The rumors sounded absurd, impossible even. Farmlands thriving during famine. Factories producing soaps and goods new to the kingdom.
Clean streets. Happy people. Massive hearthstones used like regular currency.
I suspected exaggeration…Until we crossed the final hill. And Agro Territory appeared. I froze. Even my horse snorted in disbelief.
Milabuella gasped so loudly the knights turned.
Because this land—this territory—Was alive. Not merely surviving. Not merely avoiding famine.
Alive.
Green trees—real, thriving, lush trees—lined the roads like royal guards.
The farmland stretched far into the horizon, an endless quilt of gold, green, and brown. Peanuts, cornfields that swayed like waves, rice paddies shimmering under the sun, rows of potatoes, cassava, wheat, and vegetables I didn't even recognize.
