Seeds of the Throne

Long ago, in a quiet village surrounded by golden fields, lived a kind-hearted farmer named Hamid. He was poor in gold but rich in wisdom. Hamid worked from sunrise to sunset, caring for his land, helping neighbors, and sharing whatever little he had.

Far from the village, in the royal palace, King Zayan ruled the kingdom. He was a strong king, but lately, his heart was troubled. The land was not giving enough crops, the rivers were drying, and the people were growing restless. The king’s advisors blamed the farmers. They said the farmers were lazy and careless. But King Zayan was not sure.

One day, the king decided to leave the palace in disguise. He dressed as a traveler and rode into the countryside to see the truth with his own eyes. After two days of travel, he reached Hamid’s village. Tired and dusty, he knocked on a small mud house near a green field.

Hamid opened the door. “Welcome, traveler,” he said with a smile. “You look hungry and tired. Come, eat with me.”

The king was surprised by such kindness. He nodded, and they sat under a tree, eating simple bread and dates. That night, the king slept peacefully on a straw mat in Hamid’s home, the stars shining above.

Over the next few days, the king watched Hamid work. He woke up before dawn, prayed, and then went to the fields. He spoke to the soil like an old friend and treated his animals like family. He rotated crops, saved water, and even used ash and compost to keep the soil rich.

“You work so hard,” the king said one evening, still pretending to be a traveler. “Yet you live so simply.”

Hamid smiled. “The land gives what you give it. If you respect it, it rewards you. It is not gold I chase, but peace.”

These words stayed in the king’s heart.

One morning, the village woke to trouble. A royal tax collector had arrived. “All farmers must give half of their crops to the king!” he shouted. “By order of the crown!”

The villagers cried out. “We have barely enough for our families!”

Hamid stepped forward. “This is unfair,” he said calmly. “Take me to the king. I will speak to him.”

The collector laughed. “You? A poor farmer? The king will never listen to you.”

But just then, the disguised king stood up. “He will listen,” he said, removing his cloak and revealing the royal emblem.

Everyone gasped. The tax collector fell to his knees. The villagers bowed in shock.

“Hamid,” the king said, “you have shown me the heart of this land. You are wise, honest, and brave. Come with me to the palace.”

And so, Hamid rode with the king. For the first time, a farmer stood in the royal court. Some nobles laughed. “A man of dirt advising the king?” they whispered.

But Hamid did not care. He spoke clearly. “If you want your kingdom to rise, let the farmers rise too. Give them tools, seeds, and water. Teach them new ways, and listen to their old ones.”

King Zayan nodded. “You will be my advisor, Hamid. You will help me plant the seeds of a better kingdom.”

And so it began. The royal treasury helped poor farmers. Wells were dug, schools were built, and people learned how to care for the land. The crops returned, and so did the joy.

Years passed. Hamid, still wearing his simple clothes, now walked beside the king. He never forgot his village, and he never stopped teaching. People came from far away to hear the story of the farmer who changed a kingdom.

One evening, the king stood on the palace balcony with Hamid beside him.

“You never wanted a crown,” the king said, smiling.

Hamid looked at the setting sun. “No,” he replied. “But I wanted the land to grow. And now, so does the kingdom.”

And in the fields beyond the palace, wheat danced in the wind, whispering the story of the man who planted more than seeds — he planted hope.