Ethan's enhanced senses had become a double-edged sword. His heightened sense of smell, in particular, had become a burden. The stench of the town was relentless, a pungent mix of unwashed bodies, rotting shit, and the sour tang of ale. It was overwhelming, like a constant assault on his nostrils. Every whiff dragged him into an unwanted intimacy with his surroundings, as if he were eavesdropping on the most uncomfortable aspects of daily life.
He decided it was time to recalibrate. With a thought, he adjusted his sensory inputs, toning down his heightened senses to the level of an average human. He could still amplify them when needed, but for now, he sought a reprieve from the relentless onslaught. The world became bearable once more, a muted version of its former self.
As morning light filtered through the shutters, Ethan sipped his tea, the warmth of the cup grounding him in the moment. The tea was surprisingly good, its earthy aroma a pleasant contrast to the harsh scents of the town. He issued a simple command to Callwen: "Find clay pots, seeds and soil. " The order was vague, but Callwen didn't question it. He left immediately, leaving Ethan alone with his thoughts.
Beca moved quietly around the room, her presence subdued but steady. She had taken on the role of a maid, tending to Ethan's needs with an air of silent determination. Ethan appreciated her diligence, though he noted the lingering wariness in her eyes.
By mid-morning, Callwen returned, his arms full of sacks and bundles. He laid them out before Ethan, revealing a variety of seeds—barley, wheat, peas, beans, onions, carrots. The sight of the seeds stirred something in Ethan, a flicker of anticipation. He dismissed Callwen with a nod, his mind already racing ahead.
Ethan arranged six pots by the window, filling them with rich, dark soil. He held the seeds in his hand, feeling their rough, irregular shapes against his palm. With a focused thought, he activated the nanobots.
The nanobots emerged, tiny and intricate, resembling microscopic metallic orbs. Delicate appendages extended from their surfaces, thin and flexible like tendrils. These were no ordinary machines; they were designed for precision, capable of tasks as minute as repairing cellular structures or administering molecular treatments. Their outer shells gleamed with a sleek, reflective surface, emitting a faint bioluminescent glow. The intensity of the glow varied, a subtle indicator of their operational status. Their design was a marvel of efficiency and adaptability, tailored to navigate the complex terrain of biological systems.
The nanobots got to work immediately. They formed a protective layer around the seeds, regulating moisture levels and shielding them from potential pathogens. Their tendrils synthesized essential nutrients, ensuring the seeds had everything they needed for optimal growth. By manipulating plant hormones like auxins and gibberellins, the nanobots would accelerate cell division and elongation, effectively boosting the growth speed. They would also optimize chlorophyll production and light absorption, enhancing the efficiency of photosynthesis.
Ethan watched in awe as the nanobots executed their tasks with precision. The process was swift, a seamless dance of technology and biology. Once the nanobots completed their work, Ethan planted the seeds in the pots and watered them with care. He stood back, observing the freshly planted seeds with a mixture of curiosity and expectation.
He turned his gaze to the window, looking out at the serene expanse of the lake. The tranquility of the scene contrasted sharply with the turmoil of his thoughts. He took another sip of his tea, savoring the moment of calm. The tea, he mused, was a small but significant comfort in a world that often felt harsh and unforgiving.
Hours passed, and the afternoon sun climbed higher in the sky. Ethan's anticipation grew as he periodically checked the pots. Then, finally, he saw it—the first signs of life. Tiny green shoots poked through the soil, delicate but determined. The sight filled him with a sense of accomplishment. After several failed experiments, this was a tangible success. He touched his chin, contemplating the implications of this accelerated growth.
The process has enhanced the growth acceleration by 85%, a staggering improvement! Barley, which would typically take weeks to sprout, showed some progress in less than a day. Hmm it would take approximately 1.8 weeks for the barley to reach full maturity under these conditions.
A smirk played on Ethan's lips as he considered the broader implications of this breakthrough. "The heart of governance is not in edicts or swords," he murmured to himself, "but in the fields. He who controls the harvest controls the people. Feed them, and they will follow."
The seedlings before him were more than just plants; they were a symbol of potential power. Control over food production meant control over the population. In a world where survival hinged on the success of the harvest, the ability to accelerate and enhance agricultural output could shift the balance of power. Ethan saw the threads of a grander plan beginning to weave together, a vision of influence and control rooted in the very soil of the land.
As the afternoon light bathed the room in a warm glow, Ethan stood by the window, his mind racing with possibilities just then he saw Beca with two men outside, and increased his hearing.
Beca had always been proud of her family, especially her father, John, who was a rich merchant in Bangor. Their livelihood had been simple, relying on the steady flow of goods that passed through the marketplace. Life had been easier before the rebellion swept through their peaceful life, and the world as she knew it was turned upside down.
When the war started, everything changed. Their shops were looted, their savings taken, their goods destroyed in the chaos. They'd fled their once-thriving business for safety, but that had been the beginning of their fall. The family had never fully recovered. After losing their home, they had lived in cramped, uncomfortable quarters, their once-proud lives reduced to daily struggles for survival.
It was in the aftermath of this that Beca had been swept up into a wave of desperation. With her family now destitute, she had found herself thrust into studying the stars. It had given her a role to fulfill, and a sense of purpose she hadn't had in years. Despite the circumstances, being prosecuted and famed as a witch, Ethan had treated her better than she ever expected.
This evening, while she was tidying Ethan's chambers, she heard a familiar voice outside knocking. Her heart skipped in her chest as the door as she opened the door, and her father, John, and her younger brother, Alun, dragged her outside. They hadn't seen her in weeks, not since she had been taken in by Ethan.
"Bee," her brother said softly, his voice catching with emotion. He stepped forward, and despite the dire situation, his face lit up with relief upon seeing her. "We've been searching for you everywhere, ever since you were..." He looked at her with a mixture of guilt and confusion, as if he could hardly believe the person standing before him was his sister.
John, her father, stood behind Alun, his rough hands clutched tightly together, the worry etched deep into his brow. He didn't speak immediately, his gaze scanning her over as though to ensure she was safe. After a long pause, he let out a sigh of relief. "Beca... I didn't know where you were, but this—" He motioned toward the lodging she was now in, and his tone softened, laced with both suspicion and gratitude. "This seems... better."
Beca smiled, a brittle, almost apologetic smile. "I'm well, Father. I'm safe. My lord has treated me well."
Alun, still young but with a sharp tongue, stepped forward with a question that stung more than she expected. "Has he... has he touched you?" His voice was low, tinged with worry and anger, a protective instinct that Beca knew all too well. Her brother's words hung in the air, thick with the accusation he didn't want to believe but feared.
Beca's breath caught in her throat. The question stung, but she forced herself to respond calmly, her voice steady as she spoke. "No. He has not touched me." Her eyes locked onto Alun's, and there was a quiet strength in her gaze as she spoke. "He has treated me well.
John's face softened as he stepped closer to Beca, a hand resting on her shoulder. "Are you sure, Bee?" His voice was filled with fatherly concern, the years of hardship weighing heavily on him as he sought reassurance.
Beca nodded, her heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice...., "I must repay him..."
Her father's expression darkened. "Repay him? We've just arrived after long and we hear you are witch!? Explain yourself!"
Beca hesitated for a moment before responding, her voice steady yet filled with an underlying sadness. "I was to be hanged.... And he paid the priest.."
Alun looked at her, his brow furrowed. "Even so, I don't like it, Bee," he admitted. "He's a noble and a son of that man, it's dangerous...we'll repay him, how much did he pay?"
"100 silver pennies" Beca replied bitterly.
John and Alun exchanged looks.
Alun finally nodded, though his concern still lingered. "Just promise me, Bee, that you'll be careful."
Beca smiled faintly, her heart heavy with the weight of the promise. "I will. I promise."
As her father and brother left, their expressions still etched with worry but somewhat comforted, Beca was left alone with her thoughts. She couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt as she watched them go, knowing how hard it had been for them.