Chapter Text
[DATA CORRUPTED] victini:
You can control white people by giving them cheese [DATA CORRUPTED]
Data corruption: partial
There wasn’t much Erend missed about the Claim. While he had fought to protect it from Carja raids, he had welcomed the opportunity to leave when it had come. He had particularly come to appreciate the adventure of travelling; meeting new tribes, new friends, and finding new machines at the end of his hammer. A growing Oseram settlement in Tenakth territory, Hidden Ember was regularly hassled by an interesting variety of machines rarely seen to the East, so his visits there combined all those favourite features of his life as a freebooter. Burrowers and Bristlebacks regularly crossed the paths of the delvers, merchants, and craftspeople who now streamed steadily towards the recently resurrected ruins of Las Vegas. Occasionally, a Tremortusk came too close for comfort and had to be dealt with. He was happy to be helpful, especially since helping was more often than not rewarded with a free round of Scrappersap.
This time, the convoy he’d joined along the road to Hidden Ember crossed paths with a convoy of a different kind; a Behemoth and two Ravagers roaming the desert. Luckily the group had several capable fighters and with Erend’s help, they had dispatched the trio with relative ease. The group trundled into Hidden Ember later than they’d hoped to, the sun dipping behind the mountains as Erend wiped sweat, sand, and blood from his brow.
“Erend! Welcome back, my friend!” called Morlund, walking down the ramp towards the group cataloguing their accumulation of minor injuries, “Hard fight on your way here?”
“Ah, well... you should see the other guy!” responded Erend, angling for a laugh with some self-deprecatingly faux bravado.
Morlund gave a dry half-chuckle, “Always our hero!” He threw an arm around Erend’s shoulders and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “Abadund will get you set up with a little reward... he’s got something even better than Scrappersap this time.” He touched the side of his nose with a pointed look at Erend, before turning his attention to the rest of the convoy.
Intrigued, Erend headed up the ramp and into the tower that served as the center of life in Hidden Ember to find Abadund bent over a leger mumbling to himself. “Hey, Abadund, how’s it going?” The shardcounter looked up blearily and blinked hard before focusing his gaze on Erend.
“You’re back,” he said mildly, “How was the road? You’ve got a little...” he motioned at his forehead.
“Oh,” Erend pulled the cloth back out of his pocket to dab at the sluggish trickle of blood that had seeped from the cut above his eyebrow. “We ran into a Behemoth convoy. Had a good crew though; don’t worry, those machines won’t be bugging anyone else!”
“Glad to hear it,” Abadund said as he pulled out a tankard and filled it with Scrappersap. Handing it to Erend, he thanked him, “To your victory!”
“Not that I’m ungrateful,” Erend said carefully in a low tone, “but Morlund mentioned you had something special to share?”
Abadund looked around sharply for eavesdroppers, “If he’s going to blab to everyone, we’re going to run out of them before we even get to enjoy one ourselves!” he hissed, “Has he forgotten how hard it was to get this far out of the Claim? The shards I’ve spent!” He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing, “Though I suppose if anyone deserves some, it’s you and Aloy...”
He went digging in a nearby crate while Erend watched him curiously, sipping his drink as he wondered what treasure the showmen had gotten their hands on.
Abadund returned to the table with a small, tightly wrapped package. It was round and about the size of his palm. He undid the string holding it closed and peeled back the paper wrapping before setting it in front of Erend. Erend touched the stout, smooth, red cylinder gently, confirming with his fingertips the waxy surface he expected to find.
“Highfield Red...” Abadund said with hushed reverence, before chattering on proudly, “They weren’t sure it would travel well enough, so we only have a few wheels for now, as a test. Had to pull strings from Chainscrape to Mainspring before we found someone willing to risk sending some of their limited supply all this way...”
So, there was one thing Erend missed about the Claim: Cheese.
—
In Meridian, traders from every corner of the Sundom passed through daily, bringing wares from all over. As Captain of the Vanguard, he could occasionally afford rarer imports, like cheese from the Claim. He’d heard that the Banuk had their own version of the food but he hadn’t had the chance to try it. In Carja lands, it was a rare addition to the tables of noblefolk; an exclusive import they had yet to imitate for themselves. Since coming so much further west he hadn’t crossed paths with any traders stocking such frivolities though. Life on the frontier called for more practicality, with supply caravans focusing more on moving timber and stone for new construction than on wares for trading. Who was there to trade with, after all? The “bloodthirsty Tenakth” had only ever traded in violence where the Carja were concerned.
He had once asked Milduf, the cook in Chainscrape, if he knew any good, cheesy recipes. He got a wistful earful about the characters and uses of cheeses the cook missed from back home, but ultimately the conversation only confirmed what he had already suspected: Cheese was impossible to get in the Daunt.
But now, for easily the first time in a year, he had cheese and by the forge he was going to savour it!
The showmen were serious about making Hidden Ember into a travel destination. Shows, games of chance, ale, and a good bite to eat, just like the Old Ones had in Vegas in ancient times. Stocking something special like this wouldn’t just be a taste of home for the Oseram expats, it would be another novelty to keep the crowds coming back.
Had Aloy ever had the chance to try it? Certainly not living amongst the Nora, as isolationist as they are, he reasoned. But perhaps in her travels? He knew she had travelled Banuk lands extensively (collecting even more titles for herself, he thought wryly) so perhaps she had. Sharing a table with Avad might have given her a chance as well. Regardless, this was a Highfield Red! He resolved to share it with her. If it wasn’t her first taste of cheese, it would at least be her best!
When he got back to the Base, he carefully secreted it away in one of the cooled cupboards in the room GAIA said had been intended to manage the seed bank. Oseram Ealdormen had taken to building cool, underground pantries to keep stores of food, and the farmers who made cheeses often used similar rooms to age their stock. He was sure it would keep until she next returned to the Base.
He just had to be patient.