TCOB: CHAPTER SEVEN

Brewing Scheme

Longboat village of Loue Province

Ashcol Duchy,

Eris - Ethania.

…

Clyde sighed, staring as the evening sun fell behind the horizon. His seat at the back of the moving farm cart on a rocky pathway was a tad uncomfortable, but he didn't mind too much. At least this time he wasn't bound like a lamb for slaughter.

Behind him, Lorin sat looking very uncomfortable. Aside from the occasional deathly stares Clyde tossed in his direction every ten minutes or so, there was only silence. Any attempts by the young farmer to make small talk were ruthlessly shot down before they could even take off.

"We should―"

"Zip it."

"Your―"

"Zip it."

"..."

"I―"

"Zip it."

"..."

The two rode into the village with Clyde coldly ignoring the greetings of passing peasants.

"Erm… take care―"

BANG!

Clyde shut the door in the farmer's face with bang. Outside, Lorin was left with his hand hanging awkwardly in the air. The peasant farmer slinked off as he suppressed an embarrassed cough.

Inside the hut, Clyde sat on the edge of his bed before calling up his status screen. He sighed as he took stock of his current situation.

|Status|

Host Name: Clyde

Race: Human(Otherworldly)

Skeletal Age: 19

Gender: Male

Titles: N/A

Divinity: 0.2/????

Class: Commoner(Peasant Farmer[Novice])

Lvl: 2/10

XP: 87/100

Base attributes:

HP: 100/100

.

.

…

Crude leather pouch[Storage]: 2 iron coins. 1 large walnut(consumable). A smooth pebble. Conditions of Use; None. Durability; 1/1. Weight; 0.2. Special effect; None.

Equipment: None

Inventory: (EMPTY)

|END|

Clyde sighed as he read through. Although his HP was now capped, it came at the cost of ten iron coins. The thought was very depressing for him. If his memories of this place served him right, he knew it was not easy to make coins as a peasant farmer. Those were his savings. The feeling of loss in Clyde's heart grew stronger when he 'remembered' that his HP―which felt like the only real benefit he received from the priest―would naturally recover with time.

The resentment he felt towards Lorin at that moment grew about two-fold. The bastard even had the guts to eat two of my walnuts! Fuck!

Drawing in a lungful of air, Clyde forced himself to calm down. Now is not the time to be getting emotional… he thought to himself. I need to figure out how to earn some money and if possible, change my class to something more versatile… But how?

Clyde stood up before going to rummage around the room. A few moments later, he dumped a small pile of items on the worktable.

A spare set of clothing and a large, old knife he found underneath the mattress(which he now realised was stuffed with decomposing hay. Ugh!). Some crude shivs were also included as well as a sheet of tanned leather, a half-filled oil lamp, a small spool of yarn with a fishbone needle, a few cooking utensils, a large bag of grain, meat jerky, the farming hoe resting in the corner and his leather pouch containing two coins, a walnut, and a pebble.

This was the entirety of Clyde's possession. Aside from the completely hideous hut, of course.

"...I-I can work with this?" Clyde muttered in self-doubt. Then, with a quiet exhale, he composed himself. Just treat it like a fucking game, you fucking dimwit. No need to get so worked up. Ahh… Now, aside from material possessions I should have something useful on my status screen, right?

...Foraging and basic crafting, huh?

Hmm…

With a contemplative expression, Clyde left the hut before returning several minutes later with an armful of resources. He dumped a few pieces of wood of various sizes on the table alongside a few handfuls of berries, nuts, and herbs before taking a step back.

Arms crossed, Clyde silently stared at the pile, gears turning in his head. Seconds later, a strange light glinted in his eyes.

I can work with this, he thought with a bit more confidence.

…

The next morning.

"Ah…" Clyde exhaled as he stared at the items arranged on the table. The oil lamp illuminating the worktable had sputtered out a few minutes ago and Clyde struggled to make out images in the dim light of dawn. Dark circles underscored his reddened eyes and his lips were chapped from dehydration.

But with a small smile, Clyde picked up an item before appraising it.

[Appraisal check… | Check passed]

[Crude bow: +5 base damage | STA drain penalty; 0.1pts/min on idle | 0.5 pts per shot]

[Conditions of use: None]

[Special effect: None]

[Weight: 5]

[Durability: 5/5}

[Estimated Cost; 4 small pouches of grain]

Clyde nodded briefly before he began appraising the other items.

[Crude leather Quiver(Storage): Maximum capacity; 30 arrows]

[Conditions of use: None]

[Special effect: None]

[Weight: 1]

[Durability: 2/2]

[Estimated Cost: 1½ small pouches of grain}

[Crude arrow(consumable): +2 penetrative damage]

[Conditions of use: None]

[Special effect: Inflicts bleed status between 0.1~0.5pts/min per every registered effective damage]

[Weight: 0.2]

[Durability: 0.2/0.2]

[Estimated Cost: a handful of grain]

[Crude leather bag(Storage): Maximum weight capacity; 20]

[Conditions of use: None]

[Special effect: None]

[Weight: 1]

[Durability: 2/2]

[Estimated Cost; 1½ small pouches of grain]

After confirming the results of his labour, Clyde packed everything away before lumbering towards his mattress and collapsing into a deep slumber.

…

When Clyde woke again, it was already evening.

As he sat up from his crude bed, he felt his belly rumble in protest as a screen flashed in the corner of his vision.

[You have been inflicted with the hunger status | Health is deducted at a rate of 0.1pts/hr]

[Max cap for stamina is reduced by ten percent | Status effect induced]

Clyde frowned before sighing as he went about to find himself a meal. A strip of jerky and a handful of berries and nuts later, he began contemplating his upcoming debut.

His plan was simple. Leave the village for a nearby town (preferably not Neverna for many, many reasons) and attempt to enlist as a yeoman to receive a bit of (highly relevant) combat training before considering anything else.

If the events of the past few days were any indicator of things to come, it was clear that in this world strength meant everything. If he were marginally stronger than he was earlier, it would have been impossible for an ignorant farmer such as Lorin to accuse him of insanity and demonic possession in the first place, talk less of forcing him into an uncomfortable(and possibly dangerous) situation.

Clyde was sure there were probably many other methods of acquiring strength in this world, but the most viable one for him now was to enlist a Yeoman under a noble. In order to do that, he would have to leave this place as the village constables were already fully staffed and had stopped taking new recruits. This is where the real problem begins.

Clyde realised to his dismay that, unlike other freemen peasants, he was a villein which meant he was legally tied to the land. In return for being allowed to farm the land on which he lived, he had to give some of the food he grew each year to the village head who in turn paid tribute to the lord. Also, if he ever wanted to leave, or even get married, he needed to receive the lord's permission first as, according to the law, he was someone else's property.

Clyde briefly considered buying his freedom back but quickly scrapped the idea. That plan would take years given his current rate, hence wasn't realistic at all. His only option left was to flee his newfound owner's grasp and find salvation somewhere else.

So, with a plan in place, Clyde began the preparations for his big escape.