Chapter 8: A Secret Pact
The candlelight in the dining hall had begun to dim, casting long shadows on the walls. The family dinner had ended, but Alden lingered, his mind still replaying the evening's conversation. The quiet approval from his father had been a relief, but he knew it was only the first hurdle. The real challenge was just beginning: how to gather enough resources to put his ideas into motion.
The hall was now empty, save for the lingering scent of roasted meat and spiced wine. As the last of the servants cleared the table, Alden steeled himself. He needed money—significant funds—to begin experimenting with his ideas on genetics, selective breeding, and the long-term improvement of the estate's crops. His family's backing would be essential, but he knew his parents would have very different reactions to his request.
With a deep breath, Alden made his way to the drawing room, where his mother and father were often found after dinner, enjoying a moment of quiet away from the world's demands. As he approached the room, he could hear the faint crackling of the fire and the low murmur of their voices. Gathering his courage, Alden knocked softly on the doorframe.
"Come in," Lord Eamon's voice called from within.
Alden entered the room, greeted by the warm glow of the hearth. His mother sat in her favourite chair, her sewing in hand, while his father stood by the window, gazing out into the twilight beyond. Lady Elara looked up with a soft smile, though Alden could sense the concern lingering behind her eyes.
"Alden," she said gently, "what brings you here?"
He hesitated only for a moment, then spoke with calm determination. "I need your support, Mother, Father. What I'm working on—it requires resources. Money. If I'm going to make real progress with the crops, I'll need to invest in better tools, seeds, and possibly hire help to expand the project."
Lady Elara's needle froze mid-stitch. She placed the fabric gently on her lap and looked at him with a stern but caring gaze.
"Alden," she began, her voice soft but firm, "I understand that you want to help the estate, and I admire your passion. But we can't afford to waste money on... on risky experiments. The estate has been under strain for years, and this drought is only making things worse. Every coin is precious right now."
"But Mother—"
"No," she interrupted, her tone growing sharper. "We've indulged your ideas long enough. Your father and I have responsibilities to this house, to our people. We cannot throw away funds on dreams of improving crops when we need to survive the present."
Alden felt a pang of frustration, but he remained calm. "What I'm working on isn't a dream, Mother. It's science. It will work. But I need the means to see it through."
Lady Elara sighed, her expression softening, though her resolve did not waver. "Your heart is in the right place, Alden, but these things take time. If your methods truly prove successful, then perhaps in the future... But not now. Not while the estate is struggling."
The finality in her voice was clear. She had made her decision, and there was no persuading her further tonight. Alden's chest tightened with frustration, but he knew pushing would do no good. His mother loved him, but she was also fiercely protective of the family's limited resources.
Lord Eamon had remained silent during the exchange, his gaze still fixed on the darkening sky outside. Alden's eyes flickered toward his father, searching for some sign of support. But Lord Eamon's face was inscrutable, giving away nothing.
With a quiet nod, Alden turned to leave the room, trying to hide his disappointment. "Thank you for listening," he said quietly, and made his way toward the door.
As he stepped into the dimly lit hallway, Alden heard his father's voice call after him, low and measured.
"Alden, wait."
He stopped, glancing back to see his father stepping away from the window and crossing the room toward him. Lord Eamon gave a quick glance towards Lady Elara, who had resumed her sewing, before motioning for Alden to follow him outside.
Curious and hopeful, Alden followed his father through the hall and out into the estate's courtyard. The cool night air greeted them as they walked in silence, the distant sounds of the estate's evening routines fading into the background.
Once they were far enough from the house, Lord Eamon turned to face Alden, his expression softer than it had been at dinner. "Your mother means well," he said quietly. "She worries about the estate, about our future. We've been through hard times, Alden. Harder than you know. But that doesn't mean she's right."
Alden's heart lifted slightly, but he remained cautious. "What do you mean, Father?"
Lord Eamon glanced around, as if making sure they were truly alone. Then, from within his coat, he pulled a small leather pouch. He handed it to Alden, its weight heavy in his hand, and the clink of coins unmistakable.
"This isn't much," Lord Eamon said, his voice low, "but it's enough to get you started. Your mother may not understand your vision, but I see it. I know there's potential in what you're doing, even if it's unconventional."
Alden stared at the pouch, shocked. He hadn't expected this, especially after the firm rejection from his mother. "Father... thank you. I won't let you down."
Lord Eamon's expression was grave, but there was a glint of pride in his eyes. "I believe you, son. But be careful. If this doesn't work... we won't have the luxury of second chances. Use this money wisely, and don't make your mother regret her decision."
Alden nodded, his grip tightening on the pouch. "I'll make it work. I promise."
Lord Eamon placed a hand on Alden's shoulder, his grip firm but reassuring. "Good. Now, go. Do what you need to do, but keep this between us. The estate is already stretched thin, and I don't want any rumours circulating about where our resources are going."
Alden nodded, understanding the gravity of his father's words. He slipped the pouch into his coat, feeling its weight against his chest. It wasn't much, but it was enough to take the first steps towards realising his dream.
As they parted ways, Alden felt a renewed sense of purpose surging within him. His father's support, though secret, was the validation he needed. With this small but crucial backing, he could begin his journey in earnest—one that would bring the world of genetics to life in this strange new land.
And now, with his father's quiet endorsement, Alden was more determined than ever to make his dream a reality. The world would see the beauty and power of genetics, and he would be the one to show them.
But first, he had to find a way to turn this small pouch of coins into something far greater. The real work was just beginning.
Chapter 9: Seeds of Progress
A few years had passed since Alden's quiet pact with his father, and the Harroway estate, though still burdened by the drought and political uncertainty, was no longer the same place. Neither was Alden. What had once been a half-formed dream, inspired by the fragmented knowledge of his past life, had started to materialise into something tangible. The subtle shifts in the land, the crops, and even the people reflected the quiet but determined changes Alden had set into motion.
The fields surrounding the estate, once dry and stubborn, now bore the signs of careful cultivation. Rows of crops, standing taller and greener than before, stretched across the land in orderly patterns, each patch reflecting years of experimentation and selective breeding. It had taken time—far more time than Alden had hoped—but the slow, deliberate process of nurturing plants more resistant to the drought was starting to pay off.
The seeds Alden had painstakingly selected and bred were beginning to bear fruit—both literally and metaphorically. Through careful observation, crossbreeding, and controlled trials, Alden had managed to introduce crops that not only survived the dry conditions but thrived in them. The wheat was hardier, the root vegetables deeper, and even the herbs had grown more resilient. Each new generation of crops was stronger than the last, and though the improvement was gradual, it was undeniable.
The estate's farmers, once sceptical, had slowly begun to embrace Alden's ideas. At first, there had been murmurs of doubt and unease—whispers that the third son of the Harroway family was meddling in things beyond his understanding. But as the years went on and the harvests grew more reliable, many had come to see Alden as a quiet revolutionary, even if they didn't fully comprehend the science behind his methods.
Alden stood at the edge of one such field now, surveying his work. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the landscape. He wiped the sweat from his brow and crouched down to inspect the wheat. The stalks were taller than they had been in previous seasons, their golden heads heavy with grain. He pinched one of the kernels between his fingers, feeling its firmness and knowing, with a sense of quiet satisfaction, that this was the result of years of patience and persistence.
But it wasn't just the crops that had changed. Alden himself had grown into his role. His once-sceptical family had seen the results of his work, and though his mother remained cautious, even she could no longer deny that Alden had brought some measure of stability back to their struggling estate. His father, though discreet, had continued to support him financially in secret, and Alden had learned to manage those resources carefully.
The small pouch of coins Lord Eamon had given him that night had been the seed money for something larger. Alden had used it wisely, investing in equipment, tools, and books—anything that could help him better understand the world he was now a part of. He had struck deals with traders from neighbouring towns, selling small portions of his improved crops to raise more funds. It wasn't much, but it allowed him to keep expanding his work without drawing too much attention.
Politically, however, the world around him remained as fragile as ever. The Harroways had always been a minor noble house, and the drought had only further weakened their standing. Other, wealthier houses continued to vie for influence, and rumours of unrest in the capital were frequent. The power structure of the kingdom was shifting, and Alden knew that his family's survival depended not just on the land, but on their ability to navigate the uncertain waters of politics.
Socially, Alden had remained somewhat of an enigma. To his siblings, especially Edmond and Gregory, he was still the quiet, often overlooked third son. Though they had seen the improvements he had brought to the estate, they still didn't quite understand him. Gregory, in particular, viewed Alden's long hours in the fields and his strange obsession with plants as eccentric at best. Edmond, ever focused on the traditional duties of nobility, saw Alden's work as something useful, but far beneath what a noble son should concern himself with.
Alden didn't mind. He had little interest in courtly matters, though he knew he would eventually have to engage with them more seriously. For now, his focus remained on his research.
And yet, despite the progress he had made, Alden's dream had only grown more ambitious. The dream he had experienced all those years ago—the vivid, almost ethereal vision of a world where genetics was respected and understood—still haunted him. He wanted more than just to improve the crops on his family's estate. He wanted to unlock the very secrets of life itself.
But to do that, he needed more than just patience and selective breeding. He needed resources, space, and time to conduct real experiments. He needed to expand his understanding of the magical properties that intertwined with the natural world in this realm. He had barely scratched the surface of the potential this world held, and his scientific mind burned with the desire to unravel its mysteries.
As Alden straightened up and gazed out across the fields, he knew that the next phase of his journey was upon him. The estate had been stabilised, and his experiments had proven successful, but it wasn't enough. He needed to grow beyond the confines of his family's lands, to find a way to finance a true laboratory—something on the scale of the great scientific minds of his previous life.
He thought of Mendel, quietly breeding peas in a monastery garden, and of Darwin, meticulously documenting life on the Galápagos Islands. They, too, had begun small, with careful observation and tireless work. But they had changed the course of human understanding. Alden wanted to do the same, and he knew it would require not just scientific prowess, but wealth and influence.
The question was: where would that money come from? Alden couldn't rely on his father's quiet support forever. He needed to find a way to secure larger, more consistent funding. And for that, he would need to enter the world of trade—perhaps even venture beyond the kingdom's borders.
Alden's mind raced with possibilities as he walked back towards the estate, the fields stretching behind him like a testament to what he had already achieved. The dream was within reach, but the path ahead was uncertain, full of risks and challenges he could scarcely predict.
But if there was one thing Alden had learned in these years, it was that change, though slow, was inevitable. And just as he had nurtured the crops through drought and hardship, he would nurture this dream—growing it, one step at a time, until the world saw the beauty and power of genetics.
The time had come to take the next leap.
Paragraph comment
Paragraph comment feature is now on the Web! Move mouse over any paragraph and click the icon to add your comment.
Also, you can always turn it off/on in Settings.
GOT IT