Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 698 - 697: After the Burning

The refreshing wind swept across the desolate plains, stirring up dry dust and withered leaves. On the abandoned land, the irrigation ditches were dried up due to upstream interruptions, and a collapsed, dilapidated wall lay in the dirt, largely covered by yellowing weeds.

An abandoned old mill stood solitary by the roadside, with massive windmill blades that had fallen off the mill resembling dismembered limbs tragically resting on a partially collapsed red brick wall. Signs of burning and explosive attacks were everywhere around the mill. A charred road sign stood skewed at the crossroads in front of the mill, with barely discernible lettering:

"Changwei Forest - Kabrei Town"

A rough and knotted hand brushed across the sign, wiping off a layer of charred ash.

Norris looked at the black ash on his hand and then rubbed his fingers, glancing at the abandoned old mill not far away.

A gust of autumn wind blew, carrying cold air that filled Norris’s already unhealthy lungs; he couldn’t help but bend over, coughing continuously.

A few young people accompanying him immediately stepped forward, one of them supporting the slightly shaky Minister of Agriculture: "Minister, are you alright?"

"It’s nothing, age is catching up to me, the wind in this season isn’t very friendly to me," Norris waved his hand, declining the support from his subordinate who was also his apprentice, as his gaze slowly withdrew from the direction of the mill, "I’ve heard about this place... It is said the most fertile land near the Changwei Forest is here..."

"All abandoned," sighed a young official, "By the time the troops arrived here, the entire Changwei Forest had been occupied by the Crystal Cluster Legion, with less than a hundred survivors gathered. To completely eradicate those creatures, the soldiers executed bombing and then burned down all the towns, including the settlements around the towns."

"Abandoned... Abandonment isn’t terrifying; abandoned lands can still be salvaged," Norris spoke slowly, looking toward the weed-covered fields not far away, "What’s frightening is the lingering remnants of pollution. Let’s go take a look over there."

The young official accompanying him turned around, instructing several Magic-guided Vehicles to wait by the roadside, before stepping up to follow Norris.

The once fertile fields, after experiencing abandonment and being overgrown with weeds, had been bombed and burned. After burning, a few rains and winds led to new weeds growing again, making it hardly possible to see the former appearance of the fields from a distance. Norris squatted beside a rut that could barely be distinguished, reaching out to grab a handful of soil, gently rubbing it with his fingers.

The black soil, mixed with plant ash, carried a slightly damp, sticky texture, dropping to the ground as he rubbed it with his fingers.

"What good soil..." Norris held out his hand, letting his companions see the soil left on it, "Where in the south is the land this good?"

After sighing, he clapped his hands and began instructing the sampling personnel to collect soil samples from the area. A accompanying clerk took out a folder carried with him and found the corresponding report: "This area and the surrounding fields are part of the ’Velvet Grass Manor,’ private property of the Viscount of Kabrei. However, it’s difficult to accurately determine the precise population of Kabrei Town, roughly estimated at about three hundred households — not including the more remote villages and a mine."

A young technician wearing outdoor work clothes, with an Empire Standard Vine Ring Druid Badge pinned on his chest, remarked while inspecting the soil quality: "The soil here still looks healthy and is very fertile. Compared to the two polluted areas discovered earlier, this situation is much better..."

"Temporarily mark it as green," Norris supported his knee, slowly standing up, "Before the next planting season, we must collect as much data as possible on arable land, also don’t forget to mark the severely polluted areas..."

"Yes, Minister. Should we..."

A accompanying official from the Ministry of Agriculture responded but was interrupted when a guard standing on a soil ridge for vigilance suddenly shouted toward an area not far away: "Who goes there? Show yourself!!"

Several pairs of eyes immediately turned toward the direction of the guard’s shout. Norris raised his eyelids, seeing faint figures moving inside the abandoned mill not far away. After the guard shouted a second time, the two figures hiding in the mill finally emerged from the abandoned building.

It was a man and a woman, their age indiscernible, dressed in dull gray clothes, their hair and faces dirty. They cautiously bent their bodies as they approached, carrying a demeanor of humility and fear, as if terrified of making a wrong step and being seized by these "big figures" before them.

Norris’s expression instinctively twitched upon seeing the pair. He recalled his own past a few years back... That humble, timid posture had been ingrained in his bones for decades, a feeling he knew all too well.

"Survivors? Are there survivors in this area?" A young clerk exclaimed in surprise.

Norris frowned, waiting until the two individuals approached closer before asking: "What are you doing here? Have you been hiding here all along?"

"Sir, we are... we came back from a southern town... We hid before, there was a battle, and only after it was over here did we return."

The hunched man spoke cautiously, tugging repeatedly at a thread on his garment as he spoke. Though his words were somewhat jumbled and unclear, Norris quickly understood what he meant — these two had not been hiding in the mill all along; they likely fled with everyone else when things initially took a turn for the worse, luckily escaping from this hellish place. Likely, they spent the past few months wandering and fleeing in Pompeii or the Scodeland Area, returning now upon hearing news of safety in the north.

Such situations weren’t uncommon in this vast region — survivors were few during that disaster, but someone always managed to escape.

A portion of these people was sheltered and protected by teams sent out from the southern borders, some might have already found a permanent haven in the south, while others could not bear to abandon the land cultivated by generations, the only familiar homeland, or simply couldn’t find a way to survive in the south, hence they returned again, wandering this land turned to wasteland by war.

If left unchecked, most of these people would sooner or later perish from hunger, cold, or disease, fall prey to beasts, or become bandits and robbers in the Eastern Region of the Holy Spirit Plain. This abandoned land would become an enormous lawless zone.

Yet, the Empire wouldn’t stand idly by, and Noris, alongside his workgroup and several other teams heading in different directions, were tasked with rebuilding this "Imperial Granary."

"I’m not a ’Sir,’ call me Norris. I’m here under orders from His Majesty, to rebuild this place," shaking his head, casting away the complex thoughts, Norris said to the couple before him, "This place isn’t suitable for settling yet. You can go to the resettlement area southeast of here first..."

The woman with dirty hair seemed not to understand Norris’s latter words and instead widened her eyes: "Your Majesty? Which Majesty? Hasn’t His Majesty Francis passed away?"

Norris was taken aback.

Among these fleeing poor people in the central regions, news had fallen behind to such an extent that they not only did not know about the Empire’s establishment, but perhaps didn’t even know if the civil war had truly ended. From when did they start fleeing? And how long have they been isolated from the civilized world?

Having lived in the advanced and prosperous Cecil Castle for several years, Norris once again saw this familiar poverty, familiar backwardness, so much so that he forgot to speak for a moment. It was the Druid technician standing next to him who couldn’t help but say, "It’s His Majesty Gawain Cecil, he is the emperor now."

The couple was stunned for a long time before finally exclaiming repeatedly.

"Go to the southeastern settlement area first," Norris said to them again, "We have cars that can take you there, and some fleeing refugees are temporarily settling there. It’s too dangerous for you to stay here; this place is not fit for living now."

The couple finally understood Norris’s meaning. They hesitated, but upon seeing Norris’s entourage and guards, they showed signs of nervousness and fear. However, Norris, other than offering comfort, could not think of how to explain everything to the two of them—he could only make some guarantees, have the entourage offer some food, and emphasize that it was the "emperor’s order," which finally set their minds at ease.

But before leaving with the soldiers, the hunchbacked man suddenly opened his mouth again, carefully pulling at the threads on his clothes, "Sir, we still have some things... Can we bring them along?"

Norris nodded, "You can, but not too much, as the car can’t hold it."

The man expressed his gratitude repeatedly, then swiftly ran back to the abandoned mill. Moments later, he came out pushing a rickety, seemingly falling apart cart—with assorted sundries, old jars, pots, and fabric whose colors couldn’t be discerned piled up together, leaving a spot for someone to sit.

This was all the possessions of the couple—Norris could almost imagine how they pushed this small cart to flee, wander among the southern villages and towns, and then pushed it back to this place.

"Just this, just this," with a humble smile on his face, the man said, "It’s not much."

The soldier preparing to escort the couple to the settlement camp took a glance at the stuff on the cart, originally wanting to say that such junk could be thrown away since the settlement camp would provide a set of essentials to the refugees. But ultimately, the soldier didn’t say so and instead sighed, "Sigh... You can bring the stuff along, but the cart won’t fit on our vehicle."

"Sir...sir," the man panicked, "I can push the cart behind you! I run very fast!"

The soldier shook his head, "No, you don’t understand..."

Norris interrupted the soldier, "Tie this small cart to the roof of the car."

The soldier looked troubled, "Sir, this..."

"Do as I say," Norris shook his head, "These are their most precious possessions right now."

"Yes, sir."

"Sir, you’re truly a good person!" the woman with the dirty hair hastily said, "You really look like a kind aristocratic lord!"

"I’m not a lord, nor an aristocratic lord, just call me Mister," Norris corrected once more, then waved, "Let’s go, follow the soldier, our car is waiting by the roadside. Don’t be scared by the car later on."

The couple hastily agreed, but as they just followed the soldier for a few steps, the hunchbacked man couldn’t help but turn back, "Sir... Mister, do you really think this place can return to how it was before?"

"...It will become even better than before," Norris looked at those cloudy yet hopeful eyes, enunciating each word, "This is the mission entrusted to me by His Majesty."

"Then... can we return by then?" the man asked quickly while observing the soldier’s expression on the side, "Our home is in the town, and over there, we still have..."

He didn’t finish his words. The woman beside him seemed to nudge his arm secretly. Norris speculated on what the unfinished words might be—a can of wheat? A box of flour? A sickle? Or a few hard-earned silver coins?

He didn’t ask but just nodded firmly, "You will return—this is the order given to me by His Majesty."

The hunchbacked man smiled, "Ah, then His Majesty Cecil indeed is a good person."

They left.

After a long time, Norris finally broke the silence, "We still have a long road ahead."

"Yes, Minister."

"But everything will get better," Norris turned around, looking at the vast land burnt by war fires, seemingly speaking to himself, "Just like His Majesty said... on this burnt land, new shoots will eventually sprout."