When Clover Salwyn awoke at the crack of dawn, it was to the pleasant sight of a ceiling he was steadily growing used to.
The only thing that would have made it better was if his lovely wife was next to him, but she'd probably gotten up early to prepare breakfast for him. She didn't have to, since he was perfectly capable of fixing something up for himself. But she did it anyway and he loved her all the more for it.
'Another wonderful morning. Well, pre-morning.'
Looking out the window to lay eyes on the bleak darkness of the undercity, Clover mused how strangely beautiful it was to his eyes now that he'd established a home here. When they'd just arrived, he thought Prince Reivan gave him the short end of the stick. But now? Clover thought this was better. If they tried to give him a house on the surface in exchange for the one he had here, he'd refuse. They even had neighbors who were also ex-Arkhanian citizens and a nice old Aizenian lady who got along with his mother despite the language barrier.
Soon, the door opened to reveal the most beautiful woman in the world, who also happened to be his wife. Official too. They had papers for it and everything. His wife was too embarrassed to frame it up, but he'd talk her into it someday.
"Oh, you're awake." Ellin smiled that pretty smile of hers, the one that made him weak in the knees. Even when she had sleepy eyes, she was too beautiful for his eyes. "I made you breakfast."
"Thanks." Clover stepped forward and took her into his arms, running a finger through her ginger hair and basking in the happiness he'd betrayed his country for. "Going back to bed?"
She nodded sleepily. “My shift's still in four hours..."
"Alright, sweet dreams."
He gave her a kiss on the forehead then another one on the stomach before sending his wobbly wife off to the large soft bed they shared. Really, if he had his way, he'd just make her stay at home all day. However, according to the benevolent priests who healed and advised them for free, it was actually better for pregnant women to move around a little. Also, she wasn't even that far along in the pregnancy, so it was fine.
And anyway, they could just go to any chapel and ask for healing if anything felt wrong.
Truly, Aizen was the best. Clover never believed in gods, but he felt as if he'd found one who was actually worthy of his worship. He didn't even care if people gave him crap over how his faith was born of tangible benefits.
In any case, the house he’d been granted for his treachery was pretty big, but not big enough for him to be out of breath on his way from the bedroom on the second floor to the dining room on the first floor. Surprisingly, however, his mother and mother-in-law were both there too.
Wearing very tight clothes and covered in sweat.
“Mothers.” Clover’s gaze switched to one and the other. “Sunbath?”
“Yes. They’re so nice.” His mother smiled, looking younger than her actual age of forty-five. “We also took a run around the block. Which reminds me, you haven’t been doing any exercise at all, lately. What’re you going to do if you get fat?”
Reflexively, Clover looked down to his belly, which was sticking out more than it should.
Since he no longer had to maintain a persona for the prince, Clover had understandably abandoned some routines and one of them was exercising. And honestly, he blamed all the meat he was getting to eat for his gradually increasing body fat. He never liked meat back in Arkhan, but being the cheapest food here in Aizen made him partial to it.
“Now, now,” Ellin’s mother giggled. “I’m sure it’s all the good food my daughter’s been feeding him. Why, back there, he was barely eating anything. Now he can eat all he wants. It's a good thing.”
His mother threw him a glance before sighing. “I know, but what if he gets so fat that Ellin leaves him?”
That made his heart sink a little. They’d both made love very vigorously at the beginning and so it was quite noticeable when his vigor ran out faster than ever—clearly the effect of being out of shape. Initially, he thought the physical labor in his job would be enough to burn off the fat he gained, but he’d severely miscalculated on that part.
‘Damn… Alright, I guess I should go for a run starting tomorrow... Agh, I'll have to wake up even earlier...’
Clover knew that he should go on a diet too, but honestly, he needed the energy for his job.
“Look, now you’ve got him all depressed.” Ellin’s mother giggled before heading off to bathe.
“I’m fine,” he sheepishly said. “You’re right, Mother. I should try to stay in shape.”
“Good.” She smiled, ruffling his hair. “You know what your father always said about bodies and minds. You gotta keep both of them sharp!”
“I know, I know.”
“If you’re too lazy, apparently, the Sunbaths help burn fat through sweat. I don’t quite understand how it works, but the priests said so. It must be true.”
‘Wow, really. Damn, they have everything here…’
Clover hastily finished his breakfast before changing into a nice blue tunic his mother gave him as a gift when he first arrived. He then went off to work, walking the well-illuminated streets of the undercity. Looking up, one could only see the underside of Northgard, a very old city far north of the capital.
It was, to his eyes, a strange wonder.
Despite how early it was, there were people walking around already, dressed in all manner of colorful clothing as opposed to the endless sea of monotone prevalent in Arkhan. The buildings too, were painted appropriately to evoke the impression their dwellers wanted to evoke. His own house had been painted vibrant orange because his mother liked the color.
From time to time, he would walk past some stalls hawking food or drinks for people too busy to cook breakfast for themselves. Clover had yet to completely learn the language so he couldn’t understand most of what he heard. But since money was incredibly important, he made sure to learn those.
And the prices he occasionally heard still made him wince sometimes. Which shouldn’t be happening. But nobody could blame him.
Eventually, though, he would get it into his head that while those Aizenian prices were ridiculous by an Arkhanian’s standards, Clover was now earning Aizenian lumens. As such, Aizenian prices were no longer steep, for he was no longer burdened by the horrible exchange rate between lumens and the Arkhanian ranii.
A few dozen minutes of walking later, Clover finally made it to his place of employment—The Undergard Harvesting Complex.
Clover was a farmer-slash-rancher now. Generally speaking, however, Aizen continued the two interchangeable because on some days, you’d be farming, and on other days, you’d be ranching. However, he was surprised to discover just how unhinged the kingdom was if they thought their definition of farmers and ranchers was just.
That said, farmers and ranchers were outdated terms for the profession. These days, as shown by the big sign atop the big metallic gates he stood in front of, the kingdom’s government now referred to them as harvesters. It was a far more apt term, which was probably why the government changed it in the first place.
Once Clover made it to the gate, he had to place his hands on a crystal ball as large as his head that apparently confirmed if he was allowed in. Afterward, he was greeted by burly guards who methodically patted him down for anything he wasn’t supposed to bring inside. These men were peacekeepers, he knew, just in a different uniform.
He also knew they could squish his existence into nothingness with a flick of their wrist, which wasn’t a thought he liked having in his head but sometimes he didn’t get to decide what floated around in there.
They let him in easily enough, and Clover dutifully walked to where he was supposed to go, trying very hard not to look at all the moving plants that tried very hard to get out of the glass-but-not-really-glass pods they were in. But try as he might, he couldn’t help but curiously peek at a very angry giant lizard that was as big as the neighborhood his house was in. The fearsome beast almost burned someone to a crisp, right before his very eyes.
Fortunately, that someone was a knight or a peacekeeper, so all the giant lizard got for its trouble was a punch to the face that had it slumping to the ground before having its tail cut off for what was probably the fourth time this week. Then its foot was severed too, minced, and finally forced down the lizard’s throat so it would have enough nutrients to use for regeneration. It still didn't make sense to him why that was how its regeneration worked. It probably had something to do with mana or something but he was far too tired to really dig into the specifics.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Harvesting was not a job for the faint of heart. Clover would stick it out, however, because they gave him so much meat to take home at the end of every day. Job perk, apparently. His household saved so much money on food. They even sold the excess to neighbors, though his mother gave them out for free, as thanks for stuff Clover didn’t know about. Not that he would complain, given how he’d get more the very next day. The neighbors shared stuff too, anyway.
Man, he loved this job. Even though the stuff he saw happen on a Tuesday afternoon could keep most people awake for years, traumatized. Barely anybody understood what he was saying though, because he still couldn't speak English that well. Which was kind of sad because he kind of wanted to make friends now that he wasn’t forced to be a recluse. There was no lack of friendly Aizenians who didn’t seem to treat him badly just because he was a foreigner. But having a language barrier was pretty rough. Clover couldn’t even invite them for drinks or something.
There were, of course, exceptions.
“Hey, Clover!”
Clover followed the voice to the source and found a fellow Arkhanian who’d been working as a Harvester for an entire year now. “Ludi. Good morning.”
“Same to you, my friend. Same to you.” Ludi came up and gave his ass a friendly slap. “I heard we got a rough one today.”
“Yeah? I just saw one of the lizards get cut up by a knight. Do we have to clean up its shit again?”
“No, it’s the poppers today. Sector P-23.”
‘Fuck.’
Clover didn’t like the poppers. Nobody did. Especially the ones in the 23rd greenhouse because he saw one of the fuckers knock someone out on his way out for a lunch break last month.
Poppers was the nickname given to a plant monster that blew out clouds of black dust and then ignited it all to quite literally blow up everything around it. They had a name, but nobody used it because the person who had been in charge of naming it decided that it was a good idea to use a really long and hard-to-pronounce one. Everybody, even the knights, just called them poppers.
Now, the poppers in harvesting centers everywhere already had the organ that produced sparks cut off, so all the poppers did was blow the black dust and that was it. No danger whatsoever.
The annoying part was how they’d have to collect the dust and inject the plant with some kind of chemical substance that would accelerate the rate at which it replenished the black dust. As for the dust itself, it would be sent to a refinement center where it would turn into a condiment that Ellin really liked, saying it added lots of flavor to just about any dish.
One had to wonder how someone went about collecting dust. But they had it covered. They’d be given some kind of tube-like artifact connected to a giant metal barrel strapped to their back. The tube would suck in the dust and all the Harvester had to do was stroll around the surroundings and make sure all the black dust was sucked up. Long and boring manual labor, but that was it.
Now, injecting the chemical into the plant was a bit hard because this was a monster plant. So obviously, it would fight back if some asshole tried to stick a needle into it. It was weak though, so the worst that even someone like Clover would get was some bruising and a concussion easily fixed by a trip to the nearby chapel. Still, he wasn’t among that small subset of people who enjoyed being bruised or struck, so he naturally didn’t like having some stupid plant beat the crap out of him.
There were restraints for it too, but those weren’t absolute on account of the guy he saw get knocked out last month.
“Eh, let’s just be careful.” Ludi shrugged.
Clover nodded with a pensive expression, musing on how just a few months ago he was literally ready to bet his life on the line and now he was worried about some minor bruises.
----------------------------------------
Long story short, Clover didn’t get knocked out by some crazy plant. It tried, though. He’d give it that.
Because his team was highly motivated to get the hell out of P-23, they worked very hard to complete their task, finishing an hour before lunch. As a reward for their zeal, the overseer shouldered them with another task they would start on after their break. Clover would have preferred a cash reward or maybe an extra kilo of meat to take home, but it would have to do. Not that he would voice out his complaints anyway. He liked his wages and didn’t want to get fired for giving the overseer lip.
Thankfully, the afternoon task was just shaving some strange breed of sheep that apparently lulled people to sleep. The beasts were muzzled, of course, so it was just an ordinary shaving task that Clover was still a little bad at, but according to Ludi, the overseers weren’t very particular about the quality as long as the wool still looked like wool. A low hurdle that he appreciated quite a lot.
Anyway, when that was done, Clover and his team were allowed to clock out early and got to take home ten kilos of lizard meat that probably came from that pitiful giant lizard he saw in the morning. Lizard meat tasted surprisingly amazing though, so he wasn’t about to advocate lizard rights any time soon. Plus, those bastards would eat him the first chance they got.
‘Good riddance. Enjoy a life of being harvested repeatedly.’
“Clover, you up for some drinks today?” Ludi asked as both of them left the Undergard Harvesting Facility. “Let’s go, yeah? Everybody wants you to come. You’re hilarious when you’re drunk.”
Behind them were the other dozen people in their team, who all couldn’t understand a word Clover ever said, but still acted nice and friendly. Except Galodine, who was more of a quiet type that kept to himself. Unless he was drunk, that is. The guy went crazy after a few shots.
If his colleagues were to be trusted, Clover wasn’t different. Apparently, he tried to plow a chair once. Then his wife had to pick him up from the tavern. They had a very long talk about it and his drinking habits the next morning. Both agreed he should stay away from alcohol when outside, though a sip or two was fine as long as it wasn’t the strong stuff.
Strangely enough, Ellin told him it was perfectly fine to drink at home. In fact, she encouraged him to do so. He didn’t know what he did after she picked him up, but it seemed she liked it. He just hoped he didn’t black out next time so he could actually remember.
'The prince turned into me... Ah, no way. Why would he copy my alcohol tolerance too? He probably left that part out when transforming.'
“I’m gonna pass…” Clover declined as politely as he could. “Besides…”
“Oh, is it that time of the month for you again?”
“Don’t say it like that. It’s an immigration officer meeting. Also, yes. It’s that time.”
Ludi guffawed before seemingly explaining his circumstances to the Aizenians behind them, some of which probably didn’t even know immigrants had to meet an officer at the end of every month.
Clover said his farewells before heading home. The walk back saw a lot more people and a lot more stalls. He could barely hear himself think just from the sheer number of voices mixing into the air. And to think Northgard, the city above, was apparently more populated and busy.
Picking up some snacks to take home to his family along the way, Clover traipsed his way home just in time for a tall and imposing figure to leave while being escorted by his mother and Ellin. He knew that it was the knight tasked with “making sure they behaved”. The person changed every month so he didn’t even bother remembering the names.
Besides, it was all a front anyway.
Clover and the others were sent here by order of a prince so of course they weren’t about to get evicted from Aizen just because they botched a rudimentary interview. The thing is, they didn’t need other people to know that, so they had to play out a farce where someone who's obviously a knight does come to check in on them.
Once the knight was gone, Clover walked up and immediately met the gazes of his wife and mother. All of them agreed not to talk outside, however, quickly ducked into the house.
“Everything went well, I assume?” he asked, pushing up his glasses.
“Uh-huh.” Ellin nodded with a smile, holding an envelope. “The knight even gave us some money. Just like the one last month did. There’s more than what you agreed on with You-know-who.”
‘Hush money.’
Naturally, he wasn’t complaining. He would take it gratefully with the intention of keeping the secrets he knew to the grave. Not even his future child would know who Clover used to be. That, to him, was just one of the prices he would gladly continue paying in exchange for the peaceful life he was currently living. What use was the truth when you'd have to live like rats? Or worse, die?
“Well, that’s nice.” Clover smiled as he headed for the kitchen. “I brought home some meat again. Hope you guys aren’t getting tired of lizard tails. Oh, and I bought a few of those weird fruits that your parents like.”
“Lizard tails…” Ellin muttered.
“You don’t like it?”
“No, I like them. They’re amazing and new. But…”
“But?”
Ellin bit her lip, shyly looking away. “I think they’re making me fat…”
“Pff.” Clover held in a chuckle before reaching around her and pulling her close. “Ellin, you’re pregnant. Getting a little fatter’s perfectly ordinary.”
“No, but under my arms… and my cheeks too.”
It took a bunch of whispered compliments and assurances that she was still the most beautiful woman in the world before Ellin finally pushed him away, citing how she had to get dinner ready. His mother hadn’t left the room through all that, and from the look on her face, she approved of his actions. Honestly, he was used to being spied on by the older trio in this household, so it didn’t bother him as much.
While dinner was prepared, he played some cards with his father-in-law, helped his mother tend to the garden that was somehow thriving despite them being underground, and then assured his worried mother-in-law about the intensity of their nightly activities now that Ellin’s pregnancy was confirmed.
Then they had a wonderful dinner and the couple retired to their room, where they dutifully pulled out English studying materials, doing their best to learn the local language before turning in for the night. Obviously, it did not need mentioning what a relatively newlywed couple who were deep in the throes of their love did before the sleeping part.
‘This… This is happiness.’
As he lay in bed, utterly exhausted but his wife huddled in his arms, Clover ruminated on his current life. He would likely never hold a wand again, which was both sad and something his father would be disappointed in. It hurt him too, honestly. Magic was, to him, a ticket to a better life. That was all. With it gone, however, he realized that it was so much more than that—that it was something he loved.
It was something that connected him with his father.
But for all it was worth, Clover liked to think that he’d made do with what he had. A man had to bend when the roof got lower, as they say. And he actually eked out the best outcome given his circumstances.
His mother was alive and well. He, himself, was alive too. Though one of his arms got cut off at some point, what mattered was that it really was regrown, good as new. Other than that, their finances were in order and he even had an honest job that was worthy of doing.
All was well. Clover hoped his father would be proud of him despite his betrayal. But even if that wasn’t the case, Clover wouldn’t have changed a thing.
As for Arkhan? Well, that country was none of his business now.
‘Give ‘em hell, Prince Reivan. Just, you know, don’t die. Seriously...’
Clover didn’t know if their arrangements would hold up if the prince somehow died doing whatever the hell princes did after stealing someone's identity. So for his own sake and his family’s sake, Clover hoped Prince Reivan lived a very long life while continuing to uphold past agreements.
Sometimes, he wondered what the hell was being done in his name though.