A human, once a wealthy aristocrat, is begging in the streets now. They'd made mistakes, big mistakes, and now begged the Elven wizard and hir friends for help. They were truly sorry for what they did. What help did they want? Money? Power? No. Even though they were broke, they were trying to save those they, themselves, had impoverished, before it was too late. -- Anon Guest
Some in rags, and some in tags, and one in a velvet gown... The robe had once fit a much larger person. Now it hung on them like a tent. The grime of the streets turned the frayed hems dark, and the signs of other, thrown debris littered what had once been a very nice blue velvet. She had a charity box that she rattled at anyone who paused long enough to stare.
"Alms? Alms for the needy? Help the poor?"
An Elf stopped completely, staring at a face that had long since gone thin. Frowning. This person did not have the charity box shoved into their face.
"Wraithvine," the beggar breathed as if the name was an answer to a prayer. "Great wizard, you may be able to help me."
"Duchess Muniadona ap Cadfan?" Wraithvine frowned. "I'm sure I didn't make you do this."
"Oh, you have taught me the error of my ways very well. I tore down the gold from my palace and turned it into a hospice. I melted the gold to pay for food and blankets. I turned my lands into farms to feed the hungry, but it isn't enough. It's never enough. They come flooding in for help, and I have nothing left. My carriage horses pull ploughs, my wardrobe has swaddled so many babies. There's too many who need... and not enough. Never enough..."
Wraithvine sighed, "I did warn you. Once your eyes were open to suffering and your heart was no longer closed to it, there would be no going back."
"I said, Do your worst, and you did. The people still need help, blame or no blame. If you cannot help those who need, then teach me what you know to help all of those in my lands."
"I have some lessons to teach," Wraithvine allowed. "Lead the way. We shall do what we can."
It was a mess. The Duchess had done the most blatant and obvious patches to the suffering of those without. Everything she said, she had done. That was true. But the way she had done it was the error.
The gold was spent too quickly. The hostel soon overrun by people who needed and could not give. As for the estate farmlands... what wasn't grazed bare was incompatible with growing food. Thousands of feet turned it all into mud. Beggars begging from each other.
What she needed was organisation. "Chickens," said Wraithvine. "Chickens and hogs. They'll turn the land fertile with the right management. Did you learn anything about crop rotation?"
The answer was plainly 'no'.
A Druid could assist in the short term. Convincing the right plants to grow in the right fields. Leafy plants in one plot, fruiting vines in the next, root vegetables thereafter, and legumes last before a year left fallow. The cows, sheep, and goats would graze, then the hogs and chickens would eradicate the weeds. All the animals would enrich the soil in the process.
"Nothing goes to waste," said Wraithvine. "Multiple plots with multiple crops will keep everyone fed with a minimum of fuss. There should be adequate milk, wool, and meat for everyone's pot."
It was hard work, all the same. Turning a decorative estate into working farms was a lengthy process. Those who could not stand or walk could work on other things whilst seated. There was no need for anyone to go without.
Even the Duchess could have healthy meals.
[Image by Héctor J. Rivas on Unsplash]
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