Chapter 300: The Harvest

Chapter 300: Chapter 300: The Harvest

Chapter 300: The Harvest

Sella stood in the central distribution square in front of the massive chalkboard.

This board was a reminder for the people. Reminder of the hard days they had to endure. Sella had updated the number of days written on the board for the last few, agonizing days.

The board had a completely different meaning in the present time.

Sella took a damp cloth. She erased that final and horrifying one-digit number. The damp board dried very quickly in the brisk morning air. Sella did not take out the red chalk which was needed to denote a negative. Instead, she took out another piece of pristine white chalk.

She pressed the chalk against the slate. She drew a massive, sprawling zero for the famine gap.

She took a step back, her hands trembling for an entirely new reason. The countdown was officially over. They had beaten the math.

"It’s done," Sella muttered to herself quietly.

Bells made of iron in the Bastion started ringing, awakening the citizens of the city. People coming out of their houses were not staring at the board in terror; they were looking at the zero, and a hushed silence came over the square.

The sun crested over the massive stone walls of the city.

The bright rays of the morning sun shone right into the newly established farming regions. They revealed an incredible and unbelievable miracle. The earth that once used to be nothing more than a gray, poisonous layer of ash, had disappeared.

An endless sea of golden wheat danced gracefully in the morning breeze.

The sixty days long farming process was flawlessly complete. All of the hard labor put in by Lyra using the [Deep Root Cultivation] codex had been fully rewarded. The stalks were strong, resistant and loaded with rich grains. The roots of the plants had burrowed deep into the cleaned earth, consuming fresh water drawn from the underground sources.

It was a magnificent sight. This was the embodiment of total defiance towards the end of days. Just three weeks ago, the young stalks of green leaves had brought hope for the future. Today, the golden fields brought it forth. The famine was completely and undeniably dead.

Lord Commander Helion Goldmane walked slowly down the main dirt path.

He did not send a Vanguard scout to inspect the fields first. He did not wait in his secure command room for a written, formal report on the yield. He wore his heavy white and gold coat, but his rigid posture was fundamentally different today. The unyielding aura of the dying star softened as he stepped into the golden rows.

This particular morning meant a lot to him.

He had been fighting monsters since the beginning of time itself. He had held the line against the Capital and the Cult, enduring the political and physical assault so that his people could breathe. He had held down the city throughout its dark and hungry nights in anticipation of this very morning.

Helion reached out his arm. His massive, calloused hand gently brushed against the top of a heavy wheat stalk.

He stopped moving forward. His gold eyes were fixed on the endless sea of food before him.

"We’ve done it," Helion whispered.

His voice broke. It was an imperceptible break in his unyielding demeanor, something wholly human and microscopic in scale. He shut his eyes as the cold breeze swept over his scarred face, his great weight finally lifting from his shoulders.

Hundreds of civilians gathered at the edge of the fields.

They were thin, exhausted, and wearing worn clothes. Their faces were hollowed out by months of rationing. But their eyes were wide with disbelief and overwhelming, tearful joy.

Sella stepped forward from the massive crowd. She held a curved iron scythe in her hands.

The Vanguard Knights guarding them did not try to halt her. Helion backed off without a sound, allowing the real heroes of starvation in the darkness their moment of glory. Draven did not move forward to take his victory. It was time for the city.

Sella moved up to the very edge of the field of gold. She seized the wood of the scythe firmly in her hands. She lifted the heavy iron blade and swung it in a practiced arc.

SWISH.

The first hefty harvest of golden wheat hit the ground.

The crowd exploded in a blinding, tearful cheer. Men dropped down to their knees in the dirt and cried. Neighbors embraced and screamed into the sky with joy. The sound carried to the far corners of the city and washed the sounds of the siege away forever.

The huge stone ovens in the lower city began to roar to life.

The city did not take time to store the whole of the wheat as a reserve food source for later use. They had to eat now. Dozens of millers ground the freshly harvested wheat into flour.

In the middle of the day, the beautiful scent of baking bread wafted down the cobblestone streets. It was not the bitter and thick sap bread that they had been surviving on for months. It was real, fresh bread, hot and crusty.

Sella stood behind the long wooden tables. She handed hot loaves of bread to the sobbing families waiting in line.

"Take three," Sella told one crying woman offering her ration token. "Save the token. We have enough now."

The mother took the bread, tears streaming down her face, and buried her face in the warm crust.

The people were sitting right on the roads, tearing apart the loaves with wild glee. Children who did not know what it was like to be full enjoyed themselves eating the tender, white insides of the loaves. The torment of the ration scales was over. The city had begun eating again.

Helion was standing near the main storage silos, watching the wooden carts come in from the fields.

Sella joined him, cleaning flour off her apron.

The first wave is ready, Lord Commander," Sella reported cheerfully. "A full loaf has been provided to every citizen. The bakers are preparing the second batch as we speak."

Helion nodded thoughtfully, digesting the information.

"Prepare the next ten tons right away," Helion commanded. His voice returned to its steady, farmer-tone cadence. "Bag it and load it onto the armored heavy crawlers."

Sella did not argue the massive deduction. She understood exactly where it was going.

"Bastion Six," Sella guessed rightly.

"It is Gunther Stillbane who fed us to keep us alive until this day," Helion said matter-of-factly, with his golden eyes full of reverence. "We pay all our debts. Prepare the crawlers.

Tonight the underground city gets its bread."

Sella marked the ledger with her white chalk.

"What about the seed stock?" she inquired.

"Silo four," Helion ordered. "We secure the future first. Tomorrow we plant the next crop."

Draven stood silently by the cold stone of the silo.

He watched the civilians laughing in the streets. His pitch-black eyes were calm and observant. He had deliberately kept himself out of the center of the celebration, preferring the shadows.

Helion came and stood next to him, and both of them gazed out at the exuberant city.

"You kept the Capital’s eyes off," Helion whispered to him, giving credit to the mammoth proportions of the operation he had undertaken. "You juggled the impossible variables."

Draven shook his head slightly.

"I kept him distracted," said Draven softly. "You kept them alive while I was gone."

Helion crossed his massive arms over his chest. He looked at the golden fields and the smoking ovens.

"We built a home," Helion declared.

The squad gathered in the courtyard of the Academy as the sun finally began to set.

For the first time since the arc began, the long wooden table was covered in unrationed, glorious food. There were towering piles of fresh bread, roasted meats, and pitchers of clean water.

Aegon tore a massive loaf of bread in half and took a huge bite.

"This is the greatest thing I have ever tasted," Aegon announced loudly, his crimson eyes wide with pure joy.

Nyx sat across from him, eating a much smaller, polite piece.

"You said exactly the same thing about a roasted sewer rat two months ago," observed Nyx rather dryly, though she wore a rare soft smile on her face.

Lucien took a turn with a glass of water, reclining in his seat.

"The butter could use a generous pinch of sea salt," the aristocrat noted, offering a smug, self-satisfied smile. "But the texture of the crumb is highly acceptable. I suppose I can endure it."

Reina laughed, a bright, clear sound that made Aegon flush a brilliant shade of red.

Estella sat directly next to Draven. Her violet eyes were warm, bright, and completely free of the dark shadows that had haunted her for weeks. She bumped her shoulder gently against his.

Draven looked around the table. He heard the loud, joyful chatter coming from his friends. He gave an authentic smile, letting himself simply be present in the joy of their victory.

THUD.

The shadow-runner landed without noise from the roof of the Academy building and put a closed parchment into Draven’s hands.

Draven unfolded it. It was an encrypted letter from Sirius Statanham. The brief and lovely peace was already over. Bastion Nine needed him back for the real war to start again.