Chapter 11: The Harvest of Necessity
The aroma of woodsmoke and a faint, savory scent of roasted wild herbs filled the palace courtyard as Lykos and his fatigued crew gathered for their evening meal. Kalypso, with the help of the summoned Forager, had managed to find more edible plants within the city's neglected gardens hardy greens and roots that offered more sustenance than the handful of figs. Combined with the boiled well water, it was a meager but warm supper, shared in the quiet camaraderie forged by shared danger and labor.
Lykos, though still hungry, felt a sense of achievement. They had strengthened their defenses significantly. Now, the scales tipped back towards food.
Before dawn, Lykos was already organizing the next day's expedition. He had decided on a larger, more dedicated foraging party. This wasn't just about finding enough for one meal; it was about establishing a consistent food supply.
"Elara," Lykos began, addressing the native forager whose knowledge of the land was invaluable, "today, we focus entirely on the olive groves. We need to gather as much as possible. I want you, and our summoned Forager, to lead the collection."
Elara nodded, her tired eyes gleaming with understanding. "We will do our best, Prince. The lower branches and fallen fruit are easiest. For the higher ones, we'll need sticks to knock them down."
"Good," Lykos affirmed. "Kalypso, Theron, you will accompany them. Kalypso, bring all the baskets you've woven. Theron, your agility might be useful for reaching higher branches, or scouting for more trees further out." He looked at the young hunter. "But stay close to the main group. We don't want to lose anyone."
Theron, who had been effective in finding usable materials yesterday, nodded. "I understand, Prince."
Lykos then turned to his summoned units. "Homerus, you will accompany the foraging party. Your Ballad of Restoration will help them maintain their stamina, and your Discordant Song will be our defense if we encounter any unexpected threats." He knew Homerus was unarmed, but his powerful abilities were a far greater terrent than any spear.
"And you three Laborers," Lykos continued, addressing the powerful worker units, "you will also join the foraging party. Your strength will be vital for carrying the full baskets back to the palace. We need to bring back a substantial haul today."
His two Militia units and Myron and Kydon, the native guards, would remain at the palace gate. The newly reinforced barricade, coupled with the constant vigilance of the Militia, provided a stronger, albeit still vulnerable, defense. Lykos himself would lead the foraging group. He needed to oversee this critical operation personally.
As the sun began to rise, painting the sky in soft pastels, Lykos led his group of ten (himself, Homerus, Elara, Kalypso, Theron, the summoned Forager, and the three summoned Laborers) out through the western gate. The cool morning air was invigorating, and the prospect of fresh food spurred them on.
Upon reaching the olive groves, Lykos immediately noticed the vastness of the area. It wasn't just a few trees; it was a sprawling expanse, many of the trees clearly ancient, their twisted trunks speaking of centuries of life. Most were wild and untended, but the sheer quantity suggested immense potential.
"Elara, Forager," Lykos instructed, "divide the group. Focus on this section first. Clear it thoroughly. Leave no olive behind."
He watched as the summoned Forager, under Elara's experienced guidance, began to systematically work through a patch of trees, her methodical movements a testament to her inherent 'forager' function. Homerus began to play a soft, rhythmic tune, a Ballad of Restoration, that seemed to lighten the air and ease the labor.
Lykos joined in the picking, his hands getting accustomed to the feel of the rough bark and the slippery skin of the olives. He noticed the differences between the two foragers. Elara, the native, worked with a farmer's intuition, knowing which trees might be more fruitful or where hidden clusters lay.
The summoned Forager, by contrast, was relentlessly efficient, meticulously clearing every visible olive, her focus unwavering. They complemented each other perfectly.
The Laborers were invaluable. As soon as a basket filled, one of them would effortlessly hoist it onto their shoulder and start another, creating piles of potential food that would have taken hours for the native recruits to move.
Theron was excellent at climbing the less stable trees, shaking olives down for the others to collect. Kalypso quickly filled her newly woven baskets, demonstrating her resourcefulness.
Hours passed, marked only by the growing stacks of olive-filled baskets.
The sun climbed higher, warming their backs. Lykos felt a deep satisfaction. This was true progress.
Just as they were about to declare a section cleared, Lykos noticed Elara stop, her head cocked, listening. Her face, which had been relaxed in concentration, tightened. The summoned Forager also seemed to pause, her movements becoming less fluid, more cautious.
"Prince," Elara whispered, her eyes scanning the deeper groves. "I hear something. Movement. Not an animal."
Homerus immediately stopped his restorative ballad, his fingers hovering over the lyre strings, ready. The air around them grew tense. Lykos cursed inwardly. Not again. Not now. They were deep in the groves, far from the palace gates. And their main combat units were back at the palace. His stomach clenched.