Chapter 17 — Tansang Town
Blade of Dawn · Page 3 of 3
They lived in the same town, walked the same road, yet they were as sharply divided as people from two different worlds.
Gao Yang searched the memories of Cecil, only to find surprisingly little there to serve as reference: Gao Yang Cecil had been born into the glorious Gondor Empire and raised in a land of wealth—that age and that place had known no such sights as these. Later, when the Gondor magic tide broke out, Cecil had led the people in carving a bloody path north, and all along the way they had shared hardship together, with no distinction of high or low. After that, Ansell was founded, and the pioneers built a kingdom on barren wilderness, starting from nothing—even the founding dukes and the king himself had once set down their swords and taken up the plow. How could they have seen such a scene as this?
And then... and then Gao Yang Cecil had fallen in battle on the southern border. That hero, cut down in his prime at thirty-five, had never lived to witness the day when the realm he founded would see the division between rich and poor.
So he could only turn to "his own descendant" for instruction, and ask what the custom on this road was.
"Those walking along the two sides of the road are serfs, and slave laborers from the mine," Heidi explained. "There are also poor freemen from the outer districts—they are not permitted to walk on the main avenue, because they cannot contribute money when the road is maintained. Those walking down the middle are respectable 'citizens,' along with merchants or mercenaries from outside. People like that can pay the various taxes, so they may walk in the middle of the road."
Gao Yang recalled how, when the caravan entered the gate, the fat merchant had slipped a few coins to the guard at the gate—that must have been the entry tax.
Then he thought of the soldier who had already been buried in the forest—that son of a serf.
That he had been able to take up sword and die for his lord was itself the result of Rebecca's clemency. But even though he had died for his lord, he was not permitted to be buried in the manner of a warrior: because he had not yet redeemed himself—he had not even redeemed the sword he carried.
"Is something the matter, Ancestor?" Noticing the shifting expressions on Gao Yang's face, Heidi asked, somewhat puzzled.
Gao Yang drew his gaze back from outside the wagon and shook his head slightly. "No. Nothing's wrong."
It was simply that, with the instincts of a transmigrator, he felt a visceral resistance to such things. But it was not yet time for him to criticize or "correct" any of it.
Because he did not yet understand this world well enough.
After a brief moment of thought, he looked at Heidi. "What do you plan to do next?"
Heidi clearly had already made her plans. "First we go to see the lord here. Viscount Andrew is a fairly reasonable man; through him we should be able to reach Sir Philip fairly easily. If all goes well on Sir Philip's end, we can find the troops who broke out that day. After that, depending on the situation, we either settle the domain's people here or head straight for the royal capital. What happened in the Cecil domain is not something that can be handled by sending one or two messengers—Rebecca must go in person to explain matters to the king."
Gao Yang saw no problem with this (mainly because he, a "Mystic Meridian Sect" transmigrator still separated from modern people by seven hundred years of cultural gap, truly could not think of any suggestions): "Then let's proceed as you say."
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