"Is the great famine coming soon?"
Vice Judge Lucien was stunned.
He had no idea at all! He hadn't received any news! For the past year, he had been excluded from the church's information network, with no one giving him updates on this matter, only urging him to complete his tasks quickly.
"Yes, esteed healer, please co out and see for yourself."
The warrior leader bowed respectfully.
He wore a soft deerskin robe, with holes made by stone needles along the edges, tied with strands of deer sinew. The rough, crude, and pungent sll was too much for Vice Judge Lucien to bear:
It was an eyesore!
Not only was it an eyesore, but it also stung the nose! Do you know what they used to tan the deerskin? Urine!
They would collect a basin of urine, leave it in a warm place for three or four days until the stench filled the room, then soak the deerskin in it! After soaking, they would scrape off the internal fat and mbranes and stretch it...
He inadvertently caught a glimpse and had to walk around the houses where people made deerskin robes. But in this place, everyone wore clothes made from the n’s hunts and tanned by the won.
Whenever they returned from a hunt, there was no escape in the tribe.
In the church, he always wore silk robes! Even the slightest color deviation or embroidery error ant the robe wasn't fit for him!
Maybe he should find a bigger tribe...
Lucien silently complained, following the warrior leader to the tribe's gathering hall. It was more like a dark cave than a hall, with the central hearth blackened from years of use.
On one stone wall, countless lines were drawn in red ochre mixed with magical beast blood. Squinting, Lucien barely recognized so shapes after a long look.
"This might be a mountain, that circle might be a lake, and this winding line could be a river?"
"Honored healer, please look." The warrior leader raised a torch, illuminating the chaotic drawings on the stone wall:
"In past years, when the new moon rose, the deer herds would co to these places to graze. Now, the moon is almost full, and the deer have not returned. The grass is barely sprouting and hasn't grown half a foot tall."
The weather was colder than usual, and the lting snow and thawing streams were much later. Last sumr, when those who could summon fire and ice passed through, they ntioned a great famine. It seems it’s really coming...
Vice Judge Lucien was bewildered.
He hadn't fard in years—no, he had never fard since joining the church and serving the God of Radiance.
Cold weather and slow grass growth were bad ons, but how severe would the famine be?
Maybe the ascetics could tell. Many of them, including the leader of the ascetics in the City of Radiance, worked the fields every day. As for himself— Ɽ𝘈ＮO͍𝐁ЕS
Maybe he should find a bigger tribe? Although a bigger tribe had a higher chance of being discovered by those heretics...
"Is the great famine really coming?"
Elder Brock, draped in feathers and wearing a feather crown, sat quietly by the hearth. He sprinkled so spices into the fire, closed his eyes. His disciples beat drums, shook bells, and sang loudly, dancing vigorously.
Assisted by his disciples, the chants, and the spices, Elder Brock’s spirit rose higher and higher. In the mysterious void, he spread out, spiraled, and searched...
"The spirit of the eagle tells , the sky is unusually gray and oppressive." After a long ti, Elder Brock opened his eyes, covered in sweat, his voice hoarse:
"The earth is cold, devoid of life. The spirit of the eagle says it has never seen such a barren land."
"Our friends' warnings last year were true. The great famine is indeed coming."
"Then... Elder, what should we do? Should we organize our best warriors to hunt far away? Our tribe's food reserves are insufficient..."
Elder Brock slowly looked around.
Cold winds blew from the polar regions to the north, sweeping through the Kent Kingdom, the Black Gate Mountains, the Great Wilderness, and the Carolingian and Rhine Kingdoms.
From experienced old farrs to high lords, they all noticed sothing was wrong when the winter felt particularly long and spring arrived too late:
"Hurry! Raise the fences higher!"
Around the Dwarf Kingdom, the royal knights helped their kin and the barbarian villagers drive the goats into pens. The barbarians, with their tall stature, swung large hamrs to raise the fences higher and higher.
Finally, everyone wore thick gloves and wound thorny vines around the fences:
"This spring is especially late, the mountain goats are late to ascend, and the snow leopards are hungry and coming down to hunt! If we don't strengthen the fences, all our livestock will be wiped out!"
"But what about the insufficient feed?"
"The servants of the God of Nature taught us a thod to store fodder—we stockpiled a lot last year, and it's still good. It should last another month! By then, the grass should start growing!"
The dwarves inspected the wheat in their warehouses, gathering their sheep and protecting the precious grain. The barbarians ran through the mountains, sailing in streams and near the sea, hunting and fishing:
"Fortunately, we bought a lot of cheap salt last year. We can preserve the at and fish for a long ti. No matter what, there will always be fish in the rivers and sea..."
In the Netherlands, also reliant on fishing, the mood was not so good. Fishing provided plenty of at, but supporting the fishing industry also required building ships, coopering barrels, repairing sails, and weaving nets...
Only then could the catch be transported to other cities or countries for sale, exchanging for the goods and money the Dutch needed.
"No wonder the Kent Kingdom bought so much fish from us last year..."
The Duke of the Netherlands flipped through the secretary's report, feeling a bit displeased. The heretics were generous with money and supplies, especially with salt, doubling and tripling the previous amounts.
Without salt, the catch couldn't be processed and barreled at sea;
without salt, it couldn't be sold hundreds of miles away!
"If I had known the famine would be this severe, I should have raised the prices..."
The Duke stroked his upturned mustache, muttering softly. The secretary, his trusted advisor, asked quietly:
"Then, my lord, should we raise prices for the Kent Kingdom this year?"
"...Do we trade with them?"
The Duke glanced sideways. The secretary imdiately bowed:
"No, my lord. I ant, should we strictly regulate the fishern to ensure they follow the territory's laws?"
"Hmm..." The Duke pressed down the tips of his mustache, let go to let it spring up, and repeated a few tis before pondering:
"What's the latest good stuff?"
"The inventory lists so new items." The secretary flipped through a pile of reports, expertly pulling out a small booklet. He opened it, his finger landing on a page with a folded corner:
"Fertilizer for cultivating magical plants, asured precisely according to their new soil testing thods;
"
"Fresh surge potion, using dragon breath moss as the main ingredient, greatly enhancing the advancent potential of water warriors;
"
"Direct current defibrillator... huh..."
"What?" The Duke of the Netherlands took the booklet from the secretary, read the term twice before stumbling through the explanation:
"A direct current defibrillator can partially resuscitate knights who suffer severe injuries and cardiac arrest during advancent, and can also save patients with severe injuries or illness who suffer cardiac arrest... What is this thing?!"
He looked closer at the small print below the inventory list. The letters, though small, were outlined in silver powder to ensure they weren't missed:
"Refer to 'dical Research' January issue for details..."
The Duke of the Netherlands: "..."
Are wizards now selling goods by writing research papers?
Regardless, the Duke decided not to tighten trade with the Kent Kingdom, considering the novelty of these items.
—Having sothing that can save their own knights without relying on healing spells or the Church of Radiance was undoubtedly beneficial. As for what the church thought...
Ha!
How would he know where the fishern sailed?
So cared about the famine;
others didn't. Seven hundred miles south of the capital of the Netherlands, in the capital of the Carolingian Kingdom, a wedding carriage pulled by six white horses slowly passed through the streets, heading toward the palace gates.
On the left and right, knights from the Kingdom of Rhine, dressed in navy blue wool uniforms and wearing ship-shaped military hats, guarded the princess's carriage;
In front and behind, knights from the Carolingian Kingdom, dressed in bright red wool uniforms with ostrich feathers on their tall hats, cleared the way and followed. Their gloved hands scattered petals and candies;
Among the procession, clergy from the Church of Radiance continuously conjured specks of light, decorating the queen's carriage;
On both sides of the wide road, citizens dressed in fine clothes, neat attire, or ragged garnts filled the streets, welcoming their new queen.
Husbands held wives, parents held children, trying to peek at the new queen through the veils. So smiled as they picked up candies, cherishing them to share with family;
And so...
"Wow—"
A three or four-year-old girl with golden curls cried loudly. The woman beside her quickly picked her up, stepped back, and gently bounced her:
"Eva, what's wrong?"
"Wow—wow—" The girl's thin face scrunched up. After a while, she spat out a petal:
"This flower is so bitter—Mom, I'm hungry, I'm hungry..."
With those words, the woman hugged her daughter, burying her head in her shoulder, using the girl's ragged clothes
to hide her tears:
"Mommy knows, mommy knows... We'll eat when we get ho..."
She didn't know why the king's wedding required a tax of two coppers per person;
She didn't know why the clergy preferred to decorate the carriage with light rather than bless the sick and poor;
She didn't know why there were promises of candies, but only bitter petals reached them...
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