The road to Render stretched long and winding, cutting through fields of gold and green.
The sky above was wide and blue, a sea with no end.
Two wagons rolled slowly along the path one led by Paul, my father, the young chief of Fernstead, and the other by Mr. Gareth, his closest friend.
The baskets of rice swayed softly with each turn of the wheel, their scent mixing with the morning breeze.
Sparrows followed the wagons, pecking at fallen grains that trailed behind.
Behind them, the village of Fernstead grew smaller and smaller a cluster of smoke and rooftops surrounded by endless fields.
"It's strange," Mr. Gareth said, smiling as he cracked the reins.
"Every time we leave, I miss that little place before we even reach the first hill."
My father laughed, his deep voice carrying in the air.
"You just miss Clara's cooking."
Gareth laughed too, scratching his beard.
"That's true. And maybe Goru's noise. The house gets too quiet when that boy's not around."
Paul's smile softened.
He looked at the road ahead the stone towers of Render just beginning to appear in the distance.
"It's been a year since Merlin left for the city," he said quietly.
"I wonder if she's changed."
"She's your wife's sister," Gareth replied. "If she's anything like Elisha, she's probably giving half the city orders."
They both laughed again, their voices echoing across the valley.
The Gates of Render
By noon, the wagons reached the outskirts of Render.
The air was different there thick with dust, metal, and the smell of bread and smoke.
Shouts came from every direction merchants calling, horses neighing, guards clanking their spears as they moved through the gate.
For two farmers from a quiet rice village, the city always felt alive too alive.
Render was surrounded by high walls of gray stone, marked with banners of the kingdom a golden wheat stalk over a blue field.
It was the city where soldiers trained, merchants traded, and nobles whispered about politics that the villagers of Fernstead would never hear of.
But for Paul and Gareth, it was only a place to sell rice and meet Merlin, the guard captain of the western gate.
Merlin of the City Watch
She was waiting for them before they even crossed the gate.
A tall woman in a dark blue uniform, sword at her hip, and a confident smile that could stop a drunk soldier in his tracks.
Her blonde hair was tied back, but a few strands fell over her forehead.
"So, the rice men finally arrived," she said, resting a hand on her sword.
"You're late, Paul."
My father grinned.
"We had to wait for the harvest. You city folk don't understand rice doesn't grow on orders."
"And yet you always bring it just in time," she replied. "Come, both of you. I've got people waiting to buy. And after that lunch is on me."
Mr. Gareth's eyes lit up.
"I knew I liked you, Captain Merlin."
She smirked.
"Of course you do. Now move before someone else buys your rice for half the price."
They followed her through the crowded streets, wagons creaking behind them.
Children ran barefoot between market stalls, a musician played by a fountain, and merchants shouted over one another trying to draw attention.
Render was full of noise, but to Paul, it all sounded distant as if he were walking in a dream far away from the quiet fields of home.
The Sale
By evening, the rice had been sold.
The coins clinked softly in a small wooden box tied beneath the wagon seat.
Merlin leaned against a wall, watching her brother-in-law and Gareth pack the empty baskets.
"You could sell twice as much if you wanted," she said.
"The city needs rice more than ever. The nobles are preparing for something… though they won't say what."
Paul frowned.
"War?"
She shook her head.
"Not yet. But the air feels heavy lately. The palace guards are restless. You should keep your village quiet and far away from all this."
Gareth sighed.
"We're farmers, Merlin. Nothing from the palace ever reaches us."
Merlin looked at him sharply.
"That's what everyone says. Until it does."
Her words lingered in the air.
For a long moment, the three of them said nothing the noise of the city fading into the distance.
Then, Merlin smiled again, her soldier's mask softening.
"Enough of that. Let's eat. You two came all the way from Fernstead you've earned something better than rice and river water."
That Evening
They dined together in a small tavern near the western gate a quiet place where the smell of stew filled the air.
They spoke of the harvest, the children, and Anna's mischief.
They laughed about Goru's stubbornness and Jack's endless appetite.
For a moment, it felt as if Fernstead had followed them into the city a pocket of peace in a world that was beginning to stir.
That night, as they prepared to leave, Merlin stood at the gate and said softly,
"Next time you come, Paul… bring Elisha and the children. I want to see little Erin with my own eyes."
Paul nodded, smiling.
"You'll see him soon enough."
But as they left the city and the torches of Render faded behind them, he couldn't help but glance back once
at the walls, the banners, and the faint sound of a distant horn.
Something was changing in the kingdom.
But for now, the people of Fernstead still slept peacefully
unaware that their quiet village, far from politics and war, would one day be touched by both.