War, Beasts, and Outer Gods: The Chronicles of Prana

Chapter 12: The Empire’s Farm

In the heart of the vast stretch of land that once marked the empire's frontier stood the Empire’s main farm, Valhídra. This extensive agricultural complex was known for producing sixty percent of the food that fed the population, although it primarily served the army. It was a place where life flowed quietly, far from the tumultuous events that shaped the rest of the empire. With its six sections arranged in a circle, each housing an artificial lake at its center, the farm was a testament to the empire’s dedication to food self-sufficiency.

Valhídra stood with serene majesty amid a vast landscape of fertile abundance, a living testament to its crucial role in the intricate network of sustenance that fed the vast nation. Its six sections, arranged in a delicate circle, danced in harmony under the sun’s embrace, each one guarding an artificial lake at its center, a mirror of the skies that reflected the very essence of life.

The stone aqueducts, like arteries in a generous body, flowed with crystal-clear water, irrigating the land with the nectar of existence. This ingenious design, a marvel of human ingenuity, not only favored the cultivation of legumes and vegetables but also evoked a symphony of colors and fragrances that intoxicated the air. In every corner, plants rose with dignity, knowing that their roots held the sustenance of an empire, and their growth resonated with the very heartbeat of the earth.

One of the benefits of the proliferation of Prana manuals was a strong workforce, which led to a reduction in the number of people required for various tasks.

Alex, a man of medium height and a kind face, was one of the farmers in charge of one of these sections. His sun-bronzed skin and calloused hands from working the land told stories of years of hard labor.

He was a human who embodied the very essence of the countryside. His blonde hair gleamed in the sun, its golden color reminiscent of the ripe wheat swaying in the vast lands of the farm. Although his skin was originally fair, the sun had transformed it into a bronze hue, marked by hours of work outdoors, giving him a healthy and robust appearance.

Standing at 1.81 meters tall, his body reflected the physical effort of his daily life. Every muscle was defined, not only by the work in the fields but also by the commitment and dedication he had put into every task. His arms, strong and toned, bore witness to the shovel and hoe he had handled for years, and his hands, though rough, were delicate when it came to caring for plants and cultivating the land.

Alex's eyes were a deep blue, like the water of the artificial lakes that surrounded the farm. That intensity reflected the calm and serenity of his surroundings, as well as his connection to nature. His gaze, always attentive, captured every detail of the world around him, from the movement of a leaf to the shadow of an insect crossing his path.

He was the very embodiment of the field: a man who had learned to work with the land, to respect its rhythm, and to understand the cycle of life that unfolded around him. His presence was comforting, and those who knew him were aware that in his simplicity there was a profound calm.

He had been raised on the same farm, and like his father and grandfather, he had learned to cultivate the land with love and respect. Although the empire had completely remodeled it 120 years ago, its essence remained intact: the need to feed a growing nation.

The farm, despite its title, was more than just a crop field; each of its sections was carefully designed. The stone aqueducts, which ran like veins through the land, carried fresh water to every corner, ensuring that the plants always had what they needed to thrive. The artificial lakes not only served as irrigation sources but also sustained aquatic life, providing a balanced ecosystem. Each section was a world unto itself, cultivating a variety of legumes, vegetables, and fruits, all harvested at their peak of ripeness.

Alex woke up every morning with the sunrise, feeling the cool dew on the grass and the birds singing to greet the new day. Next to him, his small cabin, built from the surrounding trees, offered him a cozy refuge.

The cabin, simple but warm, was decorated with a few mementos from his childhood: old farming tools, a small wood stove, and a wooden table where he used to share meals with his family. It was a place where simplicity reigned, and where every corner whispered calm.

Alex's day-to-day life revolved around planting and harvesting. Early in the morning, he headed to his section of the farm, where rows of vegetables stretched toward the horizon. Lentils, chickpeas, and green beans grew in neat order, each plant carefully tended. Alex knew that each seed he planted was a promise of sustenance for the families in the city. The responsibility weighed on his shoulders, but despite that, he found joy in the work.

As he dug the earth and planted new seeds, he remembered the stories his grandfather used to tell about times of war and chaos. The farm had been a refuge during those difficult moments, and although peace reigned now, the echo of those days kept him alert. Alex knew that his work, though tranquil, was vital for the stability of the empire. However, he was also aware that his life on the farm was in stark contrast to the existence of warriors like Eris, who were preparing for imminent battles.

Alex’s routine was marked by cycles. Each week brought new tasks: harvesting, pruning, and watering. The arrival of harvest season was a time of celebration, when workers came together to gather the fruits of their labor. Laughter and camaraderie filled the air as they shared stories and helped each other with the hard work of harvesting.

One afternoon, while taking a break under the shade of an old oak tree, Alex looked around. The farm was alive with the movement of other farmers, each focused on their tasks. They were a team, a community that thrived thanks to their collective effort. In the distance, the sounds of the city could be heard, the bustle of the capital seeming so distant from his world. Life here was predictable, but Alex appreciated it. He knew that while others fought for glory on the battlefield, he was in his place, sowing the seeds of a peaceful life.

A faint whisper of the wind brought him the scent of freshly harvested legumes. It was a reminder of his purpose: to feed those who fought and sacrificed for the empire. As he looked toward the horizon, he thought about the future. He hadn’t started a family yet, but he longed for the day when he could share his life with someone special and perhaps have children to whom he could teach the art of farming. The thought of building a family brought him joy, a yearning for connection in a world where others sought power and recognition.

As evening fell, Alex returned to his cabin. With his hands still stained with earth, he lit a fire in the stove and prepared a simple dinner with the vegetables he had gathered. As he cooked, his mind wandered between dreams and hopes. Though his life was quiet, there was a strength in his routine that gave him unshakable peace. He knew that war could break out again, but his home on the farm would always be his refuge, a place where the seeds of his work would flourish and new generations would grow under the same sky.

As night fell, with the moon lighting his small home, Alex sat down to eat, feeling grateful for the life he led. Each bite of his meal was a reminder of his labor, and as he gazed at the starry sky, he knew that amid the empire's chaos, there would always be a place for the tranquility and peace he represented.

On the vast chessboard of the empire, Alex would be a silent but fundamental piece, a vital part of the continuity of life, in contrast to the movement of warriors seeking glory in war.

And though he was no warrior.

He would be a great Farmer.