The potato fields were thriving. Rows of green sprouted from the once-barren soil of Merriton, swaying gently in the early morning wind. Jack stood silently among them, his hands in his pockets, gaze distant. He should have felt pride—hope, even. Instead, an oppressive weight clung to his chest.
Kael's voice echoed in his mind.
"You're planting foreign crops without court approval? That's reckless, Jack. It borders on treason."
Treason.
Jack clenched his fists.
He had seen what accusations like that did—on Earth, rebellions had been born from far less. The fall of monarchies, the rise of dictators, the streets painted red all started from something small—a bread line, a whisper of hunger, a spark.
He stared at his callused hands, stained with soil.
Monologue:
I didn't come here to lead a rebellion. I didn't even come here willingly. All I wanted was to live quietly, maybe make up for the wreckage left behind by the man who wore my face. Now... I might be feeding flames I can't put out.
---
Flashback: One Month Ago
Jack remembered the day Kael arrived. He was younger than expected—early twenties, rough around the edges, sharp-eyed. Unlike the polished nobility, Kael carried the street in his bones.
"You're not like the others," Jack had remarked.
Kael shrugged. "That's because I'm not supposed to be here. Bastard of a tavern maid. Drafted into city watch because I could swing a blade without losing my fingers. They needed someone who wouldn't bow to titles, and here I am—babysitting the general's husband."
They had shared a tense chuckle then.
But Kael had proved himself. Loyal, clever, and above all, honest. So when he raised concerns about rebellion, Jack listened.
---
Back in the present, Jack walked through the town, passing cautious glances from townsfolk. Even now, after months of change, suspicion clung to him like a shadow. He was still the man they had feared—the name, at least.
Rykor followed silently, as always.
"You think I'm stirring a revolt?" Jack asked, his voice soft.
Rykor considered. "I think you're trying to feed people. But men in power don't like movements they didn't start."
Jack sighed. "Kael said the same. Maybe he's right. Maybe planting potatoes is enough to make enemies."
Rykor smirked faintly. "Then they fear vegetables more than swords."
---
Town Elders' Meeting
Jack stood before the elders of Merriton in the worn council hall. Kael leaned on a nearby pillar, arms folded.
"You've all heard the rumors," Jack began. "That I'm raising a rebellion with roots and fields. I'm not. I've no army, no banners. Just a town that needed food."
Belek, the oldest among them, narrowed his eyes. "Intentions don't matter when men in cloaks decide your fate."
"Then they can come see for themselves," Jack snapped. "Come see starving children and ask if cabbage counts as conspiracy."
A long silence.
Then Belek grunted. "You're reckless. But I'd rather follow a fool with food than a lord with famine."
---
Later that night, Jack sat by candlelight, penning a letter.
To His Majesty, King Alric,
If feeding your people is a crime, then I accept my punishment. But I ask—what kind of kingdom fears a farm? I have no soldiers, only seeds. No ambition, only duty. But I do remember what happens when hunger goes unanswered.
—Jack Valorin
He sealed it and handed it to Damon.
"Take this straight to the King. No one else."
Damon hesitated. "What if they try to arrest me?"
"Tell them you serve a dangerous man armed with potatoes."
---
As the moon rose, Jack wandered the streets. He passed a young girl gnawing on roasted tuber, her eyes bright. An old man leaned out from a window, watching him with a nod—not welcoming, but no longer hostile.
Kael met him at the end of the road.
"You sent the letter," he said.
"I did."
Kael kicked a rock. "Still think this isn't rebellion?"
Jack met his gaze. "If it is, it's the quietest one in history."
Kael didn't answer, but he didn't look angry either. Just wary.
"You know they won't care about your intent, right? The nobles... they'll twist anything to stop change."
Jack nodded. "Then let them twist. I'll keep digging."
---
That night, Jack couldn't sleep. Images of Earth's history spun through his mind—Marie Antoinette, starving riots, collapses from within. And yet, he also remembered something else:
Those who took the risk to feed others—even in the face of power—were remembered.
Not as rebels.
As leaders.
---
Jack didn't want to be remembered. He only wanted the children in Merriton to survive another winter.
But history had a habit of repeating itself.
And this time, he was standing in its path.