This world needed more sugar. Not actual sugar per se, but more sweetness. Both literal and metaphorical sweetness. I'm not going to institute the nice patrol yet, but I know where we could start. As His Majesty said, one should start with the person in the mirror. And then follow up with their subordinates.

That's why I was at the kitchen with the first light of the morning with Belle and Arwia, frying donuts. Turns out barley flour also works and drastically lowers the cost of the donuts. Only because the starch and the baking soda are free to me. We don't have any butter right now but someone is going to buy it today and tomorrow we will have cookies. No luck with chocolate though.

Before this turns into a cooking story, let's push the food colonization to a corner for now. It is happening and it is unstoppable but I'm taking the focus away from it for now.

One big truth about the information age I've learned so far is that the information age started when humanity acquired the ability and techniques to process a large amount of information, not when humanity discovered information was valuable. I mean, if you think a bit, information was always valuable. You can go five thousand years back in the history of civilization, those with information won wars, they prospered. And transmigrators like me, especially one that brought computers and digital databases, we have an unfair advantage.

Not only I carry in my head the intellectual baggage that came from millennia of scientific research and the cultural exchange between thousands of ethnical groups, but I also can capture, store, and process data in my devices. Including long-distance communication and reach once you include Dime in the equation. I wouldn't have found Marduk's camp so easily if I hadn't scouted them from above with a camera.

Yesterday's mapmaking session saved our team a month or maybe two of surveys with just a couple hours' flight by the sky-lord. And if I want to turn the food situation around, I need to continue to advance with that much speed. Because I only have the faintest idea of what is the food situation.

That's one of our tasks for today. I checked my outfit before going out. Jeans, a light beige shirt and hiking boots. I needed more pants.

We filled a basket with fried donuts for the scribes and guards and I made more sodium bicarbonate out of chicken and lamb bones and sodium chloride.

"I need to go, Belle," I told the cook. "And I hope you don't spend the whole day frying donuts. They are just a snack and you'll get sick if you eat only donuts."

The freckled cook gave me the pleading puppy eyes. That was one of the moments that reminded me that Belle-Sunu was only fourteen years old. She was forced to grow up earlier.

"Don't give me that face. Okay, new rule. Your language doesn't have a word for it, so you're going to borrow one of mine. Donuts are classified as 'dolce'. Sweet food one eats in small quantities after a meal." They didn't have a word for 'dessert' or 'candy' so I went with one that wrapped both concepts and was easy on the tongue. "Small quantities. After a meal. Did you understand, miss 'dolce' tooth?"

"Dul-Che?" Arwia parroted.

"'Dolce'," I corrected. "Don't stress the 'ch' sound so much. And open your mouth a bit more on the first vowel." They also didn't have any word with the 'do' sound.

"Doutche," Belle-Sunu tried.

I laughed. She almost hit another word that would describe half the population.

"C'mon. Hold the sound with me. Do... 'O'... L... tche."

"'Dolce'," Arwia did it first. I clapped my hands, excited.

Arwia was able to say it after a few more tries.

"Good. Two things before I have to go, girls. First, only two donuts after a meal. Or I won't teach you how to make other kinds of food that might be even better than donuts. Second, today is a rest day. Everyone should take time off to do what they want, unwind, and rest. No hard labor, no lectures. I'll also pay your wages, so if you want to take the carriage and hit the market, that's okay. I'll go tell the guards that half of them are off-duty today and the other half is off-duty tomorrow."

I counted my coins and separated enough money to pay the wages for all the guards and other workers. I need to change my gold coins into lower denominations. #RichPeopleIssues. And after giving them their money and some instructions, I finally gathered my pets and rode to my estate to start a new day of work. I had a day job and totally forgot to ask about my own wages. Way to go, Sandra.

It was a strange sight to see soldiers manning the gate to my estate but after the first uncanny feeling, I remembered the task force was using the place as their base. I also heard the sound of a manual wood saw.

"Morning, gentlemen," I greeted them.

"Milady. Good morning. Please come in," The guards answered.

I went inside and saw the saw. Some carpenters were working on cutting window shutters and doors to fit the house. One of the soldiers came to take Penny-Gu and noticed she had no reins.

"Don't worry," I told him. "This is Honey Cake's house. She will just wander around and graze."

"Yes, milady!"

The soldier's behavior was very stiff. Dime soared over us and dove to get a rat or some other critter in the neighbor's plot.

"Gather everyone, I told the soldier. I have something for everyone," I told him tapping the basket with the donuts.

Everyone stuffed their faces with donuts, even the carpenters and their slaves. The great freedom revolution would have to wait until the great org... sacred rite to dedicate the city to Ishtar ended. The carpenters went back to work on the doors and windows and I gathered the scribes and half the soldiers for a lecture.

"The first thing we need to do is to be able to do accounting. We have to keep track of all our expenses. Food, materials, supplies, even the doors, and windows. We need to know how much this project is spending. Who is really good with numbers?"

One of the scribes raised his hand. "Kuma-Nu, milady. I know how to add, subtract, multiply, and divide! He said, proudly."

"Kuma-Nu, thanks for volunteering. You'll be our accountant. I'll teach you how to later. The records I asked. Do we have them?"

"They are being copied. The records of farm ownership should be available tomorrow," another scribe answered.

"Today we are going to draft the designs for the things we are going to build. We are also going to plan the construction of toilets all around the city. The Enshi will pass a decree outlawing public defecation and urination. Everyone will have to use the toilets. And clean their hands. This alone will greatly improve health for the citizens. We are also going to design special containers where we will turn the feces and other waste into plant fertilizer."

Gu-Maranu, the eldest scribe rose, "You want us to do what to the plants?"

I blushed at my blunder. The word 'fertilize' also meant 'jizz', 'ejaculate', 'impregnate'. They understood my statement as using the compost to... Use your imagination.

"No, no. Sorry about that. I'm a foreigner so my language is not that good. What I meant was to 'increase productivity', prepare the fields for the crops, feed the plants. Nobody will have to do nothing of that with the plants and the waste."

I giggled nervously and their tension dissolved. A poor vocabulary was a dread thing.

I took my laptop and showed them the schematics for the facilities I had in mind. A urine-diverting toilet from a paper on third-world sanitation and economics, composters for feces and decaying matter, septic tanks, and the importance of waterproofing everything. The lecture took a good chunk of the morning.

For this first round of composting, I would use my power to accelerate the process as natural composting took at least two or three months. Since this place was hot as hell, more like two months if the composting material was kept moist. The nitrogen-rich urine, once separated could be used as fertilizer almost immediately.

I also taught them about groundwater contamination and the importance of keeping the wells safe. Thankfully our aerial survey was detailed enough to identify the wells, at least the ones that were not indoors. Some places might have hidden wells, but these would be the minority. I sent copies of the designs to the i-devices and let the scribes copy them to their vellum. While they worked on assimilating the knowledge, I took Kuma-Nu and taught him double-entry accounting.

The morning was over. Lunchtime came and went by.

I went to work on my computer, reading some books about the subject. I had to make sure the material used for composting was sterile. One author suggested baking the material in an oven for some time but another one showed that the addition of 10% quicklime would give an alkaline PH of twelve and that was enough to kill any organisms. The quicklime would also heat the material and kill whatever was left. And they tried wood ash but the PH didn't hit the required target for proper sterilization.

I added the schematics for the composting drums to what the scribes had to copy. Without metal drums, we would use wooden barrels treated with pine resin on the inside. A centralized composting plant was required. The night soil from the city would go to the plant where the material would be boiled then mixed with dirt, plant matter, and finally the quicklime and would go sit on the drums for two or three months before being shipped to the farms to use as fertilizer.

I had to do a survey of the farm soil. Collect samples and test them. I would also need a lot of plant matter to turn into fertilizer fast with my power so we could enrich the autumn harvest that was already growing. I had a very good idea where I would gather that much plant matter.

The plan was sound. We would face resistance from the farmers and the townsfolk but they would quickly see, or to be honest, smell the benefits of a shit-free city.

My first impulse was to hit the city and order the things we needed and get started with the construction but that would be foolish. The people assigned to me were queasy, unhappy, and incredulous. A proof-of-concept was needed. I stored my devices and went outside to gather some soldiers. They were playing a game of chance with some bones.

"Guys, I need five volunteers to help me with a construction project," I told them.

I crafted aluminum shovels for them and showed them were to dig a hole with a ramp leading into it. These five volunteers would soon be replaced by another five so nobody would be without work. Heavens forbid the soldiers from earning their keep without sweating. While they were digging, I put myself to work. The soil they were excavating was Decomposed and shaped into squatting toilets with two holes. One smaller at the front to collect liquids and another at the back for the solids.

One thing I noticed with the silicon I shaped was that it was stronger than ordinary glass, unlike the Earth-made silicon is as brittle as glass and prone to fracture into thousands of pieces when placed under stress. The silicon shaped by Decompose, however, is still brittle but not as much. It is more like the tempered reinforced glass used on device screens. Decompose creates a very smooth material. The microfractures inherent to manufactured materials are inexistent. Internal stress, gone. The crystalline structure was uniform. The graphite I make, for example, shears along one direction only. The entire chunk of graphite has the same structure without flaws, that's why it is so hard to burn.

And even though it is still brittle, I could always compensate it with extra thickness. The explosion of the supplies in Marduk's base camp, for example, pulverized my tunnels.

It required further investigation.

I made two rectangular buckets with aluminum and helped shape the hole underneath the toilet and placed them in the designed spots with a handful of slacked lime on the bottom. The soldiers moved the base in place and I used the rest of the dug dirt along with some silicon from my storage to raise an outhouse around the toilet.

I checked my metal reserves, I'd have to go mining soon. Samus took most of my metals. I should visit the smithy.

I was so absorbed by using my power to build the aluminum door for the outhouse that I failed to see the crowd that gathered behind me.

"Amazing!" gasped. "That's the power of the holy maiden."

I cringed inside. Enough with that holy maiden thing. Not holy, not even a maiden anymore. The warranty was void. No refunds. I had enough of this game of gods. I wouldn't be a pawn. At least willingly. These gods, they were tricky as heck.

"Glad that you gathered here. Okay, let me explain. To use this marvelous facility, all one has to do is to get inside, latch the door, very important this step mind you, drop your trousers or lift your tunic, toga, or skirt, and do your business. Liquids go in the front, solids in the back. Try to hit the holes without splashing, will you? Especially on your clothes. And bring something to wipe yourself with! Toss it in the back hole."

They laughed at my very clumsy shopping channel demonstration.

"Any volunteers to inaugurate it?" I asked. Before any of them decided to do it, I took the door handle. "Oh, nevermind. I'm first."

I went inside and used the outhouse, full service. I even indulged in a brand new wet wipe. The atomically-smooth polished surface of the shaped silicon was almost hydrophobic. With a tiny piece broken before using, it would regenerate without the wet part. Another thing I had to introduce. Paper.

I went outside. The crowd was still there.

"Okay. Now, before I let you use the outhouse, let me show you how we deal with the collected waste." Circling around the outhouse into the dug hole, I showed them the two buckets. "Of course the production models will have bigger buckets, large enough to hold an entire day's worth of crap. These buckets will be collected and transported to a facility to convert it into fertilizer,"

I could see their smirks. Oh, no. Damned modern Akkadian.

"PLANT FOOD, DAMMIT!" I pouted.

Yeah. Go ahead. Say it. 'That's what she said'.

I couldn't stay angry at their chortles though. Should I wait for the buzz to die out? I crossed my arms under my boobs and blatantly propped them. Problem solved, the men stopped laughing.

"As I was saying, let's make some fertilizer. The first batches will be created using my power, but the normal process takes three months. From here, the bucket with the solids will be taken to a central station where it will be boiled to avoid spreading disease. Mine has none, so we will skip that part. Then we will add soil, ground vegetable matter, and lime, mix it well and compost it."

I added a grinder to the list of things I had to order from the craftsmen.

And as I said, I added the materials to the bucket. "From here it will be put in a tumbler to mix and compost. It is important to notice that we don't want people putting their hands in here. I'm going to mix it with this tool here," I used a long potato masher I'd crafted along with the other stuff out of aluminum.

And once it was thoroughly mixed, I used Decompose to accelerate the composting process. In a few seconds, it was ready.

"See? This is the outcome after three months of natural composting. This soil here is rich in 'food for the plants'," I said rolling my eyes, "And we can either mix it with the soil as we till it to plant a new crop, or add it to the ground at the feet of the plants. Once it is fully composted, it doesn't smell bad or anything. It is just moist soil."

I took a handful and had each of the scribes and guards take a handful too. After they were convinced, we went to the place where Tullius planted vegetables. We harvested everything when we evacuated the estate and the earth was naked. I mixed the fertilizer with the soil with my steel spade.

"And now crops planted on this plot will grow stronger and produce more food. At the processing facility, we are also going to add manure from horses, cows, and goats to the mixture."

I had no seeds to plant on the patch of fertilized soil. Maybe I'll bring Tullius with me tomorrow.

"And if anyone writes down the 'fertilizer' joke in the records, I'm going to have all of you replaced," I threatened.

The mood dropped as if we'd hit an iceberg. I didn't realize until after I said it out loud that maybe having them replaced would mean a death sentence. With maniacal Nephew inebriated with the touch of divinity, it would be plausible to think so.

"We wouldn't dare, milady. We will have all copies of the reports ready for your inspection if you so wish," ____ said.

"Good. I am going to visit a few places in town to commission some items. You guys stay here and finish the records. I also want at least four scribes using the double-entry accounting system. Kuma-Nu, teach them what you learned, and I will give another lesson tomorrow."

I got on Penny and went out in the direction of the smithy. By the sun's position, it was around two o'clock and I had a lot of time. I had no incidents on my way to the smithy. I could see from a distance that the forges and bellows were going full throttle. The plume of smoke rising from their central chimney was thick and dark.

The cacophony of hammers striking metal and the flares of sparks and hot metal along with the smell of sweat, ashes, and metal assaulted my senses. There was a lot of helping hands, some of the soldiers, probably assigned to make things go faster. The production of weapons and armor was massive and I could see several sets being tested for defects at the back. I went to the stables and left Penny-Gu there then went around asking for either Samus or Aran.

The latter found me. "Lady Rinaldi. It is a pleasure to have your visit. Please, come this way," the master blacksmith told me. "Samus is at the back, playing with the metals you lent him."

We went around and there was another forge in a separate building. From the position, I could infer it once faced a street on the other side of the smithy complex. It might be where the two partners started. Inside, I found Samus, focusing his fire magic on the furnace where a familiar disk of metal glowed in a crucible.

"Samus! Sandra is here!" Aran announced to me.

He ceased channeling his magic and took a towel from an apprentice, wiping his face, neck, and hands before tossing it back at the boy.

"Sandra! What metal is that, the 'tung-stein'! I can't even get my forge hot enough to soften it!"

I chuckled. "You won't. Tungsten has the highest melting point of all metals," I told him. "You need enough heat to boil iron if you are going to melt it."

"Boil..." Samus mumbled.

"... Iron," Aran concluded and asked me, "Is that even possible?"

I shook my head, "I don't think we can do it in this world, but back in mine people did things crazier than that."

"I broke one of the disks by hammering it too hard. I didn't know that metal would be brittle," Samus confessed. He took a good look at me and smiled. "I can see you regained your powers. Your magic is shining so bright it almost hurts my eyes."

"Yes, I'm back stronger than ever," I nodded. "And don't worry. As long as you have the fragments, I can restore everything. In fact, why don't you stop wasting coal with that one and take it out to cool? There's much to talk and I only have this afternoon free."

"Yes, I wanted to ask you about that. Is it true that the Enshi nominated you a minister?" Aran asked.

"Agriculture and development, yes. I promise not to let my station rise to my head and cloud my judgment though."

"Good. I believe you are here to see your suit of armor, right?" Samus asked. He pointed at the exit, "This way, please."

We went outside and moved along the back wall to a place where several apprentices where sitting on workbenches hammering rivets into chain links woven in a four by one pattern. He pointed at a very lean training dummy wearing a chain mail of dull gray metal. Titanium.

"We can't test the armor because the links aren't closed. You said you would use your power. We did rivet a small section, and it held weapon blows well. The metal dented though. It seems to be softer than steel. More malleable too."

"Is that mine?" I asked.

"We have two suits, actually. One is for testing, the other for wearing. Once you close the links, we are doing the tests."

He seemed eager to do these tests. I went to the training dummy and pulled the suit of armor free. It wasn't as light as I thought but I could carry it. I imagined that the same suit of armor made of steel would weight two-thirds more than this. I went to an empty workbench and placed the armor on the table. I checked the links. They were firm but open. I had no idea how much strength would take to open the metal but it was probably less than what a weapon blow carried.

I closed my eyes and felt the titanium. It had some impurities, traces of iron, tin, and copper. Maybe picked up from the crucible it was put in. I purged these impurities and focused on the rings. I needed to have the clear mental image of a seamless ring, a perfect torus I then touched each ring one by one, moving my hands over the chainmail. Even with my eyes closed, I could sense the shape of the ring I was touching and I forced the physical object to conform to the mental image.

One by one the links were closing and assuming the perfect shape. I had no idea how long it took, but I could sense the imperfect, open loops of wire. I kept going, turning the suit of mail around and sensing the links that didn't close. I opened my eyes when they were all perfectly aligned.

The dull gray suit of armor was now silvery and polished.

"I'm done," I told the second crowd that formed to watch me using my powers today. "We can put this back on the dummy to test."

"It is almost a shame to strike a suit of armor so beautiful," Samus remarked.

"It is fine, I can repair it easily. Let's do it."

We dressed the suit on the dummy and Samus tightened it with a leather belt. He went to a weapons rack and returned with a war hammer and a sword. The hammer had a large pick on the back and could swing both ways. He handed the sword to Aran and held the hammer with the pick facing forward.

I could see the muscles on the master smith's arms bulge as he shouted a warcry and viciously nailed the suit over the chest. He left the weapon stuck to the dummy. If a real human was under that armor, she'd be dying.

"Woo! Bouncy!" Samus shook his arm.

"I guess it was a flop," I commented, dejected.

"I don't know about that, let me check," Aran went to the dummy and inspected the blow up-close without touching. "Eh, are you getting old, Samus? The spike didn't go in all the way!" He shouted.

"Last time I checked we were the same age, you moron," Samus replied. "The rings bounced when I hit, it was like they were repelling my blow. I could feel them snap but they mostly stretched. Yeah, this armor is very good."

"But if that blow hit a person, she would die!" I protested.

"Nobody will stay still in combat. A blow like that would deflect, push the person back, or just be dodged," Samus explained.

Aran yanked the warhammer out and I approached to check. A few links were broken but none seem to be missing. In fact, the hole seemed small. Just two or three links broke. I touched them and focused, moving the metal back in place and mending the damage.

"My turn," Aran said and I took a few steps back.

He held the sword in a high guard and started with some slashes, progressing into stabs. He executes a powerful stab and the sword gets stuck in the mail. He tugged it free with some difficulty and said, "If this were a real fight, I'd be dead the moment my weapon got stuck. It only entered a few centimeters. Enough to draw blood but not enough to incapacitate. I also didn't break any ring. Just some dents."

He stabbed several more times, going even as far as to hold the blade halfway and use both arms to propel the weapon. He couldn't break a link.

"Armor approved, milady!" Aran said, satisfied and winded. "Do you want to wear it? We had madam Cloe adjust an arming doublet meant for young men for you."

It was a jacket. A thick jacket, it remembered me of the one Michael J. Fox wore. Or the other Michael. I put it on and noticed it had several layers of cloth sewn together. I could only wonder how sweaty this thing must become in the heat. Better sweaty than dead. On top of the jacket, I donned the mail hauberk. Its sleeves reached my elbows and the skirt, mid-thigh. There were extra rows of rings starting from the waist to give it a skirty feeling. Finally, I wrapped a thick leather belt around my waist to take the weight of the skirt from my shoulders.

"How does it feel?" Samus asked me.

"It's heavy. But I can move." I tried some movements and everything was fine. My arms and body had more inertia and most of the weight was on the shoulders and, of course, the boobs. The armor pinned down my breasts as if a sports bra. In fact, I should put one when wearing armor. The whole suit of armor weighed around three kilograms.

And of course, I took my phone for a selfie. The mood was so good I was feeling like I'd have a meeting with Richard Gere and Sean Connery next.

"Satisfied?" Aran asked.

I nodded. "I think I can get used to the weight."

He laughed. "It is light as a plume. This metal of yours is really amazing."

"We will do measurements for the final fittings and decorations then," Samus concluded and then started to fidget as he measured his words. "Glad we nailed the right size. But... we will need to measure the fitting of the mail on your body, miss. And for that..."

I tilted my head, "You'll need to touch me. Gotcha. You can just pinch the mail from the back, can't you? I don't mind if you do it professionally. So please, do the measurement."

He exchanged a conflicting glance with Aran, and the other master smith just nodded. I pulled my hair out of the way and showed my back to Samus. Turns out that properly fitted mail is like a second skin. Let's become Stephan Kapicic! Samus came with pliers and some wire to cut the links and bind the mail in place until they could be repaired.

"It is a shame to cut these links. They look like jewelry," He commented.

"I can make more later. And you have no idea what they can do," If I could get electricity to galvanize the titanium... "Could you make it loose on the upper torso and tighter on the stomach?"

He paused then chuckled. "As you wish, milady," He replied, with emphasis on the 'lady' part.

Tug, clip, tug, clip, readjust. Samus tapped my shoulder.

"Let's remove the mail carefully. We don't want the wire snapping," He said. "We will dismantle the other set and make a coif. At least this metal I can forge."

With assistance, I removed the mail and the arming doublet. That's why squires were a thing. It would be impossible or extremely bothersome to don or doff armor alone. Gygax lied to me. Aran handed me a cloth cap.

"Put this on so we can measure the coif. It won't take long."

After the measurements for the chain coif were taken, I was free to go.

"Well, thank you all. I'm going to visit the glassblower next."

Aran nudged Samus with his elbow. Once he saw his partner wouldn't speak up, he did.

"Sandra, we received a big shipment of ore today and we wanted to know if you'd be available to help us..."

Ores! My inner dwarf flared.

"Smelt it? Sort it? What ore did you get?"

He grinned and elbowed Samus again. "Our warehouse is full. We bought every cheap one, some of them were considered useless. The wagons kept coming and dumping it there, I wonder what we might find in it..."

I felt my heart pound. Unknown ores these Bronze Age refugees couldn't find a use for? "Let me..." It was too good to be true and it meant it was not the whole story. "You did that for me, didn't you? Because you knew I would identify these ores and tell you what they were."

His grin didn't falter and he nodded. "Exactly. Are you interested?"

"You guys only work with Iron and copper alloys, right?" I asked and Samus nodded before Aran could reply. "Good. You get to keep iron, copper, tin, and zinc from the ores. All the rest is mine. I'll try to preserve any gemstone hidden in the ores but I can't guarantee it. And I'll also do a full sweep of your facilities. Any scrap metal, swarf, or metal shavings will be mine."

Aran reached out with his hand, "You have a deal, milady."

I shook his hand and only then noticed I had volunteered to clean the smithy for free.

"I have to send my minio... the officials from my ministry on their missions before I come. I'll be here for lunch, is that okay?"

"Absolutely" Samus agreed with open arms. "I will make sure there's a feast waiting for the lady."

"Please don't. I can eat almost anything. I'll bring some new sweet food we are making as a gift. Now, I need to go before the sun goes away. Bye!"

I walked out and Penny was already waiting for me. I checked the sun and I had more than an hour. I went to the market. There I bought wholesale vinegar, butter, more sour tangerines, pomegranates, potatoes, radishes, and beets. The latter three were extremely cheap because they are used exclusively as livestock feed. The people of this world didn't eat roots. At least not in this region. Another thing I heard during my shopping was that most of the livestock just vanished. Not some supernatural phenomenon but rather the people either taking it with them as they fled or just butchering their animals to

The goods I bought would be delivered to Abil-Kisu's estate. Some merchants received that piece of information with wide eyes. I liked being anonymous but fame and reputation opened doors even though they raised prices. I wasn't concerned with either but I was beginning to see the worth of the former.

I mounted and was about to leave the great market when I turned around and looked at everything from above on my horse. Despite some closed booths and fewer people on the streets, it was business as usual. The panic I was expecting with the recruitment of Marduk's army as a workforce and the sudden pressure on the city's resources was non-existent. I decided to ditch the visit to the glassblower and do another round of shopping.

This time I opened up dropping Abil-Kisu's name subtly, asking if the merchant could deliver the goods there. None disagreed. Then I talked about supply, farming, and the expectations for the next season. The mood was good regarding supply. It seems that most of those that fled were the urban population, those that worked with services, temporary jobs, minor craftsmen, and some people with fewer ties to the city.

It made no sense. Why would the big merchants, craftsmen, and other wealthy people not flee if Marduk's army was overwhelmingly stronger? I asked the elderly merchant that generously sold me five carts of potatoes.

"I might be a rich merchant here, but if I flee, I'm just a refugee. I'd leave my warehouses, my goods, most of my slaves behind for the invaders. Gold and jewels I can carry, yes. But will my valuables be safe out there? Would my slaves murder me in the middle of the road and rob me? And would the Enshi lose? Look this way, I didn't flee and lost nothing."

His explanation made sense, but hindsight was 20/20. Just out of curiosity, I asked him. "Do you know how Marduk's army was defeated?"

"Yes! He angered Tarhun and he sent his champion to blow his insolent army. I saw the explosion that day. Only a god could do such a thing."

Yes, more power to Tarhun. I hope his investment is paying off. Asshole. I couldn't feel sympathy for the god that murdered me and apparently tweaked my abilities to better suit his purposes.

Not that there's something I could do about it but sulk. I paid for the wagons of potatoes and went back home. It was a tiresome day.