The Grovefields

Ground and Water

The Grovefields begin at the eastern edge of the Trunk Market and run in steady terraces to the Eastern Eldertree Gateway. The ground is stepped and braced with root-bound walls that keep soil from sliding. Channels carry water between the steps. Each channel has stone lips and gate boards marked by Lorekeeper cuts. When needed, stewards can raise or drop a board and send a slow sheet of water across a paddy or a thin flow along a ridge. In low pockets, paddies hold duskrice. On higher ledges, barley and mooncorn stand in rows. Scentleaf grows in narrow lanes where the wind is clean.

Work paths run straight so carts do not grind deep into the earth. Some paths climb on treebound walkways to cross channels without fouling the flow. From those walkways, Rootwatch wardens and field stewards can see from terrace to terrace and point where to spread crews. Barkstone spurs connect the fields back to weigh courts and granaries near the city edge. When storms come down from Maer’thalas Ridge, the water runs to silt pits and catchponds first so it does not tear the channels wide. Mill sheds sit near the main culverts where the fall is strongest. They grind slowly but do not stop.

The Eastern Eldertree Gateway watches this side of the city. Record posts there show which families hold which plots this season and how much water each is owed by the ledger. The Council signs these posts after the Lorekeepers set the flow limits. The Merchant Guild checks them when issuing transport slips. The rules are plain: no flood beyond your claim, no theft of ditch water, and no new ditch cut without a Cloister mark. On the far edge of the fields, hedgebreaks, old stone posts, and small shrines mark the boundary with the near wild. The boundary is watched, not fenced. Rootwatch shrines carry spare tools, oilcloth, and bandages, because most trouble here is small and near at hand.

Seasons, Crops, and Methods

The year here follows a simple order. Early spring opens the ditches and soaks the first plots. Stewards set barley rows and plant mooncorn under warmed soil. Duskrice goes in once the water holds steady in the paddies. Scentleaf is thinned and tied where air moves cleanly. Fallow ledges grow beans to fix the soil. Bee frames hang along hedges and short mushroom beds run under the lowest rows where sun falls short. When summer rises, crews weed, clear pests, and cut new spill furrows. Millers test grain in sunframes and mark sacks with resin seals that show weight, grade, and lineage.

Tools are made to last and to be fixed. Rootsteel sickles and hooks are kept sharp at shared forges. Thresh floors are set with packed clay and stone to spare the grain. Drying racks stand under simple roofs so rain does not spoil a day’s work. Grain-roasting hearths and smoke sheds run in lean times to keep food safe from damp. Draft work is done by foreststock from the eastern steads: elk for hauling on the higher lanes, surefooted giant goats for the steepest steps. Crews move sledges rather than wheels on the tight ledges to protect the terraces.

The equinox rites mark the turn from growing to gathering. Musicians and chanters walk the furrows at dusk. Families bind sheaves, lift rice mats from the paddies, and carry scented bundles for the first press. The city allows late work under lanterns on posts along the lines, but no open flame stands near the racks. During harvest, the Guild assigns extra arbiters to the Sifter’s Court so weights and grades are judged the same for rich and poor. When fields are bare, crews seed cover greens and pull silt from pits back to the ledges. The Cloister logs any change to the flows so next season’s ditches can be set without guesswork.

Farmsteads and Landmarks

Misturn Hollow sits on a rise north of the scentleaf lanes where the ground holds dawn fog. The farmhouse is low and broad, with open eaves and long porches where ledgers are read at midday. The Dalanor family keeps the place as both home and work hub. Neighbor growers share tools from long sheds, borrow seed under writ, and bring their grain to a shared roasting hearth. A small court faces the fields so deals can be struck near the work, not far from it. Rootbrew and boiled duskbeans feed crews at noon, and the tally clerk speaks weights twice so both parties hear. Misturn’s luck is its old record. It is not guild-held, yet its fairness is known. Traders stop here because loads leave on time, measures are kept clean, and trouble is handled with quiet words before it grows.

Broadhoof Steading stands on the eastern fringe where the well-kept rows give way to pasture. It breeds and trains the great animals the fields and roads depend on. Giant elk move in marked paddocks and wear colored tags for lineage and task. The stacked stables for the giant goats run up the side of a small hill. Boar pens sit under rootsteel and woven charm lines to keep tusks from breaking fence and to calm the stock before moving. The Tahren family runs Broadhoof with steady hands. They are known for beast-marking, a lawful craft that sets a bond between handler and animal using inked sigils and simple rites. Twice each season Guild inspectors walk the lanes, check brands, check feed books, and leave without much to say. On festival days, Broadhoof lends trained teams for parade carts and work trials at the Boughring. On hard days, they send spare stock and harness to Misturn or to the city road crews without delay.

Other marks shape the Grovefields. The Terrace Shrine of the Eastern Flow is a small stone seat with three channels cut across its face. Lorekeepers match the marks there to weirs each spring before the first flood. The Sifter’s Court is a packed yard with fixed scales, a seal bench, and a chalk wall for public grades. The Long Shed holds spares for every common tool and a locked bay for Guild stores. The Stone Thresh is a shared floor where threshing can continue when yards are muddy. A mill shed called Miller’s Ladder stands on piles near the main fall; its wheels turn slow but steady and feed two granaries on either side. Between the hedgebreaks at the field edge stand low posts with dull iron caps. Wardens hang bells there when boar sign grows, when a lion moves near, or when a caravan needs extra eyes for a night run to the gate.

Law, Watch, and Pressures

The Naath Council sets how much land can be worked each season and who holds it. They do this from the Fountain Pavilion after reviewing Cloister reports on soil and flow. The Merchant Guild issues transport and stall permits and fines those who lie on weight or grade. Lorekeepers certify seed stock for the major crops and post water allowances by terrace so stewards can plan. Rootwatch keeps order on the paths and shrines and records sign at the boundary. The Lake-Wardens do not rule here, but when storm fronts push up from Selenmere, they send word early to the fields so crews can pull racks and secure ditches. The Seekers are not farm folk, but their contracts touch the Grovefields often: escorting late caravans, checking burrow nests under channel walls, or walking the fringe when mountain raids are rumored.

The fields face simple problems that become hard if ignored. Mold can run through scentleaf when the air turns still. Rootborers chew braces in dry years. Wild boar break lines and pull crops when mast is thin in the near wild. Stray wolves test goat pens during deep snow. In flood years the eastern ditches can overtop, sending fish and silt across the lower paddies and fouling duskrice beds. The Cloister has a quiet rule for that: record the damage, re-cut the channel, and sell the salvage at a fair grade. No one is allowed to burn out pests with harsh work that pulls on the flows without writ. When signs of a ley swell show—stagnant water that will not drain, odd growth in a single strip, tools that arc at the weir stones—the Lorekeepers close the plot and study it before any hand goes in again.

Some pressures are not from weather or beasts. In lean years, Redfang bands in the passes mark more caravans than usual. They do not often come down into the fields, but their marks on stones near the boundary put crews on edge and pull Rootwatch into wider loops. Smugglers shave weight stones, dye bad scentleaf with bitter wash, or sell beast-mark inks without license. Guild arbiters seize these things fast when they surface. Boundary disputes flare during harvest when small plots try to widen lanes without writ. Most end at the Sifter’s Court with a fine and a reset line. A few reach the Pavilion and bring short exile. Two matters always draw the Seekers: a broken weir gone missing in a night flood, and a livestock illness that spreads without a clear source. Both can starve a quarter of the terraces if left alone.

Stories in the Grovefields start with work and end with duty. A lost warden post and a fresh wolf line on the same hedge. A wagon stuck at the catchpond with dark stains on its tarp. A weight stone that reads true until a certain sack sets on the pan. A shrine stone that feels warm to the hand when the air is cold. A Broadhoof trainer who cannot find the elk he marked and who swears the animal opened its own gate. A fog that stays in Misturn Hollow past noon with no clear cause. None of these call for panic, yet each can pull a crew, a patrol, and a quiet band from Ezra’s boards into the same row, and make them walk it in the same step.