Nathan crossed his arms. “So? What do you think?”

Sticks rubbed the dirt between his fingers. “Well, they’ve got a couple of problems on their hands. For one, most of the arable soil has been blown away. It looks like y’all never practiced crop rotation.”

The farmer man blinked. “Um… what?”

Sticks stood up from his kneeling position and faced the farmer. Rami stared at nathan with a confused expression.

Nathan clapped his hands together, cutting through the tension. “Alright, Sticks. Let’s start with the soil.”

Sticks nodded, running his fingers through the dirt again. “This stuff’s practically dead. No nutrients, no life. You can’t grow anything decent in this. What crops did you try planting here?”

The farmer scratched his head. “Uh, wheat? Barley? Whatever seeds I could find at the market.”

Sticks sighed. “That explains part of it. Monocropping without proper soil care drains everything out. You’ve got to rotate crops—switch between things like legumes, grains, and something like mushrooms to replenish the soil.”

“Mushrooms?” The farmer’s face twisted in confusion. “Aren’t those just… mold?”

“Excuse you!” Sticks said. “Mushrooms are a cornerstone of sustainable agriculture. They break down organic matter and return nutrients to the soil.”

Nathan rubbed his chin.

Wait a second, isn’t this just like Farm Simulator 2000?

“…if we combine that with irrigation channels for steady water flow,” Nathan said. “You could even try companion planting. You know, putting crops together that help each other grow.”

Sticks’s eyebrows raised. “You know your stuff.”

Oh god, it really is just like Farm Simulator 2000.

The farmer squinted. “And where am I supposed to get water for these ‘irrigation channels’? Do you see a river nearby?”

“I’d bet we can find an underground water source and set up a pump or something,” Nathan said. “Power it with wind.”

“A pump?” Rami crossed her arms, frowning. “This all sounds good in theory, but it’ll take ages to implement. You’re asking him to rebuild his entire farm from the ground up.”

Nathan snapped his fingers. “Actually, no. Watch this.”

He turned and walked toward the white portal. The farmer and Rami exchanged bewildered glances as he disappeared into the swirling light.

“Is he… running away?” the farmer asked.

Seconds later, the portal glowed again, and Nathan emerged with a procession of workers behind him. The werewolves, burly and eager, carried irrigation pipes on their shoulders, while mushroom folk rolled barrels of compost.

“Alright, team!” Nathan called. “This farm’s getting a glow-up. Sticks, take the lead on soil prep. Bricks, coordinate the irrigation system. Let’s move!”

The farmer’s jaw dropped. “Where did you—how did you—?”

Nathan waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Soulbound town perks. Long story.”

Rami pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is absurd.”

Sticks took charge, pointing at the workers. “Alright, start spreading that compost across the field. We’ll mix it in to give the soil a boost. Werewolves, you’re on digging duty for the irrigation trenches. Mushroom folk, you’re handling compost distribution—just don’t eat it!”

One of the mushroom folk raised a hand. “But it smells so rich—”

“No!” Sticks barked.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Meanwhile, Nathan wandered over to the farmer, who still looked like he was processing the situation. “See? This isn’t just theory. By the time we’re done, you’ll have a farm that’s not only functional but thriving.”

The farmer blinked. “I… don’t know what to say.”

“It’s no problem.”

I’m doing this for the quest, anyway…

Rami shook her head, muttering to herself. “He just summoned an entire workforce out of thin air. What even is this man?”

Nathan ignored the comment.

As the helpers bustled around, implementing Nathan and Sticks’ plans, Rami and the farmer watched in stunned silence. In just a few hours, the once-barren land began to transform, trenches forming for irrigation, compost being tilled into the soil, and seeds being planted with care.

Nathan stood back, hands on his hips, surveying the progress. “Not bad for a day’s work, huh?”

Sticks wiped some dirt off his hands. “You’re pretty good at this stuff. Were you a farmer before the apocalypse?”

“Err… yes?”

The farmer, looking at his revitalized land, muttered, “I don’t know who you are, but… you’re a miracle worker.”

Nathan was about to respond when he noticed an odd look in the man’s eyes.

“Hey, you good?” Nathan said.

The farmer was quiet for a moment before he sighed. “This is amazing. I’m just concerned the Dustend will appear out of nowhere and erase all this progress.”

Nathan frowned.

“Does that often happen?”

“No, but it only has to happen once, and then everything you’ve built is torn to shreds.” The farmer pointed with his thumb at his house. “We have a bunker, so we’ll be safe at least, but still…”

“We?”

“My family. You haven’t met them, they’re out in the capital, selling goods.”

Nathan’s jaw clenched.

I really hope the Dustend doesn’t hit this guy’s farm.

The farmer held out his hand.

Nathan stared at it for a few seconds before he reached out and shook it.

“The name’s Abaya,” the man said. “Thank you.”

Nathan nodded. “I’m Nathan. Best of luck to you, Abaya.”

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around. Sticks pointed at the portal.

“We’ve finished up. We’ll be heading back in.”

Nathan nodded. “I’ll follow you back, I want to check in on the council.”

“Um,” Rami said. “I need to take you back to the capital. Right now.”

“Why? We need to meet with Zayen?”

Her eyes seemed to flicker, a shadow passing over them. “Actually, I have an alternative offer for you.”

“It can wait,” Nathan said.

Rami’s left eye twitched. “Hold on—“

Nathan walked off toward the portal. “It’ll only take a few minutes.”

----------------------------------------

“As you can see, my lord, we’ve come up with a satisfactory compromise.”

Nathan read through the report. In the background, the torches blazed silently.

He nodded. “Looks good.”

Gius took the reports and set them on the table. Nathan turned around.

“Wait, my lord.”

Nathan paused and looked back. “Gius?”

“My lord, this was only symptomatic of a deeper issue,” Gius said. “And unless we address that problem, we’ll only invite further trouble upon ourselves.”

Nathan tilted his head curiously. “What’s this deeper problem, Gius?”

“Simple,” Gius said. “In your absence, the only people to run this town are a group of unelected, unaccountable oligarchs.”

Nathan crossed his arms. “Unelected oligarchs, huh? Pretty harsh. I don’t know, I think the council’s been doing a competent job.”

Gius inclined his head respectfully. “It’s not an accusation of incompetence, my lord. But the council was always meant to be provisional.”

“That’s true.”

Gius nodded. “The current unrest highlights a flaw in our governance. There is no system in place to truly represent the will of the people—be they mushroom folk, werewolves, or anyone else.”

“Go on.”

Gius clasped his hands behind his back. “The council’s decisions lack legitimacy in the eyes of many because they are not chosen by those they govern. This creates resentment, particularly among groups that feel underrepresented or marginalized, such as the werewolves.”

Nathan frowned. “And your solution is…?”

“A representative government,” Gius said. “One where council members are elected by the people. This would provide a sense of ownership and legitimacy to the government’s decisions. It would also diffuse the tension that arises when decisions are made by a group perceived as disconnected or biased.”

Nathan’s eyes narrowed. “And where does that leave me? Are you proposing I step down?”

Gius’s shook his head. “Not at all, my lord. Your leadership is indispensable. The people look to you as the cornerstone of this city—the one who brought them together and guided them through turmoil. This change would not diminish your authority but complement it. You would remain at the helm, with ultimate executive power, while the elected council would handle legislative matters and represent the diverse voices of our community.”

Nathan’s lips twitched. “So this isn’t another attempt to overthrow me?

“Of course not, my lord. At the end of the day, you shall remain our leader, with the final say.”

Nathan looked at the ceiling. “And how do you suggest we go about this? I’m guessing you’ve thought this through.”

Gius stepped closer to the table, his voice calm and confident. “We can begin by drafting a charter that outlines the structure of the new government. This would include provisions for elections, term limits, and the scope of the council’s authority. We would also ensure protections for minority groups, so no one feels their voice is drowned out by the majority.”

“Sounds complicated,” Nathan said. “How long would it take?”

“Not as long as you might think,” Gius said. “The groundwork is already in place. We have functioning districts, and many community leaders have already emerged informally. We could start with a small-scale election—perhaps one representative per district—and expand from there as the system proves itself.”

Nathan tapped his fingers on the table. Finally, he straightened and nodded. “All right. Start drafting this charter.”

Gius’s expression lit up with a rare smile. “Thank you, my lord. I’ll begin immediately. You won’t regret this.”