Chapter 698 — After the Burning

Having lived for several years in the advanced, prosperous city of Xuanyao, Norris once again saw the poverty he knew so well, the backwardness he knew so well—so much so that for a moment he forgot to speak. It was the druid technician beside him who could not help saying: "It's His Majesty Gao Yang Cecil. He is emperor now."

The man and woman stood stunned for a long while before finally exclaiming again and again.

"Go first to the resettlement area in the southeast," Norris told them again. "We have vehicles and can take you there. There are other refugees who fled here, all temporarily settled in that area. It's too dangerous for you to stay in this place—no one can live here now."

The pair finally understood what Norris meant. They hesitated and fretted, but when they looked at the attendants and guards around Norris, their faces showed nervousness and fear again. Yet beyond reassuring them, Norris could think of no way to explain everything to these two—he could only make certain promises, have his attendants bring out a little food, and stress that this was "by the Emperor's command," before they were set at ease.

But before following the soldiers away, the hunched man suddenly opened his mouth again, plucking at the threads on his clothes as he said cautiously: "Master, we still have things... can we bring them along?"

Norris nodded: "You can, but not too much. The vehicles can't hold it all."

The man thanked him profusely, then ran quickly back into the ruined mill. A moment later he came out pushing a battered little cart that looked ready to fall apart at any moment. The cart was piled with all kinds of odds and ends—old jars and basins and rags whose color could no longer be told, heaped together—and a spot had been left where a person could sit.

This was the entire household of the man and woman. Norris could almost picture how they had pushed this little cart to flee this place, wandered among the towns and villages of the south, and then pushed this same little cart all the way back here.

"This is all of it, all of it," the man said with a humble smile. "Not much."

The soldier preparing to escort the pair to the resettlement camp glanced at the things on the cart. He had been about to say they could just throw this junk away—the camp would issue refugees a set of daily necessities anyway—but in the end the soldier did not say it. Instead he sighed: "Ah... you can bring the things, but not this cart. It won't fit on our vehicle."

"Mas... master," the man panicked at once. "I can push the cart and follow behind you! I can run fast!"

The soldier shook his head. "No. You don't understand..."

Norris cut him off. "Lash this little cart to the roof."

The soldier looked troubled. "...My lord, that..."

"Do as I say," Norris said, shaking his head. "It's the most precious thing they have right now."

"Yes, my lord."

"Sir, you're truly a good man!" the woman with the filthy hair said hastily. "I can tell at a glance—you're a kind noble lord!"

"I'm no lord, and certainly no noble lord. Just call me mister," Norris corrected her once more, then waved a hand. "Go on, follow this soldier. Our vehicle is waiting by the roadside. Don't let it frighten you when you see it."

The man and woman answered in a fluster, but they had taken only a few steps after the soldier when the hunched man could not help turning back. "My lord... I mean, mister—do you really think this place can be made like it was before?"

"...It will be better than before," Norris said, looking into those clouded eyes so full of hope, and he spoke each word with deliberate weight. "This is precisely the mission His Majesty has given me."

"Then... we'll be able to come back when the time comes, right?" The man watched the soldier's expression out of the corner of his eye as he spoke rapidly. "Our home is in the town. There's still..."

He did not finish. The woman beside him seemed to give his arm a stealthy nudge, and Norris found himself wondering what the rest of that sentence would have been—a jar of wheat? A box of flour? A sickle? Or a few silver coins hoarded through bitter labor?

He did not ask. He only nodded firmly. "You will come back. That is the order His Majesty has given me."

The hunched man broke into a smile. "Ah, then it seems Emperor Cecil really is a good man."

They left.

A long while later, Norris finally broke the silence. "We still have a long road ahead."

"Yes, Minister."

"But everything will be all right," Norris said, turning around. He looked out over that vast, fertile land scorched by war, and spoke as though to himself. "Just as His Majesty said... on this burned earth, new shoots will grow in the end."