The morning dawned soft and gold, dew clinging to every leaf and blade. The covenant's glow had faded into memory, yet the warmth of divine presence still lingered in the air — a gentle hum beneath the quiet sounds of the waking farm.
Roland was already busy, sleeves rolled up, lifting sack after sack of freshly harvested potatoes into Claribel's wagon. Each burlap sack was tied securely and stamped with his small pine emblem — a mark of the covenant, hand-carved onto a wooden seal he'd made that morning.
Claribel watched with admiration as Roland worked. "You're really giving me all this?" she asked, brushing her chestnut hair from her face.
Roland nodded, hefting another heavy sack into the wagon. "All on loan," he said with a small grin. "Sell them for as much as you can in the nearby villages — people need to eat more than I need coin. Just bring back what's fair. And make sure to keep the sacks. They're strong ones — took me a while to weave those."
Claribel smiled, placing her hand over her heart. "I'll take good care of them, Roland. I promise. You've done more for strangers than most nobles ever would."
Sarah brayed gently while Keith stamped his hoof, as if agreeing with her.
Roland wiped his brow and looked over the wagon one last time — perfectly balanced, tightly packed, ready for the road. Sol sat nearby, tail wagging slowly, as though he understood the weight of the moment.
Brontus and Maphala stood near the barn doors, watching silently. Brontus rumbled softly, "Safe travels, merchant. May the covenant's promise shield your path."
Maphala bowed her head. "And may those who eat these crops remember the kindness behind them."
Claribel smiled and gave a respectful nod. "You honor me, both of you."
She climbed onto the driver's bench, the reins in her hands. Keith and Sarah shifted eagerly, their wooden harnesses creaking faintly. "I'll return in a week's time, Roland — and with good news, I hope."
Roland nodded. "Be safe, Claribel. Roads may be quiet, but hungry folk make for desperate travelers."
She gave a small, confident smile. "I can handle myself. I've got the gods — and that fine meal from yesterday — on my side."
Roland laughed, stepping back as the wagon began to move. Sol barked twice, running alongside the wheels before stopping at the fence to watch them go.
The wagon creaked down the dirt path, sunlight glinting off its iron rims. Claribel waved one last time before the morning mist swallowed her silhouette between the fields.
Then — as she passed beyond the pine grove — the air shimmered faintly.
The pine mark on the back of her hand began to glow softly, and before her eyes, faint green light wrapped around the wagon. The wooden frame brightened, veins of living pine spreading through its structure like growing roots.
The ropes tightened, the axles gleamed, and a faint crest appeared on the cart's side — a pine tree entwined with a hammer, symbol of Terran, God of Craft and Building.
Claribel gasped, covering her mouth. "By the gods…!"
The reins in her hands pulsed faintly with warmth, the brand linking her and the cart together. She could feel the strength in the wood now — lighter, sturdier, blessed.
She bowed her head with heartfelt reverence. "Thank you, Lord Terran… I'll honor this gift well."
Keith and Sarah snorted proudly, their harnesses glimmering faintly as if acknowledging the divine blessing.
Claribel looked back toward Roland's farm, now distant but glowing faintly in the morning sun. She smiled, whispering, "Until next time, my friend. We'll make your dream of feeding the hungry come true."
Then she flicked the reins gently. The wagon rolled forward — not just carrying crops, but carrying hope, bound by covenant and divine promise.