15-16. Economics and Infrastructure

“Are you certain you don’t want more?” asked Rakhan, his hands on his hips as he surveyed more than fifty wooden crates full of hippopotamus meat. Each one of those containers had been enchanted for food storage, meaning that they would preserve the contents practically indefinitely. In addition, they were all spatial containers, so they could hold a much higher volume than if they’d been mundane crates.

“Ten percent of the meat is plenty,” Elijah answered, standing next to him. At times, it was easy to take scale for granted. But when it came time to butcher a hippopotamus-adjacent creature that had grown to slightly less than three hundred yards long, it quickly became overwhelming. “What was the count in the end?”

“Eleven hundred and sixty-two, for the meat,” said Sara, who was covered in dirt, grime, and a little blood. She’d insisted on helping with the butchery, though the experts only allowed her to act as menial labor. She hadn’t complained at all, though. She pushed a golden strand of hair out of her face. “Elijah gets a hundred, not counting the fat.”

“What about the organs and bones?” asked Solomon. “Good value there.”

“I’m letting Atticus deal with that,” Elijah answered. His sister punched him. “And Sara.”

Due to how Elijah had killed the mad hippo, the carcass had been in nearly perfect condition. The only damaged bit had been the creature’s boiled brain, which the hunters had buried with the rest of the unusable organs. Given the creature’s size, that pile had been deceptively small.

It seemed the hunters and non-combatants were very, very good at using the entire animal. They’d even considered using the brain, but Elijah had insisted they leave it behind. After what he’d felt of the ethereal parasites that constituted the Tamer’s skill, he felt certain that bad things would happen from using the brain. Maybe it would end up with cursed items. Or some ethereal version of prion disease. Whatever the case, Elijah didn’t want to risk it.

And nobody really argued with him. Why would they? There was already plenty to go around.

Not only was there three hundred thousand pounds of meat that Rakhan and the Hartwood Foundation would use to feed the needy, but the bones could also be used to create weapons, art, and, given the size, perhaps the framework of buildings. Elijah had even requested that a few hundred tons be delivered to Carmen, who would find a good use for them.

The hide was similarly useful, especially given the beast’s aquatic nature. Some of the hunters had mentioned that it would make perfect gear for Fishermen, Marines, and other seagoing classes.

Elijah didn’t know about that. His current equipment didn’t really have any holes in it, so he didn’t really care much about how the hide was used. Of course, some of it would still go to Carmen, who would know what to do with it. All the rest would be sold, with the profits split between the hunters according to the contract they’d all signed before the hunt.

“Well, you want me to start totin’ it to Argos?” asked Solomon.

The man had carried everything himself. Hundreds of thousands of tons’ worth of meat, fat, and bones, all divided into massive crates that somehow locked together into a skyscraper-sized tower that he’d balanced on his shoulders. It would have been comical if it hadn’t been so impressive.

Elijah had offered to take some of the load, but that had offended the self-styled Porter. “You trying to steal my experience or something?” he’d demanded, which had backed Elijah right off.

“The fat goes to the grove.”

“I remember,” Solomon stated. Apparently, he and his company frequently did business with Ironshore and the Hartwood Grove, so he knew exactly what to do.

“I guess so, then.”

After that, everyone left Solomon to his business. Meanwhile, Elijah, Sara, and Rakhan returned to the hunter’s home, where they all washed two weeks’ worth of blood and grime from their bodies and gear. Then, after ensuring that Rakhan could handle distributing the meat and liaising with Atticus concerning the other hunters’ cuts, Elijah sent Sara to the Conclave Spires, while he teleported straight back to the grove.

Thankfully, he arrived well after dark, so when he headed to the hot spring, he found it mostly deserted. And mostly deserted became empty soon after he slipped into the scalding water and half-dozed until Sara arrived.

“There’s no time for that,” she said, standing over him. “There’s so much work to do. Have you even thought about what it’ll take to store that much fat?”

“Not really?”

She rolled her eyes. “Is that how you normally operate?” she asked. “You just show up, dump some valuable treasures, and then hope someone else figures out what to do with them?”

“Uh…”

“That is precisely what he does,” Nerthus said, stepping out of a nearby tree. “Fortunately, we have built appropriate infrastructure to deal with his…ah…eccentricities.”

Sara glared at Elijah. “You could make it easier on everyone, you know.”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Um…okay?”

“He’s not going to change,” Nerthus pointed out. “I tried training him, but to no avail. It is better to simply learn to adjust to the chaos he brings with him.”

Then, he went on to describe how Elijah’s Grove Conduit negatively affected the grove. He explained how he’d bred a species of plant to mitigate that effect, rather than relying on Elijah to use it sparingly.

“I guess that just gives us more opportunity to earn experience, then,” Sara stated. “Even if it’s annoying.”

Nerthus nodded.

“You know I’m still sitting right here. You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not here,” Elijah pointed out.

Sara ignored him. “So, I understand you have some infrastructure in place for storing fat for soap production?” she asked.

“We do. Let me show you.”

With that, the pair left Elijah alone. On the one hand, he was grateful for the peace, but on the other, he felt a bit guilty that he’d put so much pressure on his friends. In the end, he convinced himself that both Sara and Nerthus would benefit from the extra experience they got from managing his affairs. If he looked at it from the right angle, they should be grateful for his efforts.

Mostly convinced, at least.

Regardless, his soak in the hot spring lasted a couple more hours. In that time, he felt fiery ethera circulating through his body, cleansing him in a way few things ever did. Finally, he decided to head back to his treehouse so he could get some rest.

For once, he slept soundly, awakening five or six hours later to find light filtering through the mossy curtains covering his windows. The pleasant smell of fresh dew and vegetation filled his nose.

“Nerthus?” he asked, stepping out onto his balcony.

The spryggent appeared a moment later, growing out of the wall. He was so large that he didn’t manifest his entire body, but rather just his torso.

“Yes?”

“You wouldn’t want to do a favor for me, would you?” he asked.

“Of course.”

Then, Elijah gave Nerthus a list of people he needed to talk to. There were only five names, though he did make it clear that Nara could choose the other five. He stressed that they should be the pillars of the grove. The most trusted and strongest among them.

Nerthus said that it would take him a few hours to gather everyone, then disappeared.

In the interim, Elijah enjoyed a cup of coffee, then headed across the grove to the soap-making infrastructure. It was while he was running his fingers along the rim of the very first barrel he’d ever made that Sara found him.

“I carved this one myself, you know,” he said. “One of my first big projects after being stranded here. Until that point, I was doing everything I could just to survive. You know, food, water, shelter. The first big luxury I had was soap.” He turned to look at her, adding, “And now look at it.”

Indeed, there were thirty barrels now. Huge cauldrons to melt the fat as well. Massive glass containers full of infused oil, too. And that wasn’t even considering the workers, all of whom were members of the grove. They’d kept up production, rebranding the soap under the Crying Dragon label. Most of it still went to Ironshore, Gatehold, and Argos, but the profits from selling it elsewhere were significant enough to fund most of the grove’s other endeavors.

Of course, the Hartwood Grove had become an economic powerhouse in other areas, most notably textiles and produce. Hope led a group of more than a dozen Tailors who exclusively used grove-grown materials. The results weren’t the best in the world, but they were close enough that it didn’t matter. The real benefit was that, because of the grove’s vital aura, their products were much easier to produce than most others.

And the produce, grown on Davika’s farms, was even more prized. The grove sold other products as well – wooden tools, weapons, and furniture, coffee, and the services of Druids – diversifying their output in a way that few other organizations could. They even had dedicated Merchants who worked closely with Atticus to get the best deals possible.

In short, the Hartwood Grove was one of the most successful entities in the world, and most of it had been built on the back of soap production.

“No time for nostalgia,” Sara said. “The fat arrived while you were sleeping. They’ve got it stored over there.” She gestured to a nearby cave, which had obviously been expanded and reshaped into a warehouse of sorts. “They transferred it into grove barrels, and they said it needs to soak in the grove’s ethera for at least ten days.”

Elijah shook his head. “We’re going to let it go for a little longer than that.”

“We are?”

“I still have a lot to do,” he told her. “That’s why I asked Atticus if you could hang out with him for a while. Maybe you can learn something from him.”

Then, Elijah went on to explain his intentions, which would take at least a month or two to see to fruition. During that time, the soapers – which was what they preferred to be called – would harvest the most ethera-dense herbs to infuse the oil needed to give the soap its scent. They already had the infrastructure in place, and Nerthus had committed to personally overseeing the growth.

“The idea is to make the best soap I’ve ever made. That hippo was close to high-demigod. Maybe on the cusp of becoming a deity-tier creature,” Elijah explained. “It probably would’ve already gotten there if it hadn’t been for that Tamer.”

“How do you think he managed to enslave it?” Sara asked, clearly knowing that it was a bit of a touchy subject for Elijah.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. If I had to guess, he shackled it when it was young,” he answered. “It just outgrew him. If it hadn’t been driven insane, it would have broken free and probably killed him.”

The other explanation was that the Tamer only enjoyed tentative control over the mad creature. He couldn’t make it do exactly what he wanted, and instead only pushed it in the right direction. In the meantime, he gained experience every time the hippo had killed anything.

Or anyone.

Logically, it wasn’t a sustainable thing – which the Tamer probably knew as well as anyone. Elijah could only guess at the detestable man’s plans, but he suspected that the Tamer intended to use the hippo as long as possible, then shift his focus to raising a properly enslaved beast that he could control more completely.

Just thinking about it made Elijah want to vomit.

The only solace was that the animal had been put out of its misery and that its meat and fat would be put to good use. A lot of people that would have gone hungry would now be fed.

“Carmen said she has some ideas for the bones,” Sara revealed, dragging Elijah from his thoughts.

“Oh, cool. I hope she does something interesting.”

After that, the pair continued to tour the soapmaking facilities. Despite the smell, which combined cooking fat with something more chemical, those few minutes were quite pleasant. Perhaps that was nostalgia. Or maybe it was the subtle sound of nearby waves. It might’ve just been the grove itself, which came with a sense of coziness that Elijah had never found anywhere else.

Either way, he was in a much better mood when Nara led a handful of people – one of which was Miguel – onto the rocky beach.

When they arrived, Miguel asked, “So? What’s this all about?”