galvarelli/bovril-tells-kral-about-leaving-ottawa.txt

Kral was, like nearly everyone else in the country, asleep when his father entered his room almost offensively early in the morning, travelling bag on his shoulder.

―Kralvin, come with me.
 	I want to show you something.

Kral groaned.

―Can't it wait until morning?

―No, we should go now

Kral quickly got himself to some approximation of ready.
They left home and headed to the west end of the Barns, towards the Towers.

―Wait, Dad, where are we going?

Bovril's eyes twinkled as he smiled.

―You're not going to tell your mother, right?

Kral shook his head.

The Towers at the Havenstreasure Silo Complex were the tallest buildings in the Haven, possibly in all of Galvarelli.
His yak friends had complained about the sounds of the engines that powered the elevator, and the metal construction that they saw as an eyesore, but Kral couldn't help but love them.
Even in Galvarelli's least desirable land, the Towers represented stability, safety.
Food enough for years even if the grass stopped growing, ensuring the Barns would always be fed.

The maintenance stairs around the outside primary silage Tower were always attractive for kids, but Kral had always been wary of climbing them.
Even if he didn't mind the rickety construction and their almost complete lack of use, with an alternative motorised elevator for actual maintenance, Kral and his friends at the Barns feared the wrath of their cautious mothers far more.
Better to plummet to his death than worry Rowena, Kral thought.
But Bovril was heading straight to the stairs, and excitement built in Kral's gut.

Right from the bottom, the staircase seemed to shake at his weight as they began to climb.
The iron stairs were probably Ottawan made, Kral thought.
Traded, not made here.
At the very least, they'd have been imported from North Galvarelli where more metal manufacturing took place, although it would have been more expensive.
Apparently, large parts of the Towers had to be kept far more fireproof than normal.
The costs were another reason the Complex had been an unpopular investment decades ago, at a time when the Hierarchy was less able to agitate against its construction.

The tight spiral upwards quickly began to make Kral dizzy, although he swallowed it and kept going.
Bovril was moving quite adeptly, and Kral had to push himself a bit to keep pace.

The railing had broken in sections, and the non-slip rubber had peeled off many steps.
Kral tried his best to avoid thinking about the almost certainly fatal fall that would await him if his hooves slipped out from under him.
In the dark, Kral couldn't see much, apart from the odd lights visible from the Barns or Northhaven.

Eventually, they reached the top, where they came through a hatch to a somewhat narrow platform that encircled the Tower.
Thankfully, the platform's railing around it had no visible damage around it.
Kral had to sit for a moment to let the dizziness go away, and to catch his breath.
Bovril was standing, leaning on the railing, terrifyingly enough.
He didn't seem to be at all winded by the climb.

―I don't understand how you do it, Kral said.

―I'm not as big as you, son.
	This isn't my first time up here either.

Kral nodded, and stood.
Bovril walked him around to the north side of the platform. They had a clear view of Monsimeli Island, where he could see the Presidential Residence at Havenmount.
The tall building's lower floors were garlanded with electric lights, and periodic lights along the top showed off Havenmount's tiered structure.

To the East, Kral could see across the Barns, all the way to Manitou Lake.

―Great view, Kral said.

Bovril pulled two bottles of malt beer from his bag, offering Kral one.

―Figure we should celebrate, Kral.
	You're going to be in the Guard pretty soon.

―I haven't applied yet, Dad.
	I'm not sure I'll be accepted.

―I am.

Kral nodded.
He felt some knot of emotion in his chest, and tried to push it down as he took the beer.

―Cheers, dad.

They sat for a while, as a few hints of the sun started to creep into the sky from the east.

―You know, Kral, you're not my first son.

Kral found himself a bit shocked.
He knew his dad had left the Ottawans, but his dad had always hated talking about it.

―I was a dairy cow, you know.
	They just cared about your body, not who you were, and so they just cared that I was a cow.
	There was a girl on the farm, Clara.
	I liked her.
	She was nice.
	Clara liked to stay with us.
	Young for a human, she just wanted to play, show us her dolls and toys.
	And pet us, of course.

Kral was shocked.

―Pet you?
	You were okay with that?

―Kral, I'll let you in on a secret.
	We hate admitting it here in the Republic, but it's hugely comforting on a farm having someone willing to hold you in a friendly way.
	Doesn't take away from our freedoms at all, just a purely affectionate gesture.

―I guess, Kral said, although he felt unconvinced.
	Doesn't it feel too...

Kral couldn't find the right word.

―The loss of autonomy?
	Kral, when you're on a farm, every part of you is controlled by the humans.
	Being pet is nothing in comparison.
	Dairy cows have to calve on schedule, you know.
	We don't talk about it in the barns, but they don't even let it happen naturally.
	Imagine a human sticking his arm in you, then a metal device filled with, well you know.
	It's awful.

Kral's jaw was fully dropped.
He'd never really had to think about what Bovril had gone through.

―Anyway, Clara watched when I gave birth for the first time.
	Beautiful calf, pale brown.
	Skinny thing, on stilts for legs.
	Fell over trying to stand up.
	And Clara wanted to name him right away.
	But that's the thing.
	Him.
	Not much room for dairy calves born male.

Kral shuddered.

―What happened?

―Nothing at first, they let him spend a few hours with me.
	But I think the farmers had told the girl, because she was upset.
	Cried a lot, she didn't really understand why.
	I mean it's the economics of it, why would you keep an unproductive calf around, you know?
	But the humans weren't really able to explain that to a kid.
	And me, I was, well.
	Hard to explain.
	I'd known that I should mentally prepare for it, but it's different when the kid's in front of you, and his name's running around your head.
	Your body does things to you, tells you that this kid's the most important thing in the world.
	There's no real way to tell your body that you shouldn't be a parent.
	And this boy, so playful, right away.
	Just wanted to explore, and see what Clara was doing.
	Nuzzle up.
	They had a gorgeous herding dog on the farm, who just wanted to play with this new calf.
	I think the dog wasn't the smartest, probably thought that it was just an oddly shaped dog.
	Anyway, after a few hours, they took my son away.
	Veal.

Kral felt a wave of nausea rise up within him.
He'd heard of veal, but didn't actually realise the rumours were true.
The Ottawans eating children.

―Is that when you decided to leave?

―No, that wasn't the moment.
	It was a little while later, when Clara grew up a bit, and stopped talking to me about it.
	A few other cows there calved, and a few of them were taken away too.
	I could see that Clara, she was a good kid you know, Clara got a bit less emotional each time.
	She wanted to be a good farmer.
	That's the thing Kral, these were good people.
	They'd proudly show off their cows to other humans.
	Lots of room, plenty of space for everyone.
	They cared for the sick, cried over the ones they couldn't afford to keep alive.
	But even the good farmers, they had to worry about their business.
	And that meant Clara never could really be a friend.
	She cried over my first boy.
	She wouldn't cry over any of the others.
	That's what made me leave.

Kral felt the knot in his chest tighten.
He brushed tears off of his face, but they were flowing freely by now.
A few tears even trickled down Bovril's face.

―I'd heard of the Hidden Lands.
	They're only a legend, there, rumours we'd tell each other when things were tough.
	They say once you get to the wild to follow the part of you that doesn't point in any direction of the compass, the pure grass that grows unrestrained.
	Not sure if that actually helped, but I found some other refugees on the way, and eventually we got here.
	Anyway, Kral.
	That's what the Barns are for.
	That's why I wanted you to see this.

The sun was beginning to rise in earnest.
Reds and yellows painted across the sky, clouds a rich pink.
The Barns had never looked quite so beautiful.

―What was your son's name, Dad?

Bovril hesitated for a moment, the name only coming to his mouth reluctantly.

―Butternut.
	Clara named him Butternut.
	She'd named me too.
	I was Marigold.
	I couldn't keep the name.
	Bovril's a type of meat extract some humans eat.
	Concentrated stock, all the toughest parts of the cow retained, amplified.
	That's why I took my name.
	No matter what the humans did to me, I wanted to be stronger for it.
	Sinew and bone and grit.
	I didn't want any kids after I got here.
	When your mom and I got together though, she was adamant.
	Said I was strong enough to try it again, and when I saw you as a baby yak, waiting for someone to take care of you, I just melted.
	So we fought for the right to adopt you.
	Every time I felt scared of being a dad, of having to tell people that we could actually raise a yak in the Barns, I just thought back to seeing you for the first time.
	And now, when I see the man you're going to be.
	The man that you already are.
	Kral it was worth it.
	I'm just so proud of you.

Kral leaned against his dad, holding the pose a moment.
―Thanks Dad.
	For all of it.

They sat for a while and watched the day break.