9
1403 Words
The stench of the lower districts hit Leo the moment his procession crossed the boundary line.
It was a suffocating mix of open sewage and unwashed bodies. Dilapidated wooden shanties leaned precariously against each other along narrow, muddy streets. The citizens of Ashguard who inhabited this ring lived in perpetual squalor. They were the discarded foundation of King Oric's realm.
Leo marched at the head of the procession. The Systemic Templars flanked him on both sides, their pristine silver armor contrasting sharply with the filth of the slums. They pulled heavy wooden carts loaded with the golden fruit from the Genesis Tree. The fruit radiated a soft, warm light that illuminated the dark alleyways.
Word of the miracle in the dead fields had already spread through the district.
Hundreds of starving peasants lined the streets. Their faces were gaunt and their clothes hung in tatters. They pressed themselves against the wooden walls of their shacks and stared at the glowing carts with hollow, desperate eyes. The scent of the hyper-nutritional fruit carried on the breeze and it triggered a primal hunger that eclipsed their fear of the silver giants.
The crowd swelled as the procession pushed deeper into the district. Hundreds became thousands. The narrow street became a bottleneck of desperate humanity.
"We need food!" a voice yelled from the back of the mob.
The plea ignited a spark in the crowd. The quiet desperation mutated into a frantic, surging energy. The peasants began to push forward, closing the distance between themselves and the glowing carts.
"Hold the line," Leo commanded.
The Templars did not draw their swords. They locked their arms together and formed a solid silver barricade across the street. The front line of the mob crashed into the Templars but the armed giants did not budge.
"They are hoarding it just like the Duke!" a man shouted.
Cormac pushed his way to the front of the mob. He was a broad-shouldered peasant with a ragged beard and a desperate glint in his eye. He carried a heavy iron pipe in his right hand. He had clearly appointed himself the leader of this starving uprising.
"The king's guards will return," Cormac yelled over the rising panic. He pointed his iron pipe at the carts. "If we do not take it now, they will lock it in the upper keep and let us rot! Break their line!"
The mob surged forward with terrifying force. The pressure of thousands of starving bodies threatened to crush the people trapped at the front against the Templars' armor. Women screamed as they were trampled in the mud. The sheer desperation of starvation was about to trigger a fatal stampede.
Leo realized that simple words would not stop a riot fueled by famine. He needed to assert his divine authority over the chaos.
He closed his eyes and focused on the energy humming in his ledger. He did not access the combat miracles. He reached into the raw, unshaped reservoir of his Power of Faith. He drew a fraction of that energy into his physical avatar and pushed it outward.
A wave of pure, soothing light erupted from Leo's body.
The light washed over the frantic mob like a cool breeze. It carried no kinetic force, but it carried a profound sense of absolute peace. The panic that gripped the crowd evaporated instantly. The crushing pressure in the street vanished as the peasants stopped pushing.
The mob fell silent. They lowered their crude weapons and stared at the glowing figure standing behind the silver barricade.
Leo opened his eyes. He stepped past the line of Templars and walked directly toward Cormac.
Cormac stood frozen in the mud. The anger had drained from his face and was replaced by a look of sheer bewilderment. He dropped the iron pipe. It landed in a puddle with a dull splash.
"You do not need to fight for this," Leo said quietly. His voice resonated in the chest of every person in the street. "I did not bring this harvest here to hoard it. I brought it to feed you."
Leo reached into the nearest cart and picked up a piece of the golden fruit. It was the size of a large peach and felt heavy with vitality. He extended his hand and offered it to the peasant leader.
Cormac hesitated. He looked at the fruit, then up at Leo's calm face. His hands shook as he reached out and took the offering.
"Eat," Leo commanded softly.
Cormac took a bite. The sweet juice ran down his chin. He chewed once, then swallowed.
The reaction was instantaneous.
The gray pallor of starvation vanished from Cormac's face. The sunken hollows of his cheeks filled with healthy color. He let out a sharp gasp as the hyper-nutritional magic surged through his bloodstream. He dropped to his knees in the mud and stared at his own hands. The chronic trembling caused by malnutrition had stopped completely.
"It is real," Cormac whispered. He looked up at the crowd with wide, tear-filled eyes. "He is real."
Leo signaled the Templars. The silver giants broke their defensive line. They moved into the crowd with terrifying efficiency, but they did not strike anyone. They carried armfuls of the golden fruit and began distributing it directly to the starving citizens.
The peasants did not riot. They received the food with trembling hands and ate in stunned silence.
The magic of the Genesis Seed took hold across the entire district.
An elderly woman near the front of the crowd took a bite of the fruit. She let out a cry of shock as the crippling arthritis in her hands vanished. She flexed her fingers, weeping openly as she felt the pain dissolve.
A young boy with a festering wound on his leg bit into the golden flesh. The angry red infection faded into healthy skin before his mother's eyes. The chronic coughing that echoed through the slums ceased entirely. The air grew still, broken only by the sounds of quiet weeping and whispered prayers.
Leo stood in the center of the muddy street and watched the transformation. The people of Ashguard were no longer broken, starving animals. They were healthy. They were whole.
Cormac remained on his knees in the mud. He looked at the empty core of the fruit in his hand, then looked up at Leo. The fear and anger that had defined his entire life were gone.
"Who are you?" Cormac asked. His voice cracked with emotion.
"I am the one who will ensure you never starve again," Leo replied.
Cormac pressed his forehead against the muddy cobblestones. He did not just bow. He surrendered his entire being to the figure standing before him.
"My life is yours," Cormac swore. "My blood is yours."
The declaration broke the silence in the street.
The elderly woman fell to her knees beside Cormac. The young boy and his mother knelt in the dirt. The wave of devotion swept backward through the dense crowd. Five thousand citizens dropped to the ground in perfect, chaotic unison. They pressed their faces into the mud and raised their hands toward the sky.
They did not pray for salvation. They prayed in absolute, fanatical gratitude.
Leo opened his system interface. The blue holographic screen materialized in his vision. The notification chimes rang so fast they blended into a single continuous tone that blocked out the sounds of the street.
The faith poured into his ledger like a tidal wave.
The base devotion generated by five thousand true zealots was staggering. His Architect of Devotion trait grabbed those numbers and multiplied them by one hundred.
The Power of Faith counter spun so rapidly the digits blurred into a solid block of light.
Leo closed the interface and took a deep breath. The scent of sewage was gone, replaced by the lingering aroma of the golden fruit. He had secured his foundation. He had cured the blight and fed his people. The economic engine of Ashguard was officially running.
He looked up toward the central keep perched on the high hill in the distance. King Oric and Duke Alaric were likely watching the commotion from their stone towers. They would panic. They would send soldiers to crush the rebellion and steal the food.
Leo smiled. Let them come. His bank account was full and his Templars were waiting. The true conquest of Ashguard had just begun.
- Writer
