We Need A New Plan

~ Alexia ~

He was the worst person in the world. Worse than Prater. Worse than bandits. Even worse than monsters. If he were something small, like a bug or even a mouse, she would have killed him on the spot. She would have grabbed the largest, heaviest thing within reach and squashed him flat. That's what it felt like to see the legate without his mask.

She had run uphill to the ridge to find out if he was okay and found Legate d'Mourne (she couldn't think of him as Bilius anymore) standing inside the fallen Prater, a carving axe in his hand, digging the hole he was standing in deeper.

She jumped and climbed to see what he was doing. It was wrong for the master's dead body to smell so good, but it did: resiny and warm. Prater's heart lay there, partially uncovered, a green mana stone almost as large as she was. The legate focused on his work, pulling away long strips of wood that he separated by drawing his axe along the grain, like he was carving a roast beef. One hand was a wreck, but he used it despite the deep burns.

She didn't want to disturb him, so she watched while he widened and deepened the hole. When the entire stone was free he sucked the bulky thing into his magic satchel, squeezing it like paste through the too-narrow opening. She'd already seen that trick, but it still impressed her.

When the legate lifted his head, neither of them was prepared. He didn't know she was watching, and she didn't know he'd lost his mask in the fight. She got an eyeful of his face.

It wasn't a bad face. It was the face of someone very bad. Someone who could topple giants and then cut their hearts out.

Alexis did what came naturally: She fled, screaming bloody murder, directly into the arms of arriving wardens.

Alexia barely remembered the hour that followed. People in uniform showed up and questioned her, the driver, the legate, and Prater's wife. They found both of Prater's bodies and his sleeping apprentices, and saw how hundreds of the orchard's trees had wandered off from their assigned places and ended up elsewhere.

They lectured the carriage driver at great length for not turning back when his passenger was in danger, filled out a separate report about it, threatened to take his license, and made him return the day's fare. The driver was suitably chastened once they threatened his livelihood, and the wardens let him off with a written warning added to his record, as it was his first infraction.

The problem was, they wouldn't listen to her when she tried to tell them how dangerous the legate was, how he shouldn't go free, or how his obviously extensive powers could be used to bring ruin to everyone.

"He explained his curse," explained the woman in charge, "and we have confirmation from his legal guardian. It sounds like you got a strong dose of it."

"You didn't see what I saw!"

"And what's that?"

"He cut a man's heart out!"

"You mean the tree's heart? It's only natural to take a monster's stone after you kill it."

"It's the way he did it," Alexia tried to explain, "like he could do it again to anyone at any time, and he wouldn't care. He's scary!"

"You know if he hadn't come with you today, you would have ended up like those other apprentices. Did you see them? They're a sad bunch. Is that how you wanted to end up?"

"No! I'm not saying it was wrong this time, but what if he's the real monster?"

"According to your statement," she searched through the pages of the book where she wrote down the things people told her, flip, flip flip, "Prater was going to force you to be his apprentice, steal gold from your township, and turn your legate into," flip, "mulch. It sounds like self-defense. Are you saying now it wasn't?"

"No. But just because he was right this time doesn't mean he's not a horrible person. He's dangerous." Her pleading was obviously not working.

The warden looked at someone standing behind Alexis. "What do you think?"

"He's got something all right," said an old dwarf. He was slightly shorter than Alexia and not much broader in the shoulder than she was. He was mostly gray in the hair and had magnificent sideburns that made her think of lions she's seen in picture books. He wore a strange device on his head, spectacles with many spare lenses hinged together. "But damned if I can find it. It might not be a curse as we normally define it. But the effects are real enough." He pushed a green lens in front of one eye and hummed at her appreciatively, as if there was something fascinating about her. He spoke in a loud voice, "Where's that potion I asked for?"

A man in a warden's uniform with a green crescent moon pinned on one side slapped a vial into the dwarf's hand, who then shoved it in Alexis' direction. "Drink this."

"What is it?"

"When you looked at your legate friend, you got cursed. This will cure it."

"He's not my friend," she said hotly, grabbing the vial. She pried off the cork and drank the sweet liquid inside. "Friends don't curse each other!" she finished, angry.

Her sight grew blurry, and her knees buckled. Dimly, Alexis was aware of someone catching her and carrying her away.

She woke in a strange room, lit by morning sun. It looked like the inn she had stayed at before, but they'd checked out of that place, not expecting to come back. Maybe the legate got her a new room. It was a lot smaller than the one she had shared with the three other girls.

The thought of them tied a knot of anxiety in her gut. All of them had found masters to train them. She didn't have one. Worse, she had helped to kill the only orchardist in the province who took on classed apprentices. What would happen to her now? Her family was depending on her success. The township had invested in her. Now, she was just an average person.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

She slowly levered herself up and was greeted by a paper divider with a sign tacked to its wooden frame. "Do Not Look Behind The Screen"

Right. The curse. She remembered hating Legate d'Mourne and trying to get the wardens to arrest him, but couldn't remember why. She tried to recall what it was like to look at him without his mask on, but couldn't capture it. Maybe that was for the best.

"Are you awake?" she ventured.

"I am." The legate's voice emerged from the screen. "How are you?"

"Better. Legate d'Mourne, I'm … "

"Don't apologize," he interrupted. "We were both in the grip of something stranger and more powerful than ourselves. I was careless."

"May I ask a question?"

She heard pages turning. "You may ask several."

"How did I get into my nightdress?"

"I employed a maid to change you and put you to bed."

She wanted to ask about his curse, but that seemed too personal. But it explained why he was so strong: he had to be, just to survive. Nobody would ever put themselves in danger for him.

"Did that really happen yesterday? Prater was a tree?"

"A very old one, too. I almost feel bad about killing something so ancient, but he didn't offer us any good alternatives." Another page turned.

"He was a monster."

"True. But that's not a reason to kill someone. I killed him because he was monstrous. Does that make sense?"

"It … doesn't?" To Alexia, "monster" and "monstrous" sounded like the same word said two different ways. They weren't different things. "Do you think the wardens knew about him?"

"Doubtful. But somebody knew. I bet the governor knows, but every time she sent an inspector there to check up on him, he probably fed them the mind-bending fruit and told them what to report back to her."

It was a simple explanation, and she could see how a tree monster could live for centuries like that. "You carved out his heart."

Pages turned. "That's not a question."

"Right." Her stomach growled, angry at her neglect. "Can we get something to eat?"

The legate chuckled. "Sure. Let me know when you're dressed."

---

Alexis wasn't just hungry. She was famished. The legate kept his Riverstone illusion running as they went from one food stall to the next, buying some of everything. Food disappeared inside of her, and she was immediately hungry for more. The legate ate twice what she did and showed no sign of slowing down. She had seen Curator Jane pack away food like that, and she'd heard about classed people in general needed a lot of it, but this was the first time she'd ever experienced it.

Hands extended from his watery disguise, took food, and then withdrew. When all the plates were empty, he sent her to get more. That went on for almost an hour before she began to feel normal.

"What's that on your arm?" She decided the invitation to ask questions was still in effect. "And how did it heal so fast?"

"Instant restoration. I did it myself." He sounded proud, as he held the arm out for her inspection. The deep burns were gone, but he wore decorative jewelry on his hand and forearm. Small white stones were fastened to the back of his hand, wrist, and forearm with thin chains. "The problem with instant healing is that the flesh is all conjured. The patient's real body regrows over time, replacing the conjured stuff. Until then, you have to provide a constant stream of mana to the area. If you forget, and the conjured flesh disappears, things get ugly. It's almost better to amputate the limb and regrow it slowly. I could have gone either way, but I have things to do that require both arms. So."

They ate in silence for a while, until another question occurred to her. The question. Their feast had slowed down by then, and they were idly dividing the few remaining skewers and a sweet crepe. "Ugh, my class!" The knot in her gut had returned, and it wasn't getting along well with all the food she'd just eaten. "What are we going to do about my class? My parents. The town. Everyone. They're expecting me to come back with levels. What am I going to do?"

"We'll find you a new teacher."

"Curator Jane said Prater was the only orchardist who took classed apprentices."

"Then we should find you the best non-classed teacher we can. Honestly, it might be what's best for your class anyway."

"That's not the way it works! Classes need special care. There are options, subclasses, advanced classes, skill choices, titles, and a whole bunch of other stuff to think about. One wrong choice could ruin your whole life!"

"Did Knexenk assign your class, or did you get to choose?"

"I chose from a list. I could have taken Farmer or Explorer, but I wanted Orchardist."

"Explorer is a rare one, but you chose something else. Do you like working in the orchard?"

"I do. Or, I did." She put down her food, suddenly too full.

"Explain."

"Ever since I got my class, my uncle has been nagging me." She imitated his voice. "'Make it grow faster! Make the nuts bigger! What's this stupid class for, anyway?' Like I'm going to do those things without any training at all."

"They don't sound like level one skills."

"They're not on my skill list, which is very small right now, by the way. What am I going to do?"

"I don't know. What would you like to do?"

"Excuse me? I want a different teacher. Obviously. Someone who won't melt my brain or try to mulch people."

"Okay. But what about the future? When you imagine your orchard of the future, what is it like?"

"I don't know." Her uncle never wanted to listen to her ideas.

"Is it all nut trees?"

"No. Nuts aren't bad, but we could grow more than that."

"Like what, for instance?"

"Did you know you can graft the trunk of one kind of tree onto the stump of another?"

"I noticed most of our trees looked grafted."

"But did you know you can do the same with different kinds of branches? One tree can grow several kinds of fruit!"

"That's interesting."

Later, after everything was settled, she would marvel at how easily he got her talking. The legate prompted her with a few questions and offered the occasional encouragement, but he mostly let her talk. Talking to her family about these things was like telling them their whole lives had been wasted, so she bottled it up. With just a little prompting, it all came spilling out. Trees could do more than make fruit or nuts. They could grow mushrooms, shelter other kinds of plants, and restore wasted soils. All she had to go on were her observations and some things she had read in a book that Curator Jane lent to her about the Orchardist class, but she knew the possibilities were so much greater than what Mourne was doing. She wanted to learn it all.

"Fascinating. Why don't we do any of that in Mourne?"

"Because fifty years ago, nuts were supposed to be this great cash crop, and my grandfather had a dream that he could be the Nut King of Estfold. My uncle is still trying to make it come true. He thought that, with my having a class, he'd have a chance." Alexis's head tipped over until it bonked against the table. "What am I going to do?"

"You're going to let me help you."

"How? There isn't anyone to teach me."

"There's a way. But we have to find somewhere more private for that conversation."

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