Chapter 865 — An Endpoint
Blade of Dawn · Page 3 of 4
"But back then there were many people like me, serfs and free folk alike—poor free folk—and they knew nothing. They knew only that commoners die early and nobles can live a century... The preachers said this was decided by the gods, that because the poor were base, they were naturally flawed in lifespan, and that nobles living a century was proof of noble blood... Most believed it.
"I could read, I had read books, I knew what all of this really was, but at the time it was of no use. The only thing reading gave me was the clear knowledge of what would become of me, while I could only keep my head down, digging potatoes and planting perilla greens in the fields—because if I did not, our whole family would starve.
"Miss Margarita, you cannot imagine that kind of life—I know you are a fine knight, but some things, you truly cannot imagine."
Margarita instinctively gripped the old man's hand. Her lips moved a few times, but in the end she could only nod gently: "Yes, Minister Norris, I... I am sorry."
"No, there is no need to be sorry," Norris's eyelids drooped a little lower than before. "Because it is not your fault, and the happiest thing is that those days are gone, Miss Margarita, those days are gone.
"Commoners no longer have to do hard labor like me and my parents for barely enough food to fill their bellies. No one will ever again take two-thirds or more of the grain from our barns as tax. We have the right to eat fish we catch at any time, the right to eat white bread and sugar on ordinary days. We need not prostrate ourselves by the roadside before nobles, nor kiss the shoes and footprints of preachers... Miss Margarita, thank our sovereign, and thank the many people like you who are willing to follow him. Those days are gone.
"I only want to say, never let those days return.
"Miss Beiyila, I know you have always had doubts about what we are doing. I know you do not understand some of my 'obsessions,' but I want to say... at any time, whatever the circumstances, filling more bellies and keeping more people alive is always the most important thing.
"I took the people of the agriculture department and conducted a wide-ranging survey. We counted population and land, calculated grain consumption and the current yields of the various staple crops... and projected consumption and production after population growth. We have some figures—they are in my assistant's hands. Please give them to His Majesty... you must give them to him. Hunger is the most terrible thing in this world. No one should starve to death... whatever happens, industry or commerce, some farmland must never be touched, and the staple crops must never be rashly changed...
"Also, there is too little grain suited to growing in the north. The Holy Spirit Plain is fertile, but our population will surely see a great surge, because nearly all infants now survive—we need land in the south to feed these people, especially in the Dark Mountains region, where there is still much that can be reclaimed..."
He suddenly began to cough, and the violent coughing cut off what he meant to say next. Beiyila raised her hand almost instantly, and a powerful—indeed, for an ordinary person, excessive—healing force was released upon Norris. Margarita at once leaned close to the old man's ear: "His Majesty is already on the way. He will be here soon. You can..."
She did not finish. Norris shook his head and cut her off.
His eyelids, which had drooped, lifted once more, and after a few seconds of silence and recollection, a smile mixed with sudden understanding and release rose upon his face.
"Ah, perhaps... he did not lie to me..." Norris's eyes brightened briefly, and he spoke almost with joy. "He did not lie to me..."
"Minister Norris," Margarita held the old man's hand and bent low to ask, "Who do you mean? Who did not lie to you?"
"The missionary... that missionary..."