Chapter 9: A Letter Beneath Notice
The grand court of Aldor burned with morning light filtering through high windows. Scrolls clattered onto the central table as ministers began their daily shuffle of affairs. King Edric, robed in velvet and steel, sat on the throne as a clerk approached.
"A petition, Your Majesty," the clerk said, handing him a rolled parchment.
Edric took it, glancing briefly. "From... Merriton?"
He skimmed it, eyebrows twitching with mild amusement. "Potatoes?" he murmured. He set the scroll aside.
Chancellor Halden snorted from his corner. "Perhaps it's a merchant's attempt to sell root vegetables in royal fashion."
"Hardly worth your attention, Sire," chimed in another minister.
But before the discussion moved on, another letter was placed before the king. This one bore the seal of the Western Front—Elsa Valorin's personal seal.
Edric straightened.
Breaking the seal with care, he read her precise and concise handwriting. It didn't speak of war—it spoke of a small town, an ignored husband, and something strange blooming in barren soil.
When he finished, Edric looked up with interest. "Elsa thinks this is worth a glance."
Halden frowned. "Even so, Sire, we cannot afford to scatter our gaze over farmland and puffed claims."
"True," Edric said slowly, but then looked to his right. "Minister Harbin?"
The old agricultural minister adjusted his spectacles. "Sire, if I may… food shortages in outer districts have worsened. Even a small solution, if valid, could mean something. I suggest sending a minor agent or scribe to verify the claims discreetly."
Halden scoffed. "And give the people more reason to pester the court with fables?"
Edric silenced them with a hand.
"Very well. Send someone. Quietly."
---
At the Valorin Estate, Jack was unaware of the minor stir he had caused. He sat with Laina, drawing rough sketches of field rotations. Caelum and Serin played under the trees nearby.
Damon approached.
"The guard you sent reached the front. Elsa saw your report."
Jack blinked. "That fast?"
Damon nodded. "Don't expect letters. But it reached her."
Jack exhaled, fingers tightening around his charcoal pencil. "That's something."
---
Back in Merriton, whispers began to stir. The potato harvest had surprised even the most skeptical of farmers. Jack's methods, once mocked, had turned a dying town into a place of curiosity.
And unseen, unnoticed by Jack, a man cloaked in neutral grays arrived at the town's gates with royal writ in hand. His eyes scanned the horizon, landing on the field.
He plucked a potato from the earth and examined it thoughtfully.
"Let's see if you're just a vegetable, or something more."