Heretical Fishing

Chapter 44: The Plan

Barry’s face scrunched in obvious disgust as the oyster’s flavor and texture hit him. He bit down a single time, and his disappointment only deepened. He swallowed it whole, his whole body trembling.

“Yeahhhhhh,” I said, “they can be a bit much for the uninitiated.”

“W-water,” he begged.

I pointed toward the house. “Inside.”

Snips and Claws both stared after him in confusion.

“Raw and unseasoned oysters don’t taste great to everyone—it can be a bit of an acquired taste.”

Sergeant Snips shrugged, accepting my words, but Corporal Claws looked like Barry had just slapped each and every one of her ancestors.

“Forgive him,” I said. “He didn’t mean to offend you—in fact, I think he schooled his reaction pretty well.”

I raised my oyster to my lips, enjoying the salty taste that washed through my mouth.

When Barry returned, I was just placing the fish on my makeshift grill.

“You right, mate?”

He nodded, grimacing. “Sorry—I don’t think oysters are for me . . .”

“They rarely are the first time you try them. I’ll cook them up in something tasty for you next time.”

He nodded, the lingering grimace telling me he didn’t believe I could turn them into something palatable.

Just you wait, Barry—I dare you to knock back my Oysters Kilpatrick once I get the spices and seasonings of this world worked out.

“This fish didn’t actually have wings . . . right?” Barry asked, staring down at the bit of fish I removed from the grill.

“Nah, mate—just a term for this cut of meat.”

I removed the cheeks too, placing them beside the wings on the wooden board. I walked over to a tray of salt, and finding it mostly dry, I grinned.

One more day of sun, and it’ll be finished and ready for jarring.

I pinched some from the surface, sprinkling the coarse rocks of salt over the wings and cheeks.

“This will be a taste of what’s to come,” I said, placing the board on the floor and cutting the bits of meat into sections.

“Try the cheeks first,” I said to everyone, pointing at the small bits of flesh I’d cut in half.

Snips and Claws grabbed them without delay, happily digging into the bite-sized morsels. I held the board out to Barry, and he eyed them with trepidation.

“I promise it’ll taste better than the oyster. In fact, it might taste even better after eating something you deemed gross.”

“Gross might be a strong way of putting it . . .”

“You don’t have to lie, Barry,” I said, smiling. “I remember my first oyster as a young man, and I can’t say I composed myself as well as you did.”

He winced, reaching out for the fish cheek. I watched as he placed it in his mouth. The moment he did, his hesitancy evaporated.

“Mmmm,” he groaned, closing his eyes in delight.

I ate mine too, and I had to agree with his assessment. The salt had been what was missing; the umami boost was sublime in combination with the fish’s flavor.

“Next, the wings.”

Everyone grabbed a chunk as one, Snips and Claws just as excited as before, and Barry having all his trepidation swept away by the cheek’s taste.

“Careful of the bones,” I said. “Eat around them.”

I held a pectoral fin and bit into the meat, carefully testing for bones as I bit down. The flavor hit me like a truck—and believe me, I’d know what that felt like. The flesh was darker than the cheeks and held more of a fishy taste than the lighter meat. I didn’t shy away from the stronger flavor, and if anything, the contrast between the two only improved the experience. I felt it regenerating my spirit; it invigorated me.

Barry let out an mmph as he ate, and I smiled, happy he was enjoying himself. Sergeant Snips finished first—unsurprising, given her lack of aversion to bones. Corporal Claws, Barry, and I all finished around the same time after working around the cooked bones.

Barry let out a content sigh. “That was delicious, Fischer.”

I smirked at him. “Glad I could redeem myself after the oyster.”

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“Well and truly,” he said, taking a deep, relaxing breath.

“If you liked that, wait until we have the main course.”

“Goodnight, Fischer,” Barry said.

“Night, mate!”

Fischer made his way to the house, accompanied by Corporal Claws. Barry sat by the fire, and he reflected on the meal just gone. It was hard for him to sit still; his body radiated energy, seeming to demand he use it. Sergeant Snips sat in the sand beside him, but where Barry felt like he had to run, she dozed, her body pressed to the ground.

Barry had intended to sit on his plans for at least a week, but after spending even more time around Fischer, he’d reached his decision.

Still, I hope this isn’t a mistake . . .

He swallowed, his throat all of a sudden dry and tight.

“Snips . . . I wanted to talk to you about something.”

She opened her eye, looking at him lazily. She blew a small amount of bubbles and tilted her body in what Barry took for a question.

His heart pounded in his chest, and the words wanted to stay within, to not be spoken. Barry clenched his jaw, and unsure where to begin, just started speaking.

“You know that Fischer is . . . special, right?”

She perked up, nodding.

“What you might not know is just how special he is. Are you aware that he caused your awakening?”

She nodded, the gesture as much a dismissal as an answer.

“You . . . aren’t bothered by that?”

She shook her head. No.

“And you also know he probably caused Corporal Claws to awaken, too . . . ?”

She nodded again, her lone eye locked on Barry.

“I have to confess something that you might find a little shocking—I know I still can’t believe it, anyway.”

She blew bubbles, but Barry couldn’t understand them, so he continued.

“He caused me to take steps on the path of ascension, too . . .”

Snips jolted upright, standing on her spiked legs as she looked at him and blew more indiscernible bubbles.

“I know . . .” Barry said with a wince. “I wasn’t really happy to learn about it, given how this world treats cultivators, but I’ve come to accept it over the past few days.”

She made no move, simply listening and watching.

“The reason I’m telling you this is because it places you and Fischer in danger—”

Barry’s eyes went wide, and he stopped speaking. Snips’s claw was held around his throat, its cold and firm touch sealing his words. She’d moved so fast he hadn’t seen it; she may as well have teleported, given Barry’s inability to respond or even notice. She stared at him with her inhuman eye. She tightened her claw, sending a chill down Barry’s spine.

Trent, the first in line to the throne of Gormona and possibly the most repulsive man Leroy had ever met, scowled down at him.

“What gives you the courage to display such petulance, cultivator?”

Leroy sighed, accepting that he had to repeat himself. “We have orders from our handler in the capital, and you soliciting ‘fun’ from serving girls hurts our goals. Besides, given your looks, it’ll probably cost more coins than you have.”

Trent’s face scrunched in fury, and he slapped Leroy. Leroy let the blow land, rolling his eyes before turning his head back toward the garbage human before him.

“You can strike me as much as you want, Trent—”

He slapped him in the same place. “It’s ‘prince’ to you,

cultivator!”

Leroy sighed as he straightened out again. “Very well, prince.”

Leroy’s lack of outrage seemed to stoke Trent’s own even more, and the sorry excuse for a leader snarled.

“How will having consensual fun with a local girl hurt our quest? Any girl would be lucky to experience a man such as myself!”

“Despite how dubious consent may be with the power imbalance between you and a villager, even if we assume that it’s completely consensual, word will spread of your actions, and the cultivator we’re looking for could flee.”

“How?” Trent demanded. “How can you know that word will spread and that it will hurt our goals?”

“Let’s say you’re right, and that they’re lucky to be with such a man as yourself—they’ll brag, or her coworkers will spread nasty rumors out of sheer jealousy at not being chosen by such a strong, manly, no-doubt flawless lover—”

Trent slapped him again, and as Leroy turned back to look at him, he smiled at the prince.

“Let’s say you’re wrong, though—that the girl finds your touch repulsive, but feels threatened by the presence of two cultivators. What happens when her father or lover learns that you defiled her with your disgusting body—”

Trent screeched as he slapped him, and Leroy simply straightened and smiled again.

“Does that make you feel better?”

Trent lashed out again, harder than ever, but this time Leroy held his head firm. Trent’s eyes went wide as he struck what must have felt like a stone wall, and he took a step back, his jaw quivering.

“Y-you can’t attack me—your collar will detonate!”

“Do I look like I’m attacking you, prince?” Leroy spat the last word, but the look of fear remained on Trent’s face; not a bit of anger showed.

Trent turned to the blond-haired cultivator, who was staring off into space, as ever. “What about you? You’ll let this man threaten me—your prince? You should punish him for his insolence!”

Surprisingly, the other man actually turned, appearing to have heard Trent’s words. “If I were to hurt this man, I’d be placing the mission in jeopardy and my collar could detonate.”

Trent shook, his anger finally winning over his fear, and he spun.

“Fine! We keep moving, then! See how you traitorous fools feel after a night of running without sleep!”

Trent jumped atop his horse as awkwardly as ever, and after an embarrassing amount of time getting situated atop the saddle, he spurred it on. Leroy followed, finally letting his frustration show now that Trent had turned his back.

The collar around his neck was a constant reminder of his servitude, and for a moment, he let his hatred toward his captors roil within him. His blood boiled, and he felt the need to lash out, to wipe Trent from the face of Kallis.

“You know,” the other cultivator said, “you could kill him in a single blow—you should.”

Leroy glanced at the man, still shocked to find him speaking. The look in the blond-haired man’s eyes drove a spike of cold understanding through Leroy’s awareness. He’d seen that expression before, especially among cultivators that had been slaves for too long. Something had broken within the man; he thirsted for blood and would take any excuse to witness violence.

Leroy looked forward, ignoring him. Instead, he tamped the swelling fury down, focusing on his guiding star, his lodestone that was the only thing that kept him going.

Getting myself killed is a betrayal of those I love.

Leroy had people to return to.

I have to find a way back to my family. No matter how long it takes, or how many injustices I have to live through.

Barry raised both hands slowly, trying not to let them shake.

“I’m on your side, Snips—you’re not under threat from me, and killing me will only hurt your safety.”

Sergeant Snips weakened her grip, and after staring into Barry’s soul for a long moment, she pulled away and started drawing letters in the sand.

‘Explain.’

Barry nodded, rubbing his neck where Snips had held him.

“The danger comes from Fischer’s ability to create more ascendant beings. If the wrong person or creature were to awaken, their actions could bring down the weight of the crown upon us.”

Snips started writing again.

‘Then you are a threat.’

He shook his head again, not insulted by the claim. “I’m not—I want to help Fischer ascend.”

Snips sat unmoving, watching Barry with her inhuman eye. After a tense minute, she scuttled to the side and pointed at the first word she’d written.

‘Explain.’

Barry nodded. “I need your help to do it, which is why I came to you.”

Barry took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he tried to calm his nerves. “This is the plan . . .”