Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 553 - 552: Spring

The weather turned warm, and the snow melted.

The ice and snow on the northwest highlands melted into trickling streams, the streams converging and flowing into the river channel, then dividing into several branches in the lowlands south of the Gigantic Tree Path Entrance, flowing all the way southeast along the terrain. The intertwined waterways in the lowlands irrigated a fertile land near the Gigantic Tree Path Entrance, making this place one of the largest grain-producing areas of the Plains of the Holy Spirits and a strategic point repeatedly contested by the Eastern Territory Rebels and the Anzu Kingdom’s military.

The fires of war burned close. Though they had briefly extinguished in winter, with the weather warming, the shadows of war returned to this land along with the rising waters of the river channels.

Sam, with his graying hair, took his children to the upper reaches of the river. The stones placed on the "Harvest Stone" from last year were still there, though a few were missing, most likely kicked away by animals drinking here. Beneath the remaining stones, rough carvings could still be vaguely seen, depicting the holy emblems of the three goddesses of fertility with crude techniques.

Sam stepped forward with an almost reverent demeanor and cleared the old stones off the Harvest Stone. Then, he took out the Red Ginger Grass he carried with him, squeezed out the juice, and applied it to the emblems of the three goddesses of fertility. His two sons picked new stones of appropriate size from the nearby riverbank and placed them flat atop the Harvest Stone, forming a small pile. After all this was done, his youngest daughter came over and stuck a greenish twig into the middle of the pile.

Sam bowed his head, muttering softly, "Goddess of Spring, you are the first messenger of the Revival Month. May the Red Ginger Grass dye your skirt and lead you to this land..."

The children all bowed their heads, praying alongside their father.

In human belief, the fertility gods consist of three different goddesses. The eldest sister is the Goddess of Nature and Life, Gaia, also known as the life goddess and mother of the earth. She governs all of the earth and every plant growing upon it. The Goddess of Harvest, Eve, is the sister of the Goddess of Nature and Life and specifically governs the crops among plants to protect the mortal’s harvest. The Goddess of Spring, Flora, is the youngest of the three goddesses of fertility, yet the most lively.

The Anzu believe that whenever the Revival Month arrives and the earth’s ice and snow thaw, the Goddess of Spring, Flora, will be the first to run out of her palace, coming to earth to find evidence of the end of Bitter Winter. The Red Ginger Grass can catch this goddess’s attention, and the earliest greening twig of the Revival Month can bring her joy. She will remember the position of every green branch, and after the end of spring upon her return to the palace, she will inform the Goddess of Harvest of what happened on earth—guaranteeing the farmers’ harvests for the year.

Almost all farmers believe in the three goddesses of fertility— even if they are also believers of the Holy Light or Blood God, they do not neglect the annual tribute to the fertility gods at the start of spring.

But relying solely on an extra three to five pounds of grain... can we really live in peace?

After the brief prayer, Sam raised his head, watching the green twig in the center of the stone pile gradually turn to dust and drift away with the wind. He breathed a slight sigh, "The goddess has accepted our offering, this year’s harvest shouldn’t be bad."

"Last year’s harvest wasn’t bad either, but we still went hungry," the eldest son mumbled, "The goddess can only bless us with a bountiful harvest but can’t prevent hunger."

"Don’t speak nonsense in front of the gods!" Sam immediately turned and glared at his son, "That’s because the aristocratic lords are at war, of course, we have to hand over the grain!"

The two sons exchanged glances, then the younger son spoke up, "Father, I saw soldiers again when I went out today; they passed by on the northern avenue, heading east."

"Those are Earl of Sorin’s cavalry," Sam shook his head, speaking as a lifelong farmer who didn’t dare get involved with the aristocratic Soldiers. "You didn’t provoke them, did you?"

"I kept my distance!" the younger son shook his head vigorously, "They’re terrifying—they all carry swords I’ve never seen before, wearing armor I’ve never seen before, riding tall horses, looking fierce."

"...The weather gets warmer every day; it seems like the fighting will start again."

Sam muttered, knowing what his younger son meant by the never-seen swords and armor—he had also seen a team of Knights passing by the village’s north a few days ago, equipped with gear different from last year. It was said those swords and armor were made from the south. Earl of Sorin seemed confident that southern-made weapons could help him reclaim his territory and fortress. But such things were hard for the common folk, who toiled in the fields, to understand or care about.

He hoped the war would end quickly, or at least not continue here, either the Anzu Kingdom’s military would drive out the Eastern Region’s People quickly, or the Eastern Region’s People would drive out the Anzu Kingdom’s military quickly—it didn’t matter who won or lost.

Last year, when the Eastern Region’s army reached the front of the Gigantic Tree Path Entrance, Earl of Sorin said he would organize a defense, so he collected a round of grain from neighboring villages, but in the end, he still couldn’t hold them off and got defeated anyway.

After the defeat, Prince Edmund didn’t collect grain but took one-third of the village’s able-bodied men to build roads; several died outside.

Halfway through the road construction, the Anzu Kingdom’s military and Holy Church Army fought their way back and drove the Eastern Region’s People out of the Gigantic Tree Path Entrance, but this was not good news—

To support the Knights and Priests of the Holy Church Army, Earl of Sorin collected another round of grain.

Last year was a great harvest, an unprecedented great harvest, with every family collecting two or three more portions.

Ten died of starvation in the village, and eight died of exhaustion building roads.

So it’s no wonder the son dared speak such bold words before the gods.

"Let’s go home. Don’t run into water ghosts and malevolent spirits if it gets late," Sam shook his head, put on his tattered hat, "Too many people have died recently; the wilds are becoming more dangerous at night."

The children followed their father’s steps, walking towards the village along the relatively flat stone shore of the river. The youngest daughter, following her two brothers, suddenly curiously asked, "I heard John from next door was chosen to be a Soldier, and the Knight rewarded their family with two bags of wheat, and they don’t have to pay taxes this year..."

"Don’t even think about it!" Sam heard the voice from behind and immediately turned to glare, "It’s real war now, being a Soldier means risking your life against the Eastern Region’s People, and there’s a risk of dying outside—besides, with your two worthless brothers, look at their thin arms and legs, would the Knight favor them?"

The youngest daughter was startled, quickly shrank her neck, and dared not make a sound.

Cooking smoke rose ahead, and the village’s wooden fence came into Sam’s view.

A cavalryman riding a tall horse, wearing a uniquely styled armor etched with a magic symbol, with a black single-handed Longsword at his waist, was stopped at the village entrance. Upon seeing Sam and the others, he immediately lifted the whip in his hand, "You lot, come here!"

Sam’s heart tightened instantly.

Grain collection again? Winter just passed... How could there be any grain left at home?!

But he dared not be negligent, hurrying with his children to the cavalry, stopping at a distance where they wouldn’t be kicked by a horse or hit by a whip, deeply bowing: "Knight, sir."

This was just a soldier on horseback; judging by the fully armed appearance, at most he was a squad leader among soldiers, not the real aristocratic "Knight, sir," but Sam, knowing this, still respectfully called him "Knight, sir" — it greatly pleased the soldier on horseback, and even if someone pursued the matter, he could claim his ignorance and cluelessness to cover it.

The cavalry indeed appreciated it, the fully armed man smiled with the corners of his mouth curled up, nodded in satisfaction, and then pointed with his whip at Sam’s two sons behind him: "You have two sons?"

"Yes... yes..." Sam nodded repeatedly, "They are honest and straightforward young men..."

"Honest and straightforward is good, that’s what we need," the cavalry raised his chin, "Pick one, your son has been conscripted."

"Ah... ah?" Sam lifted his head in astonishment, after a moment of shock, he finally panicked, "Sir, they... they are not suited for fighting! Look at their arms and legs and how they can barely stand straight. If sent to battle, losing life would be a small matter; they probably can’t even wield a weapon, and that would disgrace the leader!"

"Sent to battle? They wouldn’t even qualify," the cavalry swung his whip impatiently, "They’re going to work!"

Frightened by the sound of the whip, Sam boldly asked: "Work... what kind of work?"

"Road repair," the cavalry said loudly, "Under the orders signed jointly by the regent Duke Victoria Wilder, Baldwin Franklin, and Prince Wales, to repair the King’s Road — the loyal Viscount Hancock has entered your household into the list, there’s no defying!"

The cavalry left swiftly.

It was Revival Month 15, Anzu’s traditional holiday, Resurrection Festival, and on this day, the King’s Road, abandoned for a century, began to be repaired anew.

Also on the same day, after intensive preparations, the "White Sand Mining Company," established under the leadership of Minister Patrick, finally chose their first excavation site in the White Sand Hills of the Eastern Region.

The young knight Belk Loren stood on the tall watchtower, observing the busy Cecil Clan amidst the distant mountain rocks: representing the communication between the Eastern and Southern Regions, and acting as the "representative" appointed by Prince Edmund, this young man meticulously carried out his duties, closely monitoring the activities of the Cecil Clan on this land, naturally also observing the construction site at their first excavation point.

Regarding the Cecil Clan from the southwest border, Belk Loren stayed three parts trustful, seven parts wary; he knew what the founding king had done in the southern borders: a person who destroyed the entire southern aristocratic system by force within a year, and launched a strong attack and occupied the rocky ridges Fortress in three days, could certainly not be anything benign. Although sending a "White Sand Mining Company" over was supposedly just for mining, who knows if these Cecil Clan individuals would infiltrate or gradually encroach, turning the lands around the White Sand Hills into their own territory?

After all, only a river and a small patch of woods separated here from Gran Territory at the Cecil Principality’s border.

Beneath the watchtower lay the temporary mining camp, and the Cecil Clan transported a large number of strange equipment via Gran Region, they had laid Magic Web in the mining field, erected prefab houses, even cleared a simple road — although the tools they used and the architectural arrangement appeared peculiar, at least for now, these southern border individuals were only making preparations necessary for "mining."

"Marquis Belk, I hope this mining area can satisfy your curiosity," a voice sounded from nearby, "After all, in such desolate wild mountains, there’s hardly anything worth watching scenery-wise."

The speaker was a thin and dark man named Holme. Belk Loren knew this young man of no family name to be the head of the "White Sand Mining Company," a "mining expert" sent by the Cecil Clan. He didn’t understand why such a vast enterprise employing hundreds and thousands would be managed and directed by a commoner, yet he courteously nodded to Holme: "I didn’t come for the scenery either; I’m here to inspect your mining site — please don’t mind my frankness, but I must emphasize: Although the extraction rights are granted to you, this remains Eastern Region’s land, and I’m responsible for every inch outside the mining area."

Holme nodded: "Certainly, Marquis, we’re only interested in mining and hold no interest in any land beyond the mining area and roads."

In the distance, those busy Cecil Clan members among the mountain rocks finally completed some preparation work; amidst loud whistles and several shrill whistle cries, the miners dressed in rough work clothes quickly ran far from the mountain rocks, hiding behind a pile of huge stones.

Belk watched the scene in astonishment, as in any mining process he knew, he hadn’t seen anything similar: "What are they doing?"

Holme laughed, the brightest smile the man born of slave labor had ever shown, "Mining."

In the distant mining field, someone was waving a noticeable flag from a high position, and then all miners near the mountain rocks covered their ears.

Belk Loren watched with curiosity: "Mining?"

A thunderous roar sounded from afar.

Then more thunderous noises followed, one after another, like rolling thunder.

In the continuous roaring, the entire watchtower slightly trembled, and under the impact more terrifying than Flame Burst or Earthquake spell, the mountain rock requiring hundreds of people to excavate for a whole month erupted and collapsed suddenly.

Belk nearly drew his sword; amidst the buzzing in his ears, he heard the voice from the White Sand Mining Company’s head next to him:

"Yes, mining, Marquis, we’re only mining."