The soldiers dispersed, their footsteps fading as they made their way back to the barracks, leaving only the whisper of the wind sweeping across the manna grass fields.
Ogren remained by Ren’s side, standing tall as the weight of his new title settled firmly on his shoulders. He was about to speak, to thank Ren again, when the king raised a hand to stop him.
“There’s one more thing, Ogren,” Ren said, his voice low and serious, the lightness of their earlier exchange fading like the last rays of daylight.
He turned to face Ogren fully, his eyes reflecting the darkening sky—a mirror of the unknown risks he was about to lay bare. “A matter that goes far beyond Aropia’s borders. It’s time we stopped the export of manna grass.”
Ogren’s brow furrowed, the words sinking in like stones into still water. The manna grass was Aropia’s most valuable resource, a commodity that had kept the country afloat when times were dire—a lifeline that the rest of the world had come to depend upon. It gave the other races the nutrition they needed to wield magic and was also used to manufacture magical arms and equipment.
“But... why?” he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop himself. “You know what that will mean for us, don’t you? For Aropia’s position on the global stage?”
Ren’s expression tightened, his gaze turning toward the horizon as if he could already see the storm clouds gathering in the distance.
“Yes,” he said, his voice carrying a thread of unshakable resolve.
“I know exactly what it means. Our manna grass has kept us tied to the whims of other nations, to the demands of the Grand Alliance. They’ve grown accustomed to leaning on us, dictating the terms of our survival. I won’t allow Aropia to be anyone’s pawn any longer. ”
Ogren felt a chill settle over him.
Ren’s tone was calm, but there was no mistaking the gravity of what he was proposing. The Grand Alliance—the greatest superpower in the world, the dominant force that had long maintained a tight grip over trade and politics—would not take this lightly.
They would see it as a threat, as a challenge to their authority. War, intimidation, economic pressure... Aropia would face the full brunt of their wrath.
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“You think they’ll just let us go?” Ogren asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “The Alliance... they won’t take this lying down, Ren. They’ll come for us. They’ll use everything they have to make us bow. You’re risking everything.”
Ren’s eyes gleamed with a hard determination, but there was a flicker of uncertainty behind them—a sign that he understood the enormity of what he was risking. His jaw tightened, his fingers flexing at his sides as if he could crush the doubt threatening to creep in.
“I know,” he admitted, his voice unwavering despite the shadow that crossed his face. “But I won’t let fear dictate our choices. We have relied on manna grass for too long, trading away our strength for their gold. If we are to build a nation that stands on its own, we have to use this grass locally. But that cannot happen when 70 % of it is already consigned to export.”
Ogren swallowed hard. He could see the weight pressing down on Ren’s shoulders—the enormity of a decision that could either lead Aropia to greatness or plunge it into chaos.
Yet Ren didn’t falter.
The resolve in his eyes was like iron, forged in the fires of his past life—a life that Ogren could only guess at, but that had clearly shaped the man before him into a leader who would not be swayed by threats.
“If we do this,” Ogren said slowly, his mind racing with the possibilities—the unknown dangers lurking just beyond the edge of their knowledge. “If we truly cut off manna grass from the market, they’ll have to respond. They’ll send spies, they’ll spread rumors to turn the world against us, and if that doesn’t work, they’ll come with warships and armies. They’ll spin this into a declaration of war.”
“Let them come,” Ren said quietly, his gaze locked onto Ogren’s with a burning intensity.
There was something in Ren’s defiance, in his refusal to bow to fate, that reignited the fire in Ogren’s chest—the desire to protect this fragile, reborn kingdom, to fight for the chance at a future they could truly call their own.
“What do you need from me?” Ogren asked, his voice steadier now, laced with the unyielding strength Ren had seen in him from the beginning.
“Prepare,” Ren said simply. “Prepare for the worst, and be ready for anything. Now that you are in charge of Aropia’s defenses, I need you to make us impenetrable. Our borders, our ports, our cities—everything must be strengthened. We must expect spies, sabotage, and threats that we haven’t even begun to imagine. We’ll need to be vigilant, watchful, and ready to strike back if they make the first move.”
“You’ll have my strength,” Ogren said, his voice like the rumble of distant thunder.
Ren’s face softened, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “We have a long road ahead, but I believe in what we’re building. The future is uncertain, but it belongs to those who have the courage to claim it.”
Ogren’s hand tightened around the hilt of his sword as he watched Ren stride away, feeling the resolve settle deep within his bones. The road ahead was dark and full of dangers, but he would face it, side by side with the man who had the audacity to challenge the world.