Weaves of Ashes

Chapter 118: Chapter 113: The Demonstration

Location: Tardide Village

Time: Day 535 | Telia: Day 25

Realm: Telia (Mission World)

The morning air carried a tension that had nothing to do with weather. Tardide buzzed with nervous energy—villagers sweeping already-clean streets, straightening already-straight fences, checking and rechecking preparations that had been perfect hours ago.

President Andillevé was coming. Today. To their village.

Jayde stood at the edge of the demonstration field, watching Master Whitestone and his apprentice boys make final adjustments to the plow. The machine gleamed in early sunlight, polished metal and oiled wood, every joint checked and rechecked until the old smith had declared it ”good enough to show the gods themselves.”

”Relax,” she told Torin, who was fussing with the blade assembly for the third time. ”It works. We tested it yesterday, the day before, and the day before that. It’s not going to suddenly fail.”

”But what if it does?” The boy’s hands trembled slightly as he tightened a bolt that didn’t need tightening. ”What if something breaks in front of the President? What if he regrets licensing it?”

Performance anxiety. Common in high-stakes demonstrations. Counterproductive but understandable.

(He’s scared. They all are. The President already paid ten thousand gold based on plans alone. This has to work.)

”Then we fix it,” Jayde said simply. ”Right there, in front of everyone. Show them that problems can be solved, that setbacks aren’t failures. But it won’t break, Torin. You built it well.”

The boy looked up at her, eyes wide and hopeful. ”You really think so?”

”I know so. The President believed in it enough to license it based on drawings alone. Now we prove his faith was justified.”

A commotion at the village gates drew everyone’s attention. Riders approached—a full entourage, at least thirty people. Horses and wagons, guards in polished armor, merchants eager to see the technology they’d been hearing about for weeks.

And at the center, riding side by side, two familiar faces: President Andillevé and Counsellor Andillevé, coming to see Tardide for the first time.

First village visit. Primary objective: Demonstrate technology validates licensing agreement. Secondary objective: Strengthen alliance through successful performance. Tertiary objective: Make positive first impression of village capabilities.

”They’re here,” Master Whitestone breathed, straightening his smithing apron. ”Time to show them we weren’t selling dreams.”

Elder Ryunzo emerged from his home already dressed in his finest, a broad smile on his weathered face. These weren’t strangers—they’d spent hours in negotiations in Oldstrand’s tea room. But this was the President’s first time seeing what his investment had purchased.

The entourage rode through the gates, and Tardide’s entire population—three hundred souls plus the construction workers—erupted in genuine welcome. Cheers and waves, children running alongside the horses, the atmosphere celebratory rather than formal.

President Andillevé dismounted with practiced ease, and Jayde watched his eyes sweep across the village with obvious assessment. Taking it all in for the first time. New construction rising from quarried stone. Expanded fields stretching toward the horizon. The general atmosphere of industry and hope that had replaced desperation.

”Elder Ryunzo!” The President’s voice was warm, genuinely pleased. ”So this is Tardide. I must say, it’s already more impressive than I expected.”

”Thanks to the partnership you offered.” Elder Ryunzo clasped the President’s hand firmly. ”The licensing payment gave us capital to expand. We’ve already broken ground on housing for the orphans.”

”Speaking of which—” The Counsellor looked around with open curiosity, clearly taking in everything. ”The adoption preparations? We’ve identified over five hundred children in Oldstrand’s orphanages who need homes. Your village is... smaller than I expected for such an ambitious undertaking.”

”Three hundred families ready and waiting,” Mrs. Ryunzo announced, stepping forward. ”Size isn’t what matters—heart is. We’ll take as many as you can send.”

The President’s expression softened as he looked around properly—at the modest homes, the hardworking villagers, the signs of recent poverty giving way to cautious prosperity. ”You’re serious. A village that was struggling to feed itself two months ago is preparing to adopt three hundred orphans.”

”We’re already doing it,” Elder Ryunzo said simply. ”Your alliance made it possible.”

President Andillevé turned to Jayde, and his sharp eyes held both respect and wonder. ”Lady Jayde. When we met in Oldstrand, when you showed me those plans and described this vision... I confess, I wondered if perhaps the village you represented was more fiction than fact. Ten thousand gold is a substantial investment in an unknown location based on drawings and promises.”

First impression management critical. Village appearance matters for ongoing relationship. Need to demonstrate capability despite modest scale.

”Then let’s prove Tardide is very real,” Jayde said with a slight smile. ”And that our promises have substance. The plow is ready. Would you like to see what you purchased?”

”Gods, yes.” The Counsellor practically vibrated with anticipation. ”And I’d like to see these herb fields you mentioned. If the village itself can transform like this, I’m eager to see what else you’ve accomplished.”

”Tour first, demonstration second?” Master Whitestone suggested. ”Give you a sense of what we’re building here.”

***

They walked through Tardide, Jayde and Elder Ryunzo leading the President and his entourage through streets that showed transformation in progress.

”That’s the quarry stone,” Master Whitestone explained, pointing at construction sites. ”Three days of work with Lady Jayde’s help. Fifty buildings’ worth. Would’ve taken six months normally.”

”Remarkable.” The President examined the quality, running his hand over smooth-cut granite. ”And you discovered a coal deposit as well?”

”Exactly where Lady Jayde predicted,” Elder Ryunzo confirmed. ”Massive seam. Enough fuel for generations.”

They passed the expanded herb fields—fifty hectares of cultivated land where weeks before had been fallow ground. Young plants growing in neat rows, irrigation channels dug with precision, the whole operation showing careful planning.

”Afeaso, Sapphire Bloom, Golden Mallow,” Mrs. Ryunzo listed, walking alongside. ”First harvest in three weeks. Quality testing shows purity levels twenty percent higher than the current market standard.”

A merchant made rapid notes, clearly calculating profit margins.

The forge came next, where Master Whitestone’s apprentices were already at work despite the President’s visit—dedication to craft more important than impressing dignitaries.

”Seven orphan boys,” Whitestone said with obvious pride. ”Learning smithing, carpentry, and engineering. They built the plow you’re about to see. Under supervision, but their hands did the work.”

The President stopped, watching the boys hammer metal with focused concentration. ”You’re training them. Actually training them in valuable skills.”

”Of course,” Jayde said, as if any other approach would be insane. ”What’s the point of rescuing children if you don’t give them futures? They need skills, purpose, pride in their work.”

Educational infrastructure. Skill transfer. Economic sustainability through trained workforce. Federation standard practice. Apparently revolutionary here.

The Counsellor scribbled more notes. ”We could implement this model across Oldstrand’s territory. Every village training orphans in trades rather than just... housing them until they’re old enough to conscript or discard.”

”That’s the idea,” Elder Ryunzo agreed. ”Orphans aren’t burdens. They’re future craftsmen, farmers, teachers, and leaders. You just have to invest in them.”

The tour ended at the demonstration field, where the plow waited like a promise made manifest.

***

The demonstration field was five hectares of prepared ground—cleared, marked, and measured precisely. Enough to showcase capability without wasting an entire day. The plow sat ready, the two Bildeson harnessed and calm, and Jayde’s demonstration team assembled.

Torin and Master Whitestone would operate the plow itself. Elder Ryunzo’s son Jinan would guide the Bildeson. And Jayde would supervise, available for any adjustments, but letting the villagers do the actual work.

Tactical decision: Let them see village capabilities, not just contractor abilities. Demonstrates sustainability and transferable knowledge.

The President and Counsellor took positions in the viewing area—a simple raised platform that gave clear sightlines. The merchant entourage spread out around them, most looking eager rather than skeptical—they’d heard the claims, seen the plans, and now wanted to witness reality.

”Five hectares,” the Counsellor said, consulting notes from their previous meeting. ”You claimed completion in three to four hours with three operators. Two weeks of work by ten men, compressed into one morning.”

”Not claimed,” Elder Ryunzo corrected gently. ”Guaranteed. We’ve tested it extensively. Ready to prove every specification we promised.”

The President leaned forward, eyes intense. ”Then let’s see if my ten thousand gold was well spent.”

”Begin when ready,” the President said.

Master Whitestone looked at Jayde, who nodded. The old smith took a deep breath, steadied himself, and gave Jinan the signal.

The Bildeson leaned into their harness. The plow moved forward.

And the blade bit into earth like it was born to do exactly that.

Clean. Smooth. Perfect. The furrow opened behind the plow, deep and even, soil turned in precisely the right way for planting. The machine moved at a steady walking pace, neither rushed nor slow, just... efficient.

Torin and Master Whitestone held the handles with practiced ease, making minor adjustments to keep the line straight. Jinan guided the Bildeson with soft clicks and gentle tugs, the beasts responding like they’d been doing this for years instead of days.

The first pass completed. They turned, lined up for the second, and continued.

The laughter stopped.

Silence fell over the viewing area—the kind of silence that comes when people witness something that changes their understanding of what’s possible. Merchants leaned forward, watching intently. Guards forgot their professional stoicism, staring openly.

The President and Counsellor sat frozen, eyes tracking every movement.

Hook established. Target’s attention fully engaged. Maintain demonstration quality.

Pass after pass, the plow worked. An hour passed. Two. The sun climbed higher, warming the spring morning, and still the machine performed flawlessly. No breaks. No failures. Just steady, relentless progress.

Jayde stood watching, arms crossed, letting her work speak for itself. Reiko lay beside her, tail swishing lazily, radiating smug satisfaction through their bond.

[They’re impressed,] he observed.

Affirmative. Facial expressions indicate significant recalibration of expectations. Success probability increasing.

(Look at Master Whitestone’s face. He’s so proud. And Torin—the boy’s practically glowing.)

By hour three, the merchants had stopped murmuring. They just watched, calculating, minds clearly racing with implications. How many they could sell. Where. For how much.

The President leaned toward his son, speaking quietly. The Counsellor nodded, pulled out a small journal, and began making notes.

Alliance probability: 87%. Protection agreement likelihood: 92%. Trade negotiations: Guaranteed.

The final furrow was completed exactly three hours and twelve minutes after the first. Master Whitestone brought the plow to a halt, and for a moment, nobody moved. The demonstration team stood by their machine, sweat-soaked and nervous, waiting for reaction.

Then the applause began.

Not polite clapping. Real applause—the kind that comes from witnessing genuine achievement. The merchants stood, some of them shouting approval. Guards joined in, their disciplined demeanor cracking to show actual enthusiasm.

And President Andillevé stood slowly, his weathered face transformed by wonder.

”I...” His voice caught. He cleared his throat, tried again. ”I have never seen anything like this. Never even imagined something like this was possible.”

”Eighty hectares per week,” the Counsellor breathed, still clutching his journal. ”One machine could do the work of...” He calculated frantically. ”One hundred forty men. One machine.”

”Imagine every farm in Oldstrand’s territory equipped with these,” a merchant called out. ”Food production could triple! Maybe quadruple!”

”Famines would end,” another added. ”Actual end, not just... mitigate.”

The President walked to the demonstration field, knelt, and picked up a handful of the turned soil. Crumbled it between his fingers, studying the consistency.

”Perfect planting depth. Clean furrows. No compaction, no missed spots.” He looked up at Master Whitestone with something like awe. ”You built this? Here, in this village?”

”Lady Jayde designed it,” the old smith said, voice thick with emotion. ”I just... I just followed her instructions and adapted it to local materials. Any competent blacksmith could build one, given the plans.”

”Then we need those plans.” The President stood, brushed soil from his hands. ”We need them distributed to every smith in our territory. We need—” He stopped himself, laughed shakily. ”Forgive me. I’m getting ahead of myself. This is... transformative. Do you understand? This technology will transform our entire agricultural system.”

Affirmative. Economic revolution initiated. Proceeding exactly as projected.

”Every city in Telia will want these,” the Counsellor added, his calculating eyes now showing naked excitement. ”Not just Oldstrand. Everywhere. The demand will be...” He shook his head, unable to find words.

”Then let’s discuss terms,” Elder Ryunzo said quietly, and suddenly every merchant’s attention snapped to him.

***

They moved to Elder Ryunzo’s home to discuss implementation details—the President, the Counsellor, three senior merchants, Elder Ryunzo, Master Whitestone, and Jayde. Mrs. Ryunzo served tea with steady hands, smiling at the transformation in atmosphere since their first nervous meeting in Oldstrand.

”Well,” the President said, setting down his cup with satisfaction. ”My doubts are thoroughly eliminated. That was worth every copper of the licensing fee.”

”More than worth it,” one merchant added eagerly. ”We need to start taking orders immediately. Every farm in our territory will want one.”

”Production capacity first,” Master Whitestone cautioned. ”We can build ten plows over the next two weeks using current forge capacity. After that, we’ll need to expand—hire more smiths, establish dedicated manufacturing.”

The Counsellor made rapid notes. ”What if we provide additional forges? Set up satellite production in Oldstrand itself? Your designs, our facilities, coordinated manufacturing.”

Scaling strategy. Logical approach. Maintains quality control while increasing output. Recommend: Accept with oversight provisions.

”Acceptable,” Jayde said, ”provided Master Whitestone oversees quality standards. Every plow must meet specifications. No shortcuts, no cheap materials to increase profit margins.”

”Agreed.” The President’s tone was firm. ”This technology’s value lies in reliability. Faulty plows would destroy trust and market demand simultaneously.”

”Speaking of market demand,” a merchant ventured, ”what about export beyond Oldstrand’s territory? Other regions will hear about this. They’ll want to purchase licensing rights themselves.”

The room fell silent as everyone looked at Jayde.

Expansion opportunity. Secondary markets. Exponential growth potential. But also: Increased complexity, quality control challenges, and political complications. Recommendation: Proceed cautiously with tiered licensing structure.

”One region at a time,” Jayde said carefully. ”Establish Oldstrand’s production and distribution first. Prove the system works at scale. Then... then we can discuss expanding to other territories. But Tardide retains design ownership, and any secondary licensing agreements require our approval.”

”Fair enough.” The President nodded. ”We move too fast, we risk quality problems or market saturation. Better to build a strong foundation first.”

”Now, about the orphans,” Mrs. Ryunzo interjected smoothly. ”When can we coordinate the selection process?”

The Counsellor flipped through his journal. ”How soon can you come to Oldstrand? We’ve identified over five hundred children in the orphanages who need homes, plus approximately fifty war veterans in similar circumstances. But we’ll need your input on selection—particularly Master Rainer’s expertise for identifying the magically gifted.”

”We can leave tomorrow,” Elder Ryunzo said immediately. ”Myself, Master Rainer, and Lady Jayde. Three days for selection and organization should be sufficient.”

”Excellent.” The Counsellor made notes. ”I’ll arrange access to all orphanages and coordinate with the veterans’ housing. We’ll provide transportation and supplies for the return journey—however many you select.”

”Three hundred children minimum,” Mrs. Ryunzo said firmly. ”Plus, the veterans, if they’re willing. We have families ready to adopt.”

”Three hundred fifty people,” the President said slowly, calculating logistics. ”That’s... that’s a massive undertaking.”

”Tardide doesn’t do things halfway,” Jayde said. ”If we’re going to transform this village, we transform it properly.”

”The veterans will provide valuable skills,” Elder Ryunzo added. ”Combat training, defensive tactics. We’re building prosperity, but we need the ability to protect it.”

”Smart thinking.” The President’s expression turned serious. ”Which brings me to the protection agreement. It’s official now—signed and sealed. Any threat to Tardide is a threat to Oldstrand. We’ve assigned a garrison commander to coordinate with your village. He’ll arrive next week with forty soldiers for permanent posting.”

Military support. Substantial commitment. Indicates genuine alliance rather than exploitative relationship. Success probability for village security: 93%.

”Forty soldiers,” Master Whitestone breathed. ”That’s... that’s more than we hoped for.”

”You’re sitting on revolutionary technology,” the President said bluntly. ”Technology that will transform agriculture across Telia. Other warlords will notice. Some will try diplomacy. Others...” He shrugged. ”Others will try force. We’re making sure force fails.”

”What about the herb distribution partnership?” another merchant asked. ”Sixty-forty split, Tardide’s favor. When can we see the fields? Assess quality?”

Elder Ryunzo smiled. ”This afternoon, if you’d like. We have fifty hectares under cultivation. Afeaso, Sapphire Bloom, Golden Mallow, Wolf Seed, Monk’s Bloom. Quality exceeds anything currently available in Oldstrand’s markets.”

The merchants exchanged glances—calculation and excitement mixing visibly.

”If the herbs match the plow’s quality,” one said slowly, ”we’re looking at complete market dominance in medicinal supplies. Every healer will want Tardide herbs.”

”Then everyone benefits,” Jayde said. ”Tardide prospers. Oldstrand’s treasury prospers. Healers get better supplies. Patients get better treatment. Ethical economic model where success is shared, not hoarded.”

The President studied her with those sharp eyes. ”Your master taught you unusual economics for a hermit mage.”

Deflection required. Cover story must hold.

”He believed knowledge should serve people, not control them. That prosperity should spread, not concentrate. He was... unconventional.”

”Unconventional.” The President chuckled. ”That’s one word for it. Whoever he was, he raised someone extraordinary.”

(If only they knew. Federation economics, military training, and sixty years of experience. But the hermit story works. Let it work.)

***

The celebration feast that night was unlike anything Tardide had ever known. Tables stretched across the village square, laden with food and drink—some brought by the merchants’ entourage, some contributed by villagers eager to share their growing prosperity.

Music played. People danced. Children ran wild with excitement, high on sugar and joy. The apprentice boys clustered around their plow, accepting praise from merchants and guards alike, glowing with pride.

Jayde sat slightly apart, watching the celebration with quiet satisfaction. Reiko lay beside her, accepting tribute in the form of endless meat scraps from grateful villagers.

[Good work,] he observed.

Mission parameters exceeded. Alliance confirmed through successful demonstration. Village safety established. Economic prosperity validated. Technology transfer completed. Performance rating: Exemplary.

(We proved it works. Everything we promised in Oldstrand—we delivered.)

The President approached, two cups of wine in hand. He offered one to Jayde, settling beside her with the comfortable ease of someone who’d moved past formality into genuine respect.

”To successful partnerships,” he said, raising his cup.

”To keeping promises,” Jayde countered, raising hers.

They drank, the wine sweet and strong, warming in the cool evening air.

”You know,” the President said conversationally, ”when you showed me those plans in Oldstrand, I believed maybe seventy percent of what you claimed. The designs were sound, your confidence genuine, but...” He chuckled. ”But I’ve been a politician for forty years. I’ve seen thousands of promises. Most disappoint.”

Honesty appreciated. Shows character development. Trust earned through performance rather than words.

”And now?” Jayde asked.

”Now I believe one hundred ten percent.” His voice held wonder. ”Because you somehow exceeded specifications. Three hours and twelve minutes for five hectares. You promised three to four hours. And the furrow quality—Master Whitestone was right. Perfect consistency.”

”The technology works as designed,” Jayde said simply. ”We don’t make promises we can’t keep.”

”No, you don’t.” He studied her with those sharp eyes. ”Two weeks ago, in that tea room, you negotiated like a seasoned diplomat. Today, you delivered like a master engineer. And according to my son’s reports, you’ve organized an orphan rescue operation that puts our best bureaucrats to shame.”

He paused, clearly choosing words carefully. ”Who are you, really? Because ’hermit mage’s apprentice’ doesn’t fully explain this.”

Gentle probe. Curiosity rather than suspicion. Threat level: Low. Recommended response: Deflect with partial truth.

(Careful. Cover story must hold.)

”Someone who believes people deserve better than what most societies offer them,” Jayde said, which was completely honest. ”Someone who has knowledge and skills, and chooses to use them helping rather than controlling.”

”Your master must have been extraordinary.”

”He was.” Truth and lie blended seamlessly. ”He taught me that power without compassion is tyranny, and knowledge without sharing is theft.”

The President was quiet for a moment, watching the celebration. ”You’re changing the world, Lady Jayde. This village, these technologies, this approach to economics and society... it’s all going to spread. Other regions will notice. They’ll want what Tardide has.”

”Let them have it,” Jayde said. ”Knowledge should spread. Prosperity should be shared. The more villages that transform, the better for everyone.”

”Even if it means other warlords become stronger? Other regions more prosperous than mine?”

Test question. Assessing motivation. Wants to understand if this is a calculated political play or genuine idealism.

”Especially then,” Jayde said firmly. ”Because prosperity doesn’t require someone else’s poverty. Success doesn’t demand someone else’s failure. The world isn’t a finite resource to fight over—it’s a garden that grows better when everyone tends it.”

The President laughed, genuine and delighted. ”My advisors would call you dangerously naive. My son thinks you’re either a genius or mad—possibly both. But me?” He raised his cup again. ”I think you’re exactly what Telia needs. Someone who remembers that civilization is supposed to serve people, not the other way around.”

Philosophical alignment confirmed. Alliance not merely economic but ideological. Long-term partnership probability: Excellent.

”Then help me,” Jayde said. ”Not just Tardide. All of Oldstrand’s territory. Every village, every farm, every person. Use these technologies to lift everyone up. That’s what the partnership should mean.”

”Done.” His voice was absolute. ”We’ll start with agricultural distribution—get plows to farms that need them most. Then medicine. Then whatever else you develop, because I’m now certain you’ll develop more.”

”Harvester design is next,” Jayde admitted. ”Mechanical crop collection. Should be ready in a month.”

The President actually choked on his wine. ”You have a harvester?”

”Prototype designs. Not tested yet. But theoretically sound.”

”Gods above and below.” He shook his head, grinning. ”My treasury is going to be very busy. And very, very happy.”

They sat together watching the celebration. Master Whitestone danced with Mrs. Ryunzo, both laughing like young people. The apprentice boys formed a circle, showing off moves that were more enthusiasm than skill. Even Elder Ryunzo had abandoned his usual dignity, clapping along to the music with unrestrained joy.

Success metrics: Comprehensive. Community morale: Excellent. Alliance strength: High. Technology validation: Complete. Future prospects: Exceptional.

”I need to check on something,” Jayde said, standing. ”But thank you. For believing in us. For investing in people rather than just extracting from them.”

”Thank you for showing me it was possible.” The President’s expression grew serious. ”The world is harsh, Lady Jayde. Full of cruelty and exploitation. People like you—people who actually try to make things better—are rare. Don’t lose that. Don’t let the world make you cynical.”

(Too late. Already was cynical. But found reasons to hope again.)

Federation principle: Cynicism and idealism are not opposites. One can acknowledge systemic failures while working toward systemic improvement.

”I’ll try,” Jayde promised, which was the best answer she could offer.

She walked toward the forest edge, Reiko following. Time to visit the cave, check on Yinxin and the wyrmlings. She’d promised to come every evening, and the little dragons got anxious if she was late.

[The wyrmlings learned to hover today,] Reiko mentioned as they entered the trees. [Tianxin figured it out first, of course. Then Shenxin tried to copy her and crashed into a stalagmite.]

(Is he okay?)

[Just his pride was hurt. Huaxin laughed at him for ten minutes straight.]

Dragon social development proceeding normally. Sibling rivalry patterns establishing. Indicates healthy emotional bonding and security.

(Good. They deserve to grow up happy.)

The sounds of celebration faded behind them as they moved deeper into the forest, toward the hidden cave where an ancient silver dragon waited with her children. Two worlds, Jayde thought—the village transforming into prosperity, and the secret family hidden in stone and shadow.

Both precious. Both worth protecting.

Both hers to defend.

The plow demonstration had succeeded. The alliance was confirmed. Tardide’s future looked brighter than ever.

And tomorrow, they’d continue building something even better.