Warhammer Divine Throne

”Yes!” Several infantry from the Infantry Corps took Remon and the others down, roughly grabbing the family and using knives and scissors to cut their messy hair short. Then they led them to bathe and change into plain linen clothes.

Remon and the others were deeply afraid of being killed and could only silently comply with everyone’s arrangements.

So many people, really a lot of people, at least dozens were waiting!

The peasants noticed that merchants escorting goods passed through the checkpoint without such inspections, but they had to pay taxes.

The sergeant had the infantry check them over, confirming that Remon’s family did not have any strange spots or extra limbs, overall considered healthy.

Each person received a bowl of thin porridge, then lined up, eating while walking.

”What are we doing?” Remon asked the person in front of him who did not seem like a peasant.

”Waiting for the carriage, oh, Tal’s teeth! Why are there so many people now? Waiting for the carriage takes forever.” The person in front complained, ”I’m not an escapee, yet I have to wait for a carriage with those who are!”

Seeing this, Remon dared not say more.

After waiting about an hour, they finally got their turn. A dozen double-horse, four-wheel open carts arrived, each able to seat eight people, and Remon and the others got on.

”Alright, you can go through now. Follow the main road, and in about three hours, you’ll leave the forest and see a village. There, just ask about how to get to the office, and someone will naturally show you the way. There are markers along the roadside.” The sergeant nodded, signaling that Remon’s family could leave.

After several more hours, it was afternoon when the family finally emerged from the forest. The carts unloaded them and immediately returned.

The scenery outside the forest stunned the family; lush fields densely packed with farmland, clear water channels guiding water from the Xinong River, tall waterwheels turning along the streams, within the farmland, peasants rolled up their pants, harvesting patches of winter wheat. The wide road was paved with stone slabs, people bustling back and forth, a gigantic windmill turning, with no lazy figures in sight – very different from the north.

Clear bell sounds echoed throughout the village. The exterior was fortified with sturdy wooden and stone walls, approximately three meters high. It was a height that made Remon feel secure.

At least it seemed more reassuring than the barely more than one meter high fences and barriers in his original village.

The guards were spirited. They stood upright, with helmets on, holding long spears, chest armor dangling, watching the distance. On the road, a handsome Master Knight dressed in splendid attire rode a tall horse, swaggering down the avenue. His warhorse carried two hares and several pheasants, advancing with praise from several Knight’s Squires, everyone riding horses, animals hanging, loudly discussing the gains of this hunt, praising the Lake Fairy.

Where the Master Knight passed, peasants halted their work and bowed in deference. It was evident that these peasants genuinely revered and respected the Master Knight. The Master Knight felt good about himself, took a pheasant from behind the horse, tossed it to the ground, ”Consider it my mercy! Whoever grabs it gets it!”

”Cluck cluck~” The pheasant was freed from its bindings, fell to the ground, running everywhere. Many peasants seeing this dropped their work, rushed in to grab the pheasant. A sturdy peasant managed to catch it, and then the other peasants abandoned the chase, jeering at this person’s luck, each returning to their posts, continuing their farm work.

Back in their village, the peasants would fight fiercely over it until heads were broken and blood spilled, Remon thought. The southern Master Knights seemed more approachable. If a peasant greeted them, they would nod in response, and the peasants worked very diligently, unlike in his village where everyone lazed, not wanting to work, regardless of how much was harvested, it belonged to the Lord anyway.

Several carts moved along the avenue, filled with grain, while some carts were intended for passengers, waiting at the town gate for riders. These carts were much more luxurious, not only having carriages but also painted colorfully and beautifully.

This must be meant for the wealthy, right? Business seems good?

Nearby the village, groups of children were playing under the guidance of a Merciful Goddess Priest. This Priest appeared to be in her forties, surrounded by two or three dozen children holding her sleeves and skirt, spinning around playing games. The fields were filled with laughter and joy. The female priest took the opportunity to teach the children to worship Lady Shalya, while also breaking two bread rolls for the children to eat.

So many children! Can people here afford to raise so many children? Remon thought in surprise.

It was already afternoon, gradually approaching evening. A cold wind swept across the fields, making Remon shiver. The family, exhausted and hungry, dragged their weary steps, gradually drawing closer to the village.

Remon attempted to nod at a peasant harvesting wheat on the roadside: ”Hello, sir, can you tell me how to get to the office?”

This peasant, skin tanned by the sun revealing a wheat color, wore a straw hat, his leather clothing looking quite thick, giving Remon a feeling of warmth, and the peasant’s physique also appeared solid, his complexion rosy and healthy. Seeing someone asking for directions, he set down his sickle, ”Judging by your accent, you’re from the north?”