Free Web NovelChapter 389: Chapter 85: The Morning Star Shines Again, a New Chapter Begins
She motioned for the guards not to act and disembarked from the carriage herself.
"What do you want?" Her voice was calm, betraying no emotion.
The crowd stirred. A middle-aged man who appeared to be their leader stepped forward. One of his arms was in a sling made of a tattered cloth, and his face bore unhealed bruises.
He tried to straighten his stooped back, his voice hoarse but filled with a desperate ferocity. "Food! Leave the food! We only want the food! We... we don’t want to hurt anyone, but our children are starving to death!"
Eleanor’s gaze swept across the crowd. She saw children, so thin that their large eyes seemed to be all that was left of them, clutched tightly in their mothers’ arms. She saw the numb, vacant eyes of the elderly.
She was silent for a moment before asking, "Where are you from? Why don’t you seek help from your Lord, or the church?"
"The Lord?" The man let out a bitter laugh, full of grief and indignation. "The Lord’s castle gates are shut tighter than a drum! He sure remembered we were his subjects when it was time to collect taxes! The church? The Priest himself has fled! We tried to look for him, but we found nothing! The river flooded and washed away our village. The crops in the fields are all ruined. We have nothing left! Who else can we turn to?"
Behind him, the refugees let out stifled sobs and curses.
Eleanor listened quietly, then turned to the Deacon beside the carriage and said, "Give them a third of the food and winter clothing."
The Deacon hesitated for a moment and said in a low voice, "Miss, these were prepared for the next village. Besides, there are quite a lot of them. A third might be..."
"Just do it." Eleanor’s tone was firm.
The food and clothing were unloaded and piled by the side of the road.
The refugees could hardly believe their eyes. They stared in a daze for a moment before erupting in grateful cries mixed with sobs. They surged forward, but under the wary eyes of the guards, they managed to maintain some semblance of order as the middle-aged leader tremblingly began to distribute the supplies.
Eleanor did not leave right away. She walked over to the middle-aged man, who was struggling to hoist a sack of food with one hand, and asked, "Where do you plan to go next?"
The man stopped, looked blankly at the desolate wilderness around them, then back at the old, the weak, the women, and the children staring at him with expectant eyes. He shook his head bitterly. "I don’t know... We’ll just go wherever the road takes us. Maybe... into the mountains? I hear some people who couldn’t survive have fled into the mountains..."
Eleanor was silent for a moment. She had a guard take out a few Silver Coins and pressed them into the man’s uninjured hand. "Find a walled town. Even if you have to do hard labor, at least you’ll have a temporary roof over your heads. It’s better than wandering the wilderness. Remember, don’t resort to ambushing travelers on the road again. The next people you meet might not be like us."
The man clutched the Silver Coins, still warm from her touch. He looked into Eleanor’s calm, dark eyes, his lips trembling as turbid tears rolled down his cheeks.
’He knew his group was no match for the caravan before them.’
’The guards were swift and sharp-eyed, and they carried the faint scent of blood—a clear sign they had seen real combat.’
’His people—refugees so starved they could barely stand, armed with a few wooden clubs and pitchforks—had been making a last-ditch effort. They had thought that even if they died fighting for a scrap of food, it would be worth it. They never expected to leave alive.’
’But to his surprise, this noble-looking young lady hadn’t ordered her guards to drive them off or kill them. Instead, she had actually shared food and clothing, and even given them Silver Coins.’
"Miss..." The man’s voice choked with emotion. He wiped his face with his uninjured hand, smearing the tears and grime into darker streaks. "Thank you... Truly, thank you..."
But he still shook his head, his voice tinged with a deeper despair. "But... what town would take us in for hard labor? We tried a few towns recently. The gates were crowded with refugees just like us. The men guarding the walls said they had enough people, that they didn’t want any more. They wouldn’t even let us in... They don’t need more people. They really don’t..."
Eleanor fell silent again.
’How could she not know?’
’Everything she had seen and heard on her journey confirmed the man’s words.’
’Towns had sealed their gates, and nine out of ten homes in the countryside were empty. Refugees swarmed aimlessly like locusts, yet couldn’t find a single place to settle.’
’She had hoped to give these people something to hold on to, a sliver of hope to keep them going.’
’But now, the man had shattered even that last, fragile hope with the plain truth.’
After a long while, Eleanor finally spoke, her voice so soft it was almost lost in the howling autumn wind:
"Then just... try to survive."
The man froze for a second. He said no more, simply tightening his grip on the Silver Coins and the edge of the food sack with his good hand. He nodded heavily, as if summoning all his remaining strength.
’He didn’t dare hope for more. To live one more day, to let the elders and children behind him have one more bite to eat—that was the only thing he could hold on to now.’
The carriage set off again. Its wheels rumbled over the rutted road, leaving the figures of the refugees—clutching their share of food as they staggered into the unknown wilderness against the cold wind—further and further behind, until they finally vanished into the swirling dust and the deepening twilight.
Inside the carriage, Eleanor closed her eyes. Her long lashes cast faint shadows on her pale cheeks.
She was not asleep. Instead, her spiritual perception spread out from her like ripples on water.
The surrounding wind vibrated gently, carrying with it the faint, distant sounds of crying, cursing, and the clash of weapons.
