Three months passed swiftly for the young rooster, who had now grown into full maturity. Although his size did not increase, Charlemagne found that he required less mana to maintain his enhanced bulk. On top of that, he also continued to refine his ability to manipulate his size, making a number of day-to-day activities easier, including the only one that he really cared about: mating.
Mahlon Miller proved to be invaluable in this particular effort. The Hen Whisperer had no issues getting the flock to cooperate as the human’s Class gave him almost hypnotic powers over Charlemagne’s hens. And, although he could feel the power radiating out from the man every time he issued a command, the rooster himself was almost entirely unaffected due to his inflated Attributes, his Soul Tempering, and his Ember Core.
The human, along with two of his assistants, quickly developed what was essentially a hen assembly line, bringing the hens to Charlemagne for a quick “cloaca kiss” and then swapping to the next in line. The hens fertilized each day were placed in a separate enclosure from the rest, and, at first, Miller or one of his workers would mark the pen with the date in order to track when they should receive Charlemagne’s ministrations again. Eventually, they gave up on this practice, but not due to laziness. Charlemagne’s unique biology combined with Miller’s Skills meant that he only needed to mate with a hen once and she remained fertilized for months, at the very least. The Hen Whisperer assured the rooster that he possessed a Skill that would let them know when the hens needed a second round.
Speaking of Skills, Charlemagne had received one that he was very proud of as part of his rewards from his Patron, Grimfalk. The Skill was “Animal Husbandry”. After asking the Squiggles many questions about what the word “husbandry” meant, the rooster decided that the Skill increased the number of mates he could have. It did not.
What the Skill actually did was slightly increase the overall health and growth speed of his offspring. It also gave a host of other minor benefits that Charlemagne wasn’t getting because Mahlon Miller and his team did everything short of mating with the hens, but the humans were so much better at running the farm than the chickens did not need to worry. After all, their every need was met efficiently and effectively by their ever-growing gaggle of servants.
That wasn’t to say that the rooster wasn’t pulling his weight. Another of the rewards that Charlemagne had received was an item called “the Cornucornium”, a basket that produced an endless stream of ears of corn, provided that someone removed them one at a time. And with the number of employees that Mahlon Miller seemed to have at his disposal, there seemed to always be a pair of hands available to take advantage of the Cornucornium’s largesse.
In fact, it seemed that every day more humans arrived to serve Charlemagne. The rooster didn’t mind so long as they stayed out of his way. His new diet of corn, soldier fly larva, wheat, and soybeans was both healthier and tastier than human flesh. Under these favorable circumstances, leaving the humans alone was really just following the path of least resistance. Charlemagne, having more important things to devote his energy to, did not feel like going out of his way to pick fights.
Of course, he still had to fight occasionally, but so far only once against a human. Every so often a predator would wander in, attracted by the thousands of hens gathered in one area, inviting swift retribution from the rooster. Even the incident with the sole human had been a matter of self-defense. The fighting hadn’t netted any levels, but Charlemagne was not worried. He was growing stronger every day.
The rooster’s Special Ability, The Power of Progeny, yielded continuous gains as more of Charlemagne’s offspring saw the light of day. In fact hatching offspring took up the majority of his time when he was not mating, sleeping, or eating. At first, finding the radiation that his chicks needed in order to fully mature had been fairly easy. But the former United States had gotten off a lot easier than most of the world, requiring him to fly farther and farther afield searching for radiation to absorb.
Although Charlemagne did not know it, many of the locals viewed the rooster as some sort of folk hero who went around cleansing the land. Those that worked at the farm were a bit more pragmatic, treating him with a healthy dose of respect mixed with fear, because no one wanted to be the reason that Charlemagne went on a killing spree. The rooster was blissfully ignorant of the feelings of the humans, nor would he have cared had he known. He had established a proper pecking order…it was up to those beneath him to abide by it or face the consequences. And, although he wanted to think that he himself was at the top of the food chain, there was still someone out there stronger than he was: Grimfalk.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The enormous reptile had not been stingy for once, a sign that Charlemagne took as a good omen for any future Quests that his Patron might issue. For his heroic efforts, the rooster was gifted two levels, the Animal Husbandry Skill, the Cornucornium, and two Intermediate Boon Tokens. Even more exciting, he had also received a message from Grimfalk. Unlike the letters that had been conveyed through the Squiggles, the missive took the form of a vision, allowing Charlemagne to get another good look at the enormous hunter.
Charlemagne finished his evening meal and took a short walk around the pens to make sure that everything was in order. The sun hung low in the sky, its fierce yellow having faded to the rich orange that immediately preceded sunset. For the hundredth time since he had arrived in Sussex, the rooster played the message, allowing the outside world to fade away as he focused his entire being on the image of his Patron. Grimfalk stalked into focus, his enormous jaws wide open as if ready to snatch and crush a lesser beast between his powerful jaws and razor sharp teeth. His very steps caused the earth beneath him to shake, as if it were trembling in fear. The hunter’s mighty eyes missed nothing as they flashed with barely restrained bloodlust, and his breath sent waves of hot air rolling out across the land. When he spoke, his deep voice sent a shiver down Charlemagne’s spine.
“Uh, hey, Charlemagne. I, uh, hope that you are enjoying all the presents that I sent you! You did a pretty good job there with the…the…the asteroid.”
The great beast stopped and coughed out the last word as if he were a cat hacking up a hairball.
“We are all…that is to say, I am very proud of you. You have earned me a whole lot of good stuff, you know? And, don’t tell anyone else, but your actions have earned me some Achievements! It’s a secret to everybody. If you tell anyone, we might both get in trouble, but I think I can trust you to keep your mouth shut, right? Of course I can! You’re a lot like me, except in the ways that you aren’t. And that’s okay. It really is. You are better off being a rooster, I can tell. But don’t worry about that! You didn’t need to turn into a little clone of me if you didn’t want to…I have another Champion that will be devolving soon into a proper theropod! That means that I’ll be able to start properly rebuilding my following. I’ll have thousands of little theropods running around the Earth before you know it! And I won’t have to pay Flockheart anything for them, ha! I bet that big old…never mind that! I am just glad that everything seems to be working out for the both of us.
Speaking of working things out, I need to give you some instructions that are very important. I have made up with the deities that were giving you so much trouble and we have agreed to a general truce of one year and a specific truce involving you. No human, canine, or feline should attack you. You cannot attack them either, unless they either attack you, are hurting your Party members, or they are attacking another chicken. This is very important! No killing sprees through human settlements. You can raid Dungeons, or pick on some other species if you want to level up or hunt something. Am I clear on this?
Now, Brett, the deity of humans, has arranged a replacement farm to make up for the one that you lost. You’ll be receiving a Divine Quest to head to a specific location. There you will find a man by the name of Mahlon Miller, who is a Hen Whisperer. He has promised to work for you so long as you treat him and his workers with respect. Don’t worry about paying him, his Class levels up as he takes care of chickens, so he’s getting a great deal too. Use the gifts that you’ll receive once you arrive to help you set up a new life, and don’t worry too much about what else is going on in the world. If anyone has earned a rest, it’s you. Thanks again for destroying that…thing…and good luck. I, uh, I am glad that I picked you.”
The vision went on for another good five seconds while Grimfalk awkwardly stared into the distance before it finally cut off. As he always did after watching the message from his Patron, Charlemagne swelled up with pride. He had done it…he had fought his way to the top, and now he was living the easy life, eating delicious food and raising babies. Nothing was going to bother his hens or his chicks, not while he was around to take care of things. There would be no repeats of the tragedy in Parakou, not while he still drew breath.
As Charlemagne turned away from the setting sun, the Squiggles arrived unexpectedly. Their message was short, but it had a profound effect on the rooster.
“Bawk! Bawk! Bawwwwk!” he cried in response.
The sun’s last rays cast long shadows across the poultry farm, signaling bed time for all of chickenkind. The hens shooed their chicks indoors to their coops, secure in the knowledge that, if anything should happen in the night, Charlemagne would protect them. None of them realized yet that the rooster was gone.
End of Book 2.
