After the arrival of the Month of Recovery, the weather in the southern part of Ansu began to warm up rapidly.
It was a pleasant change for those who worked in such a place as the docks.
As the temperature rose, the frozen river began to thaw. The water that was frozen in the form of ice and snow melted into trickles under the power of the sun. The trickles converged into streams and rivers, and finally, along with the glacial water flowing down from the mountains, they flowed into the major rivers. As the water level rose, the number of merchant ships on the river gradually increased. These merchant ships coming and going supported the porters, known as "mules," who worked at the port.
Sam was an old resident of Tanzania Town. His family's history of settling down in this mining town could be traced back to a hundred years ago. When the town had just built the outer wall and two trestle bridges at the pier, his ancestor was a "mule" at the pier. Later, this occupation was passed down from generation to generation. It was passed down to his grandfather, then to his father, and finally to him.
His ancestors had witnessed all the changes in the town in the past hundred years, but most of the time, the town had hardly changed. The walls were still the same, and the trestles were still the same. The population that the mines at the back of the mountain and the farmlands outside the town could support was limited. The land that the feudal lord could govern was also limited. Therefore, once a town had developed to a certain size, there would not necessarily be any changes for hundreds of years. In the entire life of Sam's grandfather, the greatest thing he had witnessed (and the thing that he most often boasted to his descendants) was that he had seen with his own eyes the addition of a trestle at the port, and the feudal lord building a mill in the south of the town.
As for Sam, in the past two months, he had seen three trestles, two businesses, four warehouses, and a new bridge rising in the southwest corner of Tanzania Town.
He felt that the things that he could witness in this life were probably more than the sum of all his ancestors combined.
In the past two months, the ore output at the back of the mountain had increased several times, and the number of merchant ships on the river had also increased several times. There were also many strange machines and magical devices that were transported into the town. It was said that all these changes were related to the "Cecil Domain" downstream of the Whitewater River, which had just appeared not long ago. It was said that the feudal lord and Gwen? Duke Cecil had reached an agreement, and in the process, he had gained great benefits, and even the entire town had become prosperous.
But these things were not easy for Sam to understand, and he did not pay much attention to them. He only focused on his work at the port, and what was good was that he had a lot of work to do.
As an old resident of the town and an old worker at the dock, Sam had a special status in this increasingly busy place. Although they were all working for others and had to listen to the orders of the dock owner, Sam was the leader of the "mules". There were more than a dozen of them who had to listen to his orders. This was the most "dignified" thing that he could do.
Early in the morning, after Sam got out of the dark and damp shack, he rushed to the port and instructed his brothers to unload the ships.
As the level of the Whitewater River rose, large ships began to dock at the port these days. Most of these ships came from the northern Calore Domain or the Whitsunday Plain. The ships were filled with spices, tea leaves, and high-quality cloth. After these things were unloaded, they would be transported by caravans to the town's "residential area" and the feudal lord's castle. After that, the empty ships would be refilled with ores. After that, they would go downstream to Cecil Domain, where the ship owners could make a lot of money.
"All of you, hurry up! It's early in the morning. Don't act like you haven't eaten! "
Sam walked on the trestle bridge that was soaked in the morning fog, supervising the "mules" to unload the goods from the ship. His red nose twitched uneasily in the fog. A whiff of wine was tempting his stomach. In front of him, apart from the cloth, half of the ship was filled with good wine. One of the barrels was probably cracked when it swayed on the river, and a lot of good wine seeped out from the hole. It was the best Carne wine. At this moment, the ship owner was standing by the gangplank, sighing and frowning. He was afraid that he would have to pay a lot of money to the merchant for the loss. Meanwhile, the mules, full of tricks, were scrambling to move the broken barrel. They were definitely going to steal a few mouthfuls of wine when no one was looking.
Sam shook his head. He was not going to risk being whipped for such a temptation, but he was not going to stop those cunning mules. After all, if they were lucky, they could taste the good wine and go back to boast about it. If they were unlucky, they would just be whipped twice.
Another ship approached the dock. Sam looked up and saw that the ship had a tall and wide deck and painted red sides. His eyes were sharp, and soon he saw that a few of the covers under the side (that was where the cabins were located) were opened. A few pairs of eyes were looking out from the narrow windows.
That curious and panicked gaze was not like the sailors on the ship. Sam pursed his lips. He knew that those were another kind of "goods".
They could be slaves or refugees from the north who hitched a ride on the ship. Anyway, it was the same.
After the new Cecil was built in the south, this kind of "goods" became a frequent visitor on the river. Basically, except for the days when the river was blocked in winter, there were several ships full of people passing through here every day. Who knew how much land and food the new development had to support so many people.
Sam did not like this kind of ship very much because there was often no work to be done on this kind of ship. The ship owners were usually slave traders or the "Gwen Duke?" Duke Cecil's money were responsible for sending people to the Cecil Territory. They stopped here in Tanzania Town just to replenish water and dry food.
But it is not certain that some of the shipowners were merely passing passengers, and their hold would be heaped with other goods, and the slaves and vagabonds would sleep with the goods -- in which case there was still something to be done.
While thinking about this, Sam saw the dock master in the distance waving to him. He raised his hand and pointed to the ship with the red side that had just docked on the trestle. Seeing this, Sam quickly stopped his wild thoughts and quickened his pace towards the ship.
The ship was stable, and the gangplank was lowered. A boatman in a brown cotton-padded coat came out and nodded to Sam. "Call a few nimble mules to unload all the wine barrels in the cabin."
Sam called for enough men, then jumped on the ship and followed the boatman to the cabin. After opening the cover, he poked his head inside to take a look.
He saw that the cabin was filled with barrels of wine, and there was almost no place for people to stay. The owners of those panicked gazes he saw before — those people were all curled up in the gaps between the barrels. Each of them looked haggard and pale.
Sam frowned. These people were so cramped that they could not even sit down, let alone lie down. He did not know where they came from, and how long they had been in this terrible environment. But one thing was obvious, these people were not as valuable as the wine to the boatman.
But strangely, these people were not slaves in rags, nor did they look like refugees. Some of them were even wearing decent woollen clothes. Where did these people come from?
While the men were working, Sam went to talk to the boatman who was standing next to him. He did not dare to talk to the boatman, who was a real respectable person. He asked about the origin of the "passengers" in the warehouse who were neither human nor ghost, but who were wearing decent clothes. As a man who made a living on the dock, asking about the ship's affairs was something he could brag about in the pub when he went back.
"They? Originally from the Holy Spirit Plain. "The boatman spat to the side." They are refugees. "
"The Holy Spirit Plain? That's far away! "Sam looked surprised." What are they doing so far away? "
"They are all followers of the Blood God, and a few of the Cult of Shadows," the boatman said casually. "It is said that some people in their local church are involved with the cultists. Even those who often go to the church are suspected of being heretics. The Holy Spirit Plain is killing the cultists. The court of the Church of Holy Light has burned thousands of people to death. These people could not survive in the local area, so they sold their belongings and fled."
The boatman shook his head as he spoke. "Three of them died on the way. They were afraid of being infected, so they threw them into the river."
When Sam heard that it was related to the cultists, he suddenly had goosebumps all over his body. When he looked at the passengers in the cabin, his eyes became awkward. He looked at those people as if there were some cultists hiding among them.
"Look at your timid face. These people are not getting off the ship. They are going to be sent to Cecil's territory." The boatman saw Sam's look and could not help shaking his head. "But whether Cecil's territory wants these people is another matter. After all, they are related to heretics. If they don't want them, they will have to be thrown into the wilderness. But that is better than being burned to death."
Sam rubbed his red nose and suddenly felt a little awkward.
He believed in the Blood God.
The wind, which had begun to warm up, seemed to have turned cold again.
At the same time, in the only Church of Holy Light in Cecil's territory, Pastor Wright finished his morning prayer.
He was a devout believer and a pastor who was keen on preaching. Although many people would be deceived by his strong appearance, Wright himself knew that he was never a person who liked to use force. Especially when force was applied on the heads of his compatriots.
The God of Holy Light protected the world and taught the Holy Light techniques that could heal and expel evil to weak mortals. This was all for the sake of protecting this world. Therefore, the essence of the path of Holy Light should also be protection, not destruction. This was why Wright had tempered his own physical body. This was because he hoped that even if he really had to eliminate evil, he would still be able to use powers other than the Holy Light to attack his enemies, so as to not tarnish this power that was originally meant to comfort and protect others.
This was his obsession. He knew that this obsession was a little stupid, but he did not intend to change it.
But a letter sent to the church a few days ago made him feel a little conflicted.
Wright cleaned the prayer hall of the church and then sat in the front row of seats. He took out the letter from the church from the Holy Spirit Plain and read the contents again.
"… Evil flourishes, and heretics are active … It is all because of the ignorant people who believe in heretics that pollute the pure faith of the world … The Lord wants this land to be restored to purity. The solution is to clear the confusion and wrong beliefs in the hearts of the mortals.
"… Therefore, those who do not listen to the guidance of the Holy Light and do not agree with the teachings of the Lord … are heretics …"
The white letter was crumpled into a ball, but it was reopened, flattened, and folded.
Wright looked up at the bright skylight of the church and the holy statue of the Holy Light shining in the sunlight of the skylight.
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