The Prince's Arranged Marriage-Chapter 77: First day of Inspections Pt. 2

Next, Mrs. Hayworth led us to the new granary at the river’s bend. Its stone walls rose several stories; wooden shutters covered the windows to guard against damp. We stepped inside, passing the threshold into cool shade. Laborers bustled about, carrying sacks of grain on wooden pulleys up to the upper levels. The aroma of fresh harvest—honeyed and warm—hung in the air.

I ran a hand over the rough stone wall, feeling its solidity. "It stands strong," I said, turning to Alexander. "A fortress of plenty."

He smiled. "A fortress of hope."

We climbed a spiral stone staircase to a raised platform overlooking the granary floor. Below, workers in simple tunics moved with focused purpose. Guard ladders quartered the walls, each man rigid in his duty. The new bellows from Avalorian‐forged hearths kept the hearths warm and grain dry.

At the platform’s center stood Governor Aldwin, arms crossed, surveying the scene. He greeted us with a nod. "Your Highnesses, you honor us by seeing our work firsthand."

I bowed slightly. "Governor, please tell us of the storage capacity."

He led Alexander and me to a large wooden chart affixed to the wall, its surface inscribed with numbers and categories. "We can store up to twenty thousand bushels of wheat and fourteen thousand bushels of barley. We reserve a ten‐percent emergency supply for lean seasons. Last year, the storage was only five thousand bushels. You can see our progress."

I studied the chart, eyes bright. "That is a fourfold increase. Incredible."

He nodded. "And thanks to Avalorian expertise in ventilation and moisture control, we have reduced spoilage to nearly zero." He tapped a section marked "Projected Yields." "If this season goes as planned, we will surpass all expectations."

Elara appeared at my side, stepping out onto the platform. She wrapped an arm around my waist, leaning in. "I heard the legend of these tunnels as a child. They say the dragons of old used these passages to store treasure. Now, your treasures are grain—food for our people."

I squeezed her hand. "Treasures indeed."

Alexander gestured with a small flourish. "Governor, may we witness the unloading process?"

A group of three laborers paused their work, bowing slightly before leading us down the stairs. We stopped near the elevator system—an Avalorian design that streamlined vertical transport. One laborer hooked a pulley onto a heavy sack of wheat and cranked a handle; the sack rose smoothly to the upper levels. The sound was calm, efficient—no struggle, no jostled grain.

"See how smoothly it moves?" the laborer said, pride bright in his eyes. "Our old system used ropes that snapped often. This new mechanism was installed by Avalorian engineers."

Alexander patted the laborer’s shoulder. "Your work is commendable. Continue well."

The laborer bowed and returned to his task. Alexander and I watched as sacks moved continuously a constant hum of productivity. I felt the pulse of the entire harvest vibrating through the floorboards.

I turned to Alexander, voice hushed in awe. "Our people will never know hunger again—not if this plan remains strong."

He drew me close, kissing my cheek. "And if ever help is needed, Avaloria stands ready."

By early afternoon, the inspection of Riverbend’s fields and granary was nearly complete. Mrs. Hayworth excused herself to attend to further duties, and Governor Aldwin offered to host a midday meal in a nearby pavilion by the river. Elara hurried ahead to arrange seating and menus. We climbed back into the cars, riding a short distance to a riverside clearing where a rustic but elegant wooden pavilion had been constructed.

The pavilion overlooked the Serina River’s gentle curve, a cool breeze passing over the water. A low wooden table stretched under a thatched roof. Seating cushions were laid on smooth stone benches, and a small feast awaited: freshly baked bread, roasted pheasant stuffed with wild herbs, honeyed root vegetables, bowls of ripe berries, and jugs of crisp Veridian ale. A small mandolin player sat in a corner, strumming a gentle tune.

Elara, dressed in a simple green gown like the fields themselves, waved from a spot by the table. "Join us!" she called, her voice bright with excitement.

Alexander and I stepped out into the clearing, taking in the scene. Marisella and Sybil settled on one side, Gabriel in a corner nibbling berries, Archibald overseeing the guards at a respectful distance. The midday sun filtered through the leafy canopy overhead, casting dappled patterns across the table.

"Your Highnesses," Governor Aldwin greeted us from the pavilion’s open end, bowing low. "Welcome."

I offered a small bow in return. "Thank you, Governor. The pavilion is beautiful."

He nodded with a formal smile. "We wanted to treat you to Veridia’s bounty. We have fresh river trout as well, just caught by the riverbank in the morning."

As I took my seat next to Alexander, Elara sat on my other side, leaning close. "Brother, you look like you could eat a horse." She grinned. "I swear, I’ve grown hungrier without you here."

I laughed, squeezing her hand. "I’ve missed your appetite. I promise there’s plenty to go around."

Alexander slid beside me, wrapping a protective arm around my waist. "I hope so. I’ve been craving Veridian roots and your mother’s cooking."

I felt my cheeks grow warm. "Just wait until dessert—there’s a pie with Veridian apples and Avalorian honey, and we can eat mother’s cooking at night."

Elara clapped her hands. "That is precisely why I am here. I will be your dessert taster."

We all laughed as servants brought platters forward. The roasted pheasant was arranged on a large wooden board, bright herbs spilling from its cavity. Bowls of root vegetables—parsnips, carrots, and beets—sat steaming, glazed in savory butter. An upside‐down green and gold bowl held a spread of thick butter and soft cheese. The river trout, heads and tails intact, lay on a bed of reeds next to lemon wedges.

Governor Aldwin gestured to each dish. "Prince Lucien, the pheasant has been prepared in the traditional Riverbend style. Prince Alexander, the trout has been grilled over alderwood—affording a unique smoky flavor. And for you, Elara, a selection of fine cheeses and root stews." He stepped back, giving us a respectful nod.

I selected a thick slice of pheasant meat, pulling it from the board. The flesh was tender, steeped in fragrant herbs—thyme, rosemary, and a hint of mint. I closed my eyes and tasted it. "Incredible," I murmured. "The flavor is exquisite, Governor."

He beamed. "I’m glad you approve."

Alexander tore a piece of trout from the platter, gently flaking it with his fork. He offered me a bite. "Try this—smoky, salty, but delicate." His eyes softened as he watched me eat.

I took the bite, letting the smoke drift across my tongue. "It’s perfectly balanced—no Avalon spice could improve this." I leaned closer and brushed my lips softly across his in gratitude. He responded with a gentle smile, closing his eyes for a moment.

Elara gave an exaggerated sigh of relief. "About time you two showed some affection. The farmers out there must be thirsty for a display of royal romance."

I laughed, my gaze flicking between her and Alexander. "Elara, do hush."

She winked. "I make sure the roosters have something to crow about." Then she turned serious. "But truly, the fields grow tall under the sun, and the granary stands at capacity. This work surpasses all expectations. I am proud of you—both of you."

Her praise warmed me. "Thank you," I said, reaching for Alexander’s hand under the table. "We are grateful for your support."

Alexander nodded to her. "Your presence here means more than any speech or decree."

Elara smiled brightly. "So it is settled then. After lunch, I want to show you the new schoolhouse on the river’s bend—built with Avalorian fund, I visited it on my last trip to Riverbend. You two can say hello to the children before they scatter for afternoon play."

I exchanged a pleased glance with Alexander. "We would both like that."

The meal continued in comfortable chatter. We spoke of Elara’s studies in Eldoria, Alexander’s memories of Avaloria’s lakes, and my earliest recollections of the fields near our family’s manor. Occasionally, we paused to brush fingers or exchange a quiet word, each moment an affirmation of the love that had blossomed since our wedding.

By mid-afternoon, the sun tracked westward, tipping the world into a shimmering gold. We rose from the table, lingering only long enough to thank Governor Aldwin and his staff. As we stepped out of the pavilion, a gentle breeze rustled the leaves overhead. The Serina River glinted below, its current steady and slow.

Elara took my arm, guiding me down a winding path lined with tall willow trees that dipped their branches toward the water. Alexander walked beside her, his other hand cradling mine. The path broadened into a clearing where the new Riverbend Schoolhouse stood—white stone walls, large windows framed with wildflower planters, and a thatched roof more elaborate than neighboring structures.

Children in simple tunics played on a wooden swing set, shouting in delight. Their teacher, a kind-faced woman named Mistress Everly, greeted us warmly.

"Your Highnesses! Thank you for coming." She curtsied. "These are the children who benefited from the new school. They’ve prepared a small recital in your honor."

We followed her into a large open room where rows of benches faced a small dais. Painted on one wall was a mural: a golden lion and a silver griffin perched on either side of an open book. Underneath, the words "Unity in Knowledge" shone in bright script. The children formed two lines: boys in green tunics, girls in blue dresses with white collars. Elara smiled at them, her dark hair streaming over her shoulders like a halo.

A hush fell as two girls stepped forward, one with a lute and the other with a wooden flute. Soft notes filled the room—crisp, harmonious, weaving a melody that echoed the gentle current outside. Alexander’s eyes glittered with admiration as the children’s performance flowed through the room. My heart swelled to hear the lively tune: a blend of Veridian folk melody with Avalorian rhythm. Some younger children tapped their feet, while others clapped in time.

After the music, Mistress Everly presented a wooden box—intricately painted with Veridian hills and Avalorian spires—to me. "A gift from the schoolchildren," she said, her voice soft. She opened it to reveal a collection of child’s drawings: fields of golden.