My Own True Calling 60 - It's Time (Patreon)

It won’t be long before we reach the Blessed Lands. Over the months that we’ve been at sea, the shining arch in the sky has ever so slowly grown higher and thinner, and the autumn chill has given way to a warm ocean breeze.

“It’s not as close as it seems,” Fargo tells us over lunch with Msshi and Talla. “By the time we land in Siberik, the capital’s harbor, the Great Wheel will look like a line splitting the sky in two.”

“It is why my people know it as the Great Road,” Msshi comments. “Having grown up in the city, my belief is that it is both. Though some stubbornly insist that our faiths are not compatible, despite recognizing the same Goddess.”

I’ll keep the fact that it’s just a bunch of ice and rocks to myself. I suppose there’s no reason they can’t be holy ice and rocks.

“Those sorts of differences are exactly why I wanted to sit down and discuss what to expect when we arrive,” Talla explains. “Though it was originally an imperial colony, the Blessed Lands are very different from Stebaa.”

That makes sense. I expect there are some similarities, but it’s been over ten years since they won their independence, and they were probably already changing before the war started. Part of me automatically wants to side with the country that chose to break ties with the empire, but I’ll reserve judgment for now.

“They don’t recognize the Empress’ authority, right?” I ask.

Talla nods. “Specifically, their argument is that her authority is limited to the Empire, and that by sending them out to form a colony, she released them from her rule as a nomadic clan.”

“Like Jira’s—I mean, our tribe?”

Fargo wobbles his head uncertainly. “In theory. But Clan Akaal has never been a nomadic tribe. Unlike the old tribes, they were founded after the empire. It’s a flimsy excuse they used to legitimize themselves.”

“Right, and Clan Akaal is...?” I prompt.

“The rulers of the Blessed Lands,” Talla explains.

“The de facto rulers,” Fargo corrects her. “Technically, the Blessed Lands do not have hereditary rule.”

Talla shrugs. “So they say, but Akaal has controlled their government since its inception.”

I purse my lips. Sounds like a common enough story. Historically, most new governments end up looking a lot like the old ones. Bigger changes take time, and it’s easy to fall into familiar patterns.

“Fargo, you seem pretty knowledgeable about the place,” I comment. “I take it you’ve been there in your adventures?”

He chuckles. “Not so much in my adventures, actually. I was born there, and I’ve mostly avoided it ever since.”

I blink. “Bad memories?”

“Nothing so exciting,” he sighs. “My wanderlust simply shuns the idea of returning to the place where my journey began.”

“Hm, fair enough,” I say. “What about you, Msshi? It’s where your tribe is from, right?”

They nod. “But not me, as I’ve said. All I know is second-hand, and may not be much help anyway. The serpentfolk tribes are not ruled by the colony. We were there first.”

“Closely associated, though,” Fargo interjects. “The Blessed Lands aren't as self-sufficient as they like to pretend. Most of their economy is supported by trade with the serpentfolk, especially with the embargo.”

“That’s one of the big differences, actually,” Talla adds. “You’re going to see a lot more serpentfolk in the city than you did in Stebaari.”

I blink. “Okay? So they’re more accepting of serpentfolk? Sounds like a good thing to me.”

Fargo and Talla both cringe, which immediately sets me on edge. I look to Msshi, but they’re harder to read in the first place and don’t react as strongly as the other two.

“That’s...one way to put it,” Fargo hedges.

“In Stebaari, the serpentfolk are still citizens, even if they aren’t always as fairly represented as they could be,” Talla explains. “In the Blessed Lands, they aren’t. Serpentfolk in the cities are considered representatives of their tribes. They have rights based on treaties with those tribes, but they’re always ‘visitors.’”

“So second-class citizens, then?” I sigh.

Disappointing, but not surprising. Besides, the empire already has that with clanless folk.

“The same will go for all of you,” Fargo says. “I’m a citizen, but the rest of you will be guests.”

“What does that mean for us?”

“That we’ll have to be on our best behavior,” Talla says. “The country isn’t hostile to visitors, but their laws are strict and offer very few protections to non-citizens.”

It occurs to me that we’ve really been kind of winging it up until now, but as we get closer I need to start considering what we’re planning to actually do in the Blessed Lands. It’s not like I can just walk up to whoever’s in charge and tell them there’s a hostile navy about to invade?

Talla smiles when I express my concerns.

“We aren’t entirely without connections,” she says. “Jira’s still got the influence of a chieftain, even if she’s recently abdicated, and I’m the first Baanu representative to visit in a decade.”

“Is that, uh, a good or a bad thing?” I ask nervously.

“I suppose that will depend on me,” she sighs. “But I have family in the Akaal clan.”

I blink. “You do?”

“On my father’s side,” she confirms.

Erik? Now that I think about it, he had a slightly different accent than most of the Fa’aun I’ve met, and I remember him commenting about his name being different.

“He’s from the Akaal clan?” I ask.

“Yes. Mother married him before the separation,” she says. “As you can imagine, it’s been quite some time since I’ve seen my aunts and uncles from that side of the family. Hopefully they remember me fondly.”

“Do you remember them fondly?”

“I hardly remember them at all, to be honest,” she admits. “We’ll just have to see.”

The conversation falls into a natural lull at this point, and I start to fidget awkwardly. I keep trying to adjust my glasses, but they sit awkwardly on my face because of the broken arm. Violet’s [Field Maintenance] tightened up the loose arms and fixed up the scratch and smudges on the remaining lens, but there was nothing it could do about the missing lens or snapped arm. There’s also still a pretty serious crack in the lens, but it’s better than it was.

“So, Msshi, how are your new classes doing?” I ask to break the silence.

“I’ve consolidated two of my new classes to become a proper [Topsnake]!” they boast eagerly. “I cannot honestly say that I look forward to resuming ranger training with Violet, but it would please me to consolidate my ranger class as well.”

At the rate they’re going, they might even get their own four-star class. I still feel guilty, even if they keep telling me not to be, but I’m glad they are making the most of upheaving their entire life for a total stranger.

“You’ll have plenty of time to practice together,” Talla says. “We’re going to be spending the next few weeks catching up on laws and etiquette in the Blessed Lands. Msshi and Fargo will be the ones in charge of that.”

“Msshi isn’t from there, though,” I remind her.

“They’re still our best expert on serpentfolk tribes,” she replies with a shrug. “It’s better than going in completely unprepared like you were in Stebaari. That was my fault—I took far too much of what I consider common knowledge for granted.”

No amount of preparation would have stopped us from standing up for Draga, but I suppose we did get kind of dragged around back then. I doubt we’ll ever feel truly at home in this world, but it would be nice to feel a little less lost.

*

“It’s time!” Maggie declares one day out of nowhere.

I look up from the ring and bar puzzle Anna gifted me with when we left Stebaari and furrow my brow.

“What?”

“We have something to show the rest of you,” Eva explains. “It is probably not as impressive as Magdalena wants to make it sound.”

“Shut your mouth!” Maggie snaps. “This is the greatest thing we’ve ever accomplished. It’s the first real milestone on our path to magical ascension!”

“See?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose under our glasses. “Yes, I can see how that would be a difficult bar to meet.”

“Philistines!” Maggie jeers. “Just wait until you see it for yourself!”

Best to just let her get it out of her system. By now, she’s burned through most of the manic energy that has been possessing her lately, so this seems to be run-of-the-mill excitement.

“Fine,” I sigh. “I take it we need to sleep for this?”

They could have at least waited until night, but to my surprise, Maggie just chuckles darkly.

“Not anymore,” she mutters ominously. “Though getting there on your own might be tricky without practice. I think you should be able to do it, though.”

“Me?” I ask incredulously. “If this is a magic thing—which I assume it is—then Allie is far better at sensing things than I am.”

“Eh, if you were both starting at zero, I’d put my money on her,” Maggie admits, “but you’ve got a head start.”

Does she have to do this every time?

“Just tell me what you’re talking about, please.”

“That time you met the Alchemist in a dream,” Maggie says. “You need to remember that feeling and then do it again. Only you won’t need to go anywhere this time.”

Oh, sure. Just perform astral projection based on that one time I did it entirely by accident while sleeping several months ago.

“What makes you think I can do that?”

“Just try.”

Just humor her, I tell myself. She’ll make a constant nuisance of herself until I do.

I take a comfortable sitting position on our bunk and close my eyes. That dream is actually something I remember quite vividly despite it being so long ago. It felt like I was adrift on a vast cosmic ocean, being dragged by wind and currents catching on the ragged edges of something that was both part of me and something else.

When I try to focus on that feeling, it feels instead like those ragged edges have been painstakingly trimmed and repaired, then carefully folded away somewhere safe. Rather than the endless ocean or even the soft sand of the Alchemist’s beach, I feel solid ground beneath me. A place that is familiar and safe on such a fundamental level that I can’t even imagine anything harming me here.

“See?” Maggie’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “I knew it would work.”

I blink my eyes open and find myself standing in Evelyn’s dream sanctuary, exactly as I remember it. Except that I don’t feel the ephemeral dreamy quality that I associate with that place, and my mind is entirely my own.

Maggie and Evelyn stand next to each other in front of me, watching eagerly.

“What’s this?” I ask. “A new spell based on one of Evelyn’s skills?”

Eva shakes her head. “It’s not a spell at all. At least, your presence here isn’t. I can’t believe it’s actually working.”

“What is working?”

“We’re not asleep,” Maggie says. “You’re not dreaming, and this isn’t a spell. Everything you see around you is permanent, self-sustaining, and real—in a sense.”

I kneel down and feel the soft grass under my hand, slightly moist from dew and smelling faintly of petrichor.

“In what sense?” I ask nervously.

“Well the grass isn’t actually grass, for one, and you’re not physically here,” Maggie hedges. “It’s not a dream, but it’s made of the same stuff as dreams, if that makes sense.”

It doesn’t, but I think I at least understand what she’s trying to say.

“This is what you were talking about before,” I muse. “A permanent mental construct, like the Alchemist’s beach. Where are Allie and River?”

Maggie grins. “They’re not here right now. We have to teach everyone how to access it individually. It doesn’t depend on Eve’s skills, and she can’t just drag people in here like she can with her dreams.”

“Who controls it then?” I ask. “You?”

“Nobody!” she replies, her grin growing even wider. “We can all come and go as we please, and this place will always be waiting just the way we left it.”

She throws her arms out wide and does a slow twirl to show off the space around us. So familiar and yet so different from anything I’ve ever experienced.

“Welcome to headspace!”