HC: Handyman | Ch. 224 - Field Remedy

The ten elite marabous had dropped one lance and two skill books. The lance had great stats. 

Stork Lance (Rare)

Forged from the beak of a dreadful stork. Though less refined than smith-forged weapons, its piercing power is formidable in the hands of an experienced knight.

Attack: 54

Block: 6

Durability: 88

Effect: Successful strikes have a 10% chance to apply Bleed.

Requirement: Knight.

None of them could use it, though. Horace had already listed it at the auction house.

The real win had been the [Ghastly Wail] skill book—dropped twice. 

Ghastly Wail (Uncommon)

This ledger contains notes on the psychological effects of certain sounds. The description and notes seem to focus on fear.

Effects:

Active. Emits a burst of sound in a 10-meter radius;

Enemies affected are inflicted with Fear for 3 seconds.

Cooldown: 30 seconds.

Both Horace and Marie had claimed one.

At the time, Jack had thought it made sense for Horace to get it. A tank at the heart of a skirmish, triggering fear around him? That could swing a whole encounter.

But Horace had… other plans.

CAAAWWW!

An alien shriek split the fortress courtyard, sharp and guttural, like metal dragged across glass.

Marie, who’d been sitting on a log chatting with Rob and Amari, yelped and tumbled sideways.

“Horace! You little—” she growled, already reaching for a bomb from her belt.

Cackling, Horace darted away, drawing attention from nearby patrolling soldiers.

“Bahaha! The look on your face, Marie!”

“You stupid brat! Didn’t your mom teach you any manners?” she yelled, pelting him with crackers.

It was the third time Horace had crept up behind her, unleashed the wail, and bolted like a gremlin.

Jack didn’t even look up. He returned to the task at hand. Something was distorting the horn’s sound, and he was pretty sure he’d found the culprit: a swelling inside the bone.

Carving the interior was delicate work. He slid his hand into the horn’s larger opening, fingers wrapped around a thin blade. Visibility was nonexistent, so he relied on touch, feeling his way across the uneven surface until the tip of the knife caught on the bulge.

With firm, deliberate strokes, he scraped at the bone. The angle was awkward, the resistance stiff. Progress came slowly, but after a few minutes of careful work, the obstruction was gone—or at least, he hoped so.

He ran his fingers along the inside and peered through the opposite end. The inner wall felt smoother now, without any snags.

He raised the horn to his lips and blew through the narrow end.

A clear rasp echoed out, rough but tuned—no more warping tones or strange vibrations.

“Good.”

Next, he picked up a piece of sandstone and began polishing the surface. He worked in slow circles, focusing especially on the edges, smoothing the rim of the shorter end until it felt rounded and even.

Dust flaked off in a pale film. He blew across the horn again, brushing away the residue, then traced it with his fingertips. Smooth—almost like polished wood, though the faint grain of bone still lingered.

Satisfied, he set it down and waited.

Congratulations! You’ve crafted [Cow Horn].

Crafting grade: C-

+6500 XP in Bard.

Cow Horn (Uncommon)

A horn of a domestic cow that was polished, cleaned, and turned into an instrument.

Durability: 23

Overtones: 1

Innovating Pioneer: +1 overtone. 

“Yes!” So he really was the first in the game to craft this item. [Innovating Pioneer] wouldn’t have triggered otherwise.

He’d hoped as much—he hadn’t seen a single blowing horn for sale on the market or auction house—but it still felt good to have confirmation.

The cow horn could only make one overtone. Two, thanks to [Innovating Pioneer]. That meant just three distinct notes: the fundamental, plus the two overtones.

He raised it to his lips and blew experimentally.

A raspy wheeze escaped. No pitch. Just breath.

He coughed, chuckled. He was used to ocarinas, which needed hardly any air. This was a different beast entirely.

Licking his lips, he adjusted his grip and tried again. Still nothing.

He narrowed his eyes. How could something so simple be this stubborn?

He flipped open his notepad and scrolled down to the section on horn technique. After jogging his memory, he repositioned: lips relaxed but sealed, horn just inside his mouth, one hand placed below his ribcage to check his breath support.

This time, he focused. He inhaled deep, steady, from the diaphragm. Feet planted. Posture tall.

Then he blew.

The horn roared to life with a sudden, piercing note—sharp, triumphant.

For half a second.

Then it sputtered out, collapsing into a sound that could only be described as a musical burp.

“Where’s the party?” Marie called from across the yard.

Laughter followed.

Just now, it had sounded exactly like those party horns people blew at birthday tables.

“Funny,” Jack muttered, turning the horn over in his hands.

The instrument worked fine. He just needed practice—and now that he had a horn, he was planning to put in the time.

But before using the rarer horn they'd found to craft something fancy, Jack wanted to understand the instrument better.

A memory surfaced.

He was thirteen, walking into a music shop with his dad to pick out his first real guitar. Up to then, he'd been practicing on a beat-up thing his dad had rescued from a house-cleaning job—half-broken, strings buzzed, body chipped.

He barely knew the basic chords, but with graduation coming up, his dad had offered to buy him one. At the store, Jack had fallen hard for a flashy electric guitar kit. The amp had distortion effects, the body was sleek with flames down the side. It looked cool. It felt cool.

Two months later, he knew he’d made the wrong choice. The neck was too thin, slightly warped. It wouldn’t stay in tune. The amp was a hassle to carry around, and he could barely practice unless he was home. An acoustic would’ve been far more practical—and probably more enjoyable.

If only he’d waited, learned more, figured out what kind of guitar suited him…

He wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

First, he’d learn to play. Get a feel for what worked. Only then would he use the shagrat boss’s horn to craft something better.

That way, even if the horn is rudimentary, I can still help the team. 

With renewed focus, Jack adjusted his posture, loosened his embouchure, and blew into the horn again.

A steadier blare answered him, the note holding longer, clearer.

He inhaled deeply, engaging his diaphragm, and closed his eyes. Felt the tension in his core. Focused.

Then he blew again.

And again.

And again.

“H-hey, Jack.”

He opened his eyes. Amari stood beside him, looking sheepish.

“Uh? Amari? What’s up?”

“Listen… would you mind maybe—”

Before he could finish, the rest of the team chimed in.

“Are you killing a goose over there?” Marie called out.

“Jack, take that thing somewhere else,” Rob groaned. “I’m already bleeding from my eyes and ears.”

Jack glanced at the NPCs. The One-Eyes were huddled together near the goats, throwing wary glances his way. It looked like they were plotting a mutiny.

He scanned the area for Esther, Riku, and Christoff—but they’d all vanished, probably taken shelter behind a wall or barrel.

Jack laughed under his breath. Few things in the world were worse than hearing someone practice an instrument badly.

He raised a hand. “Okay, okay! Message received. My apologies to everyone. I am leaving now.”

As he turned toward the back of the fortress, a cheer rose from the One-Eyes behind him.

He made his way to his thriving hives. The older colony had already raised a queen, and she was laying steadily now. He smiled at the sight. Royal jelly was still his biggest source of income.

Climbing up the battlement, he nodded in satisfaction. Up here, facing the open air and well away from the courtyard, the horn’s sound wouldn’t echo as much—or drive anyone to tears.

He brought the horn to his lips, ready to resume practice—

Your mead has aged successfully.

+600XP in Brewing

Congratulations! You’ve reached level 10 in [Brewing]!

You’ve reached the journeyman tier in the brewing profession!

You’re now a journeyman brewer, lvl. 1.

[Brewmaster’s Insight], [Brew], and [Spirits Aging] have been upgraded.

[Brewing] and [Bushcraft] synergize.

You’ve learned a new skill: [Field Remedy].

[Bard], [Pottery], and [Beekeeping] synergize.

You’ve learned a new recipe: [The Buzzing Carriers].

[Bard], [Pottery], [Beekeeping], and [Bushcraft] synergize.

You’ve learned a new recipe: [Woodland Melodrama].

“Whoa!”

The mead in the cellar had finally kept aging—and with it, Jack broke through the bottleneck that had been keeping him from reaching journeyman tier in [Brewing].

“Alright! Let’s see what these upgrades are all about.”

He started with the upgraded versions of his bread-and-butter brewing skills—the ones Gretchen had first taught him when he picked up the craft.

Brewmaster’s Insight (Common)

Skill level: 2

Skill description: You can see beyond what is obvious and find out more information about things related to the craft of brewing.

Skill effects: Passive. Highlights the ability to discern the essence or hidden nature of brewing ingredients.

Previously, it had only worked on honey. Now, it applied to everything. Curious, Jack pulled up the info on a bottle of spring water from his inventory.

Spring Water (Common)

Drawn from high-altitude aquifers, this crystal-clear spring water seeps through layers of rock and mineral-rich earth before emerging in cold, slow trickles.

Flavor profile: [Clean]

“Hm. Flavor profile?” That was new. What could it mean?

He scrolled to the next skill, hoping it held answers.

Brew (Common)

Skill level: 2

Skill description: After adventuring through the wild, vestiges of yeast remain on your hands. When you mix drinks, you transfer these yeast traces, which ferment sugars into alcohol, enhancing the flavor.

Skill effects: 

Passive. You can brew drinks.

Aside from the level, nothing had changed. Maybe it just unlocked higher-tier recipes. He moved on.

Spirits Aging (Uncommon)

Skill level: 2

Skill description: By giving the drink time, the taste becomes more refined and its effects stronger.

Skill effects: Passively ages drinks. Chances of successful aging decrease by 48% per tier.

Previously, the penalty had been 50%. A mere two percent improvement didn’t sound like much, but when brews needed to age through multiple tiers, the difference was significant.

Next came the synergy recipes.

Field Remedy (Uncommon)

Since ancient times, strong spirits have doubled as medicine in the hands of resourceful travelers.

Effect: Active. Toss a bottle of spirits at an ally to cleanse them of Bleed debuffs.

Jack chuckled. The image of him lobbing bottles at his wounded, poisoned friends was a little ridiculous. But after what happened in the last wave, he knew how dangerous debuffs could be. If it weren’t for the towers, the marabous would’ve overrun the fortress. Having some protection against bleed debuffs wouldn’t hurt.

The final two synergy recipes were etchings. One depicted bees flying between flowers. The other showed them hovering around bushes. What caught his eye, though, was that the second etching recipe was the first he’d ever seen in full color. Usually, they were just linework, but this one detailed every shade that would go into the glaze.

For a synergy involving four minors, it had to be something powerful.

He still had several questions. He had no idea of what difference knowing the flavor profile would make, or what these etching recipes did. But he’d dive into it as soon as he had the chance.

Happy with his progress, Jack returned to his practice. If he was going to master this horn, he had to start with the basics.

There was little information on how to play a horn carved from bone—it wasn’t exactly a popular instrument. But from the bits he’d found, one thing was clear: it all came down to breath control and lip tension. It wasn’t about brute strength.

He took a deep breath, tightened his core, and blew.

A sharp, raw note rang out into the open air beyond the fortress.

He kept blowing, again and again, feeling out the resistance in the horn. His cheeks puffed up instinctively each time, but he remembered what he’d read online—the pressure shouldn’t come from his cheeks. It had to come from his diaphragm.

He adjusted, focused his breath, and tried again.

That helped. The tone began to settle.

With each attempt, the fear of unleashing a chaotic squeal faded. His lips relaxed, and he focused on steady airflow.

A few minutes later, he managed a clean, confident note that held from start to finish—steady, low, and clear.

You’ve played the horn. +1XP in [Bard].

“Yes!” he shouted, pumping a fist. The system was tracking his progress. That was a good sign.

He kept going. Ten minutes in, he could sound the horn with consistency, long, steady notes without strain.

“Alright. Step one: complete. I can blow the horn without making it sound like a cat in a grinder.”

Next step: overtones.

Ch. 223 - Marabous

INDEX

Ch. 225 - Overtones