All Poisons Can Become Medicine - 3
All poisons can become medicine. Players who enjoyed the Joinkind in [Frozenstorm Colony] called this race by all sorts of colorful names. Ill omens, that beast, damn birds, and the like.
The game's balance was decent enough. The appearance of Joinkind didn't mean you had to quit immediately or that clearing became impossible. And yet, players despised these creatures with a passion.
'Joinkind... are a pain.'
Human-like races were straightforward and sturdy by nature. They didn't harass the governor over trivial matters, and their demands were reasonable enough. Humans were the type who could endure as long as they weren't starving for days or forced to sleep rough without shelters. They wouldn't wail like the sky was falling over not living in fancy houses or eating gourmet meals, screaming for impeachment.
Dwarves complained a lot, but experienced players could manage. Newbies often botched operations by getting swept up in the dwarves' absurd gripes like "This isn't a stone bed" or "No beer right now." But dwarves knew how to hold out despite nitpicking. A seasoned governor would let their anger build to the breaking point, then offer a plausible promise right when it erupted. "I'll build several stone mansions for dwarves before next year!" or "Starting this year, we'll plant barley seeds, harvest them, and brew beer!" They'd grumble contentedly, "Guess we are respected after all," and trudge back to work diligently.
Even if their complaints hit the limit, they wouldn't riot right away. They'd start working earnestly to resolve them or pitch in without complaint if the settlement itself was in crisis.
'But not Joinkind.'
If controlling dwarven complaints was "a bit tricky," perfectly managing Joinkind's was "bordering on half-impossible." Arrogant and haughty to the extreme, they'd refuse even minor orders or slack off if the governor wasn't one they approved of.
Joinkind piled up grievances just from assigning tasks they deemed beneath them—anything not art, sewing, tailoring, or music. They demanded a lot: fine clothes, artwork, ornaments, fragrant teas. But producing or importing such luxuries in a colony's early stages was nearly impossible. Right when you should be grateful for a scrap of meat from hunting or a single berry from foraging, Joinkind would screech their shrill, grating complaints.
'Anyway, gotta trade.'
Even if Joinkind had rotten average personalities, individuals varied. You couldn't judge by race alone. Besides, like it or not, I had to negotiate with her.
'Alright... let's do this.'
From here on, I had to stay sharp. My approach couldn't be the same as in [Wasteland 2]. There, I was the savior. Just supplying water let me hold their leashes. And the trading post was open to anyone, not just them—worst case, I could deal with other travelers or factions.
But here, I was fundamentally the supplicant.
'I have no one else to trade with but her, but she can survive without me.'
Lisa's group faced annihilation without water, but this governor could muddle through fine without me. All I had to do was hide that I was the desperate one and calmly pressure her.
I opened my mouth.
"Do you need anything?"
/////
Shatinbelle desperately hid her bewilderment as she stared at the man's face.
'No mana... what bizarre magic.'
"Needed goods... But first, shouldn't you tell me what you can bring?"
"I can bring quite a lot. It depends on Governor Shatinbelle's needs."
"A tempting offer. But... no. My regrets."
"Why not?"
"My colony is like a chick fresh from the egg. We have nothing to trade with you."
She wasn't foolish, just a bit arrogant. Merchants wandering beyond Iterneas always took goods in kind. Deals had to be ironclad. But all she could offer now was some wood, a bit of food, and precious artifacts from the city—artifacts meant as the colony's foundation. Unless lives hung in the balance, she couldn't sell the empress's gifts.
"If you seek the Silkraise family's favor, accept gladly. Otherwise, try another settlement."
"I'll take anything tangible."
"Even worthless junk?"
"When you want valuables from the colony, I'll make a separate request."
Shatinbelle gave a faint smile.
"That's just pretty packaging for... donating supplies without payment, isn't it?"
"Yes. Exactly."
"Amusing."
This wasn't how normal merchants acted. From the moment he hadn't arrived by camel and cart but teleported an entire building into the settlement, he'd been extraordinary.
"No such thing as a free trade. Only whether the payment comes now or later."
Shatinbelle glared steadily at the man beyond the screen.
"What payment do you seek from me?"
"Wise of you."
The man—Jeong Isu—was smiling too.
"I plan to take the Heart of the Storm."
"Heart of the Storm?"
Shatinbelle felt intrigue. He knew how to perform entertaining tricks. If this was a well-scripted comedy, she'd applaud the novice human actor transcending his race's limits. Entrance, looks, words, proposal—everything fresh and captivating.
"We don't have that."
"Then find it."
"Aiming too high? What if we can't? And even if we do..."
Her eyes sharpened instantly.
"It's for Her Imperial Majesty's glory. Think you can sell it to a merchant?"
"Find something else then."
"Hoh..."
"I'll help. Surely the world has more treasures worthy of the empress's pyre than just one Heart of the Storm."
"Not wrong, but wildly unrealistic. A young Joinkind might fall for such sweet talk... but not I."
"I can supply most materials needed in the process."
"Sounds fanciful. Grateful for the offer, but perhaps seek others..."
Shatinbelle let out a hollow laugh.
"Pity. You'll surely need my help—wait."
His expression twisted.
"What's that behind you?"
"Playing a prank? What the hel—Kyaaaaaaa!"
Shatinbelle shrieked girlishly and toppled forward.
Ants. Not one, but hundreds.
"Kyaa, kyat! What is this! Illusion? If you don't want Her Majesty's wrath, stop it! Stop now!"
"Not me... Did you poke an ant nest?"
"As if! We just arrived! Such... I've never heard of this!"
"Did you seal the warehouse?"
"No time for th—"
"Too bad. Gather people and light fires to drive them out."
"Fires? Burn our homes?"
"Simple oil and candles will do. And with them crawling around..."
He gave a wry smile.
"I can guess what you need. I'll prepare it."
"Guh, hngh! Climbing! They're climbing! These vile, disgusting creeps... coming closer!"
Forgetting dignity and poise, Shatinbelle flapped her wings, whipping up a whirlwind. Countless ants flew off, but plenty remained.
"Kyaaaaaaa!"
Even after comms cut, her screams echoed.
/////
'Sudden Ant Surge'. One of the major penalties in colony management.
Like a locust swarm, ants multiply explosively and devour everything. Unlike real locusts, they didn't turn the land barren, but the threat was real. They'd sweep through, stripping food stocks regardless of type.
No casualties, sure, but it'd bring tears of blood.
"Not a poked nest... probably a random environmental event. Bad luck..."
With preparation, it wasn't catastrophic. Upgraded granaries blocked them outright; developed settlements recovered fast. Or buy food dearly from merchants.
But none viable early-game. Hitting 'Sudden Ant Surge' at the start? Bloodbath.
"Joinkind... can't recover."
Other races had traits to weather crises. Dwarves toughed out famine if the settlement was threatened; orcs hunted wild game with sturdy bodies.
Joinkind? Nothing. No preferred grains left—they'd have to forage fruits or veggies in the woods, weeping. Harpies without proper weapons or scouting? Suicide.
"Figured she'd slip eventually... but not this fast."
I chuckled dryly. She didn't seem like a vet governor. Push a "dangerous situation" and demand trade? She'd bite. With lives and the colony's fate at stake, risky deals were inevitable.
Faster than expected, but I'd anticipated this from first sight.
"Time to start."
Arriving at my warehouse by car, I eyed the blue container. My ability had grown enough to move it wholesale.