Rudra had been hanging out by the low bank of Rā. Strangely enough, the constructor workers and other laymen of the low bank area had been tolerant with him for some unknown reason.
It was, to Rudra, was a massive shock. When the civillains kept spitting at him on the first day of him working in the flooded area to carry dead soldiers - nobody had thanked him. People had spat, muttered curses, thrown stones at him.
The amount of spitting had drastically decreased as the flood water had started returning underground and to the river thanks to the now-functioning canals.
People no longer looked away but they didn't meet his eyes either. Someone left a water and dry bread near the bench he would come to sit between his shifts with the construction workers- who had more or less started treating him like an extra helping hand.
As the crowd started getting less scared of him, the bravest of their lot approached Rudra first to see if he was still a murder-beast or a subdued one.
It was the children.
Those tiny human beings stared openly as Rudra with less fear-conditioned eyes. A particularly brave fellow who was possibly no more than five or six approached him straight, "Turn into a dragon."
"No," Rudra refused.
"I won't tell my mother," he assured Rudra as if nobody would see a goddamn four hundred feet long dragon walking around at the bank of Rā.
Rudra glanced around to spot the supposed 'mother' from whom this boy was currently offering the protection of secrecy.
And there she was. Not more than twenty yards away, staring at Rudra with -you are dead- look, obviously listening. "I think she already knows," Rudra muttered.
The boy slowly turned back and spotted his mother. He looked back at Rudra, "She won't mind," he said, now desparate.
Behind him one of the construction workers made an ugly strangled noise which might have been an attempt to hide his laugh.
Rudra's clear refusal did little to nothing in discouraging the boy or any other children for the matter. By the mid-day the boy gathered a bigger crowd of tiny human-beings who kept following him around everywhere he went. They didn't understand the rule of 'no' applied to them.
Then came the adults.
First came Tomil's mother- the boy who had asked him to turn back into his dragon form. (Yes, he had told Rudra his name and also given him a nickname which he wasn't going to think about).
"Can you dry this?" She stood before Rudra with an armful of sudden firewood.
"You want me to," Rudra almost stuttered , "You want me to breath fire on your firewood?"
"Just a little bit, not burn it but dry it," explained Tomil's mother. "I the Prince of Partha," Rudra started, his voice thickening with a mixture of rage and shock, "Who had burned down-"
"Great. That means you've good control. Get to work. The woods aren't going to dry themselves."
And that was it.
That was the beginning of Benevian folks starting to coerce Rudra the Great Terrifying Dragon to do domestic labour.
If only he hadn't made the promise to Tish...
A part of him was still wondering how to tell Tish about the incident with the Shapeshifter. Like - Hey, remember that time I killed this hand maiden of yours infront of you? Yes, she was a Shapeshifter and was possibly planning to eat you alive. Quite literally.
He did remember how he had found him days after that incident. On the floor, clutching a glass shard in her hand, pressed against her wrist. She had looked like a ghost.
And it had made him angry.
That the person he had saved was wasting away her life so uselessly.
But what if she had survivor's guilt.
The thought kept eating him from inside as he worked throughout the afternoon drying fire woods for the villagers, by blowing not a gout of flame , nothing that dramatic but a thin controlled ribbon of heat, rolling off his tongue like steam from a kettle, on the pile which left the wood smoking gently.
Every time he stopped, Tomil and other children cheered, "Do it again!" As if it was some party truck. It wasn't.
It. Was. Not.
Once the wood pile were tended, the villagers brought him something far more atrocious. Wools.
"Don't burn these things, they cost a lot-" Tomil's mother had started nagging.
"I am aware," had cut in Rudra.
Then another woman had approached, "Hold up your arms," she had ordered flatly.
"Why?"
"Just.... Hold it," the woman had said, thrusting a bundle of wet wool in his arms. Twenty minutes later, Rudra had realised he was standing in the middle of the village with people coming to drape their damp clothes on him- treating him like a heat- radiating hearthstone. He was deeply unsure how his life had arrived to this particular point.
Nayan finally came around evening and found Rudra hugging one very confused goat, which had apparently fallen into the canal and it's owner was worried it would catch cold.
Nayan took one look at Rudra and opened her mouth.
"Don't even think about saying anything," Rudra warned.
"Saying what!" Nayan asked, "That the villagers have turned you into unpaid utility appliance within the span of an afternoon."
"_____"
"___Okay I have gone a bit too far."
"I am sorry."
"Apology accepted."
They remained silent for few seconds before Nayan burst out, "I snuck into the Temple of Rāva when you were busy mopping around."
She said that aloud like the foolish feline failure she was- proudly, loudly and with absolutely no sense of self preservation.
"Nayan!" Rudra roared, not in anger, in fear . He looked around wildly, half-convinced Tish would suddenly materialise out of thin air just to scoff- hah! All your good service points, revoked- for harboring a trespasser friend!
You can never be too careful with those eye-glowing, hair flying Saintesses. Blink once and you would find out that they had learned to fly.
"You cannot do trespassing! That thing illegal !" He hissed, like the upstanding , law-abiding citizen he was. Then, dropping to a whisper he added, "Even if you have done that, you cannot say it out loud!"
Nayan raised an eyebrow, entirely unbothered. The goat sensing an opening, wiggled free of Rudra's embrace and made a beeline for the forest- as if there wasn't single wild, carnivorous animal in the forest waiting for a delicious unsupervised snack.
"So? What did you find?" Rudra asked, already exhausted thinking how Tomil and other villagers would make him fetch the goat back.
"Alaka," said Nayan, "They are looking for a place named Alaka. That is where the Sword of Mamon is."