The days since the knighting had passed by quietly as both the village and myself adjusted to the new dynamic between us.
For me, the largest developments were that the relationships with my housemates had begun to knit back together. Gunther began defrosting towards me after I spoke with him yesterday about becoming my official steward, and had once again greeted me warmly come morning. It was always nice to see more faces appear in my classes as well.
Today though the focus was on the flying lessons with Cynthia, with the two of us disappearing into the woods to practice. This had been the pattern over the past few days, and so far the lessons hadn’t gone all that well for me. I wasn’t sure if it was the fact that I had spent most of my life as a decidedly ground based race, but I had proven myself to be an extremely slow learner to the mechanisms of wing-powered flight.
There was far more than I had initially expected to how you were supposed to move your wings around to generate the upwards lift needed. Cynthia spoke of angles and directions incessantly, and trying to implement her lectures while also manually moving my wings was rather difficult. Instead I flapped around haphazardly, trying and failing to right myself in the air.
At least Cynthia didn’t seem to be discouraged all that much by the sorry sight, and was willing to put up with my struggles. She hovered easily in circles overhead, shouting encouragement down at me as I tried to hover over the forest floor.
“Come on Geralt, try and keep those strokes even! You keep knocking yourself off balance down there!”
I bit down on the frustration that was building inside of me. It was harder than Cynthia made it out to be. Focusing on what you were doing and how you were doing it simultaneously was no easy feat. Especially for flying, it wasn't possible to take time to stop and think. You had to always be in motion. Otherwise you would wind up smacking into the dirt like I had already so many times this morning.
There was something to flying that I was missing, something that went beyond the technical theory of flight.
After a few more minutes of clumsy flight, Cynthia apparently had enough of watching me flounder about and directed me to land. As I touched back down with a heavy thump onto the dirt, She landed much more gracefully before coming to speak with me.
“You know Geralt, when we started I still wasn’t fully convinced that there could possibly be a fully grown griffon in existence that didn’t know how their own wings worked. You’ve convinced me though, I don't think anyone could fake being that poor a flyer.” Cynthia shook her head sadly before continuing.
“There is some good news though, I think I’ve got an idea of what the problem here is, or at least the biggest one anyways.” Cynthia pointed towards me accusingly.
“You seem to have absolutely no connection with your own wings. You treat them almost as if they are something separate to yourself, like if you put on a cloak. And like if you were pulling up the hood on your cloak in the rain, you have to think about doing it. You can’t just do it by instinct alone.
And that right there is your problem, Geralt! You’re thinking too much about what you are doing. You need to rely on your instincts more, and just let them guide you. You're a griffon! Flying is in your blood! I can stand here and point out everything you are doing wrong, but I don't think that will help at all."
At this point Cynthia flared her wings and shot into the air. “At some point, you just need to empty your mind, and let your soul take control. Just spread your wings and fly like you know deep down you can, and until you feel it, you can’t know it. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can help much until you get there on your own.”
That might very well have been the most esoteric instruction that I had ever received in my life. But that didn’t mean it was wrong. I absently brushed against the feathers on my chest.
I wasn’t human anymore. I had known that I wasn’t on earth anymore, but I wasn’t even in my own body anymore. But that wasn’t true was it? It might not be a human body, but it was still my body. I moved the limbs, I felt the rise and fall of my chest. I wasn't possessing the body of a griffon, I really was one.
Looking up, I watched as a robin darted between the green summer leaves. If a bird could manage to navigate the difficulties of flight with understanding born purely of instinct, then it shouldn’t be something so out of reach to me.
In my heart, I still considered myself to have a human soul. But there had to be parts there that went beyond that, that were part of my new griffon nature. When I walked, when I left my mind behind and just moved, I could do so even on four strange limbs on my first day.
That had been easier to wrap my head around. Walking was not some foreign concept to either race I’ve lived as. If I was going to fly though, I would need to reconcile these two parts of me. Let them mesh together, and become part of a whole. I would never get off the ground until that happened.
While I knew that this was not going to be easy, it was a road that I needed to walk. Stretching my wings once more, I leapt up into the air for what must have been the umpteenth time that day. This time though, things would be different.
Instead of thinking about the movement of my wings, I focused on the open expanse of sky. The open air, the wind that blew through the leaves. This was something that persisted in whatever world I found myself in, the blue of the sky above was the same regardless of the differences in the world below.
I wanted to reach into that sky, to pull myself off the ground and beyond the trees. To see the world from new heights. And before I knew it, I looked around and saw the southern mountains clear as day over the top of the trees swaying beneath me.
I had done it! I was flying, actually flying. I took in the sensation of my wings that keep my aloft, feeling the muscles move subconsciously like the beating of my heart.
The movement I made that realization I immediately stumbled. Panicking, at lest I was able to beat my wings well enough break my fall. Cynthia was ecstatic about my progress though once I was back on the ground.
“You did it Geralt! That was the best I've seen you do since we started.” She let out a light giggle. “I think you’ve almost reached the same flying skill as any chick just hopping around for the first time. You’ve seemed to start to figure out that those wings on your back are actually part of your body.”
“Careful with the sass there Cynthia, that's your liege you're speaking to like that,” I replied with mirth in my voice.
Cynthia’s eyes shot open in terror, before she noticed the smile on my beak and pouted at me. “That was mean. Don’t go scaring me like that!”
She recovered quickly though, and resumed the role of a teacher. "Anyways, now I can actually begin to teach you to fly properly. You still have progress to make in embracing your own sense of flight, but for now let's just focus on keeping your strokes consistent.”
Cynthia soared into the air, and called up for me to follow. Trying to replicate my earlier success, I followed up off the ground into the air.
Soon we had progressed to directional flying instead of just hovering. The two of us skimmed over the summer forest, and I couldn’t help the dumb grin that covered my face. Cynthia only permitted me to fly just above the treetops, fearing me crippling myself whenever I suddenly dropped out of the air. This didn't damper my mood in the slightest though. The sensation of flight was amazing.
It felt like everything I had hoped it would be. The sense of freedom, the sense of adventure. Taking flight for the first time made the worries of the world below fade into the background, feeling as though the weight of the world had fallen from your shoulders.
That wasn’t to say that I was the most graceful flyer to ever take to the air. Cynthia deftly cut through the sky, watching me carefully as I flew. My own wingstrokes were far less elegant than the practiced grace on display. Instead my wings pumped furiously to keep me airborne, as I tried just to stay as balanced as possible and not veer off into the treetops.
It was not long before I began to tire, and Cynthia directed the two of us to set down on a barren expanse of smooth rock cladding the side of a hill. The break in the vegetation created almost a natural runway, and I was given the chance to practice gliding down into a more refined landing rather than drop like a rock.
As we sat there resting our wings, I felt a headache growing from the two halves of my mind warring with each other. To distract myself from the dull ache, I took to observing this neat little geological formation that we had stumbled across.
The smooth dark stone was arranged in countless layers stacked on top of each other, creating something that looked akin to a gigantic natural staircase which climbed up the side of the hill. A jolt of recognition shot through my mind as I gazed at the beauty of nature. This... this might be slate! Or shale, both were usable for my needs.
Excitedly I scrambled to my feet to make a closer inspection of the stone, and confirm that my judgement had been correct.
The stone appeared completely uniform to my eyes. The grains within were so small I couldn’t see any, almost as if it had been cast. I scooted over where a single brave weed was growing out from a crack in the stone. Picking up some of the broken chips around it, I brought them up to take a closer look. Those chips were small plates of rock, with smooth breaks along the planes.
That all but confirmed it. This here, was a slate deposit. By pure happenstance, we had come across the stone that eluded my searches on foot for weeks after a single day of flying. I felt almost like dancing across the wondrous rock.
Cynthia noticed my brimming excitement, and raised her brows questioningly. I enthusiastically shared my findings with her, and she gave me a small smile.
“I’ve never seen you so excited before Geralt. I guess this blackboard idea is a really a big deal to you huh,” Cynthia said.
“Yes!” I nearly shouted as I spun to face her with a manic grin. “The blackboard is the founding element of a modern education, a key to knowledge for the masses. You know how in class we have to practice our writing in dirt and how hard it is for everyone to really see and understand what is going on? Well, with a huge blackboard at the front everyone will be able to see what's happening.
Besides, you can also make smaller tablets for each of the students to work on themselves. I don’t know if Felian has enough chalk to make that practical right now, but I’m sure that we can find something similar to write with eventually.”
Cynthia cut through my dreaming with an intrusion of unfortunate reality. “The real issue I think would be how do you expect us to actually mine this stuff? I don't think that we have any tools for it around Blackwood. And Gilda is already so busy trying to rebuild all the pitchforks we tore apart for the farms, I don’t think she would be very happy if you asked her to make some picks just for your little project.”
She quickly added on, “Unless you think that this is more important of course, you’re the lord after all.”
I shook my head at that. I had been the lord for not even a month, I hoped that I could last a little longer than that before letting the power go to my head. The harvest was infinitely more important to Blackwood than my side project. There were a few hurdles I saw that would need to be overcome to get my precious slate it seems.
Initially I had hoped to do it all myself, slowly mining out my board and carefully dragging it back through the woods. I had nothing else to fill my days with at the time, and so I couldn't foresee any complaints with that. Unfortunately now I couldn't just disappear every single day, and my life would only continue to get more complicated as time went on.
Besides, as isolated as the source was out in the woods it was almost guaranteed that any mined pieces would have to be flown back to the village. Without any proper trails out there, a piece big enough to satisfy my requirements would be unlikely to survive the journey over rough and hilly ground. Not to mention the lack of equipment Cynthia already pointed out.
In the future, it may be possible for us to start a proper slate mine out there in the woods, but that would require the addition of trails and a proper logistics chain to make the whole idea feasible.
Maybe we would be able to solve all of this during our trip to the city. Speaking of the trip to Griffenheim, it was about time that we returned to the village to so I could check on the preparations being made.
The trip north to the city was shaping up to be a major event around the village. Such a journey was a rare thing, and only reliably happened each year after the harvest. The whole ordeal would take us several days just to travel, making it simply not worth the effort for mundane needs.
Apparently there used to be a smaller market town in the area that Blackwood sold to, but that place was no more. Only a few years back, it had been the unlucky victim of a massive demon attack, and had crumbled under the onslaught before help could arrive. The ashen remains of the town still sat in the area, and we would be forced to pass by it in our travels.
The few who survived had fled seeking sanctuary in Griffenheim, whose defenses had managed to withstand the horde that pursued them. Not without cost, so the rumors went. Apparently you could still see the gouges clawed into the stone walls around the gates. The gate itself looked new though.
As the plans were being drawn up, the most pressing issue on my mind was one of logistics. How were we supposed to transport everything? I knew that back in the day cargo was reliant on having oxen or mules to pull carts around, but we didn’t have anything like that around Blackwood.
My concerns earned me a tired sigh from Gunther. Apparently I had once again shown my complete ignorance.
“We’ll pull our own carts. ‘Course cows can pull them too, but we don’t have any of those here in Blackwood. Fortunately for you, I don’t think that nobles find themselves hitched up much. Besides, we probably only need one cart to move what we’re selling. Getting back though, we can most likely hire on a talbar boat to take us back down the river. All depends on how much you end up buying there.”
A small smile emerged on Gunther’s face. “After all, it’s not like we checked how much money we are going to be getting from the bounties.”
As he said that my mind went to the token that Lord Silas had left us after the clean up operation. That wooden emblem was proof of our deeds, and a tiny scrap of paper covered in names that we could collect coins for killing.
At some point I would need to come up with my own noble crest for signing off on documents? That was something that I’d never considered needing. Usually it was just a signature, but a stamp or symbol carried more value in an illiterate society. I'd ask about that once I reached the court to pay my respects.
Oh the court. The single most dreaded thing that I would have to face on this journey. While being a recluse of a lord hiding out in my village might let me avoid that impending disaster, that probably wasn't the wisest course of action.
Lord Silas had already made it clear to me that night drinking that he expected me to come to his aid in politics, and I couldn't betray my lord at the first opportunity. Especially not when they were essentially standing on top of me proximity-wise. In essence my political objectives on this trip were to make my official debut, then sit back to try and figure out what was going on in politics before I embarrassed whatever faction I was supposed to be a part of.
My worrying was broken by Gunther speaking up again. “Something that I wanted to ask before you leave, what're you planning for the miners? You’ve talked about how you want to hire some griffs to dig up your slate, but how long are you planning on having them sticking around here?”
“I was hoping to actually convince them to move here permanently. And we don’t need griffons who are used to digging properly down into the ground, just some average laborers can work well enough in the open mine. Hell even I would have been able to. Besides, they need to help cut a trail out there for the stone to move over.
But besides that all, I want to see if I can bring more folks to come and live here anyways. To try and build this place up into a proper town.”
Gunther replied without much enthusiasm to my ideas. “Yeah, I can understand that much I guess. I don’t have much love for town life, but if you want to try and build your own, well I guess that's your right. Besides, a market is needed around here anyways for all the villages, so someone has to take that job.”
I glanced to the side to judge the frown on his face. Maybe he was used to the stereotypical medieval city, but hopefully we could avoid as much of that as possible as we grew. I vaguely recalled that not all dark age cities were all as bad as believed, so maybe we could make it work. Wide open streets, and neatly arranged blocks could do much I felt.
That was hardly my specialty though. My focus would be on the river. A large river passed by Blackwood only a short distance to the west. I had wondered why it wasn’t built directly on the shore, and instead on the crest of a hill. Apparently unnaturally caused floods were not unheard of, and risked the village being swept away.
Rivers were too valuable to pass up on though, and the cities and towns that stood on them apparently had complicated gates and sluices built to try and control the raging waters whenever they occurred. Those sounded like impressive works, and something to pay a visit as a tourist.
My goal with the river in Blackwood though, was to turn the waters into the industrial lifeline. While I may know nothing about the design of a city or town, what I did understand was the world of math and physics. I was certain that the laws of nature would remain true in this world much the same.
The waters of the river were an easily accessible source of energy, one that could be drawn upon with a literal wheel stuck into it. That wheel could then power all sorts of repetitive motion, from milling grain to cutting wood to even a massive hammer.
That river would be the source of every industry I felt that was within reach. The only question was what to build first. That ended up being a fairly obvious choice to me.
“A mill? We already have a milling stone in the village.” Gunther informed me with a raised brow.
“Yes, but isn’t it far too tiring to work the millstone with just your own power? I want to go and build one fueled by the river. That will let us grind our grains far better, and as our fields grow in scale alongside the village we need the extra production capacity for later. Best to prepare early.” I gestured about excitedly as I spoke, images of bevel gears already swirling in my mind.
Recognition sparked in Gunther’s eyes as he pieced together what I was talking about. “Oh! I get what you’re talking about now. I’ve seen one of those places before. And you say that you can build one of those for us here? Now that's something I can properly get behind. I’ve worked the stone before, and it’s not easy work I can say that for sure.”
The project would give me something to occupy my mind on the trip. I just wished paper and parchment wasn’t so expensive, and I could make as many sketches as I wanted. Another reason to get my reusable writing surfaces as soon as possible.
The following morning, the small caravan began to set out on the trail leading us northwards. Progress was undoubtedly going to be slow and tiring, with only our own legs to rely on. Despite it being close to the peak of summer, there was still a slight chill that hung in the northern air just past dawn.
As we left the village, I watched as Gunther waved at us before he set off to work. He would be leading the village in my absence, just like he had before I arrived in this world. In a way, it was almost a return to form for him.
Cynthia walked besides me at the front of the little convoy. She would be the one dealing with the actual trading, since I had no frame of reference for the value of anything we were looking for. We brought the looted pouch of coins with us as well, something for her to work with while I collected the rest of the funds.
As we walked I was eager to see what the rest of the world was like. So far I had spent my time in this world within the confines of a single village. Blackwood was a lovely place and I hoped that I could lead them to prosperity, but the hope for adventure still stuck with me.
There was a wider world out there, and I had been dragged into the affairs of those who shaped it. From political banquets to mountain fortresses, I wondered just what awaited me in the future. I had been tossed into the struggles of the wider world, and it was time to sink and swim. My wings shifted on my back anxiously.
Hopefully it would be swim.