The Marshall
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"I'M TELLING YOU, SOMETHING'S happening with the cursed farm," Kenji said, guiding his horse around a fallen branch. "The shield's been active for two days. Someone's actually there."
Jin didn't respond immediately. He'd felt it too—that prickle of his ability, the sense of a presence where there shouldn't be one. The cursed farm had been empty for years. Decades, even. Most people forgot it existed.
But someone was there now.
"Could be squatters," Kenji continued. "Or maybe someone from out of town who doesn't know the history. Either way, we should check it out."
Jin nodded. It was their job. The Marshall and his soldiers, keeping the territories safe, checking on settlements. Even failed ones.
They rode in comfortable silence. The morning had started foggy but cleared nicely. Good weather for patrol. The safe window was open—eleven to two—when the monsters slept and the roads were relatively peaceful.
Relatively.
"You think Viktor knows?" Kenji asked.
"Probably." Viktor knew everything that happened on properties near his holdings. The man had ambitions, and information was currency.
They crested a small rise and the cursed farm came into view below. Jin pulled his horse up short.
"What the—" Kenji stopped beside him.
The shield was up. Clearly active, though showing damage—red cracks visible even from this distance. But that wasn't what made Jin stare.
Inside the shield were trees. A whole grove of them that definitely hadn't been there last week. And a structure—a treehouse?—rising from a massive pecan tree.
"Someone's been busy," Kenji said slowly.
Jin's ability hummed. One person. Female. Currently...
His eyes tracked to the gate, then beyond it.
There. In the grass.
A woman in velvet and silk, holding what looked like a bizarrely festive, sharpened stick, directing several... creatures? They were golden-eyed and lion-shaped, but wrong somehow. Too hollow. Too plant-like...and what was with the fluffy manes?
And they were gathering blue bulbs.
"Is she insane?" Kenji breathed.
The creatures bounded through the grass, fearless, snatching up glowing bulbs and bringing them back to her. She was stuffing them into a leather purse, working quickly, efficiently.
But she was too close to the tree line.
Jin's ability screamed warning half a second before he saw it. Movement in the tall grass. Low, stalking. Converging on her position.
"She doesn't see it," Kenji said, already reaching for his weapon.
Jin was already moving, spurring his horse forward. They were too far away. Even at a gallop, they'd be too late. "MOVE!" he shouted, knowing she probably couldn't hear him yet.
The woman spun toward his voice, and he saw her face—young, frightened, confused.
She thought they were the threat.
She raised her ridiculous stick as they charged toward her, backing up...toward the hidden monster.
The creatures with her reacted first.
The golden-eyed things swarmed, fast as lightning, hitting the monster before it could pounce. They were shockingly effective—coordinated, fearless, driving it back with claws and what looked like choking clouds of spores from their manes.
By the time Jin and Kenji reached her, the monster was retreating, and the woman was white-faced and shaking, surrounded by her protectors.
One of them still held a blue bulb in its hollow body.
Jin reined to a stop. His eyes swept the area—more movement in the grass, but distant. They had minutes, maybe.
The woman stared at him, clutching her stick. Her dress was velvet. Her boots were good leather. She looked like she'd walked out of a wealthy merchant's house and into a nightmare.
"You're bleeding," he said, noting the fresh scratch on her arm. All business. No time for niceties.
Kenji was staring at the creatures. "What are those?"
"They're dandelions," the woman said breathlessly. Her voice was shaky but clear. "They were helping me get..." She gestured at the scattered blue bulbs.
Jin's attention snapped to the bulbs, then to the shield wall in the distance with its obvious damage, then back to her.
She wasn't insane. She was desperate.
"How long?" he asked.
"How long what?"
"Until your shield fails completely."
Her eyes widened slightly. She understood he wasn't judging—just gathering information. "I... I don't know exactly. A day? Maybe less?" She looked past him at the shield. "There was a monster this morning. It kept hitting the same spot."
Jin nodded. That matched what he was seeing. The damage was severe. She'd been right to come out here, weather be damned.
"How many bulbs do you need?" His lieutenant, Kenji, had circled around on his horse, keeping watch on the grass.
"Twenty-five," she said. "I have... maybe fifteen?"
Jin did the math quickly. Twenty-five would hold a damaged shield for maybe two weeks. Not ideal, but enough to give her breathing room. "Get twenty-five. We leave at twenty-five."
Not a suggestion. An order.
She looked like she might argue for half a second, then just nodded and turned back to gathering.
The creatures—dandelions, she'd called them—resumed their work immediately. They bounded into the grass with renewed purpose, their hollow bodies perfect for carrying the glowing bulbs back.
One of them was limping slightly, Jin noticed. Fresh gouges along its flank.
"These things fight?" Kenji asked, watching them with open fascination.
"They killed a monster last night," the woman said, scooping up another bulb. "One of them died doing it."
That explained the limp. And the efficiency. They'd already learned.
Jin kept his attention split—half on the woman, half on their surroundings. His ability was pinging constantly out here. Small creatures in the grass. Larger ones in the forest. Nothing close yet, but that could change.
"Nineteen," the woman counted, shoving another bulb into her purse.
The largest dandelion—the one with the scars—returned with bulb twenty. Then twenty-one.
"Twenty-two—"
Jin's ability spiked. "Faster."
Kenji's hand went to his sword. "How many?"
"Two. Maybe three. Circling northwest."
The woman grabbed the last bulb from a returning dandelion. "Twenty-three—"
"That's enough." Jin was already moving toward her. "Mount up."
"But you said twenty-five was—"
"Mount. Up." He dismounted, and his hand was on her elbow, firm but not rough, steering her toward the horses. They needed to move.
Kenji was already in his saddle. "Jin, we've got company. Northwest, like you said."
The woman looked between them, then at her dandelions. "What about—"
"Can they follow?" Jin asked.
"I... yes? I think so?"
"Then they follow. You ride with me." He swung into his saddle and reached down.
She hesitated for only a second, then grabbed his hand, placing one foot in the stirrup. He pulled her up behind him. She was lighter than he expected, and she wrapped her arms around his waist immediately, still clutching that ridiculous minty stick.
"Hold tight," he said, and spurred his horse.
They took off at a gallop, Kenji beside them. Behind, the dandelions ran—impossibly fast for plant creatures, their golden eyes fixed on their human.
Jin could feel the woman's heart hammering against his back. Feel her grip tighten as they raced across the field.
His ability tracked the monsters. Three. Converging. But they were moving away from the shield now, back toward safety. They'd make it.
Barely.
The shield flashed as they crossed through—yellow light washing over them. The dandelions came through behind, not even slowing.
Jin didn't stop until they were well inside her property, near the strange treehouse. He reined in, his horse dancing a bit at the excitement. He spoke to it, calming him, then dismounted and helped her down. She was shaking—adrenaline, fear, relief, all of it hitting at once.
"You got your bulbs," he said, trying to calm her.
She nodded mutely, then looked at her dandelions gathering around her. "Thank you," she whispered. To him? To them? He wasn't sure.
Kenji dismounted, still staring at the trees, the treehouse, the impossible garden. "What is all this?"
The woman followed his gaze, and something like pride flickered across her frightened face. "It's my farm," she said.
Kenji walked slowly around the grove, touching trees like he couldn't quite believe they were real. "These weren't here three days ago. I patrol this route weekly."
"I've been here two days," the woman said. She was working on her composure, one hand resting on the largest dandelion’s head.
Jin studied her more carefully now that the immediate danger had passed.
Young, mid-twenties, maybe. Velvet jacket and skirt, silk visible at the collar and cuffs, good boots.
Her hair was coming loose from whatever style she'd started with.
The scratch on her arm was already clotting.
"You're living in the cursed farm," he said. Not a question.
"The what?" She looked genuinely confused.
Kenji laughed, sharp and disbelieving. "Nobody told you? This land's been cursed for generations. Nothing grows here. Every farmer who tried either starved or went broke buying food. Most gave up after a season."
The woman looked around at her thriving trees. At the treehouse. At the dandelions. "Nothing grows?"
"Normal crops don't," Jin clarified. "Whatever these are—" He gestured at the trees. "—they're not normal."
"They're pun plants," she said, like that explained anything. "The seeds were... they came with the property."
Kenji was examining a tree hung with what looked like loaves of bread. "Is this actual bread?"
"Breadfruit tree." She said it like it was obvious.
Jin watched Kenji pluck a loaf and smell it. Watched his lieutenant's expression shift from skepticism to wonder.
"It's real," Kenji breathed. "This is real bread." He handed it to Jin so he could see, too.
It smelled of fresh baked goodness, and his mouth watered. "What's your name?" Jin asked.
She turned back to him. "Wren. I'm Wren."
"Jin Zhao, town Marshall." He nodded toward Kenji. "My lieutenant, Kenji Tanaka."
"Marshall," she repeated. "Walter mentioned you. He said you keep things safe."
"Walter?"
A chittering from above. Jin looked up to see a squirrel in a vest sitting on a branch. The squirrel adjusted his waistcoat and gave a small bow.
"Good afternoon, Marshall. Lieutenant."
Jin had seen many strange things in his years patrolling these territories. Talking squirrels were not new. But talking squirrels on the cursed farm, where nothing was supposed to survive...
"Afternoon," he said evenly.
Kenji was still obsessed with the bread tree. "Can you grow anything?"
Wren hesitated. "I... don't know? I'm still learning. The seeds have plant names, but they grow into... word-related things." She gestured vaguely. "That's a breadfruit tree. There's a soapberry tree. And um—"
"Show me," Kenji said, already moving toward another tree.
"Wait, that one's—" Wren's face flushed pink.
But Kenji was already there, reaching for the fuchsia-like blooms. He grabbed one of the dangling items before Jin could stop him.
Silk fabric unfurled in his hands.
Silk panties. Embroidered with small flowers.
Kenji froze. His face went red. "Oh. Oh no."
"That's the silk tree," Wren said, her voice strangled. Her whole face was scarlet now.
Kenji stared at the garment in his hands like it might bite him. Looked at Wren. Looked at Jin. Looked back at the panties.
"I didn't...I wasn't...I thought it was..." He gestured helplessly at the tree.
Jin kept his expression carefully neutral, though he could feel the corner of his mouth threatening to twitch.
Kenji carefully, delicately, draped the silk garment over a nearby branch and backed away with his hands clasped behind his back. "My apologies. I should have asked first."
"It's fine," Wren managed, still pink. "It grows... undergarments. And nightgowns. I didn't think to warn you."
"Lieutenant," Jin said mildly. "Perhaps we should focus on the immediate situation."
"Right. Yes. Immediate situation." Kenji was determinedly looking anywhere except at the silk tree. "The shield. And the bulbs."
Belatedly, Jin offered the bread back to Wren.
She waved him off. “Keep it. You were a big help today, and it’s the least I can do.”
“Thank you.” He tucked the bread into his saddlebag. It was evidence he could show when he made his report; he expected some disbelief from the town elders. The pun farmer was going to be big news! "You need to get those bulbs in the shield pillars right away. The damage is severe."
"I will. Right after you leave." Wren was recovering her composure, though her cheeks were still faintly pink.
"And you'll need more in two weeks. Three at most, with that damage." He paused. "When you're ready to go into town, send word through the squirrel network. I'll meet you and introduce you to the traders. You'll need local contacts."
"The squirrel network?"
"They're the messengers," Kenji explained, eager to be helpful. He probably still felt like a fool. "Just tell Walter. He'll get word to us."
Wren nodded slowly. "Alright. Thank you, for everything."
Jin mounted his horse. Kenji followed suit, moving with perhaps more haste than necessary.
"Two weeks, Wren," Jin said. "Send word before then. Don't wait until the last minute."
"I won't."
He urged his horse forward. As they passed through the shield and back onto the main road, the silence held for maybe thirty seconds.
Then Kenji groaned. "I grabbed underwear from a stranger's underwear tree."
"You did," Jin agreed.
"Why didn't you stop me?"
"You moved too fast."
"I'm never going to live this down."
"Probably not."
Kenji was quiet for another moment. "The bread's real though."
"Yes."
"And she's growing trees. On the cursed farm. Where nothing grows."
"Yes."
Another pause.
"What do you think?" Kenji asked.
Jin was quiet for a long moment, thinking about the woman in velvet with her plant-lions and her bread trees and her impossible garden.
Living alone on cursed land. Surviving where no one else had.
Blushing over silk undergarments while surrounded by creatures that had killed monsters to protect her.
"I think," he said slowly, "things are about to get very complicated."
Kenji groaned again. "Viktor's going to lose his mind when he hears about this."
That was true. Viktor had been eyeing that property for years. And now someone was not only living there, but thriving. With magic he'd never seen before.
"Let's report to the council first," Jin said. "Before the rumors get too wild."
"Too late for that. The squirrels already know."
Also true.
They rode in silence for a while, the bread warm in Jin's saddlebag, the memory of Wren's embarrassed face and Kenji's horror vivid in his mind.
Complicated didn't even begin to cover it.