She also learned how often she ought to clean out the litter in the coop based on the scheme of composting she was using, the sort of bedding she should put down in their nest boxes to make it comfortable for them to lay, and the purpose of nest box curtains.
(Besides looking cute, nest box curtains gave a hen who was laying eggs in a nest box or brooding over her chicks a little more privacy, and sometimes prevented hens from having a territorial fuss over a box. They also kept cold drafts off laying hens and baby chicks. Stylish and functional!)
Having become more knowledgeable about chicken husbandry, Demi felt she could carry on with her studies. She needed to learn more about the world around her. Fortunately, there were plenty of books on history and culture, so many that it was honestly overwhelming, so she decided to focus on the regions around Rosewood Farm.
Her farm was in the country of Prystir, in the unorganized western territories to be precise. Prystir was a relatively young nation, and if the histories (and light novels) she had read were to be believed, a substantial amount of the land had once been underwater, giving the place the flavor of a legendary lost kingdom, like Atlantis or Beleriand.
Due to the actions of the Hero-King Conri, the Unicorn Queen, and Demi’s own Shadowstep Alchemist, this submerged land had been recovered, the divided lands unified, and the nation of Prystir founded.
Yes, that Shadowstep Alchemist, her Shadowstep Alchemist, the protagonist of the light novel that she was still carrying around in the pocket of her dress, the series that currently occupied much of her leisure time and a great deal of real estate in her brain. According to the histories, the Shadowstep Alchemist had been one of the most influential figures in Prystir around the time of its founding. It wasn’t enough that he was the father of a groundbreaking new style of alchemy; he was also engaged in legendary deeds and nation building.
And he had introduced dozens of social and technological innovations which had helped to propel Prystir to prosperity and to advance society more generally.
“Like the printing press!” Demi had declared out loud, sitting bolt upright when she had read over this detail. She immediately clasped her hands in front of herself, putting the book face down in her lap. “Thank you, Shadowstep Alchemist, for inventing the printing press. I’m sure I have you to thank for facilitating an avalanche of books that I would never have had the pleasure of reading otherwise.”
Glimmer, who had been napping close by, was startled by her unexpected display of piety, and then mildly affronted by it when he determined the recipient.
“Why are you praying to the alchemist?” he demanded. “He’s not a deity. He can’t answer your prayers.”
“It’s just good manners to thank the people that you’re grateful to!” she pointed out. “And I’m very grateful to him for not only inventing the printing press, but also being a driving force behind the establishment of free compulsory education here, and the commensurate rise in literacy that inevitably followed. He doesn’t have to answer any of my prayers. He already did!”
“Well, if you’re happy, then I suppose I’m happy,” Glimmer harrumphed. It was not entirely clear whether he was out of sorts because of her unorthodox prayer or because he had been woken up from napping. Based on the fact that he escorted himself out of the library, she suspected the latter.
That was all right. There were plenty of fine places in the house for a chicken to nap, after all. She was in the midst of important research!
Demi dug up all she could on the Shadowstep Alchemist, attempting to follow his thread through time and history.
But despite her detective work, he remained elusive. None of the history books recorded a name for him, calling him always by his epithet, and he was known for wearing an off-putting mask that concealed the whole of his face. Some of the books even speculated that he was not any single person, but that his work had been carried out by a secret society, which was why he was always masked, so no one could determine who was appearing at any given time.
And admittedly, the sheer number of things the Shadowstep Alchemist was purported to have accomplished was honestly astonishing. If he had accomplished even half of the things he was credited with, then he was deserving of bushel baskets of accolades, at least in her opinion. It was probably unsurprising that some people speculated that it was all too much for any one person to do even in a dozen lifetimes.
But Demi wanted to believe. She was already his fan after all.
And despite the vagueness of the histories, Demi already had a name for her Shadowstep Alchemist: Grey Thornwood.
It was the name that Hollyhope had given to him, and it had already become familiar to Demi, even though it didn’t quite fit perfectly, not in her mind, at least.
It was a nice name. She liked it! But somehow...
I just don’t think he’s a “Grey,” she ruminated pensively, then paused, struck by a sudden thought. But I suppose he would be a “gray” by this point, even if he is a half elf! He’d be over 350 years old! And honestly, “Grey Thornwood” is a very enticing name. Even if it doesn’t feel quite right for him, it’s definitely a name fit for a handsome old man.
Maybe she was just thinking too hard about it. Hollyhope had named him after all.
She would be the one who would know, wouldn’t she? Demi considered. Of course, there’s always artistic license, and the “This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental” get-out-of-jail-free card. I wonder if goddesses have to worry about things like that?
Demi leaned back in her chair and it let out an ancient creak as she rubbed at her eyes. She had been working for a long time.
“I think I’m probably finished for the night,” she observed to no one but herself, since Dollop was already asleep on a pillow on the floor and Glimmer had departed some time ago for the footboard of her bed so he could roost in peace.
She gently woke Dollop up and they both climbed the stairs together to her new bedroom. She read in bed until she could no longer stay awake, and then drifted to sleep in much the same way that she had inside her quaint lean-to.