Post by Cass on Jan 20, 2012 16:01:18 GMT 10
Title: This Land
Rating: G
Prompt: #60, an equal and opposite reaction
Summary: After the coronation, Jonathan finds out the truth.
"It only makes sense," the Mithran says. He is old and wizened, carrying a staff. No head priest, but an expert on these sorts of magical, elemental workings, sent down from the City of the Gods to advise the king himself. "The Jewel ties you to the land, your Majesty. It does not pull power from thin air; in fact, that is an impossibility so far beyond belief. Nor does it pull power from the Gifted. It comes from the land."
"So the seed--"
"Exhausted," the priest replies simply. "You did not need to ask a mage for that. Any farmer could have told you. Dead, even. Nothing will grow."
Jonathan sinks into his chair slowly, feeling the truth of the weight on his head. "For how long?"
"At least a year. Maybe more. I cannot say. Only the land itself knows."
There are calculations floating in his head: grain stores and loans, interest rates and how much Maren will make them pay through the nose for wheat.
"I will take my leave," the Mithran says. He turns. "Your Majesty saved the people of Tortall. Do not forget it. But now your Majesty must help them survive."
Rating: G
Prompt: #60, an equal and opposite reaction
Summary: After the coronation, Jonathan finds out the truth.
"It only makes sense," the Mithran says. He is old and wizened, carrying a staff. No head priest, but an expert on these sorts of magical, elemental workings, sent down from the City of the Gods to advise the king himself. "The Jewel ties you to the land, your Majesty. It does not pull power from thin air; in fact, that is an impossibility so far beyond belief. Nor does it pull power from the Gifted. It comes from the land."
"So the seed--"
"Exhausted," the priest replies simply. "You did not need to ask a mage for that. Any farmer could have told you. Dead, even. Nothing will grow."
Jonathan sinks into his chair slowly, feeling the truth of the weight on his head. "For how long?"
"At least a year. Maybe more. I cannot say. Only the land itself knows."
There are calculations floating in his head: grain stores and loans, interest rates and how much Maren will make them pay through the nose for wheat.
"I will take my leave," the Mithran says. He turns. "Your Majesty saved the people of Tortall. Do not forget it. But now your Majesty must help them survive."
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!