The city was clearly separated into parts by the buildings. The wooden shacks and hovels formed the outer layer of the city. They were built on dark soil, touching the farming ring. There was no signboard to be found or a house that had a showcase. Most of these perfunctoriness were made by stacking layers of ceiling planks on wall planks. More fancy ones had bales of straw on the rooftop, giving people a strong sense of safety in the time of rain. Around some shanties, there were baskets of vegetables or crops, and for some others, there were buckets of dung. By the very small number of people on the streets, it was clear that these huts belonged to those who were working in the ring. It was doubtless that there was not a single hostelry in the region. So, the two kept moving.
"I thought you said the place was prosperous," Akki complained as he browsed around the cheap shelters.
"It was before overpopulation. Back then, the farming ring you see outside the city was much bigger," Roal sat up and stuck his head out of the brougham, viewing the valueless huts, "You can tell from these houses. The last time I came, they were much bigger. Each contained at least a family of seven. Now, the boys had grown into men and girls into women. They had their own homes and inherited their own piece of land." His voice faded, giving Akki the opportunity to figure the conclusion out by himself.
"New homes made the farmland smaller, and the smaller land was divided between more people," Akki paused for a second, finding the right way to form his sentence, "Everybody had less land."
"Exactly," Ranith lay on the pile of cargo, comforting the ronin, "But it was not a problem. The reason the last generation had so many kids was that they needed more people to cultivate the land. Now, the population is too big. The current generation will have fewer kids. Just look at those shacks. They could not bear more than three people. Thus, the next generation will have enough land for everyone. Besides, didn't you see the running kids? They are still living a happy life, just poorer than their parents."
"So the problem will be solved by itself?" Akki's voice raised as he was pleased by Ranith's theory.
The international advisor opened his mouth and closed it before he could say what he had in mind. He decided that it would probably upset Akki and shifted his words, "Supposedly." The glad man answered with a cheerful "Right." The cowboy's original sentence was, "As long as no one mess with it." He didn't want to guide the ronin into thinking someone may be doing something. Even if someone was, the problem was usually not as simple and morally clear as the embezzlement in Bagen. Roal Ranith didn't save Akki to have him end up in a political swamp like the younger Roal. The cowboy sure wanted to see where Akki would end up, yet he was not going to be the one who pushed him down the cliff.
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The carriage kept moving. The two could see those tall half-timbered buildings in a near distance; most of them were grimy grey or tan; only those far away, close to the center of the city, had mikado yellow or woad blue dyes. The clear difference between the area of shacks and the area of actual houses could be easily told by the space between each building. Between the shanties, at most, two to three people could walk side by side. Meanwhile, the area between two half-timbered bungalows could almost fit in another construction. The distinct lifestyles were also evident.
As the brougham passed by, the butcher in front of his cottage beckoned under his blanket awning. The tailor had two big glassless windows on his daub wall and a rack hanger of hosen and braies outside to attract people into his studio. The blacksmith was hammering a new scythe, squeezing and stretching the letter "N" on his bicep. The peasant dragging a handcart of kohlrabi jiggled his feline ears as the carriage rode past him.
It didn't take long for them to find an inn with a stable large enough for their brougham. The inn was only two floors high, like most other buildings in the region. Although They could see those four-floors-high skyscrapers made of bricks in the center of the city, the two had no intention of wasting all their Boms in a few nights.
"Woohuh. I really… Need… a drink," Ranith let out a groan as he dropped the crate of rye loaves on the floor. While his sweats were gilding off his bald top to the grizzled hair on the side, Roal smashed his butt on the crate, panting. Directly following behind, Akki jogged up the stairs to their room with a basket of apples and a barrel ale. He put the two next to the other crate of bread, a sack of money, and two totes of books and hay.
The cargoes were placed near the two beds that were opposite each other. Besides the beds, the window was curtainless and glassless. Across the room was a shabby wood door with a table next to it. Picking the two tankards from the table, Akki tossed them to the old man.
"The empty ones are in the carriage?" Roal inquired while the ronin poured the ale out of the bunghole.
"Of course. No need to worry about them," Akki answered as the tankards were filled with ale.
"There are no infected areas around Surt, and those casinos and arenas are quite expensive if I remember them correctly," Roal handed a tankard to Akki while bowing down to sip the ale dome formed upon the opening of the tankard.
"Are we selling the brougham?" Akki crouched and set the barrel down, not spilling a drop.
"And the empty boxes. Maybe even the horses."
"Why?" Receiving the mug, Akki spilled the liquid above the rim on both of their hands.
As Akki drank a mouthful, Ranith explained, sitting back up with a hand on his thigh, "Our next stop is Zlenalgeb. It is easier to enter with a caravan than alone."
Swallowing all the ale in his jaw, Akki asked, "The papers?"
"Exactly."