Nathan grinned. “Good as new. What do you think?”

The bearded man—Brennar—fell to his knees.

“I thought it was a lie,” he said. “There was no way you could do it… but the soil is perfect!”

Nathan patted him on the back.

For the past five days, Nathan had been doing nothing but going from farm to farm in an attempt to finish his side quest. He’d been to about fifteen different farms and he felt he’d done pretty good work. He wasn’t sure how long it would take to solve an entire kingdom’s food supply issues, but he didn’t think it would take too long.

“How can I pay you back?” Brennar said. “Surely there must be something.”

“Pay me back by practicing crop rotation from here on out,” Nathan said. “So that you don’t starve in the future. How about that?”

Brennar nodded absentmindedly. “Sure.”

Nathan headed back to town in search of his next target when he heard something from the town square. A crowd of people were rushing toward it. He tapped on one person’s shoulder.

The person—a woman—stopped and glared at him. “What?”

“Why are you running?” Nathan said. “What’s going on?”

“A public forum,” the woman said. “Zayen has come down from his gilded palace to listen to the concerns of the people—and I’m going to let him know how shitty a ruler he is!”

The woman turned around and marched off toward the town square. Nathan followed behind her.

I might as well check out what’s going on.

“Why don’t you come down here and pay for your crimes!” someone shouted.

“Stop hiding, you coward!”

“We’re starving!”

Nathan poked his head over the crowd. Zayen and Omarn were on top of a raised platform, surrounded by guards. Zayen had a distinct look of unease on his face, while Omarn had a smirk.

That’s not great optics, Omarn.

Back when Nathan had spoken with Omarn in the past, he hadn’t seemed malicious. Was this some kind of nervous reaction?

Rami was off to the side, her hand on Zayen’s shoulders, like she was there to support him or something.

Nathan snorted. This would be good.

“The king will address you!” Omarn shouted. “Silence!”

The crowd quieted. Zayen bit his lip, then stood up.

“My people!” he said. “I hear your cries! I feel your pain as my own.”

A woman next to Nathan snorted. “Prove it!”

Zayen raised a hand. ”Please, I ask for patience. We’re working tirelessly to find solutions. My uncle—“

“Ah, yes, the uncle,” someone shouted. “Let’s hear from the evil wizard!”

Evil wizard? Damn, Omarn doesn’t have a great reputation.

Omarn stepped forward, his robes swishing dramatically. His piercing gaze scanned the crowd.

“You call me evil,” he said. “But let me ask you this: Is it evil to suggest that we utilize our resources more efficiently? That we consolidate our efforts into strategic hubs to protect what little remains?”

Someone from the crowd yelled, “Speak Common, you snake!”

Omarn’s smirk widened into something that could only be described as a villainous grin.

Nathan squinted his eyes.

Why is he making that face!?

He clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing the platform. “Very well. In simple terms, my plan—which, if I may remind you, is designed to prevent your imminent demise—is to reallocate labor to projects that directly combat the Dustend’s effects. Build irrigation systems, deepen wells, fortify key farming areas. Centralize your efforts instead of scattering them across barren lands.”

Wow, that’s actually a really good idea.

His voice grew louder.

“And…” he let out a cackle, “Perhaps consider that some sacrifices must be made for the greater good.”

The crowd gasped audibly. One woman shrieked, “He’s going to sacrifice us!”

Rami stepped forward. “Uncle, please. The people don’t need threats or sacrifices. They need hope.”

“Ah, dear niece. Always the voice of reason.”

He leaned in toward Zayen, speaking quietly but loud enough for Nathan’s ears to catch. “Do something about her.”

Zayen’s back stiffened.

“Rami, perhaps…” He hesitated, glancing between her and Omarn. “Perhaps we could focus on unity? That’s why you were brought up here, remember?”

Rami placed a hand on her chest, feigning surprise. “Unity? Cousin, I’m only saying what’s in my heart. The people need a leader who truly listens and understands their struggles.”

Nathan noted the subtle emphasis on the word leader.

The crowd murmured in agreement. “She’s right!”

Zayen held up his hands, his voice rising slightly in desperation. “I am listening! That’s why we’re here!”

“Enough with the pleasantries,” Omarn said. “Listening is well and good, Your Majesty, but the people need action. They may not understand the brilliance of my proposals, but that doesn’t make them less necessary.”

Rami tilted her head. ”But Uncle, if the people don’t understand your proposals, perhaps they’re not as brilliant as you think.”

Nathan let out a soft whistle. That woman was a snake, through and through. Nathan was almost impressed.

Omarn’s face darkened, and for a moment, it looked like he might explode. But he took a deep breath, his smirk returning.

“Ah, the wisdom of youth,” he said. “Truly enlightening. Perhaps, then, you’d care to propose a better solution, dear niece?”

Rami’s eyes gleamed. “Perhaps we should focus on smaller, immediate changes. Opening the granaries to those most in need. Sending aid to the outer farms. Making sure no child goes hungry.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

The crowd erupted into cheers. “Yes! Rami for queen!”

Zayen’s eyes widened. Omarn looked about ready to kill Rami on stage.

Rami gasped. “Oh, I could never take the crown! My cousin is the rightful heir…”

The enthusiasm of the crowd dampened.

Zayen shut his eyes and let out a long sigh.

“We’ll open the granaries,” he said.

Omarn nearly jumped. “Your Highness, we can’t afford that in the long term—!”

“The people have spoken, Uncle,” Zayen said. “And I am their instrument. Open the granaries.”

A cheer went up.

Zayen stared at the ground, refusing to look up.

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

Nathan walked away.

That was a disaster.

It was pretty clear what was going on. Zayen and Omarn weren’t bad rulers, per se. Quite the opposite. Omarn seemed to have a strong grasp on public policy, while Zayen had the level-headedness to listen to Omarn.

The problem was that they were awful communicators. They didn’t have the charisma needed to get people to believe in them and in their plans—and this, unfortunately, was probably more important than either of them understood. If they understood that, they wouldn’t have let Omarn up on that stage.

He has a mean, evil laugh, I’ll give him that.

Why didn’t Zayen ignore Rami? Because the crowd was about two seconds from storming up that platform and crowning Rami on the spot. The real mistake was putting her on that platform in the first place.

Based off that conversation, it seems like she promised Zayen that she would unite her faction behind Zayen. Of course, she was lying. This was just a gambit to increase her support. But why did Zayen seem so trusting of her back when I first met them?

Nathan frowned. It was only a matter of time before the country fell into Rami’s grasp—that is, unless he did something about it.

But it’s not really any of my business, is it?

There was a small part of him railing against his neutrality, but he shoved that part deep down inside. It was that same, Justice-at-all-costs mindset that led to him going on a sociopathic, violent streak in the first Circle.

No, I’ll stay out of things this time around, with the exception of helping out people with their farms.

“Hey, Nathan!”

Nathan turned his head. There, in the bazaar, were about six or seven farmers.

“Come sit down with us!” Abaya shouted.

Nathan chuckled and rubbed the back of his head. “I shouldn’t—“

“Come over here, you madman! You’re a Sandara farmer though and through, as far as I’m concerned, so that means you’ve got to have a drink with us at least once.”

Nathan smiled and sighed.

“Fine, just once. But I don’t have any money.”

“That’s okay, drinks are on me.”

Nathan grabbed a chair and sat down next to the group of men. There were three people Nathan had never met. One of them had a slack-jawed look on his face.

“Is this the guy?” he said.

Brennar nodded. “Yup. He’s the guy.”

The man reached out and shook Nathan’s hand. Nathan nearly jumped out of his seat before he paused and awkwardly engaged in the handshake.

“Abaya loaned me some of his leftover compost and taught me your methods,” the man said. “We got everyone together and figured out how to mimic your pump and irrigation system. I’ve already started seeing seed growth—you’re a miracle worker.”

Nathan rubbed the back of his head. “No problem. Glad it’s helping you out.”

My methods are spreading on their own! That means that I’ll be done with this side quest even quicker than I expected.

Within a minute, a drink was placed in front of Nathan by a servant girl. She winked at him as she put it down, then sauntered away.

The bearded man—Harlan—laughed.

“She’s a niece of mine,” he said. “So she knows all about how you helped us out. If you’re looking for a wife, I think she’d be open to you.”“

“Er, thanks but no thanks.”

“Oh? She’s not to your taste? Well, I have more nieces.”

Nathan grabbed the drink, tipped it back, and downed half the drink in one go.

Harlan raised an eyebrow. Brennar and Abaya chuckled.

He pulled it away from his mouth. He’d tasted the bitterness, but beyond that, had received none of the feelings that he’d associate with alcohol. Nothing flooded up his nose, there was no pleasant burn, he didn’t feel any wave of pleasure. It was all… so dull?

Nathan hadn’t been a heavy drinker, but he knew his way around alcohol. Back in college, he’d enjoyed a bottle of beer with his friends once in a while… before he dropped out, of course.

The one thing he remembered was that he’d been a light drinker.

But now he could down half a mug and feel nothing?

“Can I get something stronger?” Nathan asked.

“Oh? Fancy yourself a tough guy?” Brennar said. “How about we have a little fun?”

“What do you mean?”

“A drinking contest!” Brennar took a swig from his mug and slammed it onto the table. “You’re looking at the current champion!”

Nathan tilted his head. This might be fun.

“Don’t do it,” Abaya said. “You’re going to get knocked out, Nathan.”

Nathan hummed and looked into his drink.

It’s been a while since I let loose. Even if I get knocked out, so what?

He looked at Brennar. “Let’s do it.”

The table let out a cheer. Abaya sighed.

Brennar faced toward one of the barkeeps. “Get us a line of drinks!

The barkeep nodded. Nathan studied the line of drinks being placed before them. Each was a deep amber color, faintly glowing under the bazaar’s lanterns. The men cheered as the barkeep brought out the last two mugs, each larger than the last.

“This,” Brennar said, holding up the final mug, “is called Desert Essence. It’s brewed with cacti that have survived two hundred years of sandstorms. If this doesn’t knock you out, nothing will.”

Nathan raised an eyebrow. “Sounds impressive.”

“Oh, it is. I’ve seen grown men cry after one sip.” Brennar grinned. “And I’m still standing after two mugs last week. Let’s see what you’re made of, farmer.”

“Alright,” Nathan said and lifted his mug. The first drink was smooth, almost deceptively so. It carried a faint spice that lingered on the tongue, but once again, there was no burn, no rush, no dizziness. Just… nothing.

Brennar, on the other hand, smacked his lips and let out a satisfied sigh. “Ah, that’s the good stuff! Another round!”

The contest began in earnest. One mug after another disappeared between them as the crowd around the table grew. Farmers, merchants, and passersby gathered, cheering and hollering.

By the fourth round, Nathan noticed Brennar’s face was flushed red. His voice grew louder and less coherent. The man swayed in his chair.

“You’ve got good—hic!—stamina, farmer,” Brennar slurred. “But I’m just getting started!”

Nathan tipped back another mug—Desert Essence. It tasted good, sure, but he still felt absolutely nothing. Meanwhile, Brennar’s coordination was rapidly deteriorating. He reached for his next mug and nearly spilled it all over the table.

“Careful there,” Nathan said, grabbing the mug and sliding it to him.

“I’m fiiiiiine!” Brennar laughed, taking a big gulp. He immediately started coughing. “Fine! Just fine!”

Abaya leaned closer to Nathan and whispered, “How are you still sober? This stuff is strong enough to knock out a camel.”

Nathan shrugged. “No idea. I don’t feel anything.”

Another few rounds later, Brennar was leaning heavily on the table, his head bobbing like a puppet on loose strings. The crowd roared as he tried to lift his mug but failed, dropping it with a loud thud.

“Guess he’s out,” Nathan said.

Brennar groaned something incomprehensible, then slumped forward, his face planting into the table. The crowd erupted into cheers and laughter.

Harlan clapped Nathan on the back. “Unbelievable! The man didn’t even flinch. What kind of constitution do you have, lad?”

Constitution?

Nathan checked his stats.

Constitution: 50 (+40) = 90

“A lot.”

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

Nathan leaned back in his chair.

"You're a miracle worker, Nathan," Harlan said. "Not just with the drinks, either. My fields haven’t looked this good in years."

"Same here," Abaya said. “I was ready to give up on farming altogether. Then you come along and now I’ve got sprouts popping up like crazy. My wife thought I was cursed before. Now she thinks I’m blessed.”

Nathan rubbed the back of his neck. "I’m just glad to help. You all put in the work. I just gave a little advice."

"A little advice?" Harlan barked a laugh. "You might be too modest for your own good. Do you know what some of the other farmers are saying about you? They’re calling you a Miracle Man.”

Nathan winced. "Let’s… not spread that around, okay?"

"Too late for that. Some of us are already whispering that if Omarn got you on his side, he might actually have a chance to pull this mess together."

Nathan raised an eyebrow. "You think so?"

Harlan nodded. "Yeah. Look, I wasn’t exactly cheering for Zayen earlier. He’s too stiff, too detached. But if he’s got someone like you advising him? That’s something I can get behind."

The others murmured in agreement.

"You’re telling me you were all ready to crown Rami before?" Nathan asked.

Abaya grimaced. "I mean… yeah. Rami’s got charisma, no doubt about it. She talks a good game. But talk doesn’t fill your belly, you know? It wasn’t until the fields started sprouting again that I realized how much of what she says is just hot air."

"Still," Harlan added, "if Zayen wants to keep people like us on his side, he’ll need more than good policy. He needs someone to teach him how to talk to people."

“Good luck with that,” someone said.

The table shared a laugh before falling into a comfortable silence. The bazaar buzzed around them.

It was Harlan who eventually broke the quiet, leaning in conspiratorially. “Speaking of miracles and curses, have you heard about the cursed river?”

Nathan’s ears perked up. “Cursed river?”

Abaya nodded. “It’s on the edge of the valley, toward the west. Folks say nothing grows near it, not even weeds.”

“Nothing grows in the valley, period, Abaya.”

“Still, livestock that drink from it get sick, and some farmers swear they’ve seen strange shadows moving across the water at night.”

Harlan shuddered. “One man claims the river whispered to him, promising him power if he offered it… something. Nobody’s sure what. He left town soon after, looking half-mad.”

Nathan’s curiosity flared, and right on cue, a familiar ding sounded in his head.

[Just Go With the Flow]

A mysterious cursed river? Sure, why not! Because it’s not like you have enough on your plate already. Investigate the river, uncover its secrets, and maybe—just maybe—you won’t die horribly. Probably. Maybe.

Rewards: A Potential Meeting

Nathan stood up from the table. “Gentleman, this has been great, but I have to go now.”

“Eh? But we just got started?”

“Oh, shut up. We’d best get back to the farms anyway.” Abaya gave a sloppy salute. “Best of luck to you, Nathan.”

Nathan nodded and exited the bazaar.