Inside the carriage, Henry sat with Leier and Inacia as they traveled south from Hidden Stone City. It had been four hours since they left the mountain, their path following the White rchant Road that connected all North like threads in a web.
The further they traveled, the warr the air beca. Though the change was subtle, it was impossible to miss. The thick, heavy snow that blanketed the land had thinned considerably. In so places, the white had lted away entirely, revealing patches of dark, frozen soil. The trees and plants were beginning to show faint hints of life, their branches no longer as lifeless as they were further north, not only a dull and gray
As the sun neared the horizon, a small village ca into view. Simple wooden houses were clustered near a half-frozen stream, their roofs dusted with a thin layer of snow. What caught Henry’s eye, however, was the stream itself. Unlike the rivers of Stahl, which were buried under thick sheets of ice, this one still had visible, moving water beneath its fragile surface.
"Interesting," Henry muttered, watching through the window of the carriage- "This is the first ti I’ve seen running water on the surface, even if it’s still trapped under ice."
The carriage slowed as it entered the village, its wheels crunching over the dirt snowy road. Again, villagers paused in their work, gripping their tools with wary hands as they turned to watch. The air was thick with unspoken questions, but no one dared to approach. It seems like Henry’s orders didn’t spread to these villages souther of Hidden Stone, since no construction or repair work was happening around the village.
Beyond the village, past the last row of houses, stretched a wide field. Even under a thin layer of snow, a dark soil was visible, delimited by wooden stakes and rope. It was clear that this land was being used to farm, sothing deed impossible on Stahl’s lands.
Without hesitation, Henry stepped out of the carriage. He ignored the nervous stares of the villagers, who opened the way to him, and walked toward the fields, his boots sinking slightly into the soft earth. Kneeling, he scooped up a handful of soil, rolling it between his fingers. It was dark, looser than the hard, frozen ground of Stahl, and had a faint scent of sothing richer, sothing more alive.
"What do you feed the soil?" Henry asked, though he wasn’t addressing anyone in particular.
Silence. The villagers exchanged uneasy glances, unsure whether to speak.
Henry sighed. "Who is in charge here?"
Murmurs rippled through the group before all eyes turned to a middle-aged man standing near the back. A fresh scar ran down his cheek, and he held a rusted shovel as if it were the only thing keeping him upright.
The man hesitated before finally raising a trembling hand. "That… that would be , Your Highness." His voice was hoarse, strained. He had survived the war, but now, he feared he might not survive much longer.
Henry t his gaze. "How do you treat these lands? Do you use any kind of compost?"
"Compost?" - The man asked unsure what it an, before shaking his head. "No, Your Highness… Only the ashes from our fireplaces after each harvest."
Henry let the soil trickle from his fingers. He wasn’t an expert in farming, but he knew enough to understand that ashes contained minerals that could enrich the soil. In Stahl’s barren lands, such efforts might have been aningless, but here, where the seasons were kinder and the soil was not buried beneath eternal frost, it had potential to change a lot of things.
"How long have you been doing this?" - The king asked
"As long as anyone rembers," the man answered. "Our forefathers did the sa. After every harvest, we scatter the ashes across the fields."
Henry nodded, interest flickering in his eyes. "Show the crops."
-x-
On the highest cliff overlooking Frostwave Bay, where the sea stretched endlessly into the horizon, a lone house stood against the wind. It was built from sturdy wood of Frozen Forest, reinforced to withstand the harshest environnts. From this high vantage point, one could see the entire bay and the bustling village below.
A man sat outside, wrapped in thick furs, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as he gazed out at the waves. His wheelchair, made of solid wood and iron, rested firmly against the stone floor of the porch. He had spent countless evenings here, watching the sun sink into the sea, feeling the wind against his face.
"Iosif, dinner is ready." - A deep yet feminine voice ca from the doorway. A tall, muscular woman stepped outside, wiping her hands on her clothes.
Iosif turned, a faint smile touching his lips. He looked at Ella, the woman who had stood by his side through the darkest tis of his life.
He had built this house at the highest point of the bay, telling himself it was to keep an eye on the village. But in truth, he preferred being away from the pitying stares below. He had lost his legs in battle, but he refused to be seen as weak. He was still a general.
"What is for dinner?" he asked, shifting his wheelchair slightly to face her.
Ella smirked. "Since you would not stop complaining about eating fish every day, I went down to the village and got us a rabbit."
Iosif chuckled, feeling that he had never felt so happy in his life. "It’s been a while since I had rabbit at." He glanced at her, his grin widening. "Thanks, Ella."
Before they could step inside, a frantic voice echoed from below the cliffs.
"General! General!" - A young man ran up the rocky path, nearly tripping in his excitent. His chest heaved as he struggled for breath, but his eyes were shining.
"We did it!" he gasped, pointing toward the bay. "The ship! We finally did it, a ship that can sail beyond the bay!"
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