before my arrival,” I said in an all-knowing voice. “But you can trust in me, for I am not the same.”
“I can’t know that for certain, now can I?” Stryker complained, and he glowered into his mug. “I haven’t got anything left for a god to take, after all.”
“What did this fake god take from you?” I asked, and I held my breath in the hopes that the barkeep had drunk enough to loosen his tongue.
“Everything!” Stryker roared in a voice full of anguish. “My h
eart, my home, my happiness…”
His voice broke as he fell into silence, and as he stared into his mug, his shoulders shook with unshed tears.
Maybe I’d pushed him too far, but I was getting closer, and I wasn’t ready to give up just yet.
Chime.
Stryker sat, I poured the beers, but this time I remained standing. We drank in silence for a long time, and then I refilled his mug before finally sitting down at his side.
“You have encountered a false prophet, a fake god, and he took everything from you.” I looked around at the beautifully crafted tavern. “But you still have your livelihood. To shut out the help being offered to you is to give up, and you don’t strike me as a quitter.”
“I wasn’t before,” the barkeep admitted in a defeated tone. “Before Abi left… I was the strongest man in town, and everyone looked up to me. I had to leave that place. I came here, but now I’m the pathetic barkeep who’s always drunk on his own slop.”
Realization struck me like a ton of bricks. The fake god had taken off with Stryker’s wife, and it was a wound he could not bear to repair.
I asked a few more questions since his tongue had been sufficiently loosened, and I learned a great deal about the source of Stryker’s rage. A man had visited Stryker’s home city long before I’d been summoned to this world, and he’d promised the ladies of the town riches beyond their dreams, as long as they followed him on his sacred journey. It reminded me of Charles Manson, but who was I to judge. Either way, this creep managed to convince Stryker’s wife to go away with him, and the two of them cleaned out Stryker’s home and business of every single valuable before they disappeared. Then Stryker sold his tavern there and made the journey out to this village far away in the wilderness to restart his life.
The poor man had been left empty handed and broken hearted, and that pain had settled into a deep jadedness he still carried around.
I knew what to do now.
Chime.
Stryker sat, and I poured him a beer. We drank in silence for a while, and then I poured him a second one.
“Stryker, I am not who you are angry with,” I began in a powerful voice. “You are mad at false gods and unfaithful women. I’m sorry Abi left you, but this is your home now, and the people here love you. You are a valued part of this community, and I appreciate the care you have given to the villagers during this tough period.”
