Chapter 5: Reaping the Harvest

The trunk slid back under Ash’s bed, hitting the wall with a soft thunk. He stood and swung the shirt around his back, threading his arms into the sleeves and pushing through. The fabric pulled snugly against his back, covering his strange, everpresent marking in a layer of dark blue cotton. The new clothes confirmed to many that Ash was indeed an outsider, but among his family, the change went virtually unremarked after the first week. Sure, the islanders in port talked behind his back, but an intricate white symbol that never went away would’ve bred even more gossip.

After tying his cotton wrap, Ash made his way downstairs. Dad didn’t even see him pass, so engrossed was he with cooking and conversation with Mieure. His little sister looked up from the table, giving a sly smile and sharp nod as she maintained the distraction.

They’d gotten their operation down to a science, a far cry from when he’d gotten his powers nine months ago. The first complication was where to grow the damn things. One would expect a farm to be the perfect place, but secrecy proved troublesome. Mieure wanted to keep the entire operation in their bedroom, where they had the most control, but after a few hours it became apparent that water was a major problem. From what he could tell, Dawn pumped nutrients directly into the seeds, but they still needed water and soil to physically build the plant. His best guess was they grew two months over the course of twelve hours, which, if accurate, meant growth occurred at one hundred and twenty times the normal rate post enchantment. That made their bedroom unsustainable unless he could devise some sort of system to pump two minutes of water into their bedroom every second, secretly, for years.

Ash slipped out the front door, enjoying the subtle chill as he ambled to the aibax stables. Along the way, Sorchia traded glances with him from the field. With winter fast approaching, many crops were due for harvest, so his older sister and mother were hard at work. With a shallow nod, she moved, striking up a conversation with Mom.

The aibax stables were Sorchia’s suggestion. With the water tank upstairs, it would be easy to load a full day’s worth for the plants to drink. Unfortunately, that plan died even faster. Apparently, his magic was no substitute for sunlight, and soon after the seedlings cracked the dirt’s surface, they ceased to grow.

In the feeding room, their family’s cart was waiting for him, wrapped in a plain linen tarp. To be safe, Ash pulled the tarp aside, double-checking the stacks of green boxes his sisters had prepared. After a few months, they’d grown so much that storage became an issue. At first, they’d borrowed shipping boxes from their parents, but as inventory increased, storage became increasingly troublesome. The problems lay in where to store it all, and in what containers. Lenn came through on that front by selling Ash a collection of seeds from the Azure Syndicate’s trading partners.

The most useful plant was one from the Tsu Empire - bamboo. This tough green tube was technically edible, though as food Ash found it lacking. What it did better than anything else was grow, and fast. Between its relative toughness and growth speed, it became the perfect construction material. Once he realized what he had, all new items were constructed from bamboo, including crates. Having an abundance of pseudo-wood solved both problems by allowing his sisters to simply bury anything they weren’t ready to sell.

Ash replaced the tarp and wheeled the cart outside. With his parents distracted, he quickly rolled onto the main road toward the port. As he moved, Ash loosened his shirt, letting cool fall air sink into his thickening winter coat. A faint smile lingered on his lips, and as he tilted his head back he, for a moment, felt like things were going his way.

Halfway to port, Ash reached the bridge. Water on the island was artificially regulated with two reservoirs, an innovation established by the governor’s office which not enough people appreciated. The upper reservoir served farms by the cliffs, like his family’s, through a manmade, open river between them. It then flowed into the lower reservoir, which redirected to farms closer to the ocean.

A stone bridge ran over that river, serving as Ash’s grow site, since growing on the farm had proven impossible. Initially, he had used a hand drill to make holes in the bottom of three large shipping crates, then packed them with dirt. Their enchanted planters were anchored with stones beneath the bridge, providing indirect sunlight and all the water they could drink. This setup maintained until a month into spring, before the planters were replaced with larger bamboo boxes and constructed frames. By then, it was obvious harvesting their light didn’t do any damage, so two additional planters helped increase their yield with energy siphoned from his sleeping parents. Altogether, their production doubled in a matter of days.

With a knowing grin, Ash crossed the bridge and continued onto port. The midday batch of boats flowed in as the morning rush dwindled, replacing the ones that stayed overnight. Sailors in cotton shirts and pants grabbed a hot meal and a beer, while warehouse workers in their wraps moved scheduled cargo from warehouses to ships at the dockmaster’s direction.

Wandering into the salty breeze, Ash wove through the crowd with his cart until he reached the dockmaster. The two exchanged terse words, little more than what the man needed to get Ash out of his way. According to him, Lenn caught a ride in a twenty-metre-long fishing boat called ‘The Gypsy.’

“Careful now!” Lenn yelled, grinning down at him, one foot resting on the bulwark. “Last thing we need is to be fishing for boxes. Let me help.” Lenn scurried down the plank, steadying Ash’s cart as it rolled onto the deck.

At first, visits to Lenn were sporadic. Of course, the man was curious about why his client, whose only order in ten years had been ‘any copy of the wolf queen you haven’t sold me,’ suddenly needed to unload hundreds of kilos of plants a month. Luckily, despite evidence to the contrary, Lenn was a professional, and the Azure Syndicate valued their clients’ privacy. By now, if Ash guessed right, between boats from the mainland and carriages from the Tythic Kingdom to the Azure Syndicate, Lenn travelled six days a week. Though, if it bothered the man, it didn’t show. Lenn still kept his goofy smile and relaxed posture, albeit in sharp new clothing and professionally-groomed fur.

In order to sell, two weeks was a hard cap. When it came to rare items, like Ash’s books, Azure Syndicate brokers arranged buyers and sellers individually. Commodities, like grain and textiles, worked differently. The Azure Syndicate’s country held warehouses to maintain a surplus, and syndicate leaders set exchange rates every two weeks.

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The upside was, every time Lenn visited, he was willing to pay. The downside was, prices fluctuated based on inventory, and as such, brokers could only exchange twenty-five kilos of a given product between price changes to deter market manipulation.

“Come on.” Lenn opened the door to the cargo hold. “There’s a scale down here the sailors use to measure fish. I checked it; it’s accurate. Feel free to do your own test.”

Lenn always offered that, no matter how many times Ash declined. Whether a syndicate rule or something specific to Lenn, Ash couldn’t say. “I measured on Dad’s scale,” Ash said. “So long as your scale agrees we should be fine.” He rolled the cart into the dark, leaving slits of light from the boards above to guide him.

With a click, the gas lamp flared to life, bathing the old wooden ship and its many crates in harsh light. The fresh fish smell smothered the room, though Lenn didn’t seem to mind, moving to the big steel scale bolted to a central wooden pillar. “Same as last time?”

Ash parked next to the scale, removing the tarp to reveal stacks of bamboo boxes. “Mostly. I have a buy request to add, though we can deal with that once we finish.”

That got a curious look from Lenn, but he offered a slow nod as he set his own crate on the scale. “Let’s start with flax? As an agent of-”

“On certain items, I can get a better deal skipping your cut by selling to the mainland. I remember.” Flax was a staple crop of most of the farms on the island. It was useless on its own but could be processed into linen or burlap, something many farms did themselves to increase its value before selling, and something Ash didn’t have time for.

After stuffing flax into the new box, Lenn set a counterweight, then removed it. “25 Kilos of flax.” He handed Ash a stack of coins before replacing the flax with an empty crate. “Winter’s almost here; how’s your family’s farm?”

“Good.” Ash suppressed a grin as he stuffed the next box with cotton. Cotton had been another staple crop on the island since mainlanders opened the port for trade. Between thread and rope, mainlanders were always willing to pay good prices. “Better than most years, actually. Our neighbours are all jealous, bugging Mom with questions about her magic touch.” Some even speculated she was favoured by Deianira. If only they knew. The wider an area Ash blessed, the less effective it became. This meant blessing his mother’s entire field only advanced it slightly, but bolstered its vitality. As long as he blessed once every few days, it grew healthy and full, without raising suspicion.

“25 Kilos of cotton.” Lenn removed the box and handed Ash another stack of coins. He slowed as he replaced the crate, glancing at Ash indirectly. “Should I... continue visiting, through the winter?”

Ash removed bamboo tubes from his cart, pulled out the packing straw and overturned it, spilling wheat into the more solid crate. Winter would be rough. Despite being too warm for snow, the ground still hardened, making digging up their spoils difficult, but the only alternative was to miss several sales periods. “I’ll keep selling, through the winter.”

Lenn nodded, quickly proceeding with the trade and changing topics. “25 Kilos of wheat.”

“There’s more coin than usual,” Ash said, adding the new stack to his pouch.

With another crate in place, Lenn stepped back. “Yeah, the Dusk Empire produced less wheat this year, so the price’s gone up. They’re claiming someone killed the previous emperor and stole some magical artifact...” He rolled his eyes. “Politicians’ll take any excuse, eh?”

“Yeah.” Ash packed the new crate full of cannabis, another textile plant when sold to the Othelan republic, though it fetched a higher price as medicine in Tythic. This plant had actually given him the most trouble, and months of experimentation had failed to yield a reason. Each night, his sisters brought new planters to the bridge and retrieved the old ones. Usually, hemp grew fine, but sometimes the planter came back empty. He’d suspected his magic had somehow destroyed the seeds, or insects had infested them, but after measuring the soil before and after one event it was clear it was growing. The difficult part was how unrepeatable the process was; the plants failed seemingly at random, though he kept it in rotation at his sisters’ request.

“25 Kilos of hemp.” Lenn dropped another stack of coins. “What’re you looking to buy anyway? More seeds?”

As far as Ash knew, he had seeds for most of the plants that the Azure Syndicate had, and every time he harvested, the seed piles grew. “Uhm...” his ears folded back in embarrassment, leaving Ash to busy himself packing ramie into the crate. Ramie was another textile, one that the island was too arid to grow. One of the plants it was impossible for him to have, especially since he’d started selling it two weeks after he got the seeds. “I’d like a sword. A good, one-handed sword.”

“25 Kilos of ramie.” If Lenn was amused by Ash’s request, it didn’t show. “You should have more than enough to cover something like that. For a one-handed sword, the Azure Syndicate has the wakizashi, it’s a bit of a shorter blade for fighting indoors. If you’re looking for a weapon for the battlefield, the Tythic Kingdom’s sidearm of choice is the arming sword. If you want anything from a foreign country, that’ll take me longer and the price goes up.”

Ash took the coins, then packed the sisal into the next crate. Sisal, incidentally, was another plant impossible for him to have. “An arming sword is fine, so long as it’s weighted for a man. I’d also like to get some armour.”

That drew Lenn’s suspicion. “...25 Kilos of Sisal. What...” He hesitated, curiosity and professional courtesy colliding, causing the rabbit's nose to twitch. “There’s a lot of different types. Could you be more specific? Or if you’d like a suggestion, I’ll need to know what it’s for.”

Coins clinked into Ash’s weighty pouch as his mind danced around what to say. Anything custom would cost a fortune, but the Tythic military was made entirely of women. Their heavy armour not only wouldn’t fit, but it’d be impossible to move in. That meant something foreign, but not many militaries included men in roles that would warrant platemail.

After struggling with the question, he finally sighed. Even if he looked like a total idiot, it was fine to trust Lenn. This was the guy who brought him more than ninety issues of ‘The Wolf Queen’ after all. Wordlessly, Ash pulled issue 37 from his bag, displaying the cover art of Sturm triumphantly holding his sword aloft. A sunbeam cut through the details of the battle around him, causing light to shimmer across his platemail like Deianira herself wanted the world to see.

Lenn stared at the book, then cleared his throat. “Aah, I see. Jute next?”

Ash stuffed the book in his bag, face warming as he transferred fistfuls of jute into the next crate.

A long awkward silence followed before Lenn rubbed his chin and gave Ash a thoughtful look. “Do...Do you need it to be functional? Or is this a costume piece?”

Stalks of jute crinkled around Ash’s clenched fingers. “I want the real thing.”

“I can get it.” Lenn’s tone was subdued and hushed. “I can have a sword and shield here in two weeks, but platemail will be a problem. Either we’ll need a blacksmith to do it custom, or I’ll need to find someone willing to send it from the Dusk Empire. They’re the only ones who’ll have something like that pre-made.”

Blood boiled beneath Ash’s skin. Every muscle tensed, watching Lenn circle and examine him. “The antlers will pose a problem for a helmet. Antelope-girls have horns, but they’re tapered. Maybe we can modify one of theirs somehow?”

Ash stepped back, letting the scale balance out at 25 kilos. “How much will all that cost?”

Lenn returned to the scale, releasing a long breath before removing the crate and paying Ash. “This isn’t a commodity. I’ll have to pit sellers against each other to get the price down. I can put the word out when I get back, but it’ll take time. It’s not gonna be cheap though.”

Even Deianira didn’t know what was in store for him, and the last thing Ash needed was for his rise to knighthood to end with an arrow in his ribs. “Okay. Okay, let’s do it.”