Free Web NovelChapter 406: Chapter 87: A Story of Mortals
On the fifteenth day after leaving the Monte Territory, the carriage procession was deep in the heartland of the Phlanis Kingdom.
The scenery before them was a stark contrast to the vast, clear autumn days of the Northern Territory.
A leaden-gray sky hung low.
On either side of the road, once-fertile fields now lay largely barren. The stalks of dead crops were strewn about, soaking in murky, stagnant water and emitting the sour stench of rot.
Occasionally, one or two stooped figures could be seen futilely digging through the mud, perhaps for an overlooked potato root or a wild vegetable that had managed to survive.
The villages were even more dilapidated.
Many mud-brick houses had collapsed, revealing their blackened frames like skeletons gnawed on by some great beast.
Even the houses that remained intact were mostly shuttered, devoid of life.
Along the roadside, one could occasionally spot newly erected hovels—low, crooked shacks haphazardly built from branches, rags, and mud, offering meager shelter from the elements.
Besides the reek of mud and humus, a more unsettling, heavy odor lingered faintly in the air.
In the afternoon, the procession paused to rest beside an abandoned country mill.
The mill’s stone wheel had long since stopped turning and was now covered in moss. The millrace was dry to the bottom and filled with rubbish.
Knight Davies posted sentries while the rest of the guards began to silently check the carriages and horses, gnawing on hardtack with cold water.
Arthur’s grandson, Luke, now twenty-five, was one of the more competent members among the eight Knight’s Attendants in the retinue.
He strode to Murphy’s carriage and placed his right hand over his chest. His young face was weathered from the long journey, but his voice was clear as he reported:
"My Lord, Riverbend Town is five kilometers ahead, within Count Hoffman’s Domain. The scouts report that the town is now nearly deserted. Apparently, due to constant flooding in the spring and summer, the autumn harvest was a near-total failure. On top of that, the Lord imposed a ’River Channel Repair Tax.’ Many farmers couldn’t pay their rent and taxes, so they either fled the famine or were conscripted to work off their debt in the Count’s quarry. A large number of refugees have gathered outside the town. The situation is chaotic, with rumors of frequent bandit activity."
He paused briefly, glancing at Murphy’s profile through the carriage window before continuing, "The scouts also picked up another piece of information. About ten days ago, an unidentified but well-equipped group passed by the vicinity of Riverbend Town. They didn’t enter the town but stopped for half a day at an abandoned village office outside. They seem to have distributed some food and medicine to the most destitute refugees, and they specifically helped several sick children. The refugees couldn’t clearly describe their appearance, only that the leader seemed to be a very young, beautiful lady."
After listening, Murphy just gave a slight nod to show he had heard.
Once the rest was over, the convoy set off again, heading toward Riverbend Town.
The closer they got to the town, the more difficult the road became. Ruts ran deep in the mud, and the roadsides were littered with old junk and animal skeletons.
The heavy odor in the air grew thicker.
About a kilometer from Riverbend Town, the road conditions grew even more complex.
On a small, barren hill, most of the sparse trees had been felled, leaving only bare stumps.
In a shaded spot on the hill, nestled against a few crumbling earthen walls, was a natural corner that offered some slight shelter from the wind.
Dozens of figures were gathered there now, some sitting, some lying down.
From a distance, they looked like a pile of carelessly discarded burlap sacks.
Only when the carriage drew closer did it become clear that they were a group of sallow, gaunt refugees with vacant eyes.
There were farmers with their families in tow, lonely old people, and several half-grown children whose bare arms and legs were as thin as kindling.
Most of them were silent. Only the occasional cough or the faint cry of a baby broke the dead stillness.
When Murphy’s convoy appeared in their line of sight, an instinctual stir went through the refugees.
Some shrank back in fear, huddling deeper against the earthen wall and pulling their tattered clothes tighter around themselves and their children.
Others looked over numbly, their eyes devoid of any light, as if they were just watching another moving rock.
Only one man, a middle-aged man leaning against the wall who appeared to be their leader, struggled to his feet. His left leg was bent at an unnatural angle, and he supported himself with a thick branch.
At a signal from Knight Davies, the carriages slowed slightly but did not stop.
The refugees seemed accustomed to being ignored. The faint glimmer of hope that had just appeared in the middle-aged man’s eyes quickly died out, and he slumped back down in dejection.
However, just as the carriage was about to pass the barren hill, Murphy’s voice came from inside. It was calm and steady, yet it cut clearly through the sound of wheels crunching over gravel:
"Stop."
Knight Davies immediately raised his hand, and the convoy ground to a halt.
The guards instantly went on alert, their hands on their sword hilts, their sharp gazes sweeping the surroundings, especially the area where the refugees were gathered.
The sudden stop startled the refugees into silence. The entire group fell deathly quiet; even the crying baby was muffled by its mother’s hand.
The middle-aged man looked up again, his face a mixture of terror and confusion.
Murphy pushed open the carriage window.
He did not get out. He simply looked calmly at the middle-aged man and asked in perfect Phlanis, "Where are you from?"
The man flinched, apparently not expecting such an obviously high-ranking nobleman to speak to "ants" like them.
He licked his chapped lips, his voice as hoarse as sandpaper. "M-My Lord... We... most of us are from the villages around Riverbend Town... The fields yielded nothing, so we couldn’t pay the Count’s new tax... Our houses... our houses were taken to cover the debt..."
