Kythe in the field

Pile after pile of flax lay on the ground along the row. The slicing of Kythe's extended sickle could be heard from the castle, and over the course of the day the rows of cut-down flax would wind their way from the forest edge toward the castle itself. The aura emanating from the harvested grain would sway above the field as he worked, the lingering essence released from the stalks as they were cut.

Inquiry of Supply

"Don't you get it Bresque?" said Queen Matrielle to her servant. After chugging the rest of her Atomic Fuzz she continued, "We give into their requests, we give up our empire!".

"Of course ma'am, I merely thought establishing a value line would be good for public image. You know, to show we 'care about the world' and all of that. . ." Bresque replied.

For a moment he glanced away from her stare, but met it when she spoke again.

"Of course. . . Yes, that would look good for public image. But only if this value line you speak of was woven from bound fibers as well, which will not happen. Could you imagine common citizens weaving elements? Not to mention the valuation hit we'd take at the sudden abundance of bound apparel.

"No, a value line would only be considered if regular fibers were used, and it would be far too costly an endeavor to resume that production line.

"I'm sorry your highness, but must a value line be spun from regular fibers? I've run the numbers and our bound fiber production is far greater than our apparel production. Why spin so much bound thread, but only serve the elite? Are there plans I'm unaware of?" The servant asked.

"My answer is final. Depart my office and return to your duties" the queen commanded, cracking open another Atomic Fuzz. Rose, as usual.

"Yes, your highness" Bresque answered, turning on his heel. He'd pushed farther than was appropriate, but considering his tenure and and the trust the queen had in him, he felt confident the question would be endured.