Chapter 190: Five – Grandmomma’s Hug

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Chapter One Hundred and Eighty-Five - Grandmomma's Hug

Howard took off his fisherman’s cap. “Miss Momma, I’m Howard of Insmouth. I do believe we’ve met once before.”

Momma nodded. “I thought I recognized you,” she said. “We don’t see our closest neighbours all that often.”

“The road’s... well, there aren’t any,” Howard said with a self-depreciating chuckle. “As things are going, there might not be any need for them.”

Momma frowned and leaned forwards. “What do you mean?

“Ma’am, Insmouth isn’t doing so well. That’s why we solicited the help of the fine captain here. Our dungeon, there’s some cruel thing strangling it. An Evil Root. We’ve tried everything we can to stop it, but nothing has worked so far.”

Momma made a sound that was almost a whine. “You poor things. What is the Evil Root doing?”

“It’s twisting our dungeon,” Howard said. “Turning the traps into awful things, and letting the creatures that lurk within spill out as grotesque monsters. We can’t truly use the dungeon anymore. Not with the added danger. We could just overlook it, maybe, but the monsters are spilling out into Insmouth.”

The older bun lady sighed. “That’s awful. Do you need buns who can fight? We have a few who guard the edges of the forest. Maybe we could send some back with you? I’m certain they could help. And our last crop was fairly good. We can send some preserves over, to tide you along.”

Howard bowed. “Thank you, ma’am, that is very generous of you, but... no. I was sent to ask you for your font.”

“No.”

I shifted on my stool. A glance to my friends showed that they felt just as awkward as I did.

Well, alright. Awen looked awkward. Amaryllis was just paying attention, and Bastion had his eyes closed and arms crossed. One out of three was good though.

“That’s really unfortunate,” I said with a sigh.

One of Momma’s ears twitched my way before she looked at me. “What are your stakes in this, Captain?”

“Ah, please just call me Broccoli. And I don’t really have any? I mean, I really would like to help Insmouth. They’re nice people, and I don’t think they deserve to be in so much trouble.”

Momma’s smile turned even sadder. “Nobunny deserves pain or tribulation, little bun.”

“Exactly,” I said. “So if we can help, we should.”

Momma shook her head. “I don’t think you see the full picture.”

I pouted, but she was probably right. “Can you explain, then?” I shifted forwards on my seat. “I mean, if it’s not too much trouble?”

“It isn’t,” Momma said. “And I hope that it will smooth things over with our neighbours. The offers for other kinds of assistance are still very much on the table, of course.” She cleared her throat in a rather dainty way. “Hopsalot is a village that has been around since the days of the fall of the Tanyints Empire and the rise of the Kingdom of Pyro. It was a time when neighbours turned on neighbours, and being different was a danger.”

“Oh no,” I muttered.

“Our ancestors escaped, of course, and sailed into the Flat Sea. They created a small community on the Scattered Isles, but, as is our want, we reproduced far too quickly, and soon the islands, small as they are, couldn’t support us all. You know what I mean, I imagine?”

I felt my face warming up a bit and shook my head. “No, not at all.”

“Hmm, well, some took to the seas again, and we arrived on the shores of these forests. It was such a dangerous place, but one that was rich as well. We moved deep into the woods and settled here. It was only thanks to our one relic that we managed to survive as long as we have. I don’t think that giving it away would help in any way.”

“What if Insmouth only took it for a while?” I asked.

“Even parting with it for a week would be dangerous for us. And I doubt it would be of any use to Insmouth.” Momma stood up. “Let me prepare some tea for you, and perhaps a little snack. You travelled quite a ways to come all the way here.”

I got up too. “I’ll help!” I said.

She smiled at me. “There’s no need.”

“I have the Teamaking skill,” I said. “But I need to practice it more. And I’d love to see what bun teas are like.”

Momma hesitated, then nodded and gestured to the door at the back of the room. I waved at my friends as I followed her out and into a kitchen. The room was near the centre of the round house, and shaped like a semi-circle. The flat wall had a stove in its middle, and the curved section had all sorts of counters and cupboards and shelves for plates and such.

The room smelled a bit like smoke, a smell that only grew better when Momma shifted a ring on the stove and looked at the fire within. “Could you pass me a log or two, dear?”

“Sure thing,” I said as I hopped to fetch a piece of wood.

When I tried to tuck it into the stove, I found a pair of hands carefully tucking back the hair on the side of my head. “Sorry,” Momma said. “I was curious.”

I looked up to her, my own curiosity plain.

“You weren’t born a bun,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Oh. No, I wasn’t,” I said. “My first class was Cinnamon Bun, and it turned into Cinnamon Bun Bun later.”

Momma smiled and rearranged my hair. “That’s wonderful. Did you spend much time with buns?”

“Ah, I only have one bun friend. She’s a bookseller in Port Royal. Booksie Cabbage.”

“I see, I see,” Momma said. She pulled out a tin of tea leaves and set them on a counter, then she grabbed a kettle and filled it with a few pumps from a manual faucet over the sink. “Did she tell you about bun culture and such?”

“Not too much,” I said.

“Oh my, you poor little bun,” she said.

I tilted my head. “Am I missing out on something?” I asked.

“Of course you are. Bun culture is very rich, and surprisingly old. There have been buns of every sort. Adventurers, explorers, kings, queens and tyrants. But most of our culture comes from places like Hopsalot, little enclaves where bun families cross paths and try to build something nice together.”

“That does sound nice,” I said. “I wouldn’t mind living in a place like this. With a little house and a garden.”

“That’s the spirit,” Momma said. “Now, if you were born a bun, you’d be right at that age where you’d run away from home and go poking around at the wider world.”

“Isn’t that what I’m kinda doing already?” I asked.

She chuckled. “I suppose so. Captain of your own little ship, filled with friends who seem to respect and love you in equal measure. I’m sure you’ve already planted all sorts of ideas in the little one’s heads, even if you’ve only been here an hour.”

I huffed. “You’re making me sound like a bad influence,” I said.

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Momma laughed and pulled me into a big hug. It wasn’t a hug like I was used to getting from my friends. Somehow it felt more... mom-like. “I bet the little ones would talk all four of your ears off with their questions,” she said. “And I have no doubt that they’ll be making imaginary airships out of whatever junk they can cobble together.”

“Mean,” I said. I didn’t pull out of the hug though. It was very warm, and Momma was soft. “You know, I came back here to see if we could still help Insmouth somehow.”

Momma nodded. “I figured as much. You might be trying to play sly, but you wear your emotions on your sleeves.” She reached up and patted my ears down onto my head. “And on your ears. You’d make an awful liar.”

“So there’s nothing we can do?”

“We? Well, I suppose there are a few things. I’d need to see this Evil Root myself, I think. Maybe it’s just some creature we can get rid of?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I’ve seen them before. Twice now. Both times the dungeon had to be destroyed.”

Momma stiffened a little. “Had to be?” she asked.

“That’s what the World said.” I pulled out of the hug and gave her my most serious look. “The world wants us to get rid of those Evil Roots. No matter what.”

Momma reached up and touched her bottom lip. “And how do I know you’re being truthful?”

“I... don’t know how to prove it. But I am a really bad liar.”

“You could just be a very good actress instead,” she pointed out.

I scrunched my nose. “I wish I could show you miss menu.”

“Miss Menu?” Momma asked.

“Yeah. I call the normal menu Mister Menu, because he’s quite polite. But the one for the quests is different. It looks the same, but it’s a bunch trickier.”

“I see,” Momma said. “I think I’ll choose to believe you.”

“Huh?”

“Like I said, you’re a poor liar,” Momma said. “And I have an inkling that you really do want the best. Now, could you steep the tea while I grab some cups?”

I blinked a few times, then jumped to it. “Thanks,” I said. “Does this mean you’ll help?”

“Not with our relic, no. I don’t think it would be of any use in this situation anyway. But, I think there might be something that could help nearby. And I will send over some of our best to assist. It’s the right thing to do.”

“What sort of thing?” I asked.

“Have you ever explored a ruin before?” Momma asked.

“Just once,” I said, thinking of Threewells. “It wasn’t that old of a ruin though. Mostly weak ghosts and stuff like that. I got the Archeologist skill, but it’s really weak.”

“My my, still full of surprises,” Momma said.

“We’ve only just met! You can hardly expect to know all of my surprising things.”

Momma giggled and patted my head again. “You remind me of some of my cute grandchildren.”

“I’m not cu-- wait, grand-children?” I asked.

“Of course, who do you think all those little ones hanging off my skirt were? Though to be fair, some might be neighbours, it’s hard to keep track. I have... well over two-dozen grandchildren? A couple of great-grandbabies too, though they’re mostly too young to be running around just yet.”

“Whoa,” I said. “That’s a lot! I kinda wanna see what a baby bun looks like. Are their ears already long when they’re still small?”

“Long, yes, but they only grow stiff enough to stand on their own when a little bun is two or three years old, until then they’re rather floppy.”

“That must be so cute!” I said.

Momma nodded sagely. “It really is. Human babies suck on their thumbs, but buns tend to nibble their own ears.”

“Can I see some?” I asked.

Momma giggled. “They’re not pets you know. You’d need to ask their moms. I’m a little too old to have my own now.”

“You don’t look very old,” I said.

“Once you grow strong enough, you tend to age more gracefully,” Momma said. “Let that be a bit of advice for you. Level up fast and quickly when you’re young, and you’ll stay spry for a whole lot longer. Now, where did I put the honey?” Momma poked through a few cupboards before finding a jar of honey and adding it to a tray covered in cups. “There you go. All set.”

I nodded and skipped after her, kettle in hand.

We set things onto the table, where it looked like Amaryllis and Bastion were arguing about something. Mostly Amaryllis was the one arguing while Bastion politely refuted her. Howard was sitting and staring at his hands, looking a bit lost.

Momma sat down at her place and smiled at everyone. “I think I’ve found something of a solution for your problem, Mister Howard. But it will require a bit of effort on everyone’s part.”

***

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