The Eastern Plains are nominally part of the empire, but in reality, they are abandoned land. Even tenant farmers, who would normally rush to cultivate any free land with their farming tools and belongings, avoid this place.
The Beastmen Race settled here not by their own will but because they were pushed out by humans. However, it seems the common knowledge we have is outdated.
“Is that a slash-and-burn village?”
We randomly entered a village we saw while traveling through the mountains. We didn’t need lodging or food, but we hoped to find someone who knew the area to ask for directions.
It would be nice if we could get a map, but I didn’t have high hopes. Maps are usually made for profitable areas near cities, not places like this.
“Ranga?”
The Princess asked Lady Kisea, but she remained silent, still upset. Eventually, we decided to check things out ourselves.
“Am I in the era of the continental wars, five hundred years ago?”
That was the Princess’s impression after looking around the village. It was a poor village where even a sip of milk for tomorrow seemed doubtful, let alone a map.
Even slash-and-burn villages have self-defense groups guarding their entrances, but this village, more like a refugee camp, had nothing.
“What do you want? We have nothing.”
A skinny old woman sitting at the village entrance muttered.
“Your horses are extraordinary, not something just anyone can ride. There’s nothing in our village that would interest people like you.”
“Grandma, are you okay?”
“When you’re old, you should just die. Don’t worry about me.”
As we approached, a foul smell hit us. The old woman and the village reeked. Was there a lack of clean water?
Roka and Lady Kisea, with their sensitive noses, grimaced. The Princess covered her nose too. Then, a dirty child, about five years old, staggered over and tugged at the old woman’s sleeve, whining.
“Grandma, bread. Grandma…”
“There’s no bread to eat before dying.”
The old woman turned her head away. A girl, likely the boy’s older sister, quietly stood by him.
“Here, eat this.”
Feeling pity, the Princess got off her horse and took out a piece of bread from a plain jar. It was soft bread with sugar and butter, brought from the palace. The boy reached for it, but his grandmother grabbed his hand and pulled it back.
“Do you want to eat this bread? Time flies, and death is near. Today, we got bread out of pity, but can we expect such luck tomorrow?”
The boy still struggled for the bread, and his sister quietly comforted him.
“Rug, let’s go home and sleep. Sleep…”
The Princess, who had offered the bread, stared blankly at the children. She hadn’t expected them to refuse.
“Grandma is right. Time flies, and we must live for today.”
“Seeing this, death would be better. Outsiders, just go. We’re being punished. We deserve to starve.”
“Why do you think that? Can you tell us?”
The old woman snorted and replied.
“We abandoned our kin and fled. This is our punishment. If we had died then, we wouldn’t be suffering now.”
“Abandoned your kin?”
The old woman silently removed her hat. The Capital wasn’t this cold, but as we approached the Eastern Plains, the weather grew colder. The villagers all wore hats.
Under the hat were animal ears—ears of an animal people dislike.
“Have you heard of the Westerners? They’re often called sewer rats. Beastmen always say humans discriminate against them. But I ask, who really discriminates? That’s why I hate humans. But I hate wolves even more.”
Roka and Lady Kisea flinched. The old woman glanced at them and then looked at me. Her disdain for wolves was clear.
“They promised to protect us but were the first to flee. Wolves? They’re just tail-dropping cowards. Then the tigers came. We thought they were liberators, but they weren’t. That’s why I hate tigers even more.”
“This old hag! How dare a rat like you speak!”
Lady Kisea lunged, but the Princess desperately held her back. Roka crossed her arms and stared at the old woman, wanting to hear more.
After a moment of thought, I created a Firefly Meringue. While Lady Kisea was shouting, I slipped it into her mouth.
“Mm, mm!”
The sweetness made Lady Kisea close her mouth instantly, savoring the meringue and forgetting her anger. The old woman looked at me curiously.
“Creating fruit out of thin air. Are you a mage?”
“A priest.”
“A priest? Ah, I see.”
She suddenly sneered, as if making a big mistake.
“I see why you’re so persistent with an old woman who has nothing. You want to proselytize here. Tell your superiors, no matter how desperate for faith, they should choose their followers wisely.”
“I’m not here to preach. I’m here to do good.”
Proselytizing and leading worship isn’t His teaching. He simply commands us to act.
And He gave me the means to act: Divine Power, authority, and miracles.
It’s not about good words but sharing good deeds. Even the spring water shows this. What use is a sea-sized spring if I keep it to myself?
The sacred should go to the lowest. This is where I belong.
“I’ve come to light a candle in the darkness.”
I lit a candle, and the sanctuary’s candle flickered. I placed the candle before the old woman. The warmth from a single candle pushed back the cold wind.
“I’ve come to turn dry land into a spring.”
Without any grand display, a spring quietly bubbled up, forming a clear pool.
“I’ve come to bring bread to the hungry.”
It’s been a while since I used this authority.
A clay oven rose from the ground, shaped like a mound with holes.
It can be made of clay, sand, or stone. The oven is just a vessel for the authority.
I lit the oven with the candle and sprinkled spring water to make clay.
I shaped the clay into bread and baked it. It doesn’t burn or undercook. A minute is enough—a consideration for the starving.
The children sniffed the bread. When I opened the oven, the clay and sand were gone, replaced by well-baked bread. The children reached for it.
They took a bite, and their expressions changed. I expected this.
“It’s… tasteless.”
Not strange, but truly tasteless. The bread is closest to being flavorless, with a texture more like pudding than bread. It’s not something you’d eat unless you’re hungry.
Still, it’s more nutritious than Roka’s sugary candies. Eating this bread three times a day would keep you healthy.
Since it’s tasteless, people usually dip it in salt. I brought out a Salt Mill, and the old woman’s expression changed.
“You’re really giving all this?”
“Of course.”
“Then I won’t refuse. I didn’t expect such kindness from travelers. So, what do you want? Don’t say you want nothing. At my age, I know nothing is free.”
It’s not my power but His, given where it should be.
If I want anything, it’s that you don’t forget this kindness.
Yes, I seek repayment. I want them to feel indebted. But not to me.
Someday, when they meet others in need, I hope they repay this debt. I’ve only done my duty, not something to be thanked for.
“Don’t forget the debt and repay it to others? You ask for a lot. But I understand. Where are you travelers headed?”
The old woman, having eaten the bread, regained her composure. When I said we were heading to the Eastern Plains, her expression changed.
“You’d better not. Even those who lived there are leaving. Why go there?”
“We have business there.”
“Then finish your business and leave. It’s no place for people now.”
She grabbed my hand, insisting. She seemed uneasy, repeating her warning several times.
“The Eastern Plains have changed. Since Epirna took power, everything’s different. I don’t know what’s happening to those still there, but they’re not doing well.”
