Chapter 91 — The Last Seed Keeper

Six weeks after the truth was broadcast throughout Dong Tro, Khe Mien stood in the conference room on the top floor of the Upper Dome — a circular room with a glass ceiling that was once a symbol of one's display of power, now rearranged with chairs parallel to each other in a circle, no longer a central position reserved for anyone. The morning light poured through the curved glass above, pouring onto the marble floor once reserved only for the footsteps of the nobility, now reflecting the silhouettes of dusty sandals and worn coats of representatives from the most remote Arches. Khe Mien looked around, still not quite used to the feeling of standing in this room without having to hold her breath in case of a trap.

"The first session of the Interarch Council is officially open," Diep Ba Nhan announced, standing in one of those peer positions, his voice ringing with a solemnity that was different from the tension that had filled the room during previous meetings under Loi Bach Dat.

Around the circle, representatives of twelve different Arches sat among themselves without hierarchy — Green Arch, Sand Arch, Stone Arch, Gravel Arch, Moss Arch, along with seven other Arches that had just joined in the past six weeks, some Khe Mien had never even heard of before the truth was revealed. Even an empty seat was reserved for a temporary representative of the Upper Arch Platform itself — for the first time in its history, people once known only for their quiet labor had an official voice in the decisions that affected their lives.

"Our first task," Khe Mien said, when it was her turn to speak in the agreed-upon rotation, "is to decide how to inventory and distribute what is in the Root Store. This is not the property of the Green Dome, even though I was the first to enter it. Nor is it the property of the Upper Dome, even though it lies beneath its foundations. It belongs to everyone who is trying to survive and thrive on it. the land we all call home."

A consensus was quickly reached on the basic principles — the Root Seed Warehouse would be fully inventoried by a cross-arch team of experts, led by Khe Mien herself as the person with the most extensive experience in species conservation, and its contents would be gradually distributed according to the actual needs of each Arch, prioritizing those in the most serious crisis first, not those with the greatest political influence.

"What about Loi Bach Dat?" asked a representative from one of the newly joined Domes, a middle-aged man from a small community in the west whose name Khe Mien had only learned of last week. "He's still somewhere in this Upper Dome, right?"

"He's living under surveillance, in the same Basement area where his family was left to starve for generations," Bach Lam replied, his voice unable to hide a hint of bitterness in the way he expressed the truth. "Not imprisoned in chains, but also deprived of any of the privileges he once had. He is required to labor like any other resident, and each month, must appear before the council to answer further questions regarding the records Jingbo Tuyen left behind."

"Is that real justice?" the representative asked again, a doubt evident in his voice.

Khe Mien thought for a moment before answering, recalling the evening when she stood opposite Loi Bach Dat among the shelves of the Root Warehouse, seeing the collapse of a worldview he had believed in all his life. "I don't know if there's any justice that's really enough for what his family has done over the generations," she said. "But I believe that forcing a man who once held absolute power to live, even for just a portion of his remaining life, in the very circumstances he once abandoned, is perhaps the closest form of justice to the truth that we can bring, without turning ourselves into vengeful people."

The meeting lasted all morning, with countless practical details that needed to be resolved — how to safely transport through Dong Tro, how to verify real needs to avoid fraud, how to handle disputes that might arise between Arch members. Nothing is idealized or rushed, and Khe Mien feels a deep respect for the reality that every representation brings — this is not a naïve dream of instant peace, but a system being carefully built, brick upon brick.

In the middle of the meeting, a young messenger entered the room, carrying an urgent telegram from the south. Diep Ba Nhan read it quickly, his face changed slightly before he announced it to the whole room.

"News from the southern mountains," he said. "A small group of militiamen, believed to be remnants under the command of Kich Ba Hoanh, attacked a small supply convoy near the old Salt Dome border. There were no serious casualties, but supplies were looted."

A fleeting tension spread throughout the room, and Khe Mien clearly sensed that, although the old center of power had collapsed, its remaining fragments could still cause damage, at least for a while longer. "This is exactly why we need a strengthened common defense force, not to conquer, but to protect what we are building," she said. "I propose that Son Ba Dat, who has proven his worth many times since leaving the ranks of Salt Dome, lead a small team to investigate and stop this threat before it spreads."

The proposal was passed quickly, and when the meeting ended at noon, Khe Mien walked out of the conference room, feeling a familiar fatigue but also a growing hope in her heart — not the naive hope of the first days leaving the Green Dome, but a hope that had been forged through loss, through war, through everything she and her companions had gone through to get to this moment.

Before leaving the Upper Dome to return to her daily work, Khe Mien stopped by the Original Grain Warehouse once more, now fully lit by the newly installed lighting system instead of the flickering flashlight of the first time she entered. Doanh Ba Thong, almost fully recovered, stood among the rows of shelves with a small group of Seed Keepers sent from various Arches, all of whom were carefully recording, sorting, and comparing each box to what they knew about the needs of their homeland.

"We've counted almost a third," Doanh Ba Thong said, as Khe Mien walked up to him, her hands instinctively gliding over the familiar stickers, as if her whole life had been preparing for this very moment. "There are lineages here that even I, after many years of working at the Private Archives, never knew existed."

Khe Mien stopped in front of a small box, the label had yellowed over time but the print was still clear: an extremely drought-resistant bean variety, the note below said it had been experimentally grown in an area with a climate similar to the land around the Green Dome before the Great Change. She felt her hands tremble slightly as she opened the lid of the box, looking down at the tiny seeds lying dormant inside, waiting for decades to be given back to hands that knew how to appreciate them. Under the new light, the seeds glowed a dark brown, almost black color, and when she gently rolled a seed between her two fingers, feeling the still sturdy outer shell, never damaged by mold even after lying dormant for so many years, she suddenly thought of how the almost cold caution of those who had hidden this place had accidentally become the thing that kept that promise intact to return.

"This," she said softly, almost to herself, "is exactly what Co Diem Ninh dreamed about when she told me this story, many years ago, in a small room that she believed might just be a legend."

Kien, waiting for her in the hallway outside, brought news of a new training session for the rapid response teams from the newly joined Arches, and as the two of them walked together, he looked at her with curiosity. "How long do you think we can keep this up?" he asked. “This solidarity, I mean.”

Khe Mien stopped walking and looked out the hallway window, where the sunlight shone down on the square below, where representatives from twelve different Arches were having lunch together, chatting, exchanging new ideas on how to cooperate. "I don't know," she said honestly. "But I think the question is not whether we can keep it forever, but whether we are willing to continue fighting to preserve it, every day, every time it is challenged. That's the biggest lesson I've learned from this whole journey — nothing naturally good lasts forever. It needs care, like any seed."