While the world was swept away by war, famine, plague—the dust of death slowly settling its fine red mist on the parched earth—the Island of Chaladon remained isolated from the devastation. A Chaladonian could look in one direction to see bright white sands and clear blue waters, then look in the other direction to be met with the smells of ripe fruit and green pastures. Their fertile land led the Chaladonians to become experts in modern thought and bio-chemical sciences. After tilling the fields, an old farmer may retire to his workshop to concoct a new fertilizer for his fields to triple its yield. Before tending to her chores, a girl may work out the kinks of a new hydro-pneumatic system to operate simple machinery. Life was perfect.
Then word spread that they could teach outsiders how to grow enough crops to feed families for months and with enough to store for winter. Indeed, the Order could teach others how to turn desolate lands into fertile farms, but they knew it would come at a cost. The Chaladonians are isolationists by choice, they understood that the world became the way it is because of man being in disunion with the earth. To burden the land to feed the many will only ensure the death of all their children once the soil sprouts its last seed.
The Chaladonian’s freedom to pursue knowledge is only because they understood what the world could give them—effort is put into the soil and the gift of survival is received. Take too much, and the gift of death is also earned.
Death balances the scales.