They continued for at least another hour before Lev finally couldn’t go on anymore. His wounds ached; his legs ached. Everything just ached. He stopped and dropped down into the tall grass. Myja didn’t argue with him, most likely because she was just as beaten as he was.

He could hear her sit down close to him and let out a pleased groan.

After some time, he heard a rustle in the grass as she moved. “You are Rusin, right? Like Taras.”, she asked. Lev didn’t bother opening his eyes and agreed with a nod. She remained silent for a bit.

“Why join the Socialists?”, she finally continued. “Why not the Nationalists?”

That got him to open his eyes and give her a strange look.

“You are asking me why I joined the Socialists instead of the Nationalists? Just because I’m Rusin?”, what kind of question was that supposed to be? She seemed to take notice of his irritation and quickly explained.

“I don’t want to suggest you don’t believe in the cause or that Rusin are inherently nationalist. I just know a lot of Rusin who joined the Nationalists even though they believe in many of the same things I believe. Freedom from the ruling caste, Equality for all. The end of the Kanis empire…”.

He could understand that. Like she said, many of the people Lev had grown up with had joined the Rusin nationalist cause. Thinking about it, the percentage of people joining nationalistic movements seemed fairly high for all of the ethnic minorities of the empire. It did make a sort of sense though. When you have another people ruling over you and attempting to subsume your identity into theirs like the Kanis empire attempted to do, fighting for that very identity was a reasonable reaction.

“You are a Kanite right?””, he could tell from her accent, or rather lack of it. While Lev prided himself in his vocabulary and pronunciation, he still had a slight Rusin accent while speaking the imperial language. It was the little things. Words borrowed from his native tongue, a pronunciation that was a little closer to how it was in Rusin than in Kanite. While both languages were related, it was still plenty noticeable to anyone who cared.

And it was this accent and the origin that it represented that would forever bar him from any positions in the government higher than that of a local official.

In contrast Myja seemed to have a somewhat simpler vocabulary but no accent whatsoever. Kanite peasantry, he would wager. Which made sense, since former kanite servs were among the largest factions among the socialists.

A hesitant nod from her confirmed it. He could see that she felt a little apprehension acknowledging it. In revolutionary circles, the resentment of Rusins towards Kanites burned hotter than in the general public. Especially among the nationalists. And even if they were both on the same side, the grudge that many felt against the Kanis empire and by extension its ruling peoples went deep.

He sighed knowing that this misplaced animosity was one of the many things hampering their success. Another convenient tool of division for the empire.

“I am a socialist and for good reason. I’m not interested in nation states, I don’t care much for what people you belong to, nor is it particularly important to me who my ancestors were. It's why I did not join the nationalists. Fighting for a Rusin state will solve Rusin problems. I want freedom and equality for all.” His words seemed to strike a chord with Myja and she nodded in agreement.

They were silent for a while. Then Lev asked the question back.

“So why did you join?”, he could guess the answer, but he wanted to hear it from her. She pulled a wry face.

“You mean aside from being the daughter of piss-poor farmers with the prospects of becoming the wife of a piss-poor farmer?”, bitterness was etched deep in her voice. “Or being seen as a stupid subhuman only good for fucking and ordering around?”

Lev was smart enough to remain silent. Kanite farmers, especially those who had been servs before that institution had been outlawed, were closely aligned with imperial doctrine and of the more religious sort. Which meant that they believed in a very strict role for women. A role that was informed by that of the sinful, self-destructive female devil, described in their religious texts. Misguided, wretched beings in need of a strong guiding, male hand to reach salvation.

“I don’t particularly want to live my life as a glorified servant with the only aspiration in life being to get fucked, birthing my husbands’ children and serving them until I keel over.”, Myja’s expression was one that dared him to disagree.

Lev just nodded. There was nothing to disagree with. He was a child of a rich Kulag family. Rusin, land-owning farmers that were the closest thing to nobility a Rusin could be in the empire. Rusin in general were somewhat less aligned with the cultural norms of the kanite elite and by extension less contemptuous of women. That did not mean that they treated women as equal to men, but it did give a different outlook. Further than that, with his family’s wealth came education and with education came a less religious outlook on life.

“I mean it when I say equality for all.”, he responded to her challenging gaze. That somewhat reduced Myja’s standoffishness. He could not blame her. Even among the mostly unreligious socialist, full equality for women was a stance many supported in theory but less so in practice.

They were silent for another while as Lev felt strength return to his limbs. Everything continued to hurt, and he suspected that if he tried to stand up, it would not go well for him, but he no longer felt exhausted to the point of being unwilling to move at all.

He heard a rustle of the grass and pulled his gun. Only to relax again as he saw the faint red glint of tattoos in the darkness. Yaril wordlessly let herself drop into the grass next to him. To his right, he heard Myja resheath her knife.

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“You alright?”, he asked the devil as he tried but failed to muster her in the darkness of the night. There was a bit of moonlight, enough to make out the rolling landscape around them and the dark outlines of Yaril, but too little to see anything in detail.

“I will heal quickly.”, the devil replied without much emotion. He thought that there might be exhaustion straining her voice. But it was difficult to tell with this taciturn devil of his. Letting it go, since he doubted there was any point in pressing further, he closed his eyes again and rested.

He woke up to the first rays of the sun, feeling much better than he would have thought. Rising from the ground, his body felt stiff and ached from having laid on the hart ground, but his wounds no longer throbbed with pain at even the smallest motion. He turned and saw Yaril stare off into the distance an unreadable expression on her face.

Seeing her in the morning light, he saw her robes cut and damaged in multiple spots. Redish-brown stains covered much of the formerly white garment, though he couldn’t see any fresh blood. Was it her blood or the blood of the helpless soldiers at the checkpoint? The state of her dress suggested both, though the lack of visible wounds contradicted it. He was reminded of her words. She would heal quickly. Not for the first time, he wondered just how different she was compared to a mere mortal like him.

“I recovered enough strength and healed you as much as I could.”, the devil said without his prompting. She did not turn to face him and continued to watch the rising sun in the east.

“My wounds are almost totally healed, so I will be able to fight if need be.”

He was taken aback by her obligingness but then grinned. She most likely figured that it was less hassle to answer his inevitable questions before he even asked them. Honestly, it was a little cute. And he was thankful for the healing.

“Thank you.”, he expressed as much and stood up. They were still in the middle of nowhere. The south of the empire was sparsely populated, mostly due to the endless raids and battles that had burned across the steppe only a few decades ago. Even now, 12 years after the last remaining nomads on this side of the Neyr had been placated and the area had become as safe as the rest of the Kanis empire, only a few towns and villages interspersed the grasslands between the larger cities.

He did not know how long it would take them to find a settlement. But he hoped it was soon. His stomach was already grumbling for food and the dryness of his throat demanded water. None of which he currently had.

They woke Myja and continued their trek west.

It was hot. Summers were always hot, especially so this far south on the steppe where there was no cover to be had. All around them, the slightly wilting grass was alive with countless bugs and critters that made way in little waves as they fought their way through the tall stalks. They all somehow survived this dry sea of grass, though Lev honestly did not know how.

To his relief, it only took a couple of hours of miserable hiking until they saw smoke rising in the distance. Climbing a low hill, they spotted a small hamlet surrounded by a scattering of trees, a couple of vegetable gardens, and extensive pastures. A dirt road led from the collection of houses towards the south, likely connecting to the same road they had come from.

Lev rejoiced inwardly and judging from the tired smile on Myja’s face and even a glint of relief in Yaril’s eyes, they did too. They quickly decided that Myja and he would go down to get food, while Yaril would stay out of sight and rejoin once they left.

Explaining his wounds was easy. Bringing a devil could only lead to conflict.

Getting to the hamlet took another painful hour, during which they were spotted from afar. A pair of men came to meet them some distance from the village. They were eyeing them with wary expressions, something that Lev could well understand. Strangers coming from the rough wilderness instead of the easy road screamed trouble.

“Who are you, what do you want?”, the older farmer asked as they came into earshot. He held a long wooden stick with a hoe on its end, resting it on his shoulder. The other, younger, man had a short knife on his belt and one hand ready to draw it.

Myja stepped out with her hands raised in a disarming manner.

“We are travelers on the way to Terje. Our wagon was attacked by bandits on the road and we had to-“, before she could finish the older farmer interrupted her.

“I’m talking to you, stranger.”, he stared Lev in the eyes before briefly glancing to the startled Myja. “Womenfolk should know when to talk.”, he added gruffly. Her face fell and turned a little red, but she kept quiet. This was not a first for her.

Lev hid his own distaste and nodded.

“Please excuse her. We had a truly awful day. As she said, we were on way to Terje when we were attacked. We had to flee the road and were lost until we found your hamlet. If you sell us some food and drink, we will be on our way again.”, to underscore his point, he pulled a few coins from his pocket. It wasn’t much in the city, but farmers like these were rich in food and poor in coin.

The suspicion in their counterparts’ eyes did not lessen much, but the old man nodded to show his acceptance.

“How much do you need?”, he asked.

An hour later, they had eaten a hearty breakfast at the old man’s table, and each received a filled water skin and enough rations to last a few days. It had taken most of Lev’s remaining money, but he was certain that Myja had at least a little on her too. As long as they made it to another settlement before running out of water, they would be fine.

Speaking of his guide, he was glad that she had kept quiet during the entire time they remained at the hamlet. He could virtually feel the anger bubbling beneath the surface, but to her credit, she kept up a smiling mask throughout. The treatment she received was to be expected though.

Judging from the age of the buildings and the farmer's accents, these were Kanite or maybe kanitized Rusin farmers who had been transplanted into this area once it was conquered. Colonialization of newly conquered areas was standard practice and helped in diluting local rebellious sentiments. The sort of people who were chosen for this were loyal subjects of the empire. Religious nutcases was the more apt description in Lev’s opinion.

Nonetheless, they left the settlement without any further trouble and hiked down the dirt path until they left it out of sight. Only then, did they go off path and back into the wildness of the grassland.

Taking the road would be much faster and easier, but there were sure to be even more roadblocks ahead, especially now that the authorities knew that they were heading towards Terje. Not that it was hard to guess their destination anyway. Terje was the largest city of the southern provinces and a hotbed of revolutionary activity. Filled with socialists, nationalists and every other seditious movement and element. Right now, the coming uprising was still hidden under the surface, in secret meetings and the occasional pamphlet.

But the imperial authorities knew about these activities and the only reason they did not move to quell them was the relative peace of the city, its economic importance and the violent response it would earn them.

Terje was the obvious destination and every road leading to it would be checked. So, they would need to trek the entire distance while keeping away from the roads and all larger towns. It was promising to be a miserable journey and Lev decidedly did not look forward to it.

About half an hour after they had left the dirt path Yaril reappeared next to them as if she had never been gone. Smiling he handed her his water skin, which she accepted before drinking her fill.