248: Laborer Calling (Patreon)

After handing Cirayus a handful of loaves of stale bread—which Vir felt was already straining  Sani’s means—Vir set out on the road to Samar Patag with her two children and their communal Ash’va.

Darsh was the boy who’d fetched all the bread. He was a hardworking kid, and reminded Vir of himself in his younger days. Darsh’s sister, however, was far shier. She hadn’t said a word to Vir the entire time they’d eaten together, constantly stealing glances at him.

“Don’t mind Hetal,” Darsh said as he set their Ash’va’s saddle on the outskirts of the village. “She’s just bad around strangers. Not like we get a lot of you lot, y’know…”

Vir smiled at the slim-framed black-haired girl, who promptly hid behind her brother. Like him, she too was a red demon, dressed in very similar rags. Thankfully, they’d both donned sandals for the journey. Vir would’ve raised a few objections if they’d gone it barefoot.

With Vir’s prana-enhanced constitution, footwear was mostly optional, but for a malnourished demon child, it’d be a terrible ordeal.

If this is what the situation is like, even outside of Samar Patag, just how much worse do the Gargans have it there?

“I can relate,” Vir said. “I also grew up in a village.”

Hetal’s eyes widened. “Y-you did? Where?”

“Far, far from here, though it was quite a bit bigger than yours,” Vir said wistfully. He wondered what Camas and his goons were up to, and whether this village suffered the same issues as Brij. Being far smaller, he suspected they likely faced a similar, yet distinct, set of problems.

“Shall we get going?” Darsh asked, jumping up on his Ash’va. “Would you like to ride, or…er…”

“What are you saying?” Hetal said, snapping at her brother. “Mummy will kill us if she learns you let the stranger walk!”

“Oh. Sorry,” Darsh replied, bashfully looking away, but Vir waved away his concern.

“I’ll walk.”

The siblings looked at each other nervously. “No need. We’ll manage just fine. Or why don’t we all just sit together?”

While most Ash’va could take three riders without issue, one look at their skinny, malnourished beast told Vir that it’d have its back full with the two kids.

“Don’t worry about it. I won’t slow you down. I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I forced a kid to walk while I rode. Trust me.”

They looked at him like he was crazy, but it was obvious just how scared Darsh was of the idea of walking the whole way.

“You sure? It’s a two day Ash’va ride, even at his full speed.”

“I’m sure,” Vir said. His attention was on the distant landscape as he scanned for any sign of his four-legged friend. Neel always stuck close to Vir, never wandering off, and always returning when called.

Shan was a different beast entirely. He’d disappear for days, only staying close when the hordes of Ash Beasts had become too much for him to handle alone. Now that they were in far less dangerous territory, Vir had scarcely even seen the wolf.

Vir soon gave up his search. Shan was smart. He’d follow along. Besides, Vir suspected hunting for him would be a waste of time. The wolf could be anywhere, and was very good at staying hidden when he wanted to.

They set off, and the siblings’ suspicion of Vir’s physical prowess soon turned to confusion, and finally awe, as they saw him keep pace without even breaking a sweat. For Vir as he was, he could keep it up for a week if he had to. The prana roaring within his body certainly did some strange things to his physiology. He could even go long stretches without eating. That was really the only way they were able to survive in the Ash toward the end. There were far too many enemies to be eating two meals a day.

Which was also why the meager food Vir had brought the giant would suffice. Cirayus’ prana capacity, while not nearly at Vir’s level, was still far higher than almost every demon in the realm.

He’d debated whether showing off his capability would raise concerns, but Cirayus had assured him it wouldn’t, since most demons who’d spent any time in the Ash would be capable of jogging alongside an Ash’va for a day or two, assuming enough breaks were taken. Vir didn’t need those breaks, but the Ash’va certainly did, so it worked out.

The terrain changed slowly and subtly as they journeyed, changing from cracked desert to something resembling a savannah. A savannah with red soil. It was actually red, Vir had learned, and wasn’t just the eternal sunset playing tricks on them.

Hours of journeying gave Vir plenty of time to break the ice, and by now, Hetal was chatting nonstop, gesturing animatedly about life in the village, the other kids, and the festival that was coming up in a month or two. It was to be a festival of lights—one that Vir hadn’t come across in the human realm.

“It’s even better in Samar Patag! You’re gonna love it!”

Vir began to grow excited. There hadn’t been much in the way of festivals in the Human Realm, after all. Especially not in Hiranya.

They’d stopped for a break, mainly to allow their Ash’va, ironically named Garga, to rest. Whether merely a commentary on the beast’s spirit, or Sani’s dig at the Chitran, Vir couldn’t know. He suspected the latter, however.

There wasn’t any water for miles, so siblings worked together to make things as comfortable for the animal as possible. Hetal laid out a water bowl, filling it from their waterskin, while Darsh removed the saddle with practiced efficiency.

They both seemed like smart, hardworking children, which made Vir wish they had more opportunity to capitalize upon those traits.

“Have you lived in your village all your life?” Vir asked, earning him a confused look from the siblings.

Grak. That’s supposed to be common knowledge, isn’t it?

“I’m sorry, I’ve been in the Ash a while. I don’t remember your particular village,” Vir hastily added.

The children nodded in understanding. “What’s it like?” Darsh asked, his eyes sparkling. “Is it really as dangerous as everyone says it is?”

“Darsh!” Hetal said, kicking his shin. “He asked you a question first! How rude. Sorry, mister Neel, Darsh can be slow like that.”

Neel was one of the many aliases Vir had decided to assume until he revealed himself to the world. Vir, Neel, Apramor, Vaak… there was utility in having many names, and by now, Vir was an expert.

“Hey!” Darsh objected. “I’m not slow!”

“We only got to this spot a year ago,” Hetal said, ignoring her brother. “Though, mummy says we might move again soon. The land is just awful for crops. Everywhere is.”

“Gets worse every year,” Darsh added. “Deserts didn’t use to be deserts. Dunno what’s going to happen. How are we going to feed everyone when the plants don’t grow?”

“Have you considered switching Callings?” Vir asked hesitantly. He’d been reluctant to bring up this topic, which should’ve been common knowledge, and if he recalled Cirayus’ lecture from long ago correctly, there was some reason they couldn’t be changed. He just couldn’t remember the details, and the desire to ask had been gnawing at him all the while.

For whatever reason, not nearly as much prana bled through the Boundary into the Demon Realm, leaving it barren and infertile. Not even the most skilled farmer would meet with much success in these lands. In a country like Kin’jal, farming might’ve been a viable way to thrive. The plants grew wildly there due to their proximity to the Ash.

Here, however, it felt like only the Warrior and Ruler Callings held any promise for prosperity—and respect.

Which was why it galled Vir that these kids seemed so resigned to their fate as Laborer-Farmer Callings.

The kids exchanged glances. “It’s… been mentioned. Comes up more these days, the worse things get,” Darsh said softly. “Some folk want to stay. Some want to move, and some say we don’t have anything worth holding onto, anyway. That it’s better to give up our standing among the farmers and move on. But if everyone moves on, how’re people gonna eat?”

Ah, right. That was it, Vir thought. Changing Callings meant forfeiting the family’s reputation within that Calling’s community. Whatever respect and position their ancestors had built and earned would be lost. They’d be starting off at the very bottom.

Darsh was right. Ever Laborer Calling farmer must have had the same thought. Most were likely not as bighearted as Darsh—who wouldn’t wish to seek a better life for themselves in another Calling?

Yet if too many did, the Clan would run out of food.

This is such a mess…

Forget Chitran oppression. These people were on the verge of starving to death, and Vir couldn’t help wonder whether the Calling System was a system that worked well, or if it was just another way the Chits subjugated his people.

I wonder if other clans are this bad off. Or if it’s just a Chitran thing.

As far as first impressions went, the Chitran were not making a good one. Not at all.

“Mummy said people are having less kids these days,” Hetal said. “Not enough food for so many mouths.”

“Better than having hungry kids,” Darsh replied.

He’s right… but also wrong, Vir mused. Reducing the population might thwart famine, but ultimately, it’d result in a diminishing of Chitran’s power. Without an edge like the Altani had, the more people a country had, the stronger it tended to be on the world stage, assuming it was run well enough to capitalize on it. Kin’jal was a prime example, while Hiranya and Matali were examples of what happened when one lacked either good rulership or sufficient population, respectively.

Vir would happily witness the downfall of the Chitran, if only the Gargans wouldn’t suffer for it. Already, even without having seen the situation at Samar Patag, Vir was beginning to glimpse just how nuanced the situation truly was.

“S-so,” Darsh said when the silence had grown awkward. “Can you tell us about the Ash?”

Though the boy kept his voice measured, he couldn’t hide the excitement in his eyes. Vir might well have been the only demon he’d come across who’d ventured into the Ash. And, well, the journey was long and there wasn’t much else to do, so Vir obliged.

— —

Vir carefully chose what stories he told, keeping the descriptions limited to individual fights against Ash Beasts of various kinds. He didn’t breathe a word about Ashani or Saunak, nor did he give them any hint of who he truly was.

They didn’t seem to notice. Both Darsh and Hetal listened intently to his every word as they galloped—and as he ran. Narrating a story while running was a first for him, but the exertion was so easy that Vir was hardly inconvenienced by it.

They made camp a few hours later. While Vir had to keep consulting the tablet Cirayus had given him to tell time, the siblings seemed to have an internal clock that told them when to rest. For dinner, they brought out some lentil soup Sani had cooked, complementing it with stale bread.

Vir declined, lying that he had his own food with him. He could easily go a night or two without food. The kids were still growing. They needed all the help they could get.

Vir snuck away, opting to sleep some hundred paces away from them. Close enough that he could monitor them and respond to any threats, while still far enough away to gain a measure of privacy.

Cirayus had recharged his communications orb, and Maiya was due to call.