Words and numbers are the thresholds. Cross them and you stand inside; fail to cross, and you can only watch from outside.
The crowd quieted down.
"Lord Louis said," Pete continued, "Whoever can learn a hundred words within a week can beco a recorder. The kind that wears uniforms."
When the class ended, the crowd slowly dispersed.
Lily didn’t leave. She picked up a stick and started drawing on the freshly paved cent ground.
A circle, surrounded by short lines.
Pete squatted down and glanced at it: "Gold coins?"
She shook her head: "No."
She lifted her face, speaking softly yet earnestly: "That’s Lord Louis. I haven’t seen him, but you said he’s warm, like the Sun."
The people nearby who hadn’t yet dispersed stopped in their tracks.
A blind old man felt his way over to the drawing, and slowly knelt down.
Only one part of the ground was still damp.
But in their hearts, the person who gave them food, clothes, and nas was more real than the Dragon Ancestor in the Church who only collected taxes.
......
A month later, on a foggy morning, the valley was shrouded in mist.
Black Swamp Town no longer existed.
The once man-eating, bone-spitting muck had been flattened and solidified, with two rows of stilt houses lined along the riverbank.
Charred wooden pillars driven deep into the ground, the buildings suspended above, casting shadows on the gravel and quick-drying cent-paved roads, reflecting a layer of cold, bluish-gray light.
The air was free of stench, leaving only a faint scent of burnt wood and the cool, sterile sll of li.
The copper bell in the square rang out.
It was a freshly cast bell by the craftsn’s office, not very lodious, but clear enough.
The sound spread, and over a thousand workers quickly erged from various houses, gathering in the square.
Lily stood in the front row.
She wore a washed-out gray uniform, with sleeves altered to be short, and had her hair cut into a neat bob.
The face once covered with pustules was now clean and lean, with extraordinarily bright eyes.
A polished wooden plaque hung on her chest, engraved with the simple words "Outstanding Literacy Class Student."
She stood straight, raised a hand to adjust the collar of an orphan beside her who wasn’t standing properly, and whispered: "Chest up. Pete said, we’re the reserve for the Red Tide, not beggars."
The child hesitated for a mont, then imdiately mimicked the posture of a Knight, standing upright.
Thorne stood on the lookout on the high slope, gazing over the entire square.
Not just Black Swamp Town; within a month, changes had spread outward like ripples.
On three dirt roads in the distance, teams wearing the sa gray uniforms were converging towards the riverbank.
They carried shovels and pickaxes, with steps not entirely in sync, yet walked steadily.
These were Iron Slag Village, Kumu Village, and several other almost forgotten small hamlets further away.
In the past, even tax collectors didn’t bother to visit these places.
But now, people were voluntarily coming out, following the river, following the signposts, heading in the sa direction.
They didn’t fully understand water resource planning, nor could they articulate the rules of the Red Tide, but they heard there’s work, food, and nights where people wouldn’t be randomly dragged away.
The flow of people, like guided water, converged from all directions, slowly pouring into this erging construction site.
This wasn’t the revival of a town.
This was the entire Gray Rock Province, for the first ti, beginning to breathe in the sa direction.
By the riverbank, the steam pile driver was ready.
Black iron pipes emitted white mist, pistons slowly moved, like a giant beast just awakened, with the steam whistle sounding loudly.
The sound tore through the dense fog, frightening away the water birds.
Pete climbed onto the high platform, raised the red flag, without any superfluous mobilization: "Start construction, for the Red Tide!"
"For the Red Tide!"
The echoing shouts drowned out the roaring of the icy river.
Lily picked up a gauge almost as tall as herself, and charged towards the riverbank with the team.
The first pile was driven heavily into the riverbank amidst the mist.
The fate of Gray Rock Province, at this mont, was pinned beneath the foundation.
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