Chapter 222: Recruiting Sophia

Chapter 222: Chapter 222: Recruiting Sophia

The amphitheater emptied slowly, the way a room does after something worth remembering. Students drifted up the stone steps in clusters, still arguing over Barney’s sacrificial armor layers and Seraphina’s eyebrow. Elena shook hands with the last of the faculty at the exit, gave Rowan a look of quiet approval, and withdrew with the rest of the squad toward the administrative pavilion.

Sophia did not leave with them.

She sat alone on the third row with the cloth pouch still cupped in both hands, and the little sprout stood upright in the dark soil as though it had decided to stay. She had been rehearsing something under her breath for the better part of ten minutes. When Rowan finally descended the steps toward her, she shot to her feet so quickly that she nearly dropped the pouch.

"Professor Rowan!"

"Sophia." He stopped a respectful distance away and tipped his hat. "Please, sit. I’m not going to test you."

She sat, perched on the very edge of the bench. Rowan took the step below her, settling onto the warm stone with his forearms across his knees so that his eyes were level with hers. It was a small thing, but she visibly relaxed.

"First," he said, "I want you to know that what happened with that sprout wasn’t luck. Most students need weeks of practice to coax a seed awake. You did it in a few minutes, on soil you’d never touched, with mana you hadn’t been taught to shape. That’s rare."

Sophia stared at the pouch. "I didn’t do anything special. I just... held it. It felt like it was listening."

"That," Rowan said, smiling, "is exactly the point."

He let the silence sit for a moment, then straightened a little. "I’ll be direct, because I think you’d rather I was. I run an agricultural operation with my family called Eden International. It’s grown quickly, faster than I expected, and it now covers fifty acres of fields, terraces, and greenhouses. Right now, I’m covering most of the delicate work myself. I can’t keep doing that. What we need are gardeners and farmers who can feel what a crop needs before it shows any sign of trouble." He met her eyes. "I think you might be one of them."

Her breath caught. "You want me to... work for you?"

"I’d like to offer you an internship." He held up three fingers. "Three months. Full participation in the estate’s operations, working alongside our existing staff, learning the real work rather than the version in textbooks. At the end of it, we’d do a formal performance review. If it goes well, and I expect it might, there’s a path to converting the internship into a permanent staff position at Eden International."

Sophia’s mouth opened, then closed. "But I’m still a student. My classes..."

"Of course. I’ve already thought about that." He nodded. "I’d speak with Headmistress Elena first and structure the schedule around your coursework. Nothing about this would cost you your studies. If anything, I’d hope it enriches them." He paused. "And you are entirely free to say no. Take whatever time you need. A decision this size deserves some thought."

She was quiet for a long moment. Her thumb brushed the edge of the pouch, and the sprout trembled very slightly, as if sharing her nerves.

"What would I actually be doing?" she asked finally. It was a good question, and the way she asked it, careful and practical beneath the awe, told Rowan more about her than any soil reading had.

"At first, mostly learning," he said. "The farmland lies in a region called Sunny Vale, where the climate is mild, and the land is good. Our staff there handle planting, irrigation, and harvest. You’d begin by shadowing them, learning each field’s temperament, and practicing the kind of listening you did today. When I’m in Sunny Vale, I’ll coach you personally. We’d work through soil reading, the way different gardeners’ mana shapes a crop, and how to steady your own aptitude so it helps the plants rather than overwhelms them." He tilted his head. "I’m not a patient man about many things. I am patient about this."

Her eyes were shining now. She blinked rapidly, as if afraid she might embarrass herself. "Personal guidance. From you."

"When I’m around, yes. And when I’m not, the seniors will have instructions to guide you in my place."

"That’s... that’s more than I ever hoped for." She swallowed. "I don’t know what to say."

"There’s one more thing, and it’s a small one." Rowan’s expression softened with a hint of amusement. "Every intern at Eden eats well. For the duration of your internship, I’ll make sure you receive a daily supply of our highest-quality crops, enough to build every meal you eat. Fresh, mana-rich, grown in the best soil we have." He gestured at the pouch. "A gardener should understand what good produce tastes like. It’s difficult to grow something properly if you’ve never eaten the best version of it."

Sophia let out a startled laugh, wet and surprised. "Every meal?"

"Every meal."

"I’ve been eating cafeteria porridge for two years."

"Then we have a great deal to fix," Rowan said gravely, and she laughed again, this time without trying to hide it.

When the laughter faded, she looked down at the sprout, still stubbornly upright, its two tiny leaves tilted toward her like a pair of cupped hands. Her shoulders straightened. When she lifted her head, the nervousness had settled into something steadier.

"I’d like to accept," she said. "I want to try. I’ll work hard, Professor. I promise."

"I believe you." Rowan rose and offered her his hand. She took it, and he pulled her to her feet. "Think it over properly tonight, though. If you still feel the same tomorrow, come find me at the pavilion. We’ll arrange the details with Elena and set a start date that works with your classes."

"I’ll still feel the same."

"Then I’ll see you tomorrow." He tipped his hat once more, and his smile was small and genuine. "Take good care of that sprout. It may be the first crop of your career."

She clutched the pouch to her chest and nodded fiercely. As Rowan climbed the steps toward the exit, the late sun slanted gold across the tiers, and behind him he heard a soft, delighted whisper, directed at no one, and perhaps at the seedling in her hands.

"We’re going to be all right."