Heretical Fishing

Book 3: Chapter 19: Treachery

The sun approached the western mountains as I crept down the rocks with three fish in my arms. When I reached the water, I set them down and washed them off one by one.

“So,” I said, glancing up at Deklan and Trent, “there are a bunch of ways to prepare fish.”

Deklan pursed his lips. “How do you choose which method to use?”

“It depends on the size and species, usually. Anything smaller than these blue fish, and it’s usually better to cook them whole. It’s hard not to waste meat, otherwise.” I gestured at the smaller two that Maria and I had caught. “For these, I think fileting is best. It saves us having to gut them.”

I grabbed a knife from my belt and ran the dull edge along the fish. “Because we’re leaving the skin on, the first step is to scale them.”

“You… eat the skin?” Deklan asked, his expression dubious. “Isn’t that kinda gross?”

“Not at all, mate. They come from the ocean, so they’ve spent their lives in clean salt water. Their skin shouldn’t have any unpleasant flavors, and it adds a nice bit of texture when cooked on a hotplate.”

With System-enhanced precision, I ran my knife behind their pectoral fins and down toward their tail, ensuring I got every bit of flesh possible. Setting the four filets aside on the rocks, I held a fish frame upside down and pointed at it.

“This is a bit advanced, but this cut is referred to as the wings.” With four swift slices, I removed the section between the frame’s head and body. “There are bones in it, but also a ridiculous amount of tasty meat. I’m not trying to enforce my morality on anyone else, but it’s important to me that I waste as little as possible.”

I did my best not to arch an eyebrow off my face—I hadn’t expected such a comment from the crown prince.

“Is the rest wasted, then?” he asked, pointing at the remaining frame.

“Not at all! We can cook it on the barbecue for my animal pals—they aren’t at all bothered by the bones and cartilage. These, though, I’ll be using as bait for my crab pot. With any luck, I’ll be cooking you guys some fresh sand crab tomorrow.”

“Even if we throw the frame back into the ocean,” Maria said, “it won’t necessarily be a waste. There are plenty of little creatures that will happily pick it clean.”

“Exactly,” I agreed as I cut the wings off the other frame. Placing it down next to the filets, I gestured at the mature blue fish. “I think we should filet, then cut this one into chunks. Are you up to deep-frying it if I cook the others on the barbecue, Maria?”

“On it!” she yelled over her shoulder, already running back to the house.

Smiling at her retreating form, I started fileting the mature blue fish.

A half hour later, Deklan stood beside me as I held my hand over the hotplate. Trent was still here, but he and Keith were talking softly a few meters away. I pointed down at the filets and looked up at Deklan. “Remember how I said the skin adds texture? It goes lovely and crispy on the grill, but it’s the same as cooking steak—you need to remove excess moisture before putting it on the heat.” I patted it down with a fresh tea towel. “Do you wanna do it?”

“Er... I don’t want to mess it up...”

“Nonsense, mate! Here. I’ll put one down first. Just need to add some fat beforehand.”

I put a healthy dollop of beef tallow on the barbecue plate. It melted almost immediately as I spread it around with a spatula, coating the cooking surface. I got one of the filets and placed it skin down. The tallow immediately hissed and bubbled around the edges, making steam and a delicious scent rise into the air.

I nodded at him. “Your turn.”

Deklan bit the inside of his cheek as he picked up a filet with the care you’d give a newborn baby. With one swift movement, he lay it on the hotplate, taking a swift step back as if it would bite him.

“He’s an expert already!” Maria called, watching from the end of the deck. “Just letting you know the oil is hot so we’re gonna start shallow-frying the big boy Keith caught.”

I smiled my gratitude at her. “We’ll bring ours over when we’re done. Shouldn’t be long.”

She grinned, blew me a kiss, and skipped from sight, returning to the campfire. Deklan stared after her, his eyebrows narrowing in thought. When he looked back my way, he gave me an odd look. “You know, you’re all like, super nice.”

The comment caught me off guard and made a laugh fly free of my throat. “Why does that make you look so confused? Are we supposed to be evil?”

“Well, we were always told back in the capital that the commoners living in the far reaches were, er... the king would have said unsavory, but the rest of Gormona’s citizens would use more colorful words.”

“You expected to find us a little more disagreeable, huh?”

“To be honest, yeah. I didn’t know what to expect. You seemed like a friendly fellow, but you were also with a gang of cultivators. It could have gone either way, really.”

“Yet you still ran away with me?” I asked, placing the last two filets down on the hotplate.

He shrugged. “Like I said—you seemed like a friendly fellow. Plus, the king had just revealed himself as a bit of a...”

“Dickhead?” I suggested.

“Yeah, that works.”

Deklan’s shoulders held some tension. Now that he was a cultivator, I could feel his core fluctuating, likely responding to troubling thoughts as he recalled his time in the capital.

“Well, mate,” I said. “You’re here now. More importantly, you’re one of us.” Seeking to change the subject, I shot a smirk his way. “How is your brother going to respond to you being a cultivator?”

The corners of his mouth tugged up as he slammed a fist into his open palm.

I raised a brow. “Uh… you’re not going to attack him, are you?”

“Attack him?” He revealed a toothy grin. “Absolutely. I’ll finally be able to tussle with him on even footing again.”

I laughed again, throwing my head back. “How long has he been a cultivator for?”

“A few years.”

“A few years... you have a fair bit of tussling to make up for, then?”

“Damned right.” He flexed his hands, feeling his strength. “That scoundrel has no idea what he’s in for.”

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Seeing that the conversation had drawn out Deklan’s playful nature and banished his worries, I let a silence stretch, focusing on the cooking fish. When they were halfway done, I flipped the filets, revealing golden-brown skin that made my mouth water. Deklan took a deep breath through his nose, a sense of calm crossing his features as the scents assaulted him.

“How do you know when it’s done?” he asked.

“See how the flesh turns white? When it’s flaky and no longer translucent in the middle, it’s ready.” I poked the top of a filet. “You can also tell by feel. Press where I just did.”

He gingerly pressed a finger down on it. “It’s much more firm than before.”

“Exactly,” I replied and started to remove them. “They’re ready.”

“You could tell that just by feel?”

“Yep! You’ll be able to as well, but it takes a little practice.”

With our contribution read, we went to meet the others. The moment we approached the campfire, the smell of our fish was blown away. The scent of fried breading, boiling-hot beef tallow, and undertones of cooked seafood were an assault on the senses that drew me on.

“Perfect timing!” Maria dipped her tongs into the tallow and pulled out a palm-sized pocket of golden goodness. “We just fried the last portion.”

I set our plate down beside Maria’s mountain of fried food and immediately started dishing out servings. Despite the sun still lingering in the sky, my stomach demanded I eat the meal. When I broke the barbecue-cooked fish apart, the skin cracked, letting steam rise in the late-afternoon light.

“Okay, everyone,” I said, sitting down after passing out the plates. “Dig in.”

Snips was the first to partake, wasting no time in crunching down on a bit of fried fish. She shuddered in delight and sunk down into the sand, not making a sound other than chewing the crispy skin.

The rest of us took a bite of the fried fish together, and our reactions were much the same. My shoulders dropping was the last thing I felt before the flavor and texture of the blue fish overwhelmed my awareness. As the description had suggested, the meat had a stronger flavor than most fish. Yet, it wasn’t at all unpleasant. It mingled with the subtle flavors of beef tallow and golden breadcrumbs, combining to become something otherworldly. When I swallowed, the chi traveled down toward my core, warming everything it passed.

Being Deklan’s first taste of fried fish, his reaction was superb.

“Are you serious?” he asked no one in particular. “Is it always this good? And why is it making me feel so warm?”

“That’s the chi, and yeah, it’s always this good,” Trent confirmed, his eyes closed and a smile crossing his face. “It’s even better with seasoning.”

“This isn’t seasoned?”

“Fischer usually cooks new fish without seasoning the first time around,” Maria said. “It lets us get a feel of its flavor profile.”

I nodded. “And pick the correct herbs and spices to use.”

“Does that mean you have some in mind?” Keith asked.

“It does, but we’ll have to wait until next time. Until then, should we try the grilled fish?”

Snips jumped to her feet, nodding her entire body in fervent approval.

Letting out a light laugh, I picked some up by hand, the white meat crumbling between my fingers. Wasting no time, I put it on my tongue. Warm, savory juices poured out. I’d half expected the fish to be tough considering its size, but the flesh melted in my mouth, falling apart before I even had to chew. When I bit down, the crispy skin crackled, seeming to release an extra burst of umami that exploded outward.

“How does it taste so… different?” Deklan asked. “It’s the same fish…”

“Could be my cooking skill taking effect.” I shrugged. “Or Maria’s. Her deep-fried fish is always amazing.”

She leaned over and pecked me on the cheek. “I learned from the best.”

Before they could get cold, I held the wings out to Deklan and Trent. “We’ve all tried them before, so I think these should be yours.”

“You’re sure…?” Deklan asked.

“I am, mate. We’ll all have a chance to eat it again, so dig in.”

I watched them closely as they hit down on the charred meat, their bodies relaxing as the flavors washed over them. No one said a word as we finished the meal, the only sounds surrounding us that of the crackling fire and the occasional crunch of deep-fried breading.

After swallowing the last bite, I let out a slow sigh and shot a look Maria’s way.

“You know what this means, right?”

She returned a half-lidded gaze, giving me a beautiful smile. “It means we’re going to have a fun couple of days, if not weeks.”

Keith raised an eyebrow at us, but before he could voice his question, I continued. “The seasonal fish is delicious, mate. That means it’s worth targeting.”

“It also means we’re going to need a lot more rods...” Maria said.

“Well, that depends on if everyone else is keen. I suppose we should go ask.”

“I suppose we should...” she answered, but didn’t make a move. “Soon, anyway. I need to enjoy the meal first.”

I lounged back in the sand, a blanket of contentment settling on my entire body. “Soon,” I agreed, watching the last rays of sunlight as they disappeared over the western mountains.

***

Though the sun had long since set by the time we arrived in New Tropica, the streets were alive.

Rescued cultivators strode along, their steps filled with purpose. Those that I spied within the different crafting buildings were focused on their work, backs hunched and brows knitted. As we passed the smithy, I gave Fergus and Duncan a wave. Only the latter noticed, and he shot me a quick wink before reaching over and adjusting the metal bar an apprentice was working on.

As we approached the woodworkers’ domain, I turned toward Maria and Deklan. I’d known Maria would come along for a little rod-making, but Deklan also wanting to try it was a pleasant surprise. Though Trent had also seemed interested in trying his hand at crafting, he and Keith left after the meal had settled, needing to be somewhere else for the evening that they didn’t elaborate on.

“Ready?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Maria replied, much more enthusiastically than Deklan’s answering nod.

Taking one last breath of the night air, I led them into the building.

There were a dozen of the rescued cultivators within, their number having grown since we walked past this morning. Greg saw me first. He elbowed Brad in the side, subtly nodding my way and giving his brother a smirk. I raised an eyebrow, not sure what they were up to.

But then they committed their treachery.

Both men snapped a crisp salute, their bodies going rigid. “Sir!” they said together.

Their apprentice woodworkers spun, and with the speed only cultivators could muster, they copied my treasonous friends.

“Sir!” they chorused, their backs stiff and eyes serious.

I groaned. “Can you believe this, Maria?”

“Believe what, sir?” she responded in a clipped tone.

I slowly spun her way, my eyes narrowed. As I’d feared, she was also saluting, a wide grin plastered on her face. I glared my displeasure at her, making Brad and Greg burst into laughter.

“What can we do for you, Fischer?” Brad asked, leaning back on a bench and crossing his arms.

“Other than not doing...” I waved a hand in his general direction. “Whatever that was to me ever again? We came to make some rods, mate.”

“Rods, huh?” Greg rubbed his chin. “What’s the occasion? I thought you had plenty.”

“We need enough for everyone,” Maria replied, her eyes dancing with glee.

“Everyone...?” Brad looked between us. “Define everyone.”

“Literally everyone,” I laughed, then turned toward the cultivators. “Assuming you guys want to try fishing, that is.”

Because of who I was, or possibly because of Brad and Greg’s stunt, the former slaves met me with silence.

“We caught some seasonal fish!” Maria bounced on her heels, unable to contain her excitement. “We think there will be a lot of them to catch over the coming days and weeks, so it’s the perfect opportunity for everyone who wants to try out our heretical lifestyle.”

“Enough for almost a hundred people...?” Greg asked, looking skeptical.

“Yep! They fight super hard, and the taste, guys...” Maria shimmied. “They’re delicious.”

She relayed the blue fish’s description.

“Boosted chi, huh...?” Barry took in his apprentices. “What do you guys say? Would you like to try making some fishing rods? Even if you’re not down to fish, following Fischer’s instructions will probably be great for both your cultivation and woodworking.”

Still speechless, they all nodded, only one of them muttering under his breath that he’d love to. Or maybe he said I love you, not I’d love to. It was hard to tell.

“Okay,” I said, stretching my arms high and smiling at them. “Let’s get this party started.”

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