With his army stretching nearly two kilometers behind him, their steps creating a steady, rhythmic rumble along the Aropian Highway, Ren sighed deeply, turning his gaze to the landscape beyond the carriage window.
The air carried a faint, earthy scent—of soil freshly turned by cartwheels, of ripe fields, and wild herbs crushed beneath hundreds of marching feet. The early morning light cast a warm glow over the countryside, dappling the lush grass fields with hues of gold and deep amber.
Opposite him, Hazel sat silent, her gaze distant, her own thoughts turbulent.
Only days ago, she’d escaped the capital on this very road with Ogren, galloping through the midnight dark, clinging tightly as the shadows seemed to gather around them with every mile. The memory lingered—a mixture of adrenaline and fear, the whisper of trees overhead, and the unsettling silence as they’d fled from the capital.
Returning now felt strange, her thoughts unsettled. But this time, she wasn’t fleeing; she was coming back with Ren Cannahy, the man she intended to make her king and the one she hoped would restore Aropia.
Ren’s eyes drifted to the endless stretch of fertile fields, where the tall white grass, like ghostly maize, swayed with the breeze. The sight was mesmerizing—thin, elegant blades brushing softly against each other, creating a faint, whispering song that seemed to mingle with the hum of magic that hung almost tangibly in the air.
“That’s manna grass,” Hazel murmured, her voice a gentle interruption. “It’s the original source of all magic. Our country’s fields hold the most in all of Pangea, yet…” Her voice faded, carrying a hint of melancholy. She glanced back out, her fingers tracing absent patterns on her lap. “Yet our economy is always so poor. Such irony, isn’t it?”
Ren nodded, captivated by the peculiar beauty of the grass and the magic. The soft wind carried a hint of sweetness, like honeysuckle, with a sharper undertone he couldn’t quite place, leaving a lingering tingle in the air.
Ahead, the sun was dipping, casting a radiant glow over the landscape as his carriage continued its journey toward Ropa.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Ren leaned back in his seat, the weight of memories stirring behind his calm gaze. "I’m not so shocked," he said, his voice carrying a calm confidence as he looked out over the vast fields of manna grass swaying like pale ghostly waves. "In my world, we had something similar called crude oil. It powered entire nations, yet some of the richest reserves lay in the poorest countries. It all comes down to how resources are managed, how you leverage them for growth—or let them drain you dry."
Across from him, Hazel’s expression grew pensive. Her eyes moved to the passing fields, her fingers curling slightly into the fabric of her dress as she considered his words.
"You’re right," she replied softly, the frustration in her voice barely hidden. "Countries like the Grand Alliance constantly push for lower prices. They know to humans, manna grass doesn’t hold the same worth—yet we’re dependent on exporting it. It’s a kind of… quiet strangulation, I suppose."
Ren raised an eyebrow, impressed not just by her insight but by the calculated strategy of the Grand Alliance. His own ambition stirred in response. They’re smart, he thought, doing exactly what he would have done to protect his nation's supremacy at the top if he were in their shoes.
For a moment, he felt a flicker of the thrill he'd experienced when he’d once lifted his homeland to greatness—a powerful sense of purpose that had faded as peace turned to tedium. Now, here he was again, standing at the edge of something with real stakes. A second chance to build and conquer.
"They know Aropia’s limits," he said, his voice low, almost like he was musing to himself. "Since we don’t use the manna grass as much, we have no way to drive up its value on our own. The Grand Alliance reaps all the benefits, controlling demand and prices. To them, it’s easy to pressure subsidies, to ensure our economy remains stifled."
Hazel looked at him, surprise briefly breaking through her usual composure. "Is that… really what’s happening?"
He saw the uncertainty in her gaze and sensed a hint of embarrassment. She’d grown up within these walls of power but didn’t know the true extent of her kingdom’s dealings.
He softened his tone. "I can’t be completely sure," he replied, a small smile tugging at his lips. "But it’s what I’d expect, if I were running things on their end."
Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away. Ren could tell this revelation bothered her, maybe even left her questioning the guidance she’d received under her father’s rule.
But to him, it was a challenge—a chance to shape and teach, to show her what a leader’s vision could truly accomplish. And it was this spark of purpose he felt now, this chance to build anew, that had him feeling more alive than he had in years.