Autumn in the Reach was supposed to be the season of harvest.
“This makes the seventh field.”
Maester Corlin rose to his feet, brushing the dirt from his hands.
“If we can’t contain this blight, we won’t even have enough seed grain left for next spring.”
Gawen crouched beside a patch of diseased wheat, pinching one of the stalks between his fingers.
Dark brown lesions covered the stem.
The leaves had curled and withered, giving off the unmistakable smell of decay.
This had once been one of the finest wheat fields in the western lands of Goldengrove.
Now, nearly a third of the crop was infected.
[Flora Mastery Proficiency +1]
Using a small knife, Gawen sliced open the stem of the diseased plant and examined it closely.
Mathis frowned.
“Do you know what’s causing it?”
Maester Corlin shook his head grimly.
“My lord, this isn’t ordinary black spot disease.
I encountered something similar while studying at the Citadel in Oldtown.”
He paused.
“It’s called Sand Blight, a fungal disease believed to have originated in Dorne.
It’s resistant to both cold and drought, making it exceptionally difficult to eradicate.
Burning infected plants and rotating crops have little effect.”
“Sand Blight?”
Mathis frowned even more deeply.
“Dorne lies beyond the southern Reach.
How could it have spread all the way to our northern frontier?”
“Perhaps migrating birds carried the spores.”
“Or perhaps passing merchants.”
Corlin sighed.
“Whatever the cause, we need to find a solution.”
[Flora Mastery Proficiency +1]
Throughout the discussion, Gawen remained silent.
His arms hung naturally at his sides, his fingers slightly spread.
His consciousness slowly sank into the earth beneath his feet.
At that instant, Flora Mastery operated at its fullest potential.
He sensed the life force of every plant rooted in the soil.
Healthy wheat shimmered as tiny green points of light.
The infected stalks, however, radiated murky gray-black mist, resembling festering wounds.
Thin strands of that corruption connected one diseased plant to another, as though something invisible was passing between them.
Spores…
Gawen reached his conclusion almost immediately.
The infection spreads through spores.
And there’s another problem.
The soil itself.
The groundwater is too close to the surface.
Drainage is poor, leaving the earth permanently damp…
exactly the environment Sand Blight thrives in.
“My lord?”
Maester Corlin looked toward the thoughtful boy.
“Have you discovered something?”
“Not yet.”
Gawen answered calmly.
“I’m still thinking.”
Mathis couldn’t hide the disappointment that crossed his face.
“I need some time alone in this field.”
Gawen then turned toward the maester.
“Maester Corlin, please prepare a topographical map of this area for me.
Mark every water source and every low-lying section of land.”
Corlin looked toward Mathis.
The lord gave a slight nod.
“Ser Harwyn.”
Mathis issued another order.
“Have the men secure the edge of the field.
Don’t allow anyone inside.”
Then he placed a reassuring hand on Gawen’s shoulder.
“Don’t push yourself too hard.
If anything’s wrong, call for us.”
Everyone withdrew beyond the embankment, leaving Gawen standing alone in the middle of the wheat field.
Taking a deep breath, he sat cross-legged and placed both palms against the soil.
With a thought, the familiar status panel appeared before him.
Core Specializations
Flora Mastery — Lv.
1 (95/200)
Wild Affinity — Lv.
1 (45/200)
Earth’s Resonance — Lv.
0 (93/100)
Nature’s Guardian — Lv.
0 (28/100)
Rebirth Incarnation — Lv.
1 (119/200)
…
Only seven more proficiency points remained before Earth’s Resonance reached Level 1.
Its growth came from perceiving underground mineral veins, hidden rivers, and the geological structure of the land itself.
The terrain surrounding Goldengrove was relatively uncomplicated.
Even so, certain places had always remained beyond his perception.
Closing his eyes, Gawen extended his awareness deeper into the earth.
Soil…
Sand…
Loose stone…
Dense layers of clay…
The faint pulse of underground water…
Everything beneath his feet gradually became vivid.
Soon he located the problem.
A thick, impermeable clay layer lay beneath the field.
Rainwater and irrigation water couldn’t drain any farther, forming a permanently saturated layer of stagnant moisture close to the surface.
The perfect breeding ground for Sand Blight.
[Earth’s Resonance Proficiency +1]
[Earth’s Resonance Proficiency +1]
…
[Earth’s Resonance Proficiency +1]
The rapid increase in proficiency caught Gawen off guard.
Until now, nearly all of his training had taken place within the lands immediately surrounding Goldengrove.
He had never ventured this far into the frontier.
Then, a realization struck him.
At Goldengrove stood the Golden Tree—the sacred tree representing House Rowan.
It protected those lands.
And the legendary Garth Greenhand…
If viewed through the lens of other magical worlds, he had undoubtedly been something akin to a druid.
Naturally, the territory under his legacy strengthened the growth of Earth’s Resonance and Nature’s Guardian.
Here, however, on the distant frontier…
The weakened Golden Tree’s protective influence could no longer reach.
His awareness continued expanding.
Every inch of the underground world unfolded before him.
Then—
The pulse of the earth rippled outward like waves upon a lake.
For one fleeting moment…
Gawen felt as though he had become a seed buried beneath the soil.
He struggled against the shell surrounding him.
A tiny sprout pierced through.
Roots spread downward into the earth, drinking deeply from its endless vitality.
The earth sustained all life.
Golden-brown energy rose from the ground in gentle currents, swirling around him before pouring into the tiny seed.
The power accumulated…
And accumulated…
Until—
Crack.
A faint sound echoed from within.
[Earth’s Resonance Proficiency +1]
[Earth’s Resonance has reached Lv.
1 (0/200)]
Enlightenment washed over him.
He thought he heard flowing water.
The seed burst open.
A young sapling emerged, growing rapidly as another invisible shackle within him shattered.
…
At that very moment…
A commotion erupted in the distance.
Gawen opened his eyes.
A gentle gust spread outward from his body.
The noise beside the field abruptly fell silent.
A heartbeat later, voices rose once again.
Following the sound, Gawen looked toward the embankment.
A crowd had gathered there.
Alongside his father and Ser Harwyn stood several unfamiliar men wearing cloaks of different colors.
Embroidered upon each cloak was the image of a white sea hawk with its wings spread wide.
Gawen recognized the sigil immediately.
“That’s…”
“The banner of House Hawke.”
Gawen frowned.
House Hawke had ruled a stretch of rolling hills northwest of Goldengrove for generations.
Officially, they were bannermen of House Lannister in the Westerlands, but because their lands bordered the northern frontier of the Reach, territorial disputes with House Rowan had erupted time and time again.
Thirty years earlier, the two houses had fought a skirmish over the ownership of a woodland.
More than a dozen knights had died.
Their visitors had clearly not come in peace.
Gawen rose to his feet, brushed the dirt from his knees, and walked toward the edge of the field.
“I’ll say it one last time, Lord Mathis.”
The speaker was a tall, gaunt man with a hooked nose, steel-blue eyes, and lips as thin as knife blades.
“That pine forest on the southern slope, along with this tributary of the Blackwater River, has been the hunting grounds of House Hawke since ancient times.
Your tenants have been gathering firewood and fishing there.
They are trespassing on my lord’s lands.”
“Ser Alan Hawke.”
Mathis’s voice remained calm but firm.
“The pine forest you speak of was officially incorporated into Goldengrove during the reign of the Gardener Kings, long before the Conquest.
I possess land charters signed by successive kings and Lords Paramount.
You are welcome to examine them whenever you wish.”
“Documents can be forged.”
Ser Alan sneered.
“My family’s traditions have been passed down for over three hundred years.
Are you suggesting those are forgeries as well?”
Behind each side stood fully armed knights and retainers.
Ser Harwyn’s hand had already settled upon the hilt of his sword.
Across from him, several Hawke soldiers tightened their grips on their spears.
The atmosphere was so tense it seemed a single spark could ignite bloodshed.
Gawen walked to his father’s side.
By now, he understood.
The inspection of the diseased wheat fields had not been the only reason Mathis had brought him here.
His father wanted him to begin learning how to handle the affairs of their domain.
Without hesitation, Gawen stepped forward onto the raised embankment.
The slight elevation placed him half a head taller than Ser Alan Hawke.
“Ser Hawke.”
His voice was calm.
“You claim that forest is your family’s hunting ground.”
“Then allow me to ask you a few questions.”
“What species of pine grows there?”
“How many streams run through the forest?”
“And during winter, which path leads to the spring hidden deepest within the woods?”
Ser Alan laughed mockingly.
“So the heir of House Rowan is a bookish little scholar?”
“As for such trivial details, I…”
“You don’t know.”
Gawen interrupted him without raising his voice.
“Because in the past five years, no one from House Hawke has set foot in that forest.”
“My tenants enter it three times every month.
They gather pinecones, clear fallen branches, and repair the trail leading to the spring.”
“They work that land.”
“They care for it.”
“Your family, meanwhile, remembers only a three-hundred-year-old story.”
“You…”
Embarrassment and anger flashed across Ser Alan’s face.
“What could a brat like you possibly understand?”
“More importantly…”
Gawen extended a hand toward the blighted wheat fields.
“Do you know why the crops have ended up like this?”
Ser Alan blinked in confusion.
“What are you talking about?”
“The water.”
Gawen answered evenly.
“Your family recently built a fort in the river valley.”
“During construction, you uncovered a sulfur-bearing mineral vein.”
“The groundwater there now contains excessive sulfur.
As it flows downstream, it contaminates the irrigation water here, gradually salinizing the soil and damaging the crops.”
The border had never truly known peace.
With House Lannister’s quiet approval, House Hawke had constructed the small fortress in the northwestern valley, hoping to slowly absorb the ancestral forests of House Rowan.
Not long ago, Mathis had sent formal protests to Casterly Rock.
Tywin Lannister had dismissed the complaint, claiming that the frontier boundaries were ancient and lacked definitive documentation, refusing to order the new fort demolished.
Mathis immediately recognized Tywin’s strategy.
Bit by bit, he intended to squeeze Goldengrove’s territory until there was nothing left to take.
In response, House Rowan had quietly begun reinforcing its own northwestern defenses.
“What does a half-grown child know about such matters?”
Ser Alan’s expression darkened.
“This is business for adults.
It has nothing to do with you.”
“Gawen is the heir to Goldengrove.”
Mathis’s expression hardened.
“Everything he says represents the will of House Rowan.”
He locked eyes with the Hawke knight.
“Unless…”
“…House Hawke intends to start another war?”
Want faster updates?
Send those stones my way—the more, the merrier.