By the time the first ashen leaves of Ashfall fell on the disc under soothing grey winds, the population of Earthloch had exploded in many different ways.

First, literally.

The four Palaikts of Earthloch’s outlying circle had finally arrived with another massive inflow of dhionne. The raucous around the Lochuir area multiplied by many folds as Agwyn had to bury her ears with pillows to fall asleep. As far as mount Earthloch was from the drifting lines of incoming immigrants, the commotion had little trouble irritating those who needed their beauty sleep.

Not only that, even the out-tribals, folks who didn’t legitimately serve the Earthloch clan but dwelled within its borders, showed up in hordes. The ones to lead this ragtag lot were many groups of independent disc-walker teams and mercenary hunters.

Most nobles were not impressed and had colourful things to say. But the Grand Elder welcomed them with open arms.

There were, of course, scuffles here and there, and a lot of prejudice from the native inhabitants of the Siorrakty. Yet the leaders on both sides tried their best to keep any conflict from escalating.

It helped that the de facto chief of the out-tribals, a newly ascended sky realmer and the head of a disc-walker team no weaker than any of the Eight loch Palaikts of Earthloch, was there to both preserve peace and deter any wrongful actions.

The newcomers soon settled down in the numerous peaks and canyons, estuaries and lakeshores of Lochuir. After a period, they turned into a familiar sight as the kids got used to them.

Lilian said that there would still be about seventy thousand more to come within the end of the next season. The total number of dhionne would cross three hundred thousand, fifty thousand higher than her initial estimation.

The out-tribals alone will number equal to that extra headcount. Meaning Lilian’s estimate was actually correct if Elrhain discounted the out-tribal population.

If this was a few months ago, the three leaders and all the nobles would have been ripping their hair-fur-leaves out thinking how to accommodate all these extra mouths. The collapse was barely in its first cycle; the gheistrum spawning rate was far below the numbers necessary to sustain so many.

Which led to the second figurative case.

After the day Saphur visited the two kids and obtained approval to use and propagate fishing poles, it was as if a hyper-sonic blast had rocked the souls of all Earthloch dhionne, noble or not alike.

It took less than two days for word to reach every settlement. A day after that, Thundham convened another meeting between all nobles. This included the nay-saying East and West Lake bunches too to officiate fishing with poles as a duty for the servants.

This time, Thundham repeated Elrhain’s conditions to the masses, the boy himself too miffed to even attend the talks.

Elrhain himself spent that day riding a Gurumba, a flying gheist with a horse’s head and eagle’s body, with Agwyn and Cyra.

Everything progressed at the speed of light after the talks. Before the month was over, most of Earthloch’s food problems, at least regarding servants, had been resolved. It also wasn’t long before many bizarre, practical and not designs of the much-worshipped fishing pole made their way to the Earthloch archives.

It was just like back on Earth, where lakes like Nasser and Tonle Sap could sustain populations in the tens of millions even after the dark ages of the mid-second millennia. The large lakes here such as Loch Sagathan too had an incredible bounty. The smaller ones were nothing to scoff at either.

The dhionne servants, from the squeaky young to the grizzled elderly, now had five times their previous drive to flourish. They went about their days scheming to bite into the haughty mortal gheists that had eluded them for generations as the opportunity opened up along with Elrhain’s ‘Sagely’ technological breakthrough.

In every settlement and in every family dinner of every mortal home, the talk was dominated by the little princeliness of the main house and his marvelous creation.

“First the princess cured the Swampling’s curse. My old mother drank that salt-honey water for a few days, and now she’s fishin’ with my son till night break. She hit me with a cane when I told her to take it easy!”

“Aye. My seven cycle old daughter brought home a Crocofish hatchling tonight. I don’t remember the last time we servant folks could eat meat every day of the week. I doubt even our fathers and the ones before them had the chance.”

Before this, from hearsay and rumours, most of the servants and freemen had merely heard how talentless the prince was. One unknown spirit barely blessed him at the very end of the Night of Blessings, which contrasted ridiculously with the near one hundred thousand of the princess’s.

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Everyone also knew that Elrhain’s Siaglas family were former servants.

It would be a lie to say there was no discontent. To the rest of Earthloch’s mortals who did not enjoy a sudden golden pie falling down on their laps from the heavens, it was through and through unfair, even if the words in their hearts were unvoiced.

But the advent of the fishing pole completely flipped that perception on its head.

Most mortal dhionne only wanted to eat good food, rest a deep relaxing sleep at night, and spend a few moments of meaningful time with their family during meals.

The nobles granted them responsibility and security. While they were both essential for survival in this unkind world, they had long grown desensitized to it. Every day was the same, and again things changed for the worse with the collapse.

Most didn’t hope for ascension like the cultivators. The grandiose dreams of the mighty were not even as important as an over-ripe Cloudberry they could pick up from the muddy ground.

But this, the fishing pole. This was the first time in the servants’ lives that the nobles, the main house specifically, had accorded them a tangible means to hold part of their fate in their own hands.

Right now they too were hunters. Whereas before they could only have one portion of manna-rich gheist meat one or two times a month, now they could eat it three times a day every day in the season.

As for manna? Well, mortal gheists were undeniably a weak source of nourishment and manna for Earthen and up cultivators. But for mortal servants and freemen, it was more than enough. In fact, it was easier to digest and refine mortal level manna with the shoddy cultivation methods mortals practised than anything higher.

And quantity, after a definite threshold, could also become quality.

The nourishment and manna a servant child could now get after eating lake-catch for every meal far outstripped the paltry sum of Earthen-manna he could barely cultivate with one small gheist meat meal one or two times a month.

It didn’t take long before word of one breakthrough after another reached Elrhain’s ears. Dhionne who were stuck at peak mortal because of insufficient manna gorged themselves with the sudden bonanza of manna-filled food. After that, it was purely a matter of their master houses bestowing them with ichors.

Before, the master houses overlooked them during resource distributions, as their talent wasn’t worthy of the investments of high-manna foodstuff. But they now took care of the food themselves. At the same time, the nobles could plentifully replenish ichors in the near future of the collapse.

No noble house would be unwise enough to not build up their cultivator ranks.

“As expected of the three leaders! They must’ve known that his princeliness Elrhain was a saint reborn.”

“Hahaha! This old servant swears on the lake and clouds to serve the Earthloch Siorrakty and the Prince Consort until my bones are ground to dirt. For if not for the prince’s generosity, I would have been stuck in the mortal realms even in death.”

These developments also positively affected the out-tribals. Some of them initially learnt the craft of fishing poles from a few of their friendlier Earthloch neighbours, which then spread like a virus among their communities.

This solved most of their food worries. According to Thundham, this was presumably one of the key factors why the re-settlement of the out-tribals was progressing so smoothly.

Besides recognition and daily doses of noble fawning, Elrhain and Agwyn’s daily lives also changed significantly.

They now had to be scried every other day in tingly magic rituals.

The usually calm uncle next door, master Shaman Tudor, was likewise incensed like no other. His face after learning of Agwyn’s condition was truly a sight to behold. The short man scolded her for her neglect weeks on end until the little bun’s ears turned purple. He also cruelly increased both their cultivation loads ten times over.

For Agwyn, that was honing her already ignited nodes with even further concentrated, potent manna.

For Elrhain, he now consumed so many elixirs a day that any sane health expert back on earth would have keeled over at the mere mention. Doping was evidently an accepted practice when it came to enhancing the performances of important toddlers in Fanas Diosca.

It didn’t take long for the two to get bored out of their minds. They now spent 50% of their time awake sitting on a glowing voodoo rock chanting mysterious magic words, meditating under the stern gaze of an angry dwarf.

Lilian had forbidden them from speaking about the things they saw in their ‘lucid dreams’ willy-nilly too. Elrhain also lost most of his drive to be the Father of Civilization after being pestered day in and out by every blue-blooded noble prick on Earthloch. He put an indefinite pause in actualizing other Earth technology, favouring more immediate short-term dopamine spikes.

It was a habit from his investor days. The boy could become lost in trivial entertainment for months without accomplishing a single task. But his concentration broke like a flock of spooked rabbits the moment something important cropped up.

Adult Alex Fischer could still push through even if there was no enthusiasm. He was an influential ex-scientist and venture capitalist after all. He had obligations and principles.

Toddler Elrhain couldn’t be bothered.

He and Agwyn had agreed to try to live this life slowly and peacefully, as much as possible. Cultivation drained their mental fuel too much, sapping any other motivation they had for problem solving.

Both of them were yet undoubtedly confused about what exactly they wished to even do in the future.

For now, quietly spending the long days mindlessly playing with their friends and family sounded like a fantastic idea. Dhionne had long lives, and cultivators lived even longer.

Besides, there were no urgent matters like the Swampling’s Curse popping up, which they had no moral choice but to intervene in. The clan could handle other issues pertaining to the collapse well enough.

So the decision was unanimous that happiness triumphed obligations, fun won over principles. At least for now.

And to the two, that happiness might mean messing around with Ysbail in their free time and going on one-sidedly romantic dates when Cadfael wasn’t looking.

Before they knew it, Ashfall had also passed with Equinox right around the corner. It wasn’t until the first actual threat to their lives that Elrhain and Agwyn re-found their motivation.