The Seeds of Excess

Chapter 2: The Seeds of Excess

The seasons turned, and the ruby trees cycled through their ancient rhythm of bloom, fruit, and rest. King Alaric, his wisdom a comforting blanket over the land, grew Frailer with each passing harvest. Then, as the first blush of autumn painted the leaves, he passed peacefully in his sleep. A hush fell over the Red Kingdom, a collective breath held in sorrow and uncertainty. With no direct heir, the choice of a new steward fell to the Royal Council, a body of elders and prominent lords. Lord Elmsworth, with his proven administrative skill, his sharp intellect, and a newfound, carefully cultivated air of solemn responsibility, quickly became the favored candidate. He spoke eloquently of honoring King Alaric’s legacy while ensuring the kingdom’s continued prosperity in a changing world.

Upon his ascension as Lord Regent, Elmsworth was initially the picture of dutiful continuity. He presided over the traditional Harvest of Sufficiency, his pronouncements echoing the late King’s reverence for balance. "We shall cherish the gifts of our land," he declared in the grand square, his voice resonating with a sincerity that swayed many. "The ruby fruit is our sacred trust, and we shall protect it as King Alaric always did."

Yet, beneath the surface of these comforting words, the calculations he’d once made on the knoll overlooking the orchards continued to churn. Within months, Elmsworth began to introduce what he termed "Modern Enhancements to the Royal Orchards." He proposed deeper irrigation channels, arguing they would guard against dry spells. He suggested selective pruning techniques, not for the health of the trees as the old King had advocated, but specifically to encourage more fruit-bearing spurs. "Think of it," he urged the Council, his tone reasonable, persuasive, "as simply helping the trees achieve their fullest potential. A stronger kingdom means a safer future for all. Increased trade will bring not just luxuries, but vital new knowledge, new medicines from afar."

A murmur of unease rippled through the more seasoned members of the Council. Old Lady Maeve, whose grandmother had served Alaric’s own grandfather, her face a tapestry of wrinkles, rose slowly. "My Lord Regent," she began, her voice thin but clear, "the ruby trees are not like common crops. They have a spirit. They give what they can, but they cannot be forced. The ancient songs warn of the ‘Hollow Fruit’ – a bounty that looks full but offers no sustenance, born of demanding too much."

Lord Elmsworth listened with an expression of patient concern, yet his eyes held a glint of dismissal. "Honorable Lady Maeve," he responded smoothly, "I respect the ancient songs deeply. They are the heart of our culture. But we must also embrace progress. These are merely scientific approaches to ensure a more consistent, reliable yield. Surely, a little more security, a little more comfort for our people, is a worthy goal?"

His charisma, his logical arguments, and the subtle promise of greater individual shares won over many, particularly the younger generation and merchants eager for expanded commerce. The dissenting voices, like Lady Maeve’s, were increasingly painted as resistant to change, clinging to outdated superstitions.

As Elmsworth's new methods were implemented, the following harvests were, indeed, slightly more abundant. The fruits were plentiful, though some of the older pickers swore they were a shade less vibrant, their customary inner glow a little dimmed. When a few remarked that the trees seemed to require more water than before, their leaves showing the slightest curl at the edges despite the new irrigation, Elmsworth’s overseers attributed it to unusually warm spells. These were easily dismissed, minor observations in the face of the gradually increasing numbers tallied in the royal storehouses. Lord Elmsworth, surveying the neat rows of ruby-filled crates, felt a surge of vindication. The kingdom was growing richer, stronger, under his astute guidance. The whispers of the old ways were fading, drowned out by the busy hum of his new, more demanding vision for the Red Kingdom.