Chapter 552 — Spring

The weather was turning warm, and the snow was melting away.

The ice and snow on the northwestern highlands had melted into murmuring streams; the brooks gathered and poured into the river channels, then split into several branches in the lowlands south of the Giantwood Pass, flowing southeast with the lay of the land. The crisscrossing waterways around the Giantwood Pass had irrigated a stretch of fertile soil, making this place one of the largest grain-producing regions on the Holy Spirit Plain—and also a strategic point contested back and forth between the Eastern rebels and the royal army.

The fires of war had drawn very near. They had briefly died down in winter, but as the weather warmed, the shadow of war returned to this land with the rising waters of the river channels.

Grey-haired Sam brought his sons and daughters to the upper reaches of the river. The stones stacked last year on the "Harvest Stone" were still there, only a few missing—most likely kicked away by animals that had come to drink; and beneath the remaining stones, some rough carvings could still faintly be seen, depicting the sacred emblems of the Three Gods of Abundance in a crude hand.

Sam stepped forward and, with an almost reverent air, cleared the old stones from the Harvest Stone. Then he took out the red ginger grass he carried with him, squeezed out its juice, and smeared it over the emblems of the Three Gods of Abundance. His two sons picked up new stones of suitable size from the nearby riverbank and placed them on the flat top of the Harvest Stone, piling them into a small heap. Only when all this was done did the youngest daughter come forward and plant a tender green branch in the middle of the stone pile.

Sam bowed his head and murmured softly: "Goddess of Spring, you are the first herald of the Month of Revival. May the red ginger grass dye your skirts red and draw you to this land..."

The children all bowed their heads and prayed along with their father.

In human faith, the God of Abundance is made up of three different goddesses. The eldest sister is Gaia, Mother Goddess of the Earth, also called the Goddess of Life and Mother of the Land; she governs the whole earth and all plants that grow upon it. Eve, Goddess of Harvest, is the Earth Mother's younger sister; she governs specifically the crops among plants, protecting the harvests of mortals. Flora, Goddess of Spring, is the youngest of the Three Gods of Abundance—and also the liveliest—

The Ansus believe that whenever the Month of Revival comes and the ice and snow upon the earth melt away, Flora, Goddess of Spring, is the first to run out from her palace and come to the earth to seek evidence that winter has ended. The red ginger grass can catch this goddess's attention, and the first tender branches to turn green in the Month of Revival can delight her. She will remember the location of every green branch, and after spring ends and she returns to her palace, she will tell the Goddess of Harvest what has happened upon the earth—and thus the farmers' yearly harvest is assured.

Nearly all farmers worship the Three Gods of Abundance—even if they are also followers of the Holy Light or the Blood God, they will not neglect the annual spring offerings to the Gods of Abundance.

But could a few extra catties of grain... really be enough to live on in peace?

When the brief prayer ended, Sam lifted his head and, watching the green branch in the middle of the stone pile slowly crumble to dust and scatter on the wind, let out a faint breath: "The goddess has accepted our offering. This year's harvest won't be bad."

"Last year's harvest wasn't bad either, and we still went hungry," the eldest son muttered under his breath. "The goddess can only bless a good harvest—she can't stop us from going hungry."

"Don't talk nonsense before the gods!" Sam immediately turned his head and glared at his son. "That's because the noble lords are fighting a war—of course we have to hand over grain!"

The two sons exchanged a glance, and then the younger son spoke up: "Father, I saw soldiers again when I went out today. They were passing along the great road to the north, heading east."

"That's Earl Solin's cavalry," Sam said, shaking his head. A farmer all his life, he did not dare have anything to do with noble soldiers. "You didn't provoke them, did you?"

"I stayed far away!" The younger son shook his head vigorously. "They're terrifying—and they all carry swords I've never seen before, wear armor I've never seen before, ride tall, fine horses, and look fierce as devils."

"...The weather grows warmer by the day. I fear they'll be fighting again soon."

Sam muttered. He knew what his younger son meant by the swords and armor he had never seen—a few days earlier he too had seen a troop of knights pass north of the village. Those knights all wore equipment different from last year's; it was said the swords and armor came from the south. Earl Solin seemed full of confidence that weapons forged by southerners could help him win back his lands and fortress. But to common folk scratching a living from the soil, such things were truly hard to understand—and they had no interest in understanding them.

He only hoped this war would end quickly, or at least that they would stop fighting back and forth here. Either the royal army would quickly drive the Easterners out, or the Easterners would quickly drive the royal army off—it did not matter who won or lost.

Last year the Easterners' army had pushed to the front of the Giantwood Pass. Earl Solin said he would organize a defense and collected a round of grain from the neighboring villages—and in the end he had not held it either, and the Easterners had broken through.

After they broke through, Prince Edmond did not take grain, but he seized a third of the village's able-bodied young men to build roads, and several of them died out there.

Halfway through the road-building, the royal army and the Holy Church's army tangled together and fought their way back, driving the Easterners out of the Giantwood Pass—but this was no good thing. To provision the knight lords and priest lords of the Holy Church's army, Earl Solin collected another round of grain.

Last year had been a bumper harvest, an unprecedented bumper harvest; every household had reaped two or three tenths more.

Ten in the village starved to death; eight worked themselves to death building roads.

So it was no wonder his son had dared say such a bold thing before the gods.

"Let's go home. Any later and we might run into water ghouls and fierce spirits," Sam said, shaking his head as he grabbed his battered hat and clapped it on. "Too many people have died lately. The wilds grow less safe by night."

The children followed in their father's footsteps, walking along the flatter stone beach by the riverbank toward the village. The youngest daughter trailed behind her two brothers and suddenly asked, curious: "I heard John from next door was picked to be a soldier. The knight lord rewarded his family with two sacks of wheat, and this year they don't even have to pay taxes..."

"Don't even think about it!" Hearing the voice behind him, Sam immediately turned and glared. "This is a real war now. Being a soldier means fighting the Easterners for your life—one careless moment and you're dead out there. And look at these two worthless brothers of yours, with their skinny arms and legs—would a knight lord even want them?"

The youngest daughter was startled and quickly hunched her neck, not daring to make another sound.

Cooking smoke rose ahead, and the wooden fence at the village entrance came into Sam's view.

A cavalryman on a tall, fine horse—wearing armor of strange design bearing runes, a black single-handed sword at his waist—was halted at the village entrance. Seeing Sam and the others, the cavalryman at once flicked the whip in his hand: "You there, come here!"

Sam's heart instantly tightened.