Heretical Fishing

Chapter 55: Crema

George closed his door behind him, letting out a sigh of relief.

Geraldine rushed him from behind, wrapping her meaty arms around him.

"That was wonderful, George—absolutely perfect!"

He kissed her on the forehead, delighting in the way her plump skin pressed back against his lips.

"Thank Poseidon’s girth shaft that it's over—we can get back on track with managing the village."

She nodded and pulled back, looking up into his eyes.

"Was Fischer there?"

The mention of his name made George's stomach twist, but he pushed the rising anxiety down.

"He was."

"No—well, he did, but he only seemed to project joy at those surrounding him."

Geraldine glanced to the side, considering, and George knew what she was about to say before she even voiced it.

"So, have you put much thought into my theory?" she asked.

"Of course, my love. I'd dismiss nothing you said without giving it proper consideration."

"And?" she asked, cutting right through his platitudes. "Are you still convinced that Fischer is an agent of the crown?"

"I'm..." George paused for a moment to plan his words carefully before continuing. "I'm still unsure. What you say has some merit, of course, and it could all be a string of coincidences... but my gut still tells me there's more to it."

George caught her annoyance; her lip twinged minutely, but she swiftly schooled her expression.

"All I ask is that you give it more thought, husband. I still think his actions make little sense for a crown agent. If he were to truly be one, I don't think we—"

"You don't think we'd still be in power," George finished, smiling kindly so his words delivered no sting. "I know. His actions make no sense if he’s a crown agent, but the things he seems to know, and the way he's conducted himself..."

George sighed, running his overly large fingers through thinning hair.

"I just don't know what to think of it all."

She rested a hand on his arm.

"Do you think you're scared of the possibility, because then we'd have discarded wealth for nothing...?"

George's mind railed at the thought, but he'd be lying if he said that wasn't the case.

"That may be part of it, but it’s mostly the feeling I get when interacting with him—it's like looking down a speeding cart. Not to mention his wealth. Where could anyone but an agent of the crown acquire the materials for his house, let alone the gold coin he presented me?"

Geraldine leaned into him, and he took solace in her touch.

"I know. He's shrouded by murky water, and none of it makes sense, but it's a vast world we live in, George. The gods may have abandoned Kallis long ago, but there are still plenty of mysteries to be unraveled."

A knock came at the door, causing both of them to jump. The three knocks were loud and firm, spaced out at even intervals.

Geraldine shot George a look, then she moved to the side, hiding from sight.

Speaking of Fischer...

George took a steadying breath, and after letting it out slowly, opened the door.

***

Theo knocked three times.

There was a long pause of silence before the door swung open and the well-endowed lord appeared in the doorway.

"Hello, Fisch—oh."

George blinked.

"Sorry, I was expecting someone else. Can I help you, my good... uh, my good...?"

The lord of the village's eyes grew wide, and his words failed him as he caught sight of Theo's outfit.

As expected of nobility—he knows the garb of an auditor. They gossip and rumor among themselves like old crones on Fielday.

"Hello, George. My name's Theo."

Theo held his hand out, and the lord took it without looking, his eyes still locked onto Theo's outfit.

"I caught the end of your announcement to the villagers. It was a rather enlightening speech."

Small beads of sweat sprouted from George’s forehead like morning dew.

"I—it was?"

"Yes, very much so!"

Theo gave him a grin, and George withered beneath it.

"As you've no doubt guessed, I'm a crown auditor, and I've been sent here by the King to, well..." Theo flourished his hand, gesturing at the opulent house and the lord before him. "Audit."

"Y-yes," was all George could say.

"Do you mind if I come in?"

"N-no, please..."

George opened the door, and Theo stepped inside.

He caught movement to the side, and he spun, finding the lady of the village.

She was dusting a set of lavish curtains with her... hand?

She turned to him.

"O-oh! We have a guest! Let me just... get some tea!"

Abandoning the curtains, she rushed toward and up the stairs as fast as her large frame could travel.

So you were listening in, huh? Good. That will make my job easier.

"Please, allow me to escort you to the lounge," George said.

Theo turned to look at him, noting his pallid complexion and the sweat now dripping down his brow.

He smiled at the lord.

"Lead on."

***

I couldn't contain my excitement as we walked between fields of sugarcane and came upon the merchant caravan.

I don't know what I’d expected, but it wasn't the scene that met us.

There were six caravans in total, each with their sides folded down and their wares displayed in organized rows. Villagers were already there, bartering and trading with the men working each shopfront.

As we got closer, the air smelled of horses, and I caught sight of a veritable herd of them tied up behind the merchant's setup.

Five of the caravans were around the size of a medium-sized camper-van from Earth, and the last one, likely the one belonging to the merchant, Marcus, was the size of a bus.

I eyed the wooden vehicle, marveling at its size. An open side provided a massive area to display goods, and a large man testing the weight of a crate caught my attention.

"G'day, Fergus!"

"Morning, Fischer!" the smith called back.

He walked toward us, turning his attention to Maria and Roger.

"The tax cuts—I heard! Congratulations!"

He shook both their hands, and even Roger granted him a smile.

"Thank you," Maria said, beaming. "I can't express how welcome the news is."

"I can imagine." Fergus gave them a kind smile. "I know how bad things were getting, and I'm hoping this news will let the entire village breathe a breath of fresh air. Well, listen to me harping on—I'm sure you guys have some business to take care of."

He turned to me.

"I'm in need of those arms of yours—I might need your help carrying Sue's new machine to the bakery."

My eyes lit up.

"Is that what's in the crate?"

He nodded, and I rubbed my hands together.

"Let's go!"

***

Sue followed along behind us, a crate of wooden cups gripped in her hands.

"Are you sure you're good to carry those, Sue?" I asked.

"You're worse than my husband, Fischer. Just because I'm of the fairer sex doesn't mean I can't carry a few wooden cups."

She tucked in her chin, putting on a fair approximation of her husband, Sturgill.

"I'll go get the crate. You couldn't possibly lift such heavy wooden cups."

"I don't sound like that..." Sturgill said, hefting his crate of coffee beans and sounding eerily similar to Sue’s mocking tone.

I snorted at the good-natured bickering.

***

After unpacking the coffee machine, I looked down at the parchment that held what were most-probably the instructions.

Despite Sergeant Snips' ongoing lessons, I still have no bloody idea what a single word said.

"Hey, uh, Sue?"

"Yes, Fischer?"

"Would you mind reading the instructions to me? I'm feeling a little dumb today—my eyes don't want to work."

She raised an eyebrow and smirked at me, but happily took the parchment.

"I suppose we can't all be blessed with the gift of perfect intellect."

She winked at me, and I laughed.

"I know, I know, I used all my genetic luck on my ridiculous good looks and unflappable attitude."

"And your humbleness," Fergus said as he fitted a pipe.

"That too!"

I rubbed my chin with great exaggeration, humming in thought.

"Not to mention my flawless personality and chiseled abs."

A metal clang sounded as Fergus fumbled the pipe he was fitting, and he looked up at me, incredulous.

“Please tell me you haven’t been chiseling yourself.”

***

I bounced on my toes as Sue turned a knob for the first time.

Pressurized steam came out of the wand, and my excitement swelled.

"This is the one for frothing the milk, right, Fischer?"

"Yeah! It looks like that part works, now we just need to test the really important ones."

She held up the portafilter that would hold the grounds.

"Fill this up, right?"

I nodded, gesturing at the coffee grinder.

The grinder was attached to the coffee machine, and she put the portafilter where the diagram had shown. She turned the crank, and the sound of coffee being ground was music to my ears.

She pointed at the group head—where the hot water would come from the machine and filter through the grounds—and cocked her head at me.

"I just attach the portafilter here, and turn this knob?"

"Yep! If we've done everything right, it should work."

She twisted the portafilter into place, and with one last look at me, turned toward the machine.

One hand reached up, turning the knob so the water could rush forth.

The machine groaned as pressure was released and transferred; Sue's eyes turned to me, panicked, but I smiled and nodded at the machine.

She turned back to it, and a moment later, the first drips of espresso fell into the cup below.

The flow increased, and the crema-laden liquid dripped out, its golden hue making my heart sing.

"About now, Sue."

She turned the water off, removed the now-spent grounds, and held the cup to her nose, smelling it.

"Give it a taste," I said, hoping to see the look of glee on her face.

She held the cup out to me instead.

"I think you should try the first cup, Fischer."

"Me? It's your coffee machine!"

"We wouldn't have the machine without you," Sturgill said, poking his head from the back of the bakery.

"Besides," Sue added. "I'm not sure anyone else would even know what coffee is supposed to taste like."

Even I had to admit that was a point—still, testing the fruits of her labor before she could felt… wrong.

"But it's the first one!"

"Exactly." Sue held it up before my nose. "No one else is more entitled to the first cup than you are. Please, Fischer. Let us show our gratitude."

I narrowed my eyes at her, smiling to offset the harsh expression.

"Using guilt now, are we?"

"Whatever gets the job done..."

I laughed, accepting the cup as I shook my head.

I looked around at the arrayed faces—Sue, Fergus, and Sturgill, still poking his head from around the back, giving me a thumbs up and a smile. Maria had not long arrived, joining us after selling their goods.

I wasn't surprised Roger was absent—he'd likely go home to check on Sharon. Despite that, and his grumpy demeanor, I still wished he were here.

"To all of you." I held the cup up in a toast. "My friends."

I received smiles in return, and I brought the cup to my lips.

The espresso, along with the rich crema, covered my taste buds. The coffee was still hot, its heat enhancing the flavors.

It was nutty and flowery, with a hint of vanilla and chocolate. It was mildly acidic, with an even more subtle hint of bitterness.

It was neither the smoothest coffee I'd even had, nor did it bear the most complex flavor profile. Despite these shortcomings, it was the best espresso I'd ever experienced—it wasn't even close.

It tasted of friendship, opportunity, and new beginnings, and I drank the rest in a single mouthful, breathing out through my nose and aerating the flavors with my tongue.

I let out a long sigh.

"Sue, that was the best coffee I've ever had."

***

Theo sat down at the table, scrutinizing a pastry George had set before him.

It was covered in sugar, and looked like just the type of thing the nobility back in Gormona would enjoy.

He brushed some of the sugar crystals aside and took a bite. The pastry beneath was buttery and flakey, and his eyebrows rose.

Not bad...

George pulled out the chair opposite Theo, fumbling it against the floor with his nervousness.

Theo stared at him, letting the silence stretch as he set the pastry down.

The lord opposite him dabbed his brow, trying ineffectually to remove the perspiration.

"So, George, I take it by your reaction that you know why I'm here?"

George slowly nodded.

"I'm a crown auditor—you knew that by my outfit, correct?"

George nodded again, looking like a condemned man before the executioner.

"So, as I said when I arrived, I caught the tail end of your meeting with the villagers of Tropica."

Theo crossed his arms, pursing his lips as if considering how to put his next words. He looked around the room, letting George's anxiety morph into panic.

"Let's talk about the taxes, and how you've managed to lower them."

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