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Chapter 8 – Journey West
You never really know someone until you try to. I think we take for granted what people are, and paint them with a broad brush after a few meetings, or enough dialogue that we think we’ve got their character down. I know from experience that no man, or woman, is who they appear on first meeting. Or second, or even a lifetime’s worth sometimes. You have to really dig.
And that requires two things. For one, you have to be willing and invested in learning about them, because it’s not going to be easy. You have to be prepared to be disappointed, pleasantly surprised, and above all, to keep an open mind. You have to try to look at what they’ve done and how they feel from their perspective, and that’s easily the hardest part. Especially when it’s someone wholly different than you.
Harder still if they’re very similar to you. Because then you get a dose of your own medicine, and often times, you won’t like what you see. Then comes the doubt, the realization of who you are and potentially who you could become. That can be a dark road.
The second thing that’s necessary is that they be willing to open up. To be honest, you’ll never have that chance with most everyone you meet. So most people, you’ll never really know. Useful to keep that in mind next time you’re judging someone. You know jack shit.
On the few occasions you have the chance to really listen to someone who’s spilling their guts, I suggest you take it. Because it’s rare, and it’s better than knowing jack shit.
“It’s gotta be this one, right?” Lavanya says, pointing to the longest, thinnest and most delicate looking tool in the bunch. We’ve got our stolen blacksmithing tools laid out on the floor of Raja’s room, and we’re assessing them over a breakfast of bread and honey.
That’s right, honey. As it turns out, amongst her various other crimes while we’d been there, Anala had robbed the Contract Manager’s office, and made off with a small fortune that we were now enjoying. There’d been a box of very valuable coins, Amurescan golden crowns apparently (that’s where the Dog Lords lived, Ahsan had finally explained to me) hidden in one of the scroll cases she’d rifled through for kindling. Ahsan had theorized that the Contract Manager had been embezzling, otherwise the money would have been moved to a lockbox at the end of the day.
I’d also learned the word ‘embezzling’. I guess it’s basically like stealing, but done by people who are already rich, from people who are even richer. Being a fugitive was proving to be quite the education.
“I don’t think so,” I muse, pushing a few of them around to get a better look at them. “The handle’s really long, so it’s probably meant to be used in the forge, or for things that have to be worked on really hot. The collars are cut at a temperature hot enough to break them, but not hot enough to scald away the servant’s throat.”
“Good point,” she murmurs. “So we’re looking for one with an edge.”
“A few of them look like they could cut,” Ahsan says, pointing to three or four of them.
“That one there,” Lavanya points to one with a zig-zag pattern on the tong end that looks very familiar, “is for making the weakened parts. The seams.” She points at one of the seams on her collar
“Yeah, alright,” I nod, moving that to the side. “So we can exclude that one.”
“Kadar,” Anala’s voice catches all of our attention from the doorway. I look up to see her, dressed down from her armor to her tunic and loose pants. She looks so much smaller without it all, yet no less intimidating.
“Something wrong?” I ask as I stand.
She shakes her head. “No, but I need your help with one of the camels. She’s being difficult.”
Ahsan gives me a pitying look and Lavanya just makes a face. “Enjoy that,” she mutters.
I’d sort of become the de facto wrangler for the beasts ever since we’d gotten them. I really had very little experience with camels, but I’d managed donkeys before, when I worked at the kilns. So I was the best we had for the job. They were ornery, often disgusting animals, so no one envied my position.
I head out to the small paddock out back, really more of an empty lot refitted for the occasional beast of burden. Our two camels are standing in the corner near the water barrel, looking defensive and irritable. To be fair, we’d taken these animals from their rightful owners, who they’d probably been attached to. They had every right to be irritable.
“I’m trying to put salve that rat gave me on the sore she has under her right foreleg,” Anala explains. “She absolutely will not stand still. Any time I get anywhere near the sore, she tries to bite me.”
“You have to distract her with something,” I tell her, heading towards our camel bags. Inside, I’m fairly certain, we still have a small bag of almonds. “Any time you have to treat an animal for some kind of small injury, the best way to keep them calm is food. Give them something positive to focus on.”
“I was just hoping you’d hold her by the lead and keep her head away from me,” she mutters. “You spoil that creature.”
“If she doesn’t want you there, I’m not going to be able to stop her,” I say. “She’ll just start to think holding the lead means we’re planning to hurt her. And we’re going to have to keep treating it, so. . . better for her to trust us, right?”
“I suppose that makes sense,” she agrees with a sigh. “So you feed her-“
“You do it,” I say, handing her the bag. “She’s already pretty fond of me. She needs to learn to trust you.”
“She bites me when I feed her,” she growls out.
“Don’t growl around her, first off,” I reach for her hand and flatten it, folding her thumb underneath it. “And hold your hand flat. Don’t stick your fingers out, and she won’t bite them. And put the almonds in your palm slowly, so she doesn’t eat them all at once.”
She begins to slowly feed the camel, and I focus on rubbing the salve on the small sore. Considering it’s right where one of her straps usually lies, t’s probably also our fault, from putting her tack on too tightly. We don’t really know how to properly handle these animals or their gear yet.
For the most part, the camel stays calm and focused on her almonds while I treat her, and we spend the bulk of the time in silence. Until Anala says something that surprises me.
“So the cats are sharing a room now,” she mutters, in a tone that sounds almost too petulant to be coming from her, of all people.
“Yes. . . .” I say uncertainly, not sure where she’s going with that.
“I suppose it was only a matter of time,” she replies, and gives me little more than that. It seems an odd series of statements to have made, unless. . . .
I rub the last of the salve onto the camel and back up slowly, never taking my eyes off Anala. “Are you upset?” I ask, uncertainly. What I want to say, of course, is ‘jealous’. Because she’s certainly acting that way. But I figure she’ll be more willing to talk if I sound less accusatory.
“Not. . . upset,” she says, dropping the last of the almonds on the ground and dusting off her paws.
“Really,” I say, unconvinced. “Because you sound it.”
“I was just hoping not to be the odd man out,” she says, seeming dejected.
“Where’s this coming from?” I lean against the remains of the foundation of, what I assume, used to be the building occupying this lot. “Are you,” I choose my words carefully, “ah. . . were you. . . hoping for something with Lavanya?”
“No,” she says, not sounding angry or defensive, so I’m pretty sure she’s being honest. “It’s not that. I respect her as a comrade and a woman, but I hadn’t hoped for anything romantic, if that’s what you meant. Besides, my faith forbids it.”
“Ah,” I say. “I’ve heard about monks and priests having to take vows like that. So, full on chastity?” I would normally feel like I’m probing too much, but she doesn’t seem uncomfortable.
“It doesn’t matter what we do with our bodies,” she replies. “But our hearts. . . they must belong only to Anala.”
“That gets confusing,” I sigh. “You having the same name as your Goddess.”
“We are our Goddess,” she says. “We are her many arms.” She pauses, then admits, “But yes, it can be. You have no idea how complicated it gets at the temples. The older Priestesses say you get used to it, that you know your sisters because you simply know them. But try calling out to one particular woman in a room of sisters.”
I laugh. “Sounds rough.”
She chuckles too, and not in a manic, aggressive, ‘I’m about to run you through’ sort of way, for once. It’s strange to see any kind of feelings expressed on the woman’s face that aren’t violent, obsessive or irritated. But there’s a person there beneath the zealot, and every once in a while I get to see her.
She stops chuckling eventually and turns her muzzle up to the sky. I’ve seen her do it often, like she’s looking for something up there.
“My name was Shaan,” she says quietly, at length. “Before I took my vows.”
“Shaan,” I begin, but she cuts me off.
“No longer,” she says, not sounding aggressive, but very definitive. “I may have turned from the Sura, but I have not turned from my faith. I believe the Goddess sees me even here in this place, and is still guiding my arm. She wants me here. Helping you. I am Anala. Shaan is just the woman I used to be.”
Part of getting to know someone is knowing when not to push. I’m curious about the circumstances that lead to Anala- or Shaan, I suppose, becoming a Priestess, but it doesn’t seem to be what she wants to speak about, and that’s alright. There’s still enormous gaps in what I know of Ahsan’s past, and that’s alright, too. It’s not as though I’m entitled to know everything about them, especially if they’re not ready to talk about it.
But she clearly wants to talk about something.
“What’s got you like this?” I ask directly. “If it’s not jealousy. . . .”
“I suppose it is, in some sense,” she says, her tone suggesting she’s just now coming to terms with that. “I feel, that is to say I’m almost certain now, that once the cheetah is well enough, we are all going to go our separate ways.”
“I don’t think-“ I begin.
“We might escape the city together,” she says, “but past that, nothing is binding us together. Save your connections to one another. And now I am the only one unattached.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Well first off,” I say, “I think you’re wrong about Lavanya and Raja. The way she’s been acting with him, and really with all of us, has always struck me as more. . . motherly? Lavanya isn’t a warrior like you, she isn’t even really as capable in a fight as Raja and I, or even Ahsan when he’s pressed. She’s trying to find her place amongst us same as you seem to be worried about. And if you’d actually listened to what she said last night, I think you’d have realized that, too.”
Anala’s boxy ears tip back a bit at that, probably at the memory of Lavanya’s strong words. I could tell then that the Priestess had taken them to heart, but it didn’t seem to me that she’d really understood.
“She’s the most focused on us taking care of one another,” I say. “Even when we were doing things I didn’t approve of, stealing to get by, it was all about providing for us as a group, and that’s why she was for it. She wants to survive- she wants us to survive together, and I think she wants us to start looking at ourselves as more of a family. A Pride, I think that’s how she put it. Makes sense. Lions are big on unity, and I don’t think she’s had much of that for a long time now. That, to me, suggests that she wants us all to stay together. Don’t you think?”
“Yes,” she agrees. “It does.”
“I do, too,” I clarify now, so that she’s not in doubt. “We’re stronger together. Whether or not we will end up traveling together from here on out comes down to what everyone wants. If we don’t want the same things, well. . . .”
“I want to be a part of your fight,” she says, her gaze locking with mine. There’s that fervor, again. “Wherever it takes you. I feel with every shred of my soul that this path is right, that this is where the Goddess wills me to be-“
“Alright, alright,” I put my hands up. “We know all of that. No one doubts your focus, or your devotion. The question I think the others are asking is. . . why?”
She has no immediate answer for that.
“We’re all fighting for basically the same thing,” I explain. “For some of us it’s to rebuild a family, or to reclaim one we lost. Raja and Ahsan just want to know what it means to be their own man, and greet the world as a free person each morning. But we all have one thing in common,” I tug at the steel ring around my neck. “And by the way, no one’s forgotten that you used to be part of the powers that did this to us,” I say, trying not to sound angry or accusatory, but it’s hard.
“That is fair,” she says quietly. “But I’ve never kept an indentured person myself. I simply worked for the Clan. I wasn’t even a guard specifically tasked with controlling servants. I directed the guard house at the manor. We were more concerned with raiders or rival clans than servant revolts.”
“If you hadn’t slowed us down inside the manor,” I say, “we probably would have escaped alive with Lochan. All of us.”
“The Matron never would have let you take Ahsan away from her,” she counters. “Remember it was she who shot the old gladiator, not I. And you can’t know how much that has tortured me.”
“Maybe you should tell them all,” I say softly.
“After your flight from the Sura Plantation, I was. . . in crisis,” Anala says, speaking to a very curious audience as we all crowd around one of the more private tables in the bar area downstairs. Even Raja’s come down for this, and while he’s not moving with his usual energy or grace, I’m glad to see that he’s at least back on his feet this morning. We’ve been here three days now, and the rat- he’s informed us by now that his name is Ermingild- has said Raja is healing up well. He lost a lot of blood before we got him here unfortunately, so he’s been very tired, but it seems certain now that he’ll fully recover given enough time.
“I prayed, I agonized,” she continues, “I even flogged myself, in my search for purpose. You must understand, I signed on with the Sura first and foremost because they were once a Clan rife with conflict and with many enemies. We are pushed to work for rich clans, of course, because of our tithing. Half of everything I earned working on that Plantation went to my Order. I was not there for the coin. I was seeking meaning, which for my sisters and I is a battle, a skirmish, a war worth fighting. In my whole time there I saw nothing of the kind. I am past my thirty-fifth year, now. I was worried I was running out of time.”
She knits her fingers together on the table, looking down at her rough palms. “The fight with the Aard-“ she stops, looking to Ahsan’s disapproving expression, “with Lochan,” she corrects quietly, “was the first real challenge I’d had in years. But after much soul-searching, I came to feel that while it would have been honorable to fall to a man of such skill in combat, it is not what the Goddess intended for me. I was there as a witness to Matron Sura’s cowardice, and moreover, to see how the world as a whole is changing.”
“That’s true,” Raja mutters, flexing his shoulder with a wince. “Those weapons are fucking terrifying. Stuff of myth. It’s no wonder they’re conquering the damn world with them.”
“Soon, there will be no place for women like me,” Anala says, grimly. “Anyone with a pistol or a rifle and the will to use it can stop the greatest warrior dead in their tracks with one pull of a finger. Anala’s power will wane as the true art of warfare is lost, and our Order will fade away with her. All this knowledge, I contended with for many weeks, after the raid on the Plantation. It was hard. It was the most lost I have ever felt.”
“Fine,” Raja says, sounding pretty damn uninterested. “But if you don’t mind my saying so Priestess, you’re not usually one to bitch. What’s the point here?”
“Kadar felt I should explain to you all,” she sighs, “why it is I’ve joined you, and moreover, why I wish to remain at your side.”
No one immediately objects, so she continues. “I may be one of the last of my generation,” Anala says. “And I think I was meant to witness what I did, and to see the injustice of it. So that I could see the injustice of what has been done to all of you. I have come to believe that Anala means for me to champion your fight. What greater odds could there possibly be? This isn’t just about the Sura. It is about Mataa. You are all meant to make some kind of difference in this country. And I am meant to be your sword. Not because I’ll be the one leading you, but simply because I have the skill. This is not my war. . . it’s yours. But I know my purpose now, and it is to be a part of it.”
“We’ve gotten extraordinarily lucky so far,” Ahsan says. “We’re treading on very dangerous territory, here. A servant who runs from their contract is one thing, but a servant who directly fights the Clans?”
“It’s happened throughout history,” Anala insists. “We read up on many large slave revolts and uprisings when I was still studying war at the temple.”
“Yes, but slavery never ended,” I point out. “So that tells me no one’s been successful.”
“Yet,” Anala says quietly, but emotionally. “It is because your battle is against such overwhelming odds that it is so important.”
Everyone is silent for a time following that, and I can see the spectrum of conflicting feelings passing through the people in our group.
Ahsan is the first to break the silence. “She’s right,” he says quietly. “It might seem impossible, but. . . how many servants were there on the Sura Plantation? And how many guards? We won there because we outnumbered them, pure and simple. I’m pretty sure indentured peoples outnumber the Clans by at least double, even if we’re including lesser Clan members. Maybe more. If someone was able to inspire them all to stand up, to fight-“
“There’d be a lot of dead servants,” Lavanya interjects. “It’s not just about numbers. Especially with these new weapons they’re buying from the northerners.”
“Dela said something to me,” I speak up, “about this system being one that couldn’t last. That it’s the last dying gasp of slavery, or something. I don’t know about that. If we do nothing to change it, it’ll probably stay as it is for a long time. But I do think it’s precarious. The Clans ultimately care about money, power, and territory. Anything that threatens those three things, even if it’s not enough to send the whole system crashing down, might eventually just prove too expensive for them to continue using. I mean, just think about it. We’re goods, a product for sale, to them. If enough of that product is too hard to handle, or you have to keep destroying it, it doesn’t become worth it sell it any more.”
“Are you suggesting we clog them with bodies?” Lavanya asks, in that very Lavanya-esque, dry way.
“I’m saying- we have their tool,” I say, pointedly. “And think of all the damage we’ve caused so far, even with our collars on. If enough people had the nerve to stand up to them, they wouldn’t stand a chance. And this tool could be our rallying cry. If we can figure out how to use it, and start freeing people across the country, we could really start something.”
“Kadar and I are of one mind on that,” Anala says, looking across the faces on the table. “He wishes to head West, to the coast. I will be accompanying him.”
“I have reason to believe my family is being kept on one of these Shanivaar islands,” I explain. “Indentured. And literally with no escape, even if they wish to. We were able to run. There’s nowhere to run on an island. I can’t imagine how much more abusive the indentured practices could be in a place cut off like that. I have to go, and if they’re still there, help them escape.”
“Hey, wait,” Raja says, putting his palms flat on the table. “Are you taking the Liberator tool?”
“That’s the idea,” I reply.
“Well that’s not fucking right,” he says defiantly. “We all fought for that thing. I got shot over it!”
“Lower your voice,” Lavanya chides him, and he looks at her irritably, but does so.
“I’m sorry,” I say plainly. “But Ahsan is coming with me as well, and that’s more than half of us. You like things cut and dry Raja, so here’s how it is- we’re going west. Three of us, at least. And we’re taking the tool with us.”
“Look, we don’t have to be at each other’s throats,” Ahsan says, speaking calmly to the irate cheetah, whose already thick, spiky hackles are on end. “This is a very small island full of indentured people. They’re trying to establish it as a trading port of some kind, but right now there are only a few hundred people there.”
“So I’ve heard, anyway,” Anala adds.
“So they have to have a Liberator,” Ahsan reasons. “In a very small community. He should be easy to find.”
“We tried this already,” Raja insists. “They can’t talk. They can’t write. I thought we were going to try to figure it out on our own.”
“We still need a forge,” I point out. “A working forge, which isn’t that easy to come by. And we only have Sachsen’s word that all Liberators are as brainwashed and dead to the world as that one was. He was old, maybe if we find a younger one-“
“You just want to go after your family,” the cheetah says.
“I’m not denying that,” I say.
“So just say as much,” Raja growls, leaning back in his chair. “You think I don’t understand that? I had a family, once. Just because my mother died doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how it felt. If I had the chance. . .” he looks down a moment, sniffing and wrinkling his nose, “. . . I’d do anything to get her back.”
I smile just a bit. “Raja. Will you help me find my family?”
“You’ll owe me forever,” he replies, leveling his blue-eyed gaze at me. “But yeah. Just don’t bullshit me from now on out.”
“Agreed, no more bullshitting,” Lavanya speaks up, “from any of us. We all need to be unified in purpose.”
“We need to get as far from this city as possible, anyway,” Anala says. “And soon. Sigfried says he’s caught a few of the boys who come here sniffing around about us. The word’s out on the streets, too. The Sura are fractured, but they’re also angry. They’ve raised the bounty on us again, too.”
I look around the table. “I think we’re agreed, then,” I ask, just to make sure.
“Alright,” I nod. “Let’s get Ermingild.”
“Is that how that’s meant to be used?” I ask in amazement when the rat emerges from the alley behind Sigfried’s establishment.
The small creature gives me a curious look, pulling back the hood of his cloak. Then his eyes follow the direction of mine, and he chuckles. “Oh. The blade? Yes, indeed.”
The odd blade he’d used to cut off the arrowhead, which I’d thought was meant to be attached to the top of some kind of polearm, was in fact actually meant to fit over the rat’s tail, about two thirds of the way down. It had a metal sleeve of sorts, and was bound in place with leather straps.
“How well does it actually stay on?” I ask out of sheer curiosity.
“Well enough to surprise someone with it,” he winks at me. “Most people don’t spend a whole lot of time looking at rat’s tails. Beneath my cloak, it’s hardly noticeable. But a quick flick, and suddenly I’ve gotten your achilles and you’d never know how. Great for making a swift escape. Not so much for outright combat.”
“Clever,” Anala agrees, now more than a little interested that the topic’s turned to weapons.
“We need to get moving,” he says, ushering us towards the back gate. It’s really more of a rickety old fence that butts up against the building on the other side. “The caravan I’ve arranged won’t wait long.”
We follow him, leading the camels and what remains of our belongings. The most valuable of all, of course, the bag of blacksmithing tools, I’m carrying.
“Now I would have preferred to send you along with a group of my own kind,” Ermingild explains as we navigate the narrow alleyways, avoiding the streets entirely. He seems to know how to move us through the city through the buildings, avoiding larger open spaces. “But you would have stood out in a caravan comprised entirely of rats, so I negotiated with a man moving a large herd of camels and goats. I believe him to be trustworthy, but just to be sure, I’ll be coming along with you.”
“Really?” I ask, surprised. I hadn’t expected the rat to do much more than find us a contact and then leave us to it. “You’ll forgive me for being suspicious,” I say uncertainly, “but why?”
“Honestly, I’d like to get out of this city,” the rat explains. “You hit the hornet’s nest, and we’re some of the first people the Sura come after when they’re angry. Many of my kind are leaving.”
“We’re sorry,” Ahsan says, sounding guilty.
“Yeah,” I agree. Once again, leaving problems in our wake. It’s hard to remember in the moment sometimes that these things we do have ripples.
“Don’t be,” the rat chirps cheerfully. “I’ve never seen the coast, it’ll be quite the adventure. Besides, it does my heart good to see someone balancing the scales now and again. It’s not your fault they’re tyrants who throw a tantrum every time someone disrupts their ‘business’.”
He pokes his head out an alleyway and peers into the busy street beyond, then looks back at us, blinking his big dark eyes. “Someday, there will be a reckoning. Mark my words. The meek will rise up, and this country will change. For the present though, I’m just glad to be a troublemaker.”
He points down the street, to what I can only assume must be our caravan, judging by the sheer amount of meandering animals being herded around several water troughs near a well.
“So many camels,” Lavanya mutters, disgustedly.
“We will disappear off into the sunset amidst a braying, spitting, smelly mass of herd animals,” Ermingild says, smiling back at us. “Did I deliver, or what?”
Two months pass. Two hot, increasingly humid, hard months. The trip to the coast would probably have taken half as much time if we hadn’t been traveling with a herd, but so it is. Apparently part of the deal we’d had to broker with this man to join him and avoid questions was that we’d work for him the whole while, keeping his animals in check. Which is a frustrating affair, especially for people like Lavanya and Anala, who aren’t accustomed to any kind of work like it. Lavanya adjusts pretty quickly, but Anala seems displeased the entire way.
I don’t mind the work, honestly. And the trip is eye-opening, and quite the experience for a small village boy like me who barely ever strayed a few miles from where I grew up.
Mataa is a vast and varied country. We leave the deserts for more fertile country within the first week, travel through mountainous areas that rise up more than I knew the land could, and eventually near monsoon lands, where I am absolutely awestruck by how green the world can become.
But the coast. . . the coast is more beautiful than I ever imagined in my wildest dreams. We stand on a bluff overlooking the port of Chanvanasi, our final destination here on this continent. The water seems to spread forever in all directions in front of us, glittering in the mid-afternoon sun. I have never seen so much water in my life. I didn’t realize there was this much in the entire world, and there’s so much still that I can’t see.
It reminds me of looking up into the stars. One feels so small, you could disappear right where you stand. In the vast expanse before me, it feels like whatever I do with my life, it’s as insignificant to this world as the insects are beneath my feet.
But there’s also freedom in that. In a world this big, my failures seem just as insignificant. It’s oddly peaceful to feel so unimportant.
The city that stretches out beneath us is larger even than the last one we were in. But still smaller than the Eastern Hyronses, where I grew up. And here, no one knows us. There are no Sura. There will be other Clans, other hunters and dangers. But here for a while, we can be strangers.
Ahsan’s words from long ago come back to me now, stronger than ever. This is the precipice. From here on out, we have a real chance at freedom somewhere else. We could leave our country, leave all who know us, and collars or no, try to make our lives in the world beyond. Outside of Mataa, the Clans have no influence. We could escape them.
But that would mean leaving behind all of our responsibilities, and our own people. Leaving them to their fates, and living forever with the knowledge that we had something, a very important piece of equipment that could potentially set countless amounts of people free. . . but we chose our own personal freedom above that.
And it would mean leaving my family behind, too.
I’m sure many servants have done it. There are probably people all over the world wearing collars, in countries that don’t understand what they mean. People who’ve fled captivity for a chance at something better in a foreign land, which could be equally as dangerous in other ways. Not to mention having to learn another tongue, facing discrimination for not belonging to their cultures, the dangers of sea and travel. . . .
Still. It’s seductive to think of the possibilities. And I know it’s what’s going through everyone else’s mind as we all stand there, staring out at the sea.
“We have to find a ship,” Lavanya says. “The islands shouldn’t be far off the coast from here, but we’ll need to get through two different ports with collars on. Won’t be easy.”
“We can do it,” Ahsan says.
“Of course we fucking can,” Raja snorts. “We’ve come this far. Just one more short hop. And this time no camels.”
He begins making his way down the bluff at that, and the others follow. I stare after them, smiling a bit.
Immoral, violent criminals or no. . . I have some good friends.
Chapter 8 – Journey West
You never really know someone until you try to. I think we take for granted what people are, and paint them with a broad brush after a few meetings, or enough dialogue that we think we’ve got their character down. I know from experience that no man, or woman, is who they appear on first meeting. Or second, or even a lifetime’s worth sometimes. You have to really dig.
And that requires two things. For one, you have to be willing and invested in learning about them, because it’s not going to be easy. You have to be prepared to be disappointed, pleasantly surprised, and above all, to keep an open mind. You have to try to look at what they’ve done and how they feel from their perspective, and that’s easily the hardest part. Especially when it’s someone wholly different than you.
Harder still if they’re very similar to you. Because then you get a dose of your own medicine, and often times, you won’t like what you see. Then comes the doubt, the realization of who you are and potentially who you could become. That can be a dark road.
The second thing that’s necessary is that they be willing to open up. To be honest, you’ll never have that chance with most everyone you meet. So most people, you’ll never really know. Useful to keep that in mind next time you’re judging someone. You know jack shit.
On the few occasions you have the chance to really listen to someone who’s spilling their guts, I suggest you take it. Because it’s rare, and it’s better than knowing jack shit.
“It’s gotta be this one, right?” Lavanya says, pointing to the longest, thinnest and most delicate looking tool in the bunch. We’ve got our stolen blacksmithing tools laid out on the floor of Raja’s room, and we’re assessing them over a breakfast of bread and honey.
That’s right, honey. As it turns out, amongst her various other crimes while we’d been there, Anala had robbed the Contract Manager’s office, and made off with a small fortune that we were now enjoying. There’d been a box of very valuable coins, Amurescan golden crowns apparently (that’s where the Dog Lords lived, Ahsan had finally explained to me) hidden in one of the scroll cases she’d rifled through for kindling. Ahsan had theorized that the Contract Manager had been embezzling, otherwise the money would have been moved to a lockbox at the end of the day.
I’d also learned the word ‘embezzling’. I guess it’s basically like stealing, but done by people who are already rich, from people who are even richer. Being a fugitive was proving to be quite the education.
“I don’t think so,” I muse, pushing a few of them around to get a better look at them. “The handle’s really long, so it’s probably meant to be used in the forge, or for things that have to be worked on really hot. The collars are cut at a temperature hot enough to break them, but not hot enough to scald away the servant’s throat.”
“Good point,” she murmurs. “So we’re looking for one with an edge.”
“A few of them look like they could cut,” Ahsan says, pointing to three or four of them.
“That one there,” Lavanya points to one with a zig-zag pattern on the tong end that looks very familiar, “is for making the weakened parts. The seams.” She points at one of the seams on her collar
“Yeah, alright,” I nod, moving that to the side. “So we can exclude that one.”
“Kadar,” Anala’s voice catches all of our attention from the doorway. I look up to see her, dressed down from her armor to her tunic and loose pants. She looks so much smaller without it all, yet no less intimidating.
“Something wrong?” I ask as I stand.
She shakes her head. “No, but I need your help with one of the camels. She’s being difficult.”
Ahsan gives me a pitying look and Lavanya just makes a face. “Enjoy that,” she mutters.
I’d sort of become the de facto wrangler for the beasts ever since we’d gotten them. I really had very little experience with camels, but I’d managed donkeys before, when I worked at the kilns. So I was the best we had for the job. They were ornery, often disgusting animals, so no one envied my position.
I head out to the small paddock out back, really more of an empty lot refitted for the occasional beast of burden. Our two camels are standing in the corner near the water barrel, looking defensive and irritable. To be fair, we’d taken these animals from their rightful owners, who they’d probably been attached to. They had every right to be irritable.
“I’m trying to put salve that rat gave me on the sore she has under her right foreleg,” Anala explains. “She absolutely will not stand still. Any time I get anywhere near the sore, she tries to bite me.”
“You have to distract her with something,” I tell her, heading towards our camel bags. Inside, I’m fairly certain, we still have a small bag of almonds. “Any time you have to treat an animal for some kind of small injury, the best way to keep them calm is food. Give them something positive to focus on.”
“I was just hoping you’d hold her by the lead and keep her head away from me,” she mutters. “You spoil that creature.”
“If she doesn’t want you there, I’m not going to be able to stop her,” I say. “She’ll just start to think holding the lead means we’re planning to hurt her. And we’re going to have to keep treating it, so. . . better for her to trust us, right?”
“I suppose that makes sense,” she agrees with a sigh. “So you feed her-“
“You do it,” I say, handing her the bag. “She’s already pretty fond of me. She needs to learn to trust you.”
“She bites me when I feed her,” she growls out.
“Don’t growl around her, first off,” I reach for her hand and flatten it, folding her thumb underneath it. “And hold your hand flat. Don’t stick your fingers out, and she won’t bite them. And put the almonds in your palm slowly, so she doesn’t eat them all at once.”
She begins to slowly feed the camel, and I focus on rubbing the salve on the small sore. Considering it’s right where one of her straps usually lies, t’s probably also our fault, from putting her tack on too tightly. We don’t really know how to properly handle these animals or their gear yet.
For the most part, the camel stays calm and focused on her almonds while I treat her, and we spend the bulk of the time in silence. Until Anala says something that surprises me.
“So the cats are sharing a room now,” she mutters, in a tone that sounds almost too petulant to be coming from her, of all people.
“Yes. . . .” I say uncertainly, not sure where she’s going with that.
“I suppose it was only a matter of time,” she replies, and gives me little more than that. It seems an odd series of statements to have made, unless. . . .
I rub the last of the salve onto the camel and back up slowly, never taking my eyes off Anala. “Are you upset?” I ask, uncertainly. What I want to say, of course, is ‘jealous’. Because she’s certainly acting that way. But I figure she’ll be more willing to talk if I sound less accusatory.
“Not. . . upset,” she says, dropping the last of the almonds on the ground and dusting off her paws.
“Really,” I say, unconvinced. “Because you sound it.”
“I was just hoping not to be the odd man out,” she says, seeming dejected.
“Where’s this coming from?” I lean against the remains of the foundation of, what I assume, used to be the building occupying this lot. “Are you,” I choose my words carefully, “ah. . . were you. . . hoping for something with Lavanya?”
“No,” she says, not sounding angry or defensive, so I’m pretty sure she’s being honest. “It’s not that. I respect her as a comrade and a woman, but I hadn’t hoped for anything romantic, if that’s what you meant. Besides, my faith forbids it.”
“Ah,” I say. “I’ve heard about monks and priests having to take vows like that. So, full on chastity?” I would normally feel like I’m probing too much, but she doesn’t seem uncomfortable.
“It doesn’t matter what we do with our bodies,” she replies. “But our hearts. . . they must belong only to Anala.”
“That gets confusing,” I sigh. “You having the same name as your Goddess.”
“We are our Goddess,” she says. “We are her many arms.” She pauses, then admits, “But yes, it can be. You have no idea how complicated it gets at the temples. The older Priestesses say you get used to it, that you know your sisters because you simply know them. But try calling out to one particular woman in a room of sisters.”
I laugh. “Sounds rough.”
She chuckles too, and not in a manic, aggressive, ‘I’m about to run you through’ sort of way, for once. It’s strange to see any kind of feelings expressed on the woman’s face that aren’t violent, obsessive or irritated. But there’s a person there beneath the zealot, and every once in a while I get to see her.
She stops chuckling eventually and turns her muzzle up to the sky. I’ve seen her do it often, like she’s looking for something up there.
“My name was Shaan,” she says quietly, at length. “Before I took my vows.”
“Shaan,” I begin, but she cuts me off.
“No longer,” she says, not sounding aggressive, but very definitive. “I may have turned from the Sura, but I have not turned from my faith. I believe the Goddess sees me even here in this place, and is still guiding my arm. She wants me here. Helping you. I am Anala. Shaan is just the woman I used to be.”
Part of getting to know someone is knowing when not to push. I’m curious about the circumstances that lead to Anala- or Shaan, I suppose, becoming a Priestess, but it doesn’t seem to be what she wants to speak about, and that’s alright. There’s still enormous gaps in what I know of Ahsan’s past, and that’s alright, too. It’s not as though I’m entitled to know everything about them, especially if they’re not ready to talk about it.
But she clearly wants to talk about something.
“What’s got you like this?” I ask directly. “If it’s not jealousy. . . .”
“I suppose it is, in some sense,” she says, her tone suggesting she’s just now coming to terms with that. “I feel, that is to say I’m almost certain now, that once the cheetah is well enough, we are all going to go our separate ways.”
“I don’t think-“ I begin.
“We might escape the city together,” she says, “but past that, nothing is binding us together. Save your connections to one another. And now I am the only one unattached.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Well first off,” I say, “I think you’re wrong about Lavanya and Raja. The way she’s been acting with him, and really with all of us, has always struck me as more. . . motherly? Lavanya isn’t a warrior like you, she isn’t even really as capable in a fight as Raja and I, or even Ahsan when he’s pressed. She’s trying to find her place amongst us same as you seem to be worried about. And if you’d actually listened to what she said last night, I think you’d have realized that, too.”
Anala’s boxy ears tip back a bit at that, probably at the memory of Lavanya’s strong words. I could tell then that the Priestess had taken them to heart, but it didn’t seem to me that she’d really understood.
“She’s the most focused on us taking care of one another,” I say. “Even when we were doing things I didn’t approve of, stealing to get by, it was all about providing for us as a group, and that’s why she was for it. She wants to survive- she wants us to survive together, and I think she wants us to start looking at ourselves as more of a family. A Pride, I think that’s how she put it. Makes sense. Lions are big on unity, and I don’t think she’s had much of that for a long time now. That, to me, suggests that she wants us all to stay together. Don’t you think?”
“Yes,” she agrees. “It does.”
“I do, too,” I clarify now, so that she’s not in doubt. “We’re stronger together. Whether or not we will end up traveling together from here on out comes down to what everyone wants. If we don’t want the same things, well. . . .”
“I want to be a part of your fight,” she says, her gaze locking with mine. There’s that fervor, again. “Wherever it takes you. I feel with every shred of my soul that this path is right, that this is where the Goddess wills me to be-“
“Alright, alright,” I put my hands up. “We know all of that. No one doubts your focus, or your devotion. The question I think the others are asking is. . . why?”
She has no immediate answer for that.
“We’re all fighting for basically the same thing,” I explain. “For some of us it’s to rebuild a family, or to reclaim one we lost. Raja and Ahsan just want to know what it means to be their own man, and greet the world as a free person each morning. But we all have one thing in common,” I tug at the steel ring around my neck. “And by the way, no one’s forgotten that you used to be part of the powers that did this to us,” I say, trying not to sound angry or accusatory, but it’s hard.
“That is fair,” she says quietly. “But I’ve never kept an indentured person myself. I simply worked for the Clan. I wasn’t even a guard specifically tasked with controlling servants. I directed the guard house at the manor. We were more concerned with raiders or rival clans than servant revolts.”
“If you hadn’t slowed us down inside the manor,” I say, “we probably would have escaped alive with Lochan. All of us.”
“The Matron never would have let you take Ahsan away from her,” she counters. “Remember it was she who shot the old gladiator, not I. And you can’t know how much that has tortured me.”
“Maybe you should tell them all,” I say softly.
“After your flight from the Sura Plantation, I was. . . in crisis,” Anala says, speaking to a very curious audience as we all crowd around one of the more private tables in the bar area downstairs. Even Raja’s come down for this, and while he’s not moving with his usual energy or grace, I’m glad to see that he’s at least back on his feet this morning. We’ve been here three days now, and the rat- he’s informed us by now that his name is Ermingild- has said Raja is healing up well. He lost a lot of blood before we got him here unfortunately, so he’s been very tired, but it seems certain now that he’ll fully recover given enough time.
“I prayed, I agonized,” she continues, “I even flogged myself, in my search for purpose. You must understand, I signed on with the Sura first and foremost because they were once a Clan rife with conflict and with many enemies. We are pushed to work for rich clans, of course, because of our tithing. Half of everything I earned working on that Plantation went to my Order. I was not there for the coin. I was seeking meaning, which for my sisters and I is a battle, a skirmish, a war worth fighting. In my whole time there I saw nothing of the kind. I am past my thirty-fifth year, now. I was worried I was running out of time.”
She knits her fingers together on the table, looking down at her rough palms. “The fight with the Aard-“ she stops, looking to Ahsan’s disapproving expression, “with Lochan,” she corrects quietly, “was the first real challenge I’d had in years. But after much soul-searching, I came to feel that while it would have been honorable to fall to a man of such skill in combat, it is not what the Goddess intended for me. I was there as a witness to Matron Sura’s cowardice, and moreover, to see how the world as a whole is changing.”
“That’s true,” Raja mutters, flexing his shoulder with a wince. “Those weapons are fucking terrifying. Stuff of myth. It’s no wonder they’re conquering the damn world with them.”
“Soon, there will be no place for women like me,” Anala says, grimly. “Anyone with a pistol or a rifle and the will to use it can stop the greatest warrior dead in their tracks with one pull of a finger. Anala’s power will wane as the true art of warfare is lost, and our Order will fade away with her. All this knowledge, I contended with for many weeks, after the raid on the Plantation. It was hard. It was the most lost I have ever felt.”
“Fine,” Raja says, sounding pretty damn uninterested. “But if you don’t mind my saying so Priestess, you’re not usually one to bitch. What’s the point here?”
“Kadar felt I should explain to you all,” she sighs, “why it is I’ve joined you, and moreover, why I wish to remain at your side.”
No one immediately objects, so she continues. “I may be one of the last of my generation,” Anala says. “And I think I was meant to witness what I did, and to see the injustice of it. So that I could see the injustice of what has been done to all of you. I have come to believe that Anala means for me to champion your fight. What greater odds could there possibly be? This isn’t just about the Sura. It is about Mataa. You are all meant to make some kind of difference in this country. And I am meant to be your sword. Not because I’ll be the one leading you, but simply because I have the skill. This is not my war. . . it’s yours. But I know my purpose now, and it is to be a part of it.”
“We’ve gotten extraordinarily lucky so far,” Ahsan says. “We’re treading on very dangerous territory, here. A servant who runs from their contract is one thing, but a servant who directly fights the Clans?”
“It’s happened throughout history,” Anala insists. “We read up on many large slave revolts and uprisings when I was still studying war at the temple.”
“Yes, but slavery never ended,” I point out. “So that tells me no one’s been successful.”
“Yet,” Anala says quietly, but emotionally. “It is because your battle is against such overwhelming odds that it is so important.”
Everyone is silent for a time following that, and I can see the spectrum of conflicting feelings passing through the people in our group.
Ahsan is the first to break the silence. “She’s right,” he says quietly. “It might seem impossible, but. . . how many servants were there on the Sura Plantation? And how many guards? We won there because we outnumbered them, pure and simple. I’m pretty sure indentured peoples outnumber the Clans by at least double, even if we’re including lesser Clan members. Maybe more. If someone was able to inspire them all to stand up, to fight-“
“There’d be a lot of dead servants,” Lavanya interjects. “It’s not just about numbers. Especially with these new weapons they’re buying from the northerners.”
“Dela said something to me,” I speak up, “about this system being one that couldn’t last. That it’s the last dying gasp of slavery, or something. I don’t know about that. If we do nothing to change it, it’ll probably stay as it is for a long time. But I do think it’s precarious. The Clans ultimately care about money, power, and territory. Anything that threatens those three things, even if it’s not enough to send the whole system crashing down, might eventually just prove too expensive for them to continue using. I mean, just think about it. We’re goods, a product for sale, to them. If enough of that product is too hard to handle, or you have to keep destroying it, it doesn’t become worth it sell it any more.”
“Are you suggesting we clog them with bodies?” Lavanya asks, in that very Lavanya-esque, dry way.
“I’m saying- we have their tool,” I say, pointedly. “And think of all the damage we’ve caused so far, even with our collars on. If enough people had the nerve to stand up to them, they wouldn’t stand a chance. And this tool could be our rallying cry. If we can figure out how to use it, and start freeing people across the country, we could really start something.”
“Kadar and I are of one mind on that,” Anala says, looking across the faces on the table. “He wishes to head West, to the coast. I will be accompanying him.”
“I have reason to believe my family is being kept on one of these Shanivaar islands,” I explain. “Indentured. And literally with no escape, even if they wish to. We were able to run. There’s nowhere to run on an island. I can’t imagine how much more abusive the indentured practices could be in a place cut off like that. I have to go, and if they’re still there, help them escape.”
“Hey, wait,” Raja says, putting his palms flat on the table. “Are you taking the Liberator tool?”
“That’s the idea,” I reply.
“Well that’s not fucking right,” he says defiantly. “We all fought for that thing. I got shot over it!”
“Lower your voice,” Lavanya chides him, and he looks at her irritably, but does so.
“I’m sorry,” I say plainly. “But Ahsan is coming with me as well, and that’s more than half of us. You like things cut and dry Raja, so here’s how it is- we’re going west. Three of us, at least. And we’re taking the tool with us.”
“Look, we don’t have to be at each other’s throats,” Ahsan says, speaking calmly to the irate cheetah, whose already thick, spiky hackles are on end. “This is a very small island full of indentured people. They’re trying to establish it as a trading port of some kind, but right now there are only a few hundred people there.”
“So I’ve heard, anyway,” Anala adds.
“So they have to have a Liberator,” Ahsan reasons. “In a very small community. He should be easy to find.”
“We tried this already,” Raja insists. “They can’t talk. They can’t write. I thought we were going to try to figure it out on our own.”
“We still need a forge,” I point out. “A working forge, which isn’t that easy to come by. And we only have Sachsen’s word that all Liberators are as brainwashed and dead to the world as that one was. He was old, maybe if we find a younger one-“
“You just want to go after your family,” the cheetah says.
“I’m not denying that,” I say.
“So just say as much,” Raja growls, leaning back in his chair. “You think I don’t understand that? I had a family, once. Just because my mother died doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how it felt. If I had the chance. . .” he looks down a moment, sniffing and wrinkling his nose, “. . . I’d do anything to get her back.”
I smile just a bit. “Raja. Will you help me find my family?”
“You’ll owe me forever,” he replies, leveling his blue-eyed gaze at me. “But yeah. Just don’t bullshit me from now on out.”
“Agreed, no more bullshitting,” Lavanya speaks up, “from any of us. We all need to be unified in purpose.”
“We need to get as far from this city as possible, anyway,” Anala says. “And soon. Sigfried says he’s caught a few of the boys who come here sniffing around about us. The word’s out on the streets, too. The Sura are fractured, but they’re also angry. They’ve raised the bounty on us again, too.”
I look around the table. “I think we’re agreed, then,” I ask, just to make sure.
“Alright,” I nod. “Let’s get Ermingild.”
“Is that how that’s meant to be used?” I ask in amazement when the rat emerges from the alley behind Sigfried’s establishment.
The small creature gives me a curious look, pulling back the hood of his cloak. Then his eyes follow the direction of mine, and he chuckles. “Oh. The blade? Yes, indeed.”
The odd blade he’d used to cut off the arrowhead, which I’d thought was meant to be attached to the top of some kind of polearm, was in fact actually meant to fit over the rat’s tail, about two thirds of the way down. It had a metal sleeve of sorts, and was bound in place with leather straps.
“How well does it actually stay on?” I ask out of sheer curiosity.
“Well enough to surprise someone with it,” he winks at me. “Most people don’t spend a whole lot of time looking at rat’s tails. Beneath my cloak, it’s hardly noticeable. But a quick flick, and suddenly I’ve gotten your achilles and you’d never know how. Great for making a swift escape. Not so much for outright combat.”
“Clever,” Anala agrees, now more than a little interested that the topic’s turned to weapons.
“We need to get moving,” he says, ushering us towards the back gate. It’s really more of a rickety old fence that butts up against the building on the other side. “The caravan I’ve arranged won’t wait long.”
We follow him, leading the camels and what remains of our belongings. The most valuable of all, of course, the bag of blacksmithing tools, I’m carrying.
“Now I would have preferred to send you along with a group of my own kind,” Ermingild explains as we navigate the narrow alleyways, avoiding the streets entirely. He seems to know how to move us through the city through the buildings, avoiding larger open spaces. “But you would have stood out in a caravan comprised entirely of rats, so I negotiated with a man moving a large herd of camels and goats. I believe him to be trustworthy, but just to be sure, I’ll be coming along with you.”
“Really?” I ask, surprised. I hadn’t expected the rat to do much more than find us a contact and then leave us to it. “You’ll forgive me for being suspicious,” I say uncertainly, “but why?”
“Honestly, I’d like to get out of this city,” the rat explains. “You hit the hornet’s nest, and we’re some of the first people the Sura come after when they’re angry. Many of my kind are leaving.”
“We’re sorry,” Ahsan says, sounding guilty.
“Yeah,” I agree. Once again, leaving problems in our wake. It’s hard to remember in the moment sometimes that these things we do have ripples.
“Don’t be,” the rat chirps cheerfully. “I’ve never seen the coast, it’ll be quite the adventure. Besides, it does my heart good to see someone balancing the scales now and again. It’s not your fault they’re tyrants who throw a tantrum every time someone disrupts their ‘business’.”
He pokes his head out an alleyway and peers into the busy street beyond, then looks back at us, blinking his big dark eyes. “Someday, there will be a reckoning. Mark my words. The meek will rise up, and this country will change. For the present though, I’m just glad to be a troublemaker.”
He points down the street, to what I can only assume must be our caravan, judging by the sheer amount of meandering animals being herded around several water troughs near a well.
“So many camels,” Lavanya mutters, disgustedly.
“We will disappear off into the sunset amidst a braying, spitting, smelly mass of herd animals,” Ermingild says, smiling back at us. “Did I deliver, or what?”
Two months pass. Two hot, increasingly humid, hard months. The trip to the coast would probably have taken half as much time if we hadn’t been traveling with a herd, but so it is. Apparently part of the deal we’d had to broker with this man to join him and avoid questions was that we’d work for him the whole while, keeping his animals in check. Which is a frustrating affair, especially for people like Lavanya and Anala, who aren’t accustomed to any kind of work like it. Lavanya adjusts pretty quickly, but Anala seems displeased the entire way.
I don’t mind the work, honestly. And the trip is eye-opening, and quite the experience for a small village boy like me who barely ever strayed a few miles from where I grew up.
Mataa is a vast and varied country. We leave the deserts for more fertile country within the first week, travel through mountainous areas that rise up more than I knew the land could, and eventually near monsoon lands, where I am absolutely awestruck by how green the world can become.
But the coast. . . the coast is more beautiful than I ever imagined in my wildest dreams. We stand on a bluff overlooking the port of Chanvanasi, our final destination here on this continent. The water seems to spread forever in all directions in front of us, glittering in the mid-afternoon sun. I have never seen so much water in my life. I didn’t realize there was this much in the entire world, and there’s so much still that I can’t see.
It reminds me of looking up into the stars. One feels so small, you could disappear right where you stand. In the vast expanse before me, it feels like whatever I do with my life, it’s as insignificant to this world as the insects are beneath my feet.
But there’s also freedom in that. In a world this big, my failures seem just as insignificant. It’s oddly peaceful to feel so unimportant.
The city that stretches out beneath us is larger even than the last one we were in. But still smaller than the Eastern Hyronses, where I grew up. And here, no one knows us. There are no Sura. There will be other Clans, other hunters and dangers. But here for a while, we can be strangers.
Ahsan’s words from long ago come back to me now, stronger than ever. This is the precipice. From here on out, we have a real chance at freedom somewhere else. We could leave our country, leave all who know us, and collars or no, try to make our lives in the world beyond. Outside of Mataa, the Clans have no influence. We could escape them.
But that would mean leaving behind all of our responsibilities, and our own people. Leaving them to their fates, and living forever with the knowledge that we had something, a very important piece of equipment that could potentially set countless amounts of people free. . . but we chose our own personal freedom above that.
And it would mean leaving my family behind, too.
I’m sure many servants have done it. There are probably people all over the world wearing collars, in countries that don’t understand what they mean. People who’ve fled captivity for a chance at something better in a foreign land, which could be equally as dangerous in other ways. Not to mention having to learn another tongue, facing discrimination for not belonging to their cultures, the dangers of sea and travel. . . .
Still. It’s seductive to think of the possibilities. And I know it’s what’s going through everyone else’s mind as we all stand there, staring out at the sea.
“We have to find a ship,” Lavanya says. “The islands shouldn’t be far off the coast from here, but we’ll need to get through two different ports with collars on. Won’t be easy.”
“We can do it,” Ahsan says.
“Of course we fucking can,” Raja snorts. “We’ve come this far. Just one more short hop. And this time no camels.”
He begins making his way down the bluff at that, and the others follow. I stare after them, smiling a bit.
Immoral, violent criminals or no. . . I have some good friends.
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Absolutely loved reading this entire book <3 read it all on Patreon!
By far one of the best chapters
By far one of the best chapters
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