Chapter 8 – The Earth Channel

  I woke up before Maria. The morning light touched the window veils softly, and for a moment, I just watched Maria sleep. There was something serene in her sleeping face—a kind of peace one only sees during times of war in the eyes of those who still dream.

  I gently touched her shoulder.

  “Maria, it’s time to wake up.”

  She stirred slowly, opening her eyes like someone waking from a calm dream. She placed her fingers on my chest, still wrapped in silence.

  “Is it morning already?” she asked, adjusting her hair delicately before sitting up in bed, the sheet covering her modestly.

  “Tell Luna to meet me at the training field.”

  I kissed her before finishing the sentence. Maria returned the kiss softly and got up, dressing with the discretion and elegance of someone who knew well the line between intimacy and duty.

  “As you wish, sir. I will send Luna to the training field immediately.”

  Her silent footsteps faded through the door, and I made my way to the already sunlit gardens of Verdelume.

  I trained with Luna for hours. I corrected her posture, demanded focus in her blocks, and controlled strength in her strikes. Sweat dripped from our brows, but she never backed down. When we finally finished, her tired smile showed she was beginning to understand what I expected of her. She bowed and walked away with steady steps.

  Then I went to my office, where Joana was already waiting. Despite being only sixteen, she carried herself with the poise of a seasoned attendant. Her brown hair was tied in a simple bun, and the clipboard tucked under her arms spoke volumes of her organization.

  “Joana, what are my responsibilities today?”

  She straightened before responding clearly:

  “Today you have three pending matters: a meeting with the southern village representatives regarding grain supply; the inspection of the eastern walls, scheduled two days ago; and the visit from Alvorclaro’s emissary, expected by late afternoon.”

  “Are the representatives already here?”

  “Yes, sir. They arrived about half an hour ago. They’re waiting in the meeting room. I can accompany you there or arrange for the inspection while you handle the discussion.”

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  “Come with me, and pay close attention to everything.”

  Joana nodded and followed me to the meeting room. As we entered, the representatives stood up. There was a certain nervousness in their eyes, but also hope. I sat at the head of the table.

  “Please, sit. Tell me more about the problem.”

  The man with the well-trimmed beard—the spokesman, it seemed—organized his papers before speaking:

  “The main issue is water scarcity. We rely on a river that runs through three villages, but its flow has been decreasing month by month. As a result, the grain harvests are poor. The soil, already weak, now suffers without the nutrients that natural irrigation used to bring.”

  He sighed and looked at the others.

  “We fear that without a quick solution, we’ll face hunger before the next winter.”

  “Hmm… What’s the total population of the region?”

  “About 2,400 people, sir. Around 1,600 are directly involved in agriculture. The rest depend on fishing, crafts, or small trades.”

  I stayed silent for a moment. I knew the issue went beyond a simple lack of grain. There was a structural failure here—a dependence on a single natural resource that was now showing signs of collapse.

  “We’ll build a diversion channel that connects the Telun River to the stream that feeds your villages. This will restore water flow and gradually allow the soil to recover. The project will take two months to complete.”

  The men stared at me, surprised.

  “During this time, we’ll send supplies to make up for what you can’t produce. It’s an emergency measure, yes, but a planned one. There will be a temporary impact on the local farming economy, especially for small producers, but nothing that can’t be compensated by the next harvest. Furthermore, I’ll include your villages in a rotational soil restructuring program, with technical support from the court’s agronomists. That will prevent future reliance on a single source.”

  The silence in the room gave way to a collective sigh of relief.

  “Your generosity will save our villages, Duke Petrus,” said the spokesman. “With water and support, we’ll be able to resume cultivation before the next season.”

  “I will prepare the documents for you to sign.”

  “Perfectly, Your Grace. We will wait.”

  They stood and bowed in thanks before leaving the room. Joana, at my side, was already organizing the documents.

  “No rush, Joana. Do everything properly and deliver it to them.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  She returned to the desk and began drafting the terms. The sound of the quill filled the quiet of the office, accompanying the dance of sunlight over the stained glass.

  I waited silently, watching her work with precision. After a few minutes, she stood with the finished scroll in hand.

  “It’s ready, Duke. I reviewed it twice. I’ll deliver it to the representatives myself.”

  I took the document, read it carefully, then nodded.

  “All set. You may go.”

  She left with determined steps. As silence returned, I remained there, enjoying for a few moments the rare tranquility of that day.

  Time passed slowly until I heard a gentle knock on the door. Joana had returned.

  “Delivered and signed, Your Grace. They left satisfied and thanked you again for your attention.”

  “Alright. Let’s go to the wall inspection now.”

  “As you wish, sir. The guard escort is already in the courtyard, waiting.”

  I stood up. The day was far from over.

  And Verdelume, though surrounded by beauty, still demanded every second of my vigilance.