Haylock
patreon
58 - Divine Intervention
🕑 Added 2023-07-18 11:17:47 +0000 UTCMy eyes went wide as the reel and rod transformed.
A rushing of power came from my core, along with an almost unnoticeable nudge from the System, no doubt trying to spew incoherent nonsense at me.
The rod seemed to blur, then sharpen.
The bracket, which wasn’t yet properly attached to the reel, secured itself. The metal warped and grew, sprouting a section on the side closest to me that flattened out, holding the reel firmly in place.
The wall hangers I’d pushed into the rod to act as eyelets also changed, becoming whole and fixed into the bamboo fibers.
Finally, and most notable, part of the reel bulged out, quickly morphing into a handle to turn.
A split-second after the transformation was complete, my eyes were drawn into it.
Bamboo Rod of the Fisher
Rare
A bamboo rod paired with an iron-wood reel. This fishing rod provides boosts to both
fishing and luck.
+10 fishing
+2 luck
I blinked.
“Holy frack… stats?”
***
My joy couldn’t be contained as I sprinted along the sands, my rod and everything I needed to fish in hand. A wide smile stretched across my face, and I breathed deep of the afternoon air.
The first thing I’d done upon seeing an actually useful item description was to turn my notifications back on, but once again, I was greeted with a wall of ‘insufficient power’ nonsense.
I had no idea why the System decided to be useful all of a sudden, so I paid it no mind—instead, I focused on my destination.
I was headed somewhere I’d eventually intended to fish, but hadn’t yet had the guts to try—the break wall along the shores of Tropica.
I’d been too worried about setting off the villagers with my heretical activities, but riding the high of my new rod, along with knowing I’d earned a certain amount of goodwill with the coffee machine’s delivery, I was willing to push it.
The jetty extending from the village had long since caught my eye, and I knew the structure it provided could grant a hunting ground for species of fish I’d not yet encountered.
I looked around as I neared the rock wall; there was no one in sight, so I started setting up my rod.
I’d already transferred a length of line to the reel, and I strung it through the transformed eyelets running the length of my bamboo pole.
Cutting a small length of the plastic string, I tied a rock to act as a drop sinker running off the main line. To the end of the line, I tied a medium-sized hook and placed a small slice of eel on it.
I lifted the rod, hefting its weight.
As I drew the rod back over my shoulder, I took a moment to soak in the surrounding landscape and my flourishing emotions.
The bay was calm, and the soon-to-be-setting sun bathed the sky in a palette of pastel colors.
I took a deep breath, and with a radiant sense of joy, cast out the line.
The rod flexed as I flung the tip toward the jetty, and my hook and sinker flew, arcing high over the softly lapping waves.
The moment seemed to stretch on forever, and I watched its trajectory as it crested over the shore.
With a splashing of water and a soft plop, it hit the water right by the jetty, and sank toward the bottom.
***
Theo walked along the shore to the north of the village, and he basked in the beauty of the late afternoon.
He had always been a fan of the sun rising and setting, but it’d been a long time since he’d been able to see it happen over the ocean.
He paused and looked out at the protected bay, transfixed by the water’s movement as it languidly shifted with almost-imperceptible grace.
With a sense of immense calm, he took a deep breath, the salt in the air flooding his lungs.
Theo breathed out, the air hissing past his pursed lips.
I bet the sunset will look glorious from Tropica’s break wall...
An unexpected urgency filled his steps as he headed back south.
***
George wandered the north side of Tropica, his mind a wash of contradictory thoughts.
Following the meeting with the auditor, Theo, he’d felt a need to move—it always helped him process, loathe as he was to exercise like a common peasant.
Despite the auditor’s reassurance, he still felt like the axeman’s blade was hanging over his neck, just waiting for the right moment to cut down.
The most annoying aspect of his thoughts was that Theo wasn’t even the main focus as he assumed they should be—Fischer was.
Since the man’s arrival in Tropica, things had flipped end over end, more often than not landing facedown, like a glazed donut’s sugar-crusted top hitting the dirt.
Did I really invent all his machinations and trickery? Were they a figment of my imagination, as Geraldine suggests?
Admitting that was true may free his mind of the metaphorical axe hanging over his head, but could replace it with something just as psychologically damaging—the knowledge that he had been wrong, and had invented the entire situation.
Most people would be glad to admit they were wrong in order to free their consciousness of impending doom, but George—and more importantly, his ego—were not most people.
He let out a deep sigh, his legs subconsciously wandering along the paved road.
***
Theo climbed a set of stairs and stepped onto the stone walkway atop the break wall.
Its firm surface was welcome after walking so long on the sand, and he approached the low wall, leaning on it as he looked out to sea.
The air turned cold, and he glanced back, seeing the sun was blocked by the tall walls of the north-side homes.
“Well, that won’t do.”
He moved south, intending to find a patch where the sun peeked over the smaller buildings on the southern side of Tropica.
***
I caressed my finger against the line, waiting for the telltale bump of something nibbling my bait.
Even if I didn’t catch something, I didn’t care—just this feeling, this meditative state of waiting for a bite, was just what my soul needed after such an eventful day.
I lost myself to the hunt; the sounds of waves lapping the shore, and birds calling from above, pulled me into a state of Zen.
***
Theo saw the perfect spot from which to watch the sunset.
The most-southern point of the wall would let him see the sun setting over the western mountains, and he strode toward it, excitement bubbling up from within.
As he reached the corner, he intended to look toward the mountains, to see the sun’s descent in all its glory, but something else caught his eye.
A person was down on the shore, looking out to sea with something long held before him.
He squinted, curiosity getting the better of him. It only took him half a second to realize what the man—Fischer, who he’d met earlier—was doing.
“There’s no way...”
***
The more George wandered through the village and sorted through his churning thoughts, the more Geraldine’s theory seemed to make sense.
With the arrival of a confirmed agent of the crown, Fischer also being one made less and less sense.
Sending two of them to a minor village in the far-reaches of the kingdom for something as minor as misappropriated taxes seemed unlikely. Even having one of them visit Tropica would be an anomaly, which was why George assumed the crown would never discover his tax theft in the first place.
If Fischer was just a regular citizen, though, George’s assumptions and actions were an embarrassing mistake.
He let out a snort of derision.
Did I create the entire narrative in my head? What kind of madman would do such a thing...?
He replayed every interaction they’d had, sifting through the memories for a glimpse of understanding.
The ancient coin, the house appearing from nowhere, the conversations and comments that presented as threats—each could be individually seen as innocuous, but together, they painted the portrait of a devious man hellbent on George’s downfall.
Fischer’s arrival had brought confusion, turmoil, and worry into George’s life.
But, if not for Fischer, I’d never have bought the coffee machine. The real crown auditor would have found increased taxes, a box filled with embezzled pearls, and no benefit added to the villagers...
Perhaps he could reframe the webs that seemed to bind him, to choose gratitude for the actions he’d assumed to be a curse, but in the end, were a blessing in disguise.
Is this what they call divine intervention? Wisdom from the heavens?
George’s subconscious latched onto the possibility; better to be subjected to the whims of divine beings than the abject chaos of existence.
If Fischer were merely a vessel for the actions of divinity, it would also explain the mystery surrounding him. He could have easily come upon an ancient coin and the materials for his grand home if it were a lingering god pulling strings behind the scenes. It also explained his odd mannerisms, statements, and general lack of decorum.
If a god was directing Fischer, it all made so much sense.
But what god could be doing it? Which one makes the most sense for—
George’s eyes went wide, and his thoughts stopped in their tracks.
“No...” he heard himself utter aloud.
Fischer was a heretic! If any god were directing him, acting as the puppet-master behind the strings, it would be a god of the sea.
“... he’s a fisherman....”
George’s mouth was mouth dry, his tongue leaden.
“N-not Glaukos. Please... not that...”
George squinted as he stepped out from between buildings; the light of the setting sun lit the scene before him.
He’d arrived at the break wall without realizing it, and he stumbled forward, grabbing the stone wall with both hands as he rested his weight upon it.
The attention of such an entity was a worse fate than anything the crown could do to him.
As he stared out to sea, attempting to make sense of his doom, a figure caught his attention.
He hadn’t noticed before, self absorbed as he was, but there was another person atop the stone walkway.
Theo stood at the southern corner, his body erect at attention as he stared at something out of sight.
The crown auditor sprinted down the stairs and disappeared from sight.
What could have Theo so transfixed...?
With curiosity overcoming his existential dread, George dashed toward Theo’s previous post, intent on having a peek.
***
Sergeant Snips, having heard of Corporal Claws’ ascension atop the freshwater pond, scuttled toward the saltwater construction with great anticipation.
Through chirps and chitters, the otter had communicated the way the pond beckoned to her, and the awakening she’d experienced after heading the call.
Sergeant Snips recalled the pulse she’d thought a fragment of her imagination upon the pond’s completion. She’d believed the warmth radiating from the opalescent stone atop the sea snipper’s cave was also in her head—a sense of accomplishment that came from having built something useful to her master. After hearing Corporal Claws’ retelling, she hoped both signs meant something more exciting.
She intended to find out.
When she got to the pond, Snips took a moment to appreciate its beauty. The light of the setting sun lit the large stone seemingly from within, and it reflected the usual rainbow colors, but overshadowed by a soft purple hue.
The same feeling of warmth radiated from the boulder, calling to her. It didn’t seem as strong as the otter made the call of the freshwater pond sound, but there was something there, and she listened to it.
Her body slipped beneath the cool water. She scuttled across the pond floor, and climbing the sea snipper’s cave, found an underwater nook that was perfect for her body. She nestled into it, the back of her carapace resting up against the shiny boulder.
Sergeant Snips closed her lone eye, focusing on the stone’s resonance.
***
The top half of George’s head poked up above the wall.
He caught sight of Theo immediately, running across the sand toward another figure.
Fischer stood at the water’s edge, soft waves washing over his feet.
He had a fishing rod in his hand, and George felt a myriad of different emotions as he realized what the heretic was doing.
He’s fishing, and a crown agent has spotted him...
An ugly smile crossed George’s face as schadenfreude flooded him.
Play with my fate, Glaukos? See what becomes of your vessel.
***
A deep calm flooded through me as I focused on the sensations of my body.
The water lapping at my legs, my steady breaths, the calls of birds from above, and my finger held to the line, waiting for a fish to bite—all grounded me to the present moment.
The sound of footfalls on the soft sand jarred me from my meditation, and I glanced aside.
The man I’d met earlier, Theo, was running toward me, his eyes wide and brows furrowed.
Oh—that’s not great...
He reached me, his eyes darting between me and the rod in my hands.
“Fischer—you’re... fishing?”
I tried to give him a disarming smile.
“Er... yeah. I know it’s a bit odd, but I—”
He cut me off, the words coming from his mouth shocking me to my core.
