"Young Desislaf," the servant who had paused at the sight of the listless young noble finally spoke. But apart from the greeting, he did not seem to know what to say.

Worried he may be, but what slave would so familiarly insert themselves into a master's business without invitation? He could only make himself known, so that the young man would call upon him as needed.

A sun-tanned hand lifted from the yellow teak table and lifted a piece of paper from the midst of the parcel. A head full of dark curled locks lifted, showing red-rimmed eyes openly with a lack of care to who might see -- a shamelessness brought about by deep despondency.

The young noble desultorily waved the letter about and forced a smile. "Ah, Garun. Look at the news, it appears my father has all but disowned me."

The servant hesitated. "Young sir…"

He stopped his words and instead quickly poured a cup of cold young wine for the melancholy youth. Desislaf only sipped at it half-heartedly.

"He wrote the words 'your mother's son' as a compliment and compared me unfavorably to such an ideal. What a wretched child I am, to have failed not one parent but two."

The servant straightened and his features fell into thin-lipped anger, a cold rage the average servant would never dare show. "If I may, the lord only knew the Lady Emuti for her beauty. He did not stay long enough to know her thoughts or her heart. You are your mother's son, and there was none who could outshine her pride in you."

The young lord let a sigh cross his lips and his countenance briefly lightened.

They had known each other for many years, for Garun was his mother's friend. Desislaf had grown used to the man's defense of his mother Emuti, sixth wife of the Lord Rimet, celebrated beauty, and former slave.

His mother and the servant Garun met when the land Desislaf now lived on was beneficed upon his mother by his father when she bore him a son.

Back then, she had called him Defi. He liked it better than Desislaf.

It was a bittersweet thing, this gift of land that Defi only returned to when he failed the Sacred Trials two years ago.

The Sacred Trial was offered to all Current-adepts with aspirations to become warrior-priests, the defenders and leaders of the nation. The Current, the power of the Creator that flowed through the whole of the living world, would accept no less than the best to defend those that lived within the Creator's protection.

"And have we not established that I am not a good spice farmer?"

"Your beginnings may have been rough but in these two years you have learned the pulse of the land."

Defi looked away, ashamed of his behavior of two years ago. He changed the subject.

"Do you remember the announcement that the quota on farm produce had been raised?" It had come during the harvest, three months ago.

The question startled Garun by its suddenness but he answered readily. "Of course. It seems like blackspice has gained popularity beyond the Egrenua Gate. The city beyond Egrenua is consuming it by the rate of a hundredweight a day and they're paying its weight in gold. The lord Rimet seeks a similar profit, but wishes to introduce whitespice."

"To have a product rarer and selling more dearly than Egrenua, I suppose," Defi surmised moodily.

Garun was referring to the dimensional gates that connected the kingdom of Ontrea to the Otherworld. They were often called the World Gates.

There were three gates in the kingdom of Ontrea, guarded by powerful lords beholden only to the king. The lands of Rimet, Egrenua, and Terium all held a Gate, and the lords of those lands were made powerful and wealthy by the commerce that flowed between the worlds.

The Rimet Gate and the Egrenua Gate both devolved into the same country on the other side, and were subsequent rivals for trade treaties and travel access.

Ascharon! cried the merchant retainers of Rimet, those who were allowed to cross the Gate. Land of wonder and mystery!

But the Egrenua Gate opened near a city and the Rimet Gate to a mining town that was accessed only by a river. Even if it was a gold mining town, the ease of travel of the two Gates was different, and that meant preferential trade treaties went to Egrenua.

Defi's father always fumed because the Lord Egrenua always gleefully threw this one fact into conversation as much as he could. His lone rebuttal was 'Rimet is known for its warriors, not its money-grubbing' even as he fought as hard for those treaties as he did for glory on the battlefield.

Perhaps that was why he was so invested in his children becoming warriors.

Tradition and politics.

Defi hated politics when politics said his mother, because she used to be a slave, was inherently less than his father's other wives. He disliked the tradition that said he was not allowed to see her from the age of ten until the age of sixteen.

He did not even have that anticipated sixteenth year. She died when he was fourteen and he could only watch as her body burned to free her soul to the Three Heavens.

A suspicion grew in the servant's mind. "Young lord, could it be that…they assessed your spice at the new quota?"

When the young noble only laughed humorlessly, Garun's face darkened. "It cannot be. Raising the quota near harvest time…it is understood that it applies to the next season! We sent in more than enough to double the regular quota. Young sir, the profit…"

The farms belonging directly to the Rimet family, whether leased to family members or retainers, had a standard amount of its produce taxed to the lord's coffers; the quota.

Defi's mother was given a family farm as a benefice and consistently was one of the top producers of blackspice in the family because her talent in the Current leaned toward gardening.

It was that same farm that was granted to Defi as a leasehold after his mother died. After he failed the Trials, he was granted additional farmland at the borders of the property. Some may say it was a sign of his father's favor but to Defi, it was the lord of Rimet saying he would not amount to much more than a farmer.

The implied insult had angered Defi and it had taken months to work through that anger. By now, Defi knew his father's ways well.

"My father has spoken. In his eyes, I sent in barely more than the common standard. By his standard, I have once more failed. He did not agree to my entry into this year's Trials, seeing the failures I have already incurred."

Garun's jaw tightened in silent anger at those who put the misery in the young man's voice. He spoke encouragement. "We still have the northern fields. We could harvest the berries for blackspice. It's not as valuable as the white but it is now bought at seven silver coins per half-pound from farmers. Other condiments, the chillies, even the price of the cheapest lemongrass has risen."

"No," Defi said, defeat rife in his tone. "The lord of Rimet proclaims; he does not negotiate, especially not with failed sons. There is no changing this. Besides, we both know the quality of the northern fields is poorer than most."

The Creator gave them the world to live in and gifted them the Current to help preserve it. This was the first teaching of the Church and even five-year-olds could recite it.

It was known that the Current responded to will. In his anger, while using the Current as he farmed, he had tainted the land in the northern fields and caused its fertility to wither.

He was so ashamed that he did not uproot the plants that grew there, leaving them as a reminder of his thoughtless actions. Instead, he sought to remove the taint through proper use of the Current. It was a long and tiring process, but he had learned much since then.

Those who did the world ill were punished. Now, Defi was seeing the consequences of his anger and rashness. He felt a frisson of shame course through him. What would he do now?

Should he have replanted after he came to his senses last year? He shook his head. It would've been a waste of money to uproot the mature bushes and replace them. He was not one to smooth out his mistakes with gold.

The profit of a spice farmer was one of the highest in the kingdom, but the spice bushes needed quite a bit of investment in the early stages off growth. Even now, they needed to borrow from the agricultural council to plant new seedlings next year.

The produce they sent in, at the present quota, would have given them enough gold to pay the debts and nurture the seedlings with the best fertilizers and the best shelters.

Now, even if they dug into the gold reserved for unexpected calamities they had barely enough to get the seed-houses ready and replant the old fields.

"Should we open more fields for the next harvest?"

"Open more fields?" Defi lifted his head. Opening more fields meant petitioning the lord of the land for expansion, in addition to the land already granted. His eyes sparked, and suddenly his despondent languidness was as if never there. "That is tantamount to giving up. It will not happen."

"Then what are we going to do?"

"If father will not enter me into the Trials, then I'll enter myself. The Temple only requires that the candidate have understanding of the Current and an age not past their nineteenth year. The ritual cleansing is expensive but even without edging into farm funds, my personal savings are enough. Once I pass the Trials, the reward will be sufficient for the farm to expand."

As a fully-fledged warrior-priest, he would have other duties of course, and the farm management would be left to Garun as overseer.

He thumped his fist on the table repeatedly, thinking furiously. Was it proper of a noble, to be this desperate for coin?

The package on the table contained twenty fingers of gold from his eldest sister and a still unopened box from his eldest brother but with the letter that came with it, it felt distasteful to use the contents.

"Young lord, perhaps we should wait until next year's harvest? There is no need to use your own gold."

That was to say, even his farm overseer knew how little Defi had, even as a son of Rimet's lord. This was one of the reasons he had taken his hands, the hands of a born noble, to farming. He had to; the farm was his only source of income apart from the allowance given to all the lord's children.

Defi stood abruptly at that embarrassment, defiant and determined. "Garun. This year, I will enter the trials, and this year, I will pass them. I will bet everything. There is no room for failure, therefore I will succeed."

"For your father?"

Defi shook his head, a single vehement motion. "I am eighteen, fully adult. I have begged enough, only to be refused. To give him this victory will only see it useless; it will not raise my worth in my father's eyes. I will do this for my own advancement."

Garun looked at his young master, his friend's only child, his charge. Feelings of pride and worry suffused his heart.

My friend, he thought, your son has grown.