Chương 109: 26. Where We Part Ways

There's no clear point where the wilderness stops and the city begins. Unsettled land along the riverbank disappeared long before we could even see the ocean on the horizon, and eventually the towns and villages are so close together that each one blends into the next. But if I have to name a moment where it really sinks in that this is the city, it's probably got to be when we sail past the first factory.

Until now, the guns, car, and self-powered lamps have been anachronistic exceptions to what otherwise seems like a medieval fantasy world, but that illusion is finally shattered by the unmistakable sight of a textile mill. It's the first of many, and by the time we get further in, both river banks are lined with water-powered factories. Thanks to the size of the river, we have plenty of space to sail between them, but that doesn't stop Jira from giving them the stink-eye.

"See those, little [baddie]?" she asks, pointing them out.

"The river provides all that we need, but it's not enough for Baanu. They extract all that they can, hoard their wealth, share it with others in exchange for the honor of enriching them further, then call it generosity. Nobility."

"Violet," I correct her. Allie likes the nickname and Maggie thinks it's hilarious, but I'm not comfortable being addressed that way.

"My apologies, but you understand my meaning, yes?" I nod slowly. She doesn't have to tell me twice. Talla shifts nervously from hoof to hoof, frowning.

"Industrialization is good for everyone," She argues.

"The more resources there are to go around, the less likely anyone will have to go without. If my clan has a bigger share, it's only because someone has to pay the cost of actually building the factories."

"Do they?" Jira asks rhetorically.

"When my tribe builds a new ship, we simply use whatever resources we have. What we don't have, we acquire. The entire tribe carries the burden, and the entire tribe reaps the reward."

"And what about times of scarcity?" Talla replies.

"Does your chieftain let the entire tribe starve, or do they distribute resources strategically? I'm guessing not every member of your clan has their own ship."

"We do what we must," Jira admits with a casual shrug.

"My tribe trades as much as any other. More. Yet Baanu is never satisfied with providing for themselves. You do not produce out of a noble desire to share your bounty—you do it to control that bounty. As proof, look no further than your empress and her estranged colonies. She sent an expedition to control a land literally named for its blessings, then waged war on them for having the gall to keep some of those blessings for themselves." Talla huffs indignantly.

"They stole the investment the empire put into founding those colonies! What would you expect to happen if your clan was commissioned to build a ship and then simply took the funds without delivering?"

"I'd expect the fool who made the deal to cry impotent tears while we sailed away with our new vessel," Jira answers with a cheeky grin. I snort at the joke and shake my head. That's not an argument I expect them to figure out in the span of a single conversation. Even in our world, it's a question without an answer, and countless wars have been waged by people who thought they had it figured out.

If every capital owner was as benevolent as Talla, it wouldn't be a problem, but they've got a way of convincing themselves they are while still committing atrocities in the name of a bigger wallet. Same goes for dictators—the good ones are good until they're not, or someone else takes their place. Spreading out the power is a good start, but corruption is just a fact of life, and the best system is one that mitigates the impact of corruption as much as possible.

Of course, if anybody knew how to actually do that, they'd be able to solve world peace. Or more likely end up as yet another warlord feeding corpses into the meatgrinder of ideology. Just one more war that will definitely fix the world forever, for sure this time.

"We're coming up on the docks," Draga informs me, snapping me out of my gloomy reverie. The city harbor is a busy network of docks covering both sides of the river, with a heavy traffic of ships passing each other in the middle. It's impressive how close together the ships often get without colliding—though there's the occasional glancing bump, often followed by a litany of swearing from both sides. Oddly, most of the traffic seems to come and go from the ocean side rather than upstream where we came from.

"This isn't the only harbor," Talla explains.

"There's this one—the commercial harbor—then the military harbor closer to the ocean, and the Gaa family's private harbor on the coast. Most of this is intra-city traffic, since it's often quicker to transport goods through the river and canals."

"That makes sense," I say with a nod.

"Though I still expected to see more ships traveling upstream."

"Sagaa is the heart of the empire, not the entirety or even the majority of it," she replies.

"There are other coastal towns and cities too. The river gets busier during harvest season."

"We're only here because we made a trip to the Blessed Lands," Jira interjects.

"Imperial traders aren't too popular there, and any neutral parties willing and able to make the trip can make a killing bringing specialty goods back from beneath the wheel." I frown.

"Shouldn't that mean even more traffic on the river?" Jira doesn't understand my question, but Talla resumes her role as translator.

"Ah," Jira chuckles.

"That's the thing, isn't it? Sagaa takes as much as she gives. Even I would hesitate to take the entire trip upstream, and the ocean route is too long for most ships." She stomps firmly on the deck to emphasize her point.

"This is one of my tribe's finest ships, so we can do it easily, but who do you suppose owns most of the other ships capable of making the trip?" Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. I cast a sidelong glance at Talla, who's already grimacing.

"Baanu?" I suggest.

"No, wait. More specifically, the Gaa family. They're the only ones with a private harbor." Talla sighs and nods in confirmation.

"They control most of the shipping lanes, with the notable exception of the river itself—which is mostly Shaa's domain. It's made them very rich—even by our clan's standards."

"But after the war, their ships were no longer welcome in the Blessed Lands," Jira concludes.

"A gap that we Degala are more than happy to fill."

"What is that place actually called?" Allie asks.

"They just keep calling it 'The Blessed Lands' but the country must have its own name, right?"

"Good question," I agree, repeating it for Talla. She blinks at me.

"That is its name."

"Oh crud," Allie groans.

"Another translation error. It's like how most mountains are called 'Mountain' or lakes called 'Lake.' Come to think of it, Sagaasi just means 'River Town' too."

"How is it pronounced, then?" I ask. Technically I'm hearing Fa'aun all the time and the intuitive understanding of what was said just sort of... happens. I don't have the same ear for it as Allie and Maggie do, though, so it's difficult for me to pick out specific words.

"Uh... something like... Baasibe'e, I think?" Allie provides....

"I think I'll just stick to Blessed Lands," I decide.

"Fair enough," she giggles.

"Anyway," Talla continues, "this is the busiest port, since it's the only one open to regular citizens."

"It's also where we part ways," Jira adds.

"I'll be in town for a month or two to offload goods and resupply, but then I have to get back to my tribe. The trip ringward is long even for us, and I'm overdue for a return." Draga bows politely.

"Thank you for your assistance, Captain. Stebaari's Order of Rangers is in your debt." She snorts.

"Goddess help me if I ever have need of their favor," she mutters.

"No disrespect, Sir Ranger, but I don't envy your work in the slightest."

"It's not always easy," he admits, "but someone has to do it." It takes some time to finish docking. Even after the ship has been secured, Jira, Draga, and Talla—mostly Talla, if I'm being honest—have to spend nearly twenty minutes arguing with a dock official about boring stuff like cargo inspections, tariffs, trading licences, and so on. Eventually, though, we're back on solid ground and saying our goodbyes.

"Remember what I said," Jira reminds me.

"I'll be here. Goddess guide you all on your way." Talla bows in response.

"And you, Captain." And just like that, we've arrived. If the village folk openly stared, and the townspeople threw curious glances our way before moving on with their lives, the Fa'aun of the city... don't notice us at all. Even Talla, who drew so much attention back in Sagaasi, is just another face in the throng. Stebaari is a proper city. A busy population center abuzz with noise and activity, as the densely packed Fa'aun bustle to and fro on their business. Not just Fa'aun, either.

I had wondered, since Talla wasn't too surprised by the prospect of other sentient species, but this is the first time I've actually seen any myself. They're not common, but maybe one in twenty of the people rushing past are what I can only describe as snake-people. They aren't quite as serpentine as that moniker would suggest—their lower bodies are long, slender, and snake-like, but they have a pair of tiny legs that they use for balance when standing up straight.

Their upper bodies are covered in scales, with vaguely humanoid torsos and four arms. The upper arms are similar to a human's, but with huge claws instead of fingers, while the lower arms are small—like the legs—and have more functional hands for fine motor control. They are also huge.

It's not obvious when they're just slithering around at the same head-height as an average Fa'aun, but every now and then one of them will stand up to get their bearings, and their head—a squished cross between human and snake—will tower over the crowd.

"Hell yeah, snake people!" Maggie cheers.

"That's so cool! What are they called?"

"Serpentfolk," Talla supplies.

"And that's not a translation error, it's what we actually call them. They have another name for themselves, but I can't pronounce it. Neither can you, by the way, so don't ask."

"Aww," Allie sighs.

"I'd like to at least hear it some time."

"I'm sure you'll get the chance," I assure her.

"If you're done gawking, we should get moving," Draga says.

"Talla, why don't you take Maev back to your home while I deliver our report?" She frowns.

"I should go with you," she says.

"It'll be better if we can corroborate each other's stories and they'll be more lenient if I'm with you." Wow, just straight up admitting to unfair treatment.

"Maybe," Draga agrees, "but even so, it's not going to be pretty. I'd rather not draw extra attention to Maev just yet, and between the two of us, you're the one who can get away with giving your report later. Besides, do you really want to be there when Mira hears about Saban?" Talla clutches her horns and groans.

"Oh, blood and acid! She's going to be insufferable. More than usual, I mean." I blink, glancing between them.

"Who's Mira?" I ask.

"Someone who knew Saban?"

"Hah," Talla scoffs.

"Mira wouldn't wipe her hooves on Saban." I'm about to ask why it matters if she hears about his death, but Allie chimes in with the context I'm missing.

"Mira is Talla's old boss," she supplies.

"The one that kept pressuring her to do harder jobs until somebody got killed, then blamed it all on Talla."

"Oh. How did you remember that?"

"Actually," Talla cuts in, "how did you remember that? I don't think I ever told you her name."

"Draga did," Allie replies.

"Or at least, he mentioned her at one point. Plus, it's kind of obvious in context, right?"

"No," I reply.

"Not at all."

"Yeah, even I didn't remember that," Maggie agrees.

"I think you're just weird."

"Oh come on!" she protests.

"That was a pretty intimate thing to share. You don't just forget about that." I one hundred percent forgot about that.

"Alright, fine," Talla sighs.

"Draga's right, I do not want to deal with that right now. So I guess you get to meet my family." Oh wait. Going with Talla means meeting a bunch of snobby rich nobles. A whole house of Maaris?

"Is it too late to change our mind?" I ask.