The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

Having unexpected guests stay on his farm and being unable to provide a stimulating and entertaining experience was Jotem’s worst nightmare. It featured heavily in several of the problematic nightmares that kept him from sleeping through the night. After giving the Nether King a tour of the farm, he retreated to his room to wallow in shame.

By the end of the tour of the aspects of the farm, the Nether King seemed profoundly preoccupied. Undoubtedly, he felt deeply perturbed by how simple Jotem’s compound was but was too polite to make harsh comments about it. Jotem’s daydreams, which had admittedly distracted him a little on the trip back from Malloon to the farm, had featured the Nether King being so impressed by his hospitality that he invited Jotem back to his own home. They swiftly became best friends, both sharing a taste for the finer things in life.

Jotem imagined the Nether King lived in a massive complex in the outer reaches of the Nether territory. Everything was obsidian, jade, and gold, on a moon without the chaotic environment that so afflicted him, allowing direct looking up into the wide and gorgeous universe above. They would sip glimmering liquors out of martini glasses and the Nether King couldn’t stop laughing at Jotem’s insightful humor.

Yet all that crumbled after facing the reality of his situation. He had a small house slathered with mud and a few lumps covered in the Ara Fruit vin. And, his homestead achieved such a miserable visage while the weather was being uncharacteristically charitable. Had it been a bad storm, the Nether King would have had to eat mud in order to ask his questions.

Jotem released his grip on gravity and his body sank into the swinging hammock on which he slept. Who am I kidding… I might be descended from an Origin Beast, but I never knew my father. I’m just another abandoned kid, unable to even fend for myself. I got lucky. And now that the luck has run out and I’ve spent my savings-

A knock at the door interrupted his pity party. Jotem cleared his throat several times to make his voice sound more resonant before answering. “Another visitor? At this hour? By all means, I am simply… reclining.”

Again, the Nether King poked his head into the room. “Do you know much about which parts of the Ara Fruit are most valuable?”

Jotem followed the strangely animated Nether King, his mood buoyed back up to cautious optimism; the fact the Nether King came back to speak with him was a good sign. In the main living area, the still unconscious Armel had been moved to a very sophisticated but alien-looking low couch. On the table were several sliced Ara Fruits.

Jotem pointed at the couch, unable to stop himself. “This strange bit of elongated comfort is…?”

“When my home was redecorated my… friend gave me several sample pieces of furniture, to see which I would like.” The Nether King scratched his cheek, casting his eyes around the interior of the farmhouse. “Obviously, not a great fit style-wise, but I figure we might need the extra seats with us all staying here for a bit. I’ll probably need to make a table by hand to fit us all. Anyway, I was looking at these fruits. This portion came out fine, but these black lines worry me.”

The Nether King pointed to half of the quartered fruit, which had stark black tentacles running through the valuable flesh. Jotem approached the table and shook his head sorrowfully. “Unfortunately, the flavor of those pieces will be bitter and sickly. A strange parasite infests Ara Fruit; you cut these fruits into pieces, yes? You severed part of the body when you did that, which caused the rest of the body to enter into a rancid state as a defense mechanism. Many have tried to master the method, but harvesting by hand requires preternatural fortune. The impact from the wind picking up the fruit and smashing it to ground concusses the parasite perfectly. Without wielding the same sort of thunderous shock-”

The Nether King pulled another Ara Fruit out of his interspatial ring. For the first time, Jotem noticed how strangely long his fingers were, as he could wrap up most of the relatively large fruits. His hands blurred in a twitching motion. The fruit erupted in an explosion of pulp. Some sprayed Jotem in the face.

He couldn’t help but think that the whole room would stink of Ara fruit for days because of it. However, this figure was his savior, so he didn’t say anything.

The Nether King clicked his tongue and got out another one. He executed a rapid squeeze again, taking a bit more care. The hard exterior of the plant cracked. Still with just his fingers, the Nether King sliced open the fruit and revealed the gleaming pink flesh. He had successfully shocked the parasite into death. After a single failed attempt. Weirdly, the display of competency brought back Jotem’s sour mood.

The Nether King frowned and looked at Jotem. “But the parasite’s body is still there, isn’t it? Do you need to remove it?”

Jotem shrugged. “Remember, this is simply feed for Arakis Beasts. Without knowledge, they will not even notice.”

The Nether King gave him an ominous look and stomped outside. With several sighs about how unfortunate his life had been recently, Jotem once again retired to his hammock. He lay there for another hour before a new knock came at the door.

When he opened it, the Nether Herald Demetrius stood there with his hands folded behind his back. The old being offered Jotem a small smile. “Greetings, Sir Jotem. I just wished to come and thank you for your hospitality. Without your graciousness and the actions of the Nether King, we would not be here today. If there is anything we can do to repay you, please let me know.”

Jotem undulated his body, feeling like the Nether Herald’s comment rubbed a cooling balm directly on his insecurities at this moment. He felt tears forming in his eyes; the last month had been a horrific time as he watched every business he touched wither and collapse due to the actions of Drane Swacc. However, no matter how much he researched, he couldn’t quite figure out how the other man had done it. So he had begun to worry he was just encountering bad luck.

Or he was bad luck. So now.

Jotem blinked several times, as his manners reasserted themselves. “...that is excellent to hear. Upon my word and generosity, I pride myself. All other accolades are unnecessary to me. Just make yourself at home. And if you crave the comforts of home, bring it to my attention and I will see it done.”

Demetrius nodded, a happy smile on his face. “Excellent. By the way, have you seen the Nether King? He doesn’t appear to be within his room.”

“He patrols the exterior, so far as I can tell. Truly, that man is tireless,” Jotem watched the Nether Herald turn away to seek the Nether King out and Jotem found himself falling into step behind him. He, too, wished to know what the man in the black robe was up to. The restless energy the black-robed figure possessed had a magnetizing effect.

When they walked outside, the weather was so mild that Jotem gasped. The wild felt mild and the rain had vanished entirely. Then he gasped again, almost biting his tongue in the process, as he looked around and found that the area around his farm had been transformed during his brief pity party. First and most importantly, the Nether King had somehow dug up the area around the house and created low slopes in every direction around the front part of the farm. The physical presence of dirt walls guided the worst of the wind away from them.

Second, the carrot pits had been largely demolished and redug into neat but cramped rows. Jotem’s eyes bulged as he scanned them; he counted almost a thousand carrots, planted in neat lines in front of him. Beyond the carrot pits were small freshly dug piles of ground, which signified the Nether King had also had the time to plant something new, although Jotem couldn’t tell what it was. Around these he had built up a higher wind break. But most of all, his eyes inflated to dangerous sizes at the group of three small, sullen-looking creatures resembling bats without any wing membrane crouching on the far side of the carrot fields.

Their thin, bones limbs were folded awkwardly around them. They varied in shades of reddish-brown or dull gold, with long snouts and oversized ears.

“Ah good, you’re up. I want your help on something,” The Nether King said to Demetrius. Then he noticed Jotem and his gaze and followed it to the target. “Weird creatures, right? I found these things creeping around back by the Ara fruit. They seem a bit small to raise for any sort of livestock, but they are intelligent, so I didn’t just get rid of them.”

“Those are Arakis Beasts,” Jotem licked his lips. The group looked sullenly over at the Nether King, their eyes never leaving his movements. “Juveniles, obviously but… they are still quite agile- did you let them bite you?!”

The Nether King gave Jotem a strangely flat look. “Why the fixation on biting? These little guys aren’t fast enough to touch me. Anyway, Demetrius, look at these patterns I’ve been working on. So I’ll throw up short-term Engravings and whirl them through the storms-”

Jotem decided it wasn’t worth it to try and explain to the Nether King the complex history of the Arakis Beasts or their strict, hierarchical play fighting that involved bites. Because the proof was right in front of him; the three juveniles were crouching down and just waiting there. They didn’t seek to escape, they didn’t try and steal the Ara Fruit laying around.

Even more telling was the way that the juveniles stared at the Nether King. The fixation most likely meant they had set them as their marks, although Jotem had never heard of it happening to anyone but a mature Arakis Beast. These monsters were incredibly intelligent and also incredibly adaptable. And once in their life, they could choose a foe to set their sights upon. Their bodies began to work overdrive, trying to bridge the gap between their capability and their target.

Weirdly, Jotem felt a strange pity for these juveniles.

Demetrius ran his fingers across the papers on the table. “These… are patterns. Complex, unfolding patterns across the whole of the sky? Then this- Ah, Malloon. Yes, it is best to use them to absorb some of the wasted patterns… but won’t there begin to be a troubling accumulation of these swirls in the next five years?”

The two Nether individuals leaned closer together above the table. The Nether King grimaced. “Yes, but I don’t think it can be avoided. Slower patterns accumulate for longer but have worse consequences. And as far as I can tell, this will just be a particularly bad storm-”

“Empowered both with Aether and Nether. That sort of storm will be more weapon than natural,” Demetrius observed. “Can’t you use the friction between Aether and Nether to take care of some of this radiation?”

“With my energy, there is no friction between the two. That’s why we can get the efficiency in some of the parts here-” The Nether King pulled one of the papers aside and pointed to another pattern underneath it. “It ends up being worth it. And it’s not like many people seem to be spending time outside anyway. And at least this way, it will manifest as a peaceful period closer to the ground, until everything collapses.”

Jotem turned and walked away from the conversation about which he didn’t understand anything at all. His renovated front yard looked oddly professional, which felt like an insult. He retreated back into his room. For a while, he returned to his hammock and rocked himself back and forth to assuage his anxiety.

But then he flung himself up and strode to his desk. He pulled out his best quill and began to write a letter.

Salutations, Fair Geyssia,

I’m writing to inquire whether you continue to have close personal connections to the Hobfootie industry? After a great deal of toil and hiring a consultant, I’ve gotten my Ara Fruit farm. And I can assure you, the juice from these fruits is crips and clear, the flavor effervescent and soothing-

Over the next hour, Jotem wrote five similar letters, essentially just changing out the names. If the Nether King could really harvest Ara Fruit, perhaps they wouldn’t need to be as poor as he had feared.