Chapter 745 — The Road Never Imagined
Blade of Dawn · Page 1 of 4
The Cecil Empire's newspapers and broadcasts were curious things, always carrying all manner of news from distant lands. Back when she was still human, Beiyila had taken an interest in these two novelties, and now that she had become a plant, she was even fonder of them.
After all, as a plant, she had lost the ability to go to distant places.
And to satisfy the Great Sorin Tree's modest request, the Cecil people stationed here showed appropriate kindness: they brought the latest newspapers and magazines of every kind, and Margarita even ordered a dedicated arcane-network terminal installed beside the Great Sorin Tree's trunk, so that Beiyila could operate it and watch it herself.
It was in the agricultural section of a certain newspaper, and on a certain arcane-network program, that Beiyila learned the name Norris.
He was indeed a great man—a minister of the Empire, and reputedly one of the founders of Cecil's very foundations.
Even though he was only an ordinary man, without any extraordinary power.
Beiyila could not help studying Norris carefully once more, and she sensed that this old man before her might not be as aged as she had first imagined.
He had merely grown old too soon.
She had seen this aged, frail appearance many times—during the pioneering era, many of the first settlers who had burst out of the wastelands and eked out a hard survival on the barren plains had looked like this; and later, in the age of the kingdoms, the poor who still struggled to survive had looked the same.
In an instant she read too many stories in Norris, so many that she could not help but be somewhat surprised; yet her already dulled features betrayed none of this faint stir of feeling. She merely asked, curious: "You came looking for me?"
"I came to see the 'miracle of the Great Sorin Tree,' which they say keeps the vitality of spring here," Norris nodded slowly. "I see it now—truly incredible... You've healed this region almost completely."
"Are you trying to rebuild the towns and villages of the Eastern Plain?" Beiyila asked curiously.
"You can see that?"
"A little," Beiyila said. "From the highest point of my canopy, I can vaguely make out the tidal flats at the edge of Pinewood Valley. There's been cooking smoke rising there lately, and I can see crystal towers standing upright."
Norris nodded. "That's the Pinewood Valley Camp. They're restoring the logging camps and mines there, preparing for the Red Maple rebuilding camp's projects next year."
"What you're doing must be terribly hard... I know it's winter out there," Beiyila said slowly. "Why must you do this in winter? You could wait until late spring next year, when the ice and snow melt—you could hide away in the warm southern cities first."
"After a winter, the starving jackals would seize the barren plains completely, and come late spring we'd still have to spend time building camps, repairing houses, and digging water sources. Every time we miss the window for opening the fields, we risk missing another season of grain, and people may starve," Norris said calmly. "The Southern Frontier's grain is not plentiful, and the food the Western Frontier has scraped together from every source will only last us until next year's harvest. In those regions short of grain... whether people live or die may truly hinge on that one mouthful of food."
Several seconds passed before Beiyila spoke softly: "...You don't want a single person to starve, do you?"
"No one deserves to starve," Norris said.
"But surely some still will, at least this winter, at least before the grain-producing regions of the Holy Spirit Plain recover..."
"Perhaps. But that is no excuse," Norris shook his head. "I am the Minister of Agriculture. The task His Majesty gave me is to feed as many Cecil citizens as possible, to keep them fed. Having enough to eat is a citizen's right; beyond that is not for me to consider."