Guardian's Farm 15

It was already dark when I returned to the farm. Sage greeted me with a lazy growl, resting next to the fire, which was still raging. He must have added some more wood to keep it going, as he enjoyed napping next to a raging fire.

The pot that was supposed to hold dinner, on the other hand, was completely empty.

“You lazy dog,” I called, but he just whimpered in response, not bothering to raise his head. I chuckled, amused at his attitude, but I didn’t immediately sit next to the fire. First, I went to the pile of chopped wood, and started searching for a stump that I had yet to chop into firewood, ready to test my new toy.

It had been a while since I had carved, but I didn’t forget the steps, the most important being picking good raw material to start working on. Carving required a good piece to start, and even then, it required a certain amount of luck, as it was impossible to fully know what one would find as they carved the wood. Sometimes, an unexpected knot or a bruise would be enough to ruin a beautiful work.

Such things could never slow down a true master, but I was not a master. Even calling me an expert was a stretch. The most I could be called was a skilled amateur, but it was still enough to add some life to my little corner.

I dug through the pile of wood, brushing aside a few twisted branches, mentally cataloging their potential uses, before my gaze fell on a stout stump nestled near the bottom of the stack.

It was a section of an oak, roughly knee-high, with its bark still clinging to the edges. I touched to inspect its end grain, tracing a fingertip over the tight growth rings. Even and measured, and the pale color was beautiful, hinting at a stable core. A good sign for carving.

I tapped the surface with the handle of my knife, carefully listening to the sound to catch a hint of irregularity. If the wood had any rotten parts, a tap like that would have revealed it. The sound was firm and resonant. No sign of rot or insect tunnels. An old hairline crack traced one side, but it didn’t run deep, so it wouldn’t ruin a careful carving.

“Looks good,” I said as I dragged it to the fire for a second examination. The moisture content would have been another trouble, but the stump had been cut down a while ago, and it was relatively cured. Not perfect by any means, but enough that I didn’t need to fear cracks appearing later on.

“Now, let’s get to work,” I said. I caressed the wood, appreciating the slight roughness beneath my palm, trying to envision the shape it would eventually be transformed into. Before making the final decision, however, I inspected the grain carefully. Experience had taught me that carving against the grain could cause tear-outs and splintering.

Then, a memory came unbidden. One that was more than two decades old, from the days when I was just a budding adventurer, before I had joined the party that would change my life.

A cursed elemental.

“Let’s see if I could do it justice,” I said while a soft glow covered the carving knife, and large pieces of wood started flying. I might not have been an experienced carver, but I had one advantage that most other carvers lacked.

I could use my internal energy to enhance my blade.

It was rare for a craftsman to develop their internal energy to the point they could externalize it, especially with enough control not to ruin something as delicate as wood. They were rare enough to be treated as masters back in the capital, some I had met. Of course, even then, the best they were able to maintain was a few minutes.

There were benefits to my long experience as a guardian.

I began by scoring broad, shallow lines to outline the form. My aim was to capture the rough form of the cursed fire elemental, which had infected the form of a lion. Using the knife’s spine for subtle leverage, I made careful cuts along the length of the grain, peeling back thin ribbons of oak.

As I worked, Sage raised his head carefully, examining the silhouette that was appearing. Four legs, a muscular torso, a leonine head with a mane. “What, jealous?” I asked. He whimpered in sharp protest, which only confirmed it. “I’m afraid I can’t reflect Your Majesty without some practice,” I added. He nodded, his smugness radiating strongly.

Once the silhouette had been completed, I started to focus on the real details. The mane, which had been turned into a swirling dance of fire after the elemental infection, was threatening to burn everything around it.

As I carved, I recalled the elemental’s translucent form, fire dancing over a lion's proud outline. Back then, each roar echoed with the raging fire. Capturing that energy in wood was a challenge, but my memories accepted nothing less.

Sage moved toward me and poked my arm with his nose, asking for the story. “I was still a young adventurer, but a rising one. It was four years after I had left my village, making me twenty. I felt invincible,” I explained.

And, wasn’t that the truth. It had been a year since I had acquired the Indomitable Blade technique, which made my strength rise far faster than expected, allowing me to rise to fame.

“When I responded to the reports of a cursed elemental alone, I was sure I could take it down. It was a dark night, but the flames of the mad beast had been enough to alight the sky. I still remember how the smoke burned my throat. Yet, I ran forward, so sure of my invulnerability.”

Sage scuttled closer, laying his head on my lap to comfort me. I continued to carve, doing my best to capture the haze that surrounded the beast, burning the darkness in its fury. With my current power, a threat like that wouldn’t make me blink, but the memories alone were enough to make my palms sweat. Strange how time softened the edges of some past battles but made the others scarier.

“I almost died that night,” I said. “I managed to kill the beast and free its soul from the cursed elemental, but only after half of my body was burned, impairing my mobility, and forcing me to stay in a burning forest, waiting for death.”

I let the memory continue to guide me as my new blade danced like it was possessed, my internal energy allowing me to treat wood as soft as clay. But, that didn’t mean I could afford to be any less careful when it came to details.

Each careful slice, and each flick of the blade revealed more of the beast, scary and glorious at the same time. The wind stirred the chipped wood I discarded. Sage shuffled even closer, reminding me that I wasn’t alone.

Eventually, the figurine emerged from the rough block completely. I shifted the blade on hand, smoothing away the stray splinters even as I told Sage the story of the battle, blow by blow of how I threw myself to the threat recklessly, yet somehow came out alive.

“In the end, if it wasn’t for a passing merchant caravan, sending its guards in, I would have died that day,” I said with a sigh as I caressed the completed figurine, somehow radiating the original elemental’s ferocity.

It was a pleasing result, one that surpassed my abilities, one that reminded me of my fears and victories alike. A statue of caution, but also celebration. “Maybe that was what I had been lacking when creating something,” I said. “I need to be more open with my emotions.”

Something I wasn’t able to do for the last two decades. Once I had become a part of the party, I didn’t have the luxury of showing my emotions. As the guardian of the party, I needed to be as stable as a mountain, giving the others a chance to show their true skills … a situation that turned even more acute once our victory and what was supposed to be a safe home turned into a viper’s nest, where even the slightest mistake could cost me everything.

Until eventually, it did.

“It’s good to have the luxury to remember without fear,” I said once I put the carved lion statue on the ground, watching the way the campfire cast shadows over it, making it look alive. It was not perfect, but that didn’t make it a weak piece by any means.

Sage huffed softly, as though agreeing, though not without some reluctance, still jealous that I carved another animal rather than his perfect visage.

I gathered the wood shavings and threw them on the fire, waiting for the prospect of tomorrow. There would be more tasks, checking on the garden, perhaps running through Serene Leaf drills, or guiding Eli in yet another day of practice.

But, the important thing was I had nothing to do but what I chose for myself.