Reborn From the Cosmos
Arc 8-47

I think of the Tome family as poor, but only in relation to other nobles. Our treasury did not match our title and abilities, but peerage is no guarantee of wealth. My childhood wasn’t rife with luxury but we weren’t destitute; there was never a concern that our home would be taken from us or that we wouldn’t be able to eat through the winter.

The same could be said for the peasants under our purview. Father was no tyrant. He preferred not to involve himself in the village and they gave him no reason to intervene in their mundane lives. Their reward was fair taxes. None of them were wealthy but they never feared that they wouldn’t be able to keep their lands or feed their children.

I’ve no experience with true poverty. As such, my imagination runs wild as I imagine the camp. Thousands of angry, displaced people, crammed together in shoddy homes made of earth and cloth. No privacy and no security. All of their wealth, either coinage or material, buried under several buildings’ worth of debris. Saints. It sounds like a nightmare.

Yet, that’s not what I find.

There’s no proper road to the camp, but the way has been traveled so often the earth has remembered it, the dirt packed until it's almost smooth. A wall of earth just above waist-height stretches a few dozen strides in either direction of the simple wooden gate, tall enough to stop pests and a charging carriage but not much else. Two acolytes, unarmed, stand at the entrance. Their bored expressions scrunch up with concern as Alana gives our names, but they let us in without issue. 

I open the shutters on the carriage’s only window, intending to gawk at human despair, but all I see are people going about their lives. Yes, the housing is stark, squat, and unappealing, but it’s relatively clean. People look up as we pass but quickly go back to their business, whether that’s chatting, working, or lying about. There’s a constant hum of human activity in the air, no notes of discord within it.

The acolytes directed us to a field where we could park the carriage. We reach it without issue and the acolytes there are quick to show us to a free spot. They even ask if we want mounts, a privilege for the wealthier volunteers and the instructors. It’s telling that we receive the offer, but not in a bad way. We don’t take it. Yulia refuses and as her minders for the day, we follow her lead.

“What now?” I ask, doing my best to ignore all of the gazes watching us.

“I could give you all a tour…”

I wave off the suggestion. “Business first.”

“Then, we’re head back to the front, the main residential area. I’ve been connecting some of the artisans with the local grandmothers. No one knows how to make something out of nothing like a mother.”

“Lead the way.”

She tries but Kierra quickly rectifies that, putting herself in the front. As always, she takes her role as a protector seriously. Her head subtly swivels as she scans the surroundings, checking the many discrete corners, alleys, and shadows moving between cloth partitions.

I can tell from the way her head tilts that she notices the person running toward us nearly at the same time I do, raising a hand to bring our group to a halt. I cross my arms as we patiently wait for a dark haired man with forgettable features dressed in a red robe running toward us at a full sprint. He slows to a stop a respectable difference away, offering us a hesitant smile.

“Afternoon, Lady Tome and, uh, ladies.” The man steadies his breath and ran a hand through his messy hair. His smile is nervous as he looks between us, finally settling on Yulia. “What brings you all here? Anything we can help with?”

The snow bunny frowns. “You’re very accommodating today, Lane.”

Lane, that’s it. Oh, he’s Alyssa’s lackey!”

“Yeah, well. Rather give a little now rather than see the whole camp smashed later.” He makes a show of looking around. “Though I see you don’t have the menace with you today. That bodes well.”

If only he knew. “We come in peace,” I say, flashing what I hope is a friendly smile. “Just making sure Yulia doesn’t run into any trouble on her last day.”

“Oh? I suppose you’re headed back north? That’s a shame. I’ve heard you’ve been a real asset around here.” His words don’t match the relief in his face immediately following my words but he made a decent attempt at hiding it.

“My heart feels for the people of the city but I’ve a loving husband to return to.” If Yulia acknowledges how eager he is to be rid of her, she tactfully ignores it. “Once I say my goodbyes, I’ll be on my way.”

“I would also like to see my father’s work,” Kierra says idly.

He doesn’t like that. He flinches like something bit him in the ass, fighting a frown. Sweat starts at his temples. “I…don’t think that’s going to be possible.”

My elf’s lovely smile wanes as her eyes narrow. “Why not?”

“Ah, you see, that is, the field is, ah, really important. A strategic asset. They don’t let unapproved people anywhere near it.”

“Then approve me.”

“That’s…” I can’t imagine what he’s thinking about. Probably the consequences of denying my savage wife’s request. Not that there will be any. Orum gifted the plants to the prince for whatever reason. It’s rightfully his and if he wants to limit access to it, that’s his prerogative. He doesn’t need to know that though.

“I’ll talk to some people.”

“You’ve got a few hours?” I look at Yulia and she nods. “Right, hours. Should be plenty of time.”

Poor man looks miserably nervous as he spits out hasty goodbyes and hurries back the way he came. Ah, Alyssa isn’t going to be happy. I’m assuming she sent him to forestall any issues and he’s bringing back a big problem by the sounds of it. I wonder how the fiery instructor is holding up? It can’t be easy managing this mess.

“We should get moving,” Alana reminds us.

“Yes, follow me.”

As we reach the dense block of earth buildings that makes up the bulk of the camp, Yulia walks alongside Kierra, leading the way through a maze of paths and alleys that I’d be hopelessly lost in after moments. Moving in the thick of the refugees, I can feel the close quarters. It’s cramped. In far too many places, we have to walk single-file to fit. Sometimes, people have to press themselves flat on top of that. I curse my heightened senses as each breath tells me how little these people wash and I’m constantly bombarded by how unwelcome we are.

“Isn’t that her? You know, the crazy noblewoman who destroyed the city?”

“Seriously?! What is she doing here?”

“How do you know it’s her?”

“It has to be. They say she has purple eyes. You know anyone else who has eyes like that?”

“What’s happening? Are we under attack?”

“Don’t be an idiot. She was after the hunters.”

“There are hunters here idiot. She could be back to finish the job.”

“I think we’d notice a giant purple beast, idiot.”

“Fucking nobles. Walking around like nothing’s wrong. Look at them. Don’t look like they’ve slept in dirt.”

“I bet you they haven’t skipped meals.”

“Why are we standing here whispering like old ladies?! Let’s get them!”

“Are you crazy? They’re casters!”

“Bah! Even if they are, there’s dozens of us and only seven of them. Two of them look like servants. We should go around the camp, get the men—”

“Saints’ blessed asses, don’t you dare! You want to start a fight in the camp? What about the women and children that are going to be caught in the crossfire? What about the fields that are keeping us all alive? Sure, those fucking nobles deserve it but revenge isn’t worth all our lives!”

A lot of negative opinions but common sense seems to be holding strong. No one makes any moves to act on their aggression and that’s all that matters. Though, not everyone in the clan takes the jibes as well as me; Alana’s frown deepens with every comment and Earl’s carefully blank expression is a thin facade over his growing offense. I grab my knight’s hand and give my steward a look to calm him. They deserve their anger. If anything, they should be commended for their restraint. Not by me, my patience doesn’t extend that far, but there’s enough of them to pat each other’s backs until tomorrow.

Passing through the camp at a much slower pace, I take the time to look closely at the improvised shelters. Particularly, the measures people take to make their bleak reality more palatable. There isn’t much they can do to beautify stone, but they try. Carvings are put over doorways and along walls. Cloth is hung over windows, patchworks that try to be both artistic and effective. It isn’t much but it’s something, a green shoot growing in ravaged ground. People don’t bother making things look pretty if they don't have hope for the future.

“We’re here.”

The shelter Yulia stops in front of is another squat square of dirt. Over the rectangular gap and long sheet that makes up the door are carvings of fat birds. Chickens? Not sure. There isn’t a lot of detail.

A group of young men lean against the front of the building, watching us warily. I return their stares until they look away.

Yulia winces at the interaction. “Lou, if you don’t mind, I think it’s best if I speak to my friend alone.”

“You’re not going anywhere by yourself,” I immediately refuse. “We’re protecting you, remember?”

“Yes, but…I think things will be easier that way.”

She means without me, yeah? I guess I could make things harder if I tag along. Kierra too, she’s pretty recognizable. “Fine. Earl and…Alana?” I get a nod. “They’ll go with you and I guess we’ll wait around out here.”

The snow bunny flashes me a bright smile. “Thank you. I’ll only be a few moments.”

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