55th of Ymiden 923
But really: 8th of Vhalar 719
Part of the Quacian Botany Dream Scenario
In centuries since the decline of the Theocratum, the Plenty had undergone some vital changes. Where once, there lay a cavernous expanse, where once nothing but meat farms, pigs, rats, or any kind of suitable cattle could be raised, there was a veritable underground jungle. Where once there’d been only overgrown fungi allowed to garden, there now hung countless root systems with fruit and vegetable-laden vines. Birds, bees, and various other fliers filled the caverns with their music, along with green arthwraiths, also contributing toward the pollination of the Plenty.
There were still meat farms, to be sure. And the offal produced by them ensured that the Plenty remained fertile and growing, to keep up with the exponential demand of foodstuffs, as more and more refugees poured into Quacia from around Idalos.
The caretakers of the Quacian Plenty were all well versed in the arcane secrets of graft, and how to apply the enervations of such to a broader collective of plant and animal-based agriculture.
Werthom was one such caretaker, a woman appearing to be young, but in actuality was one of the Chimera, a revealed grafter from a time when Quacia had been an ash-laden wasteland. Spidery strands of fungal growth hung from her forearms, trailing along the ground as she spread the spores along with the soil of the Plenty. Her own troupe of green arthwraiths plied the soil as well, clicking and making their garbled noises at each other as they harvested what had grown to its maximum size, while unconsciously spreading the spores of the plucked produce.
Werthom looked through her puzzle-eyes at the fields before her. There was something, off about the atmosphere today. She knew very well about the miasma that ravaged the upper levels of the Urban sprawl. However, due to the greenery that grew beneath the Plenty, they were insulated from it. It was virtually impossible for that miasma to coexist with the fresh air of the Plenty.
She felt before she saw the courier approaching her garden. Without turning, she greeted him, ” Welcome, sir.”
The man started as if surprised that she could see him. He must be young, as most were aware that every mage was required to take on lessons in attunement. Ever since the reformation of the Seekers and the Sundering of Emea which saw to it the dissemination of magic as a whole.
What were they teaching in primary school, these days?
” I bring a missive, Caretaker.” He stammered.
” From whom?” She asked, before bothering to examine the letter he held. Finally, she turned around, to note the unremarkable, middle-aged man bearing the envelope. ” Is this from the Guild?”
” No madame. It’s from the Constabulary… Well, you’d best have a look at it yourself. I’m just here to deliver the letter.”
One of the green arthwraiths, prompted by the arrival of the man and the unspoken command by Werthom, approached him. With its clawed hand, it snatched the letter from him and then scurried over toward where Werthom was tending the fungal grove.
She looked at the seal, then broke it. As she read the letters, the Chimera found her eyes widening at the news it contained.
Anyways Enjoy the rewards and I look forward to seeing how mortal born woe turns out.