Farmer or Cultivator? Why not both?

It had seemed like another ordinary day. Ren and Rokku had begun preparing their goods for the market, and as always, the milk sat at the top of the list. It was by far the best seller, but Ren could not keep selling only milk while he had crops sitting ready on the farm. Potatoes were a staple in the village, and although he grew them, he had held back from selling them. So many of the villagers relied on the potato trade that he saw no reason to pull buyers away from them, especially when he did not need the extra income.

The crowd had taken quickly to Rokku. The spirit animal’s size and stern bearing gave people the impression of something godly standing among them, and as Eldrad had said, he carried luck with him. Rokku definitely had that air. Children had especially taken to pressing themselves into his feathers and patting him down as though he were a very large and very dignified pet, which Rokku tolerated with the patience of something ancient and unbothered.

Another week had passed, and the village had begun to recover from the grief of the earlier incident, the dead husbands and children taken from them in a single night. The people of Tunish were far stronger than their enemies had given them credit for.

"Rokku, you have to help with the selling too. I did not bring you here to stand and look pretty." Ren’s tone carried a note of genuine irritation. He had not brought the spirit animal along as a mascot. He needed to know Rokku could pull his weight. Rokku opened his eyes at the sound of his master’s voice and read his expression without difficulty. He stepped away from the cluster of children burying themselves in his feathers and moved closer to the stall. Onova had her hands full with the queue and could use the help.

The moment Rokku took his place at the stall, a ripple of excitement moved through the line. The spirit animal reached out and handed a bundle of carrots and a watermelon to an aged woman in exchange for five copper coins. The woman collected the items and gave a small bow. The people of Tunish were genuinely beginning to revere the giant rooster, and it showed in the way they looked at him.

Ren watched with his arms folded and a quiet smile on his face.

The farm is going to be in good hands.

It was nearing noon, barely two hours since they had set up, and everything pointed toward a typical day in Tunish. That changed when a man in a blue uniform appeared at the edge of the market square. He was lanky and straight-backed, with epaulettes on his shoulders that announced an official rank. Ren’s eyes went to him immediately. Those around the square had already started murmuring, the sound of it low and uneasy, as though the man’s presence alone had brought something heavy with him.

From the whispers around him, Ren gathered that this was one of the nation’s official messengers, a corps of men tasked with carrying important news and declarations from the capital out to the regions of the nation. They did not appear without reason.

Eldrad stepped forward, his face drawn and stern. Ren watched him carefully. The expression on the chief’s face gave Ren the quiet feeling that Eldrad already knew, at least in part, what this man had come to say.

The messenger carried a large horn, which he raised and blew. The sound cut across the square and beyond it, summoning the village. He waited a full ten minutes, standing patient and still, until the crowd had gathered properly around him. Everyone seemed to have come out. Ren spotted Jonan and Rolfheim near the back, which was notable on its own. Those two rarely left their home.

"Daydawn, people of Tunish." The messenger greeted the crowd and let the quiet settle before he opened the scroll in his hands and read from it.

"I come bearing a message from our most gracious and eminent king, King Astadan, ruler of Maldrin and the realms loyal to her." He cleared his throat.

"After much deliberation with my advisors and the lords of the realm, I have decided to go on the offense against the barbaric lords of Combec. They have pillaged our villages, killed our people, and more recently, they have destroyed parts of our capital city and taken lives with it. It is clear that our inaction has been the fuel by which they have grown bolder. We can no longer stand and watch. We are making our stand, and we are defending ourselves. I, King Astadan, declare war on Combec and those who may be allied with her."

Gasps moved through the crowd like a wave. A few people wept openly, crying as though the words themselves had reached into their chests and pulled something loose. Ren said nothing. War. That was enormous. And yet Combec had been steering the nation toward exactly this for some time. The war was justified, even if justified wars still broke things that could not be put back together easily.

"Troops will be stationed in these areas soon. Gather your crops, store what you can, and help the nation in any way available to you. Men who wish to fight for the glory of Maldrin may enlist and take up arms. Most of all, protect yourselves and those closest to you. That is all." The messenger gave a bow to the assembled crowd, tucked the scroll away, and left at pace toward the next village.

The murmuring did not stop. Nobody liked the prospect of war, and Ren understood why. It was always the commoners and the peasants who paid the real price, always the people who had the least to gain from these decisions and the most to lose. The lords who instigated wars rarely bled for them.

"My brothers and sisters!" Eldrad raised his voice with a vigor that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than his age. The crowd turned to him.

"We have heard the words of the king’s messenger. Every household must have a sword within it. Store your excess food and grow more where you can. When the soldiers come through, this village may become difficult to live in. They will want our food and our space, but if we remain steady and hold together, we will survive. We have survived every tribulation that has come our way, have we not? What more is war than one more thing to outlast?"

Ren scanned the crowd as Eldrad spoke. Tuarine stood to one side, and the emotion on her face was unmistakable. She was enraged, the kind of rage that sat very still and very hot. Jonan, by contrast, looked almost keen, his jaw set with something that bordered on eagerness. Everyone else wore either fear or a flat, hollow kind of resignation.

The crowd dispersed once Eldrad finished. The stall owners who had opened that morning began packing their things, tucking produce away and pulling down their displays. The ordinary rhythm of the day could not hold against the weight of what had just been announced.

Tuarine did not move. She stayed where she was, and after a moment her eyes found Ren’s. She watched him for a long, steady moment, then walked toward him with a directness that suggested she had already decided this conversation was happening regardless of what he thought about it. She stopped close, ignoring the ordinary conventions of personal space entirely, her eyes bright with something urgent and alive.

"I know you have grown significantly stronger over these past months. I can feel it in the energy around you. I do not know how you have done it, but I want you to teach me."