Evan followed Punay through the winding dirt path, the damp earth cool beneath his bare feet. The morning air was thick with the scent of wet leaves and distant smoke from cookfires, a mix of familiarity and alien strangeness.
As they walked, Evan took in the land around him. Towering trees stood like silent sentinels, their massive roots curling over the earth like the grasping fingers of something ancient. The sound of unseen birds echoed through the jungle canopy, their calls sharp and warbling. The occasional rustling in the underbrush kept him on edge. Were there crocodiles here?
"So, this is it?" Evan asked as they reached a clearing.
Punay came to a halt, gesturing toward the expanse of land before them. "Yes. Good soil, near the river, but not too close to flood."
Evan surveyed the area, his arms crossed over his chest. The land stretched out before him, a mix of dense foliage and open space. The ground was firm but soft, rich with potential. He knew next to nothing about farming, but if he was expected to cultivate this land, he'd have to learn fast.
"What can I even grow here?" Evan muttered to himself. "Rice? Bananas? Mangoes? Do I go with something that needs replanting or something I can just keep harvesting?"
Punay shot him a sideways glance. "Bananas and mangoes won't grow fast enough for the next tribute."
Surprise flickered across Evan's face. So Punay knows her stuff, huh? He hadn't expected her to have such a practical grasp of farming.
He turned to her, curiosity getting the better of him. "Alright, then, what would you plant here?"
Evan watched Punay closely, half-expecting her to scoff at his question. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, as if genuinely considering it.
"If it were me?" she said, running a hand over the rich soil beneath her toes. "Rice is the safest choice. It grows quickly enough, and the village already knows how to cultivate it."
Evan nodded slowly. Rice made sense. It was a staple, and he wouldn't be the first person in history to farm it. Maybe he could get some pointers from actual farmers. Or hopefully his new slaves already knows how to plant it.
"But if you want something that will last beyond one tribute," Punay continued, "you should plant sugarcane."
Evan blinked. "Sugarcane?"
For a moment, Evan's mind flashed to those juice stalls in malls, where vendors fed thick stalks into a press, squeezing out the sweet liquid right in front of customers. He could almost taste it. Did they even drink sugarcane juice here?
He realized they probably didn't. If sugarcane was already being cultivated, they were likely just chewing on the raw stalks, gnawing at the fibrous pulp to suck out the sweetness, like beavers. Do they even know you can press this stuff and turn it into a proper drink?
That could make for a marvelous tribute to the Rajah, couldn't it?
Punay nodded. "It takes time, almost a year before you can cut it. But once it grows, you don't have to plant it again every season. You cut it, and it grows back."
That actually sounded… efficient.
He glanced toward the river in the distance. "What about down there? Would it be safe to plant something close to the water? Might make irrigating it easier."
Punay turned her gaze toward the river and exhaled through her nose, almost amused. "Safe?" She shook her head. "That depends on how long you want to live."
Evan frowned. "That bad, huh?"
She pointed toward the dense foliage along the riverbanks. "Crocodiles lurk in the water, waiting for anything, or anyone, that gets too close. We have to drive them away constantly, especially from the areas where the women wash clothes and the village bathes. Alunay handles that most of the time. Snakes nest in the trees, and some are large enough to take down a man."
Evan's stomach dropped. "Fantastic."
"Monitor lizards, too. They won't kill you, but their bite festers, and they'll steal whatever food you leave out."
"Great, so my competition isn't just the market, it's also giant lizards."
Punay smirked. "And if you're unlucky, you might hear the river whisper."
Evan stiffened. "The what?"
"The berberoka." Her expression darkened slightly. "A spirit that lures men into the water. They say it can make the river seem calm and inviting until it pulls you under."
Evan stared at her, trying to gauge whether she was messing with him or not. But her face held no trace of humor.
"Right," he said, rubbing his arms. "So… maybe I'll just stick to farming away from the river."
Punay gave him a satisfied nod. "Good choice. I'd rather not have to drag your body out of the water."
Evan sighed. "You and me both."
They stood in silence for a moment, the enormity of Evan's situation settling on his shoulders. He was really doing this. A month ago, his biggest concern was an overdue report at work. Now, he had land, people depending on him, and an ancient Filipino economy to navigate. It was surreal.
Before he could spiral any further, movement in the distance caught his eye. At first, it was just a shifting of leaves, the rhythmic sway of something large moving through the jungle. Then, he saw them, figures emerging through the trees, their silhouettes shifting beneath the weight of something long and wide.
His hut.
Or rather, his hut being carried by a dozen men on bamboo poles.
Evan's jaw dropped slightly as he watched the spectacle unfold. The warriors and villagers moved in near-perfect unison, their steps steady, their grips firm. They carried the hut as if it weighed nothing, the structure gliding effortlessly above their heads. The woven walls bobbed slightly with each step, but it remained intact, swaying gently as it was transported to its new location.
What struck Evan even more was the coordination. The warriors weren't all the same height, far from it. Yet they adjusted seamlessly, distributing themselves around the perimeter of the hut in a way that compensated for their differences. The taller men bore most of the weight on their shoulders, while the shorter ones lifted with their arms, keeping the structure balanced. Their movements were instinctive, practiced. No shouting, no confusion, just quiet teamwork, as if they had done this a hundred times before.
It was a raw display of communal effort, something Evan had never seen in his old life. Back then, even getting people to hold open an elevator door required effort. Here, they were literally lifting homes together like it was just another part of the day.
"That's…" Evan blinked. "That's incredible."
Punay crossed her arms, a faint look of amusement on her face. "When one of us moves, the community helps."
Evan had heard of it before, back in modern times. It was one of those cultural tidbits they taught in school, an old practice from the days before modern machinery. But seeing it in action, in the very time and place where it originated, was something else entirely.
He stepped back as the men maneuvered the hut into position, lowering it carefully onto the cleared patch of land. There was a brief moment of adjustment as they made sure it was level before stepping away, their work done. A few wiped their brows, exchanging casual remarks, while others simply nodded and walked off as if they hadn't just transported an entire house through the jungle.
Evan let out a low whistle. "My old neighbors took my chair just because I left it out my door for 30 mins. This is next level."
Punay raised an eyebrow. "Your neighbors do not help each other?"
"Not without pizza and beer as a reward."
She frowned slightly, clearly unsure what to make of that answer. Evan didn't bother explaining.
His gaze returned to the hut, now officially his hut. It wasn't much, just a simple bamboo structure raised on stilts, with a thatched roof and woven walls. But it was his. That fact alone felt unreal.
He took a deep breath, hands on his hips, and exhaled slowly. "Well, I guess I'm officially a homeowner."
Punay smirked. "Try not to let it fall apart."
Evan shot her a look. "Again, no promises."
The warriors, now done with their task, gathered their things and began to disperse. Some offered brief nods in Evan's direction, while others didn't acknowledge him at all. The slaves assigned to him remained, standing near the hut with the same unreadable expressions they'd worn since the announcement of their transfer. Evan still wasn't sure how to deal with that.
He turned to Punay, shifting uncomfortably. "So, uh… what now?"
"You learn," she said simply. "You have land. A home. People under you. You must decide what to do with them."
"Right," Evan muttered, scratching his head. "Easy."
Punay gave him one last knowing look before turning to leave. "The village will be watching," she called over her shoulder. "Try not to embarrass yourself."
Evan watched her disappear down the path, leaving him standing in front of his new life, his new responsibilities pressing down on him like the humidity in the air.
He exhaled sharply. No pressure or anything.
He glanced at the slaves, who remained motionless, waiting for instruction. The one-armed woman stood tall, her posture almost ceremonial, but her eyes burned with quiet defiance. Beside her, the other woman had subtly wrapped her fingers around her lone arm. Not just holding on, but holding her back. As if, given the chance, she might actually lunge at him.
He cleared his throat. "So… I guess we should figure out what to do first."
Neither woman responded.
Evan sighed. This was going to be really awkward.