First Stop

Over fifty ragged refugees walked weakly down the main road. To their left were cracked fields, to their right was a river with large exposed sandbanks, and the blazing sun overhead refused to hide behind the clouds.

Behind the refugees, a group of local farmers followed from a distance, holding simple weapons, afraid they might turn back.

Approaching noon, this group of refugees finally shuffled to the other side of the territory boundary marker, and the farmers breathed a sigh of relief.

But their work wasn't over; they still had to go back and monitor another group of refugees crossing the border.

Just then, an elderly cleric walked up from the front.

"Baron Weissen has set up a rest area ahead. Just a little more effort, everyone, and you'll have lunch soon!"

To be a cleric, you first needed a loud voice and plenty of energy when speaking, otherwise those sitting farther away wouldn't hear you during sermons.

The refugees heard the news brought by the cleric, and their leaden feet gained a little strength, speeding up slightly.

Among these refugees, the one walking in the very front was a tall middle-aged man, but like the others, he was gaunt, his hair and beard messy and covered in grass and dirt, and his face – especially his nose – was full of mud.

On his back, he carried an old woman, who in turn carried a small bundle.

The cleric who came to deliver the message looked around at the refugees, then whispered to the cleric accompanying them, "After lunch, let the 'old, weak, sick, disabled, and pregnant' and their families take the carriage to the camp first."

The accompanying cleric was now the backbone of this group of refugees and was somewhat familiar with them. He went over to the middle-aged man carrying the old woman and said, "Hozzenplozz, after you eat, take Old Mrs. Kaspar to the camp."

Hozzenplozz just nodded numbly.

One day in early spring this year, he was about to break into Old Mrs. Kaspar's house to steal things, but just as he was about to force the door open, there was a loud bang from the direction of the riverbank. Before long, the water in the village was above their insteps.

Hozzenplozz had forgotten what he was thinking at the time. When he came to his senses, he was already carrying Old Mrs. Kaspar and struggling to walk in the flood that was about to reach his knees, holding a stone mill that made music when turned, which was what he had intended to steal this time.

The two reached the small hill outside the village and looked back to find the floodwaters as high as a tabletop. Many houses had collapsed, and people and livestock could be seen struggling in the flood from time to time.

It seemed as if a whole year's worth of water had arrived on this land at once. After the flood receded, it left behind a barren landscape, followed by continuous high temperatures and no rain from early spring to early summer. The village wells were all filled with the silt brought by the flood.

When someone showed symptoms of the plague, the landlord immediately fled back to his castle, raised the drawbridge, and closed the gates tightly. People who had been planning to rebuild their homes fled for their lives.

Rounding a small grove of trees, there was a fenced area ahead with a makeshift shelter inside. The smell wafting through the air was like a stimulant, causing many refugees to rush forward with all their might.

"Don't rush! Don't run! There's plenty of food!"

The clerics shouted loudly.

But how could those refugees listen? Starving people would do anything.

The knights sent by the local lord were not as easygoing as the clerics. With one extension of their long sticks, they tripped several people, then knocked a few heads, and these people obediently squatted on the ground.

Hozzenplozz slowly walked with Old Mrs. Kaspar on his back, and like a few other residents with families, he didn't run with the rest.

The accompanying cleric went up and said a few words to the knights, allowing Hozzenplozz and the refugees with children to go get food first.

A young acolyte came over and led Hozzenplozz to a table and chairs to first put Old Mrs. Kaspar down, then told him to wash his hands before getting food.

Frederick had set up several rest areas ahead to give the refugees some food, promote the policies, and also screen for the sick to prevent the plague from entering the camp.

Today, Frederick was disguised as a young acolyte to see the situation here. Some things were as he expected, but there was nothing he could do.

By his standards, each person should get a bowl of soup of about 500ml and a half-pound coarse grain bun per meal.

The lord here mixed one pot of concentrated soup base with four pots of water, then threw the coarse grain buns in to boil into a mush. The "exquisite and expensive" Slime Gel bowls and spoons had all been replaced by ordinary wooden bowls and spoons collected from the people.

Even the gel bags that had held the concentrated soup base and coarse grain buns were nowhere to be found. The soup base was concentrated in earthenware pots, and the coarse grain buns were in wicker baskets.

What could Frederick do? He could only tell the clerics to ensure the soup base was boiled for five minutes before serving, to at least remove the moldy parts of the buns if they were moldy, and to scald the wooden bowls and spoons with boiling water.

Hozzenplozz went and washed his hands, then followed the line to get two wooden bowls and spoons, and came back with two bowls of mush.

Today's soup base was ordinary bean soup, a bit watery, but still had a slight aroma of spices. The boiled down coarse grain buns had been stirred into a somewhat thick mush.

In his eyes, the aroma of this bowl of mush could rival roasted pork.

He carried the mush to the table and saw the young acolyte talking to Old Mrs. Kaspar, but the old woman didn't respond at all, like a stone.

"It's no use," Hozzenplozz said after putting down the bowls, pointing to his head. "She saw her grandson swept away by the water..."

Then he whispered into Old Mrs. Kaspar's ear, "This is from Kaspar."

Old Mrs. Kaspar transformed from a withered statue into a person, picked up the spoon, and slowly began to eat.

Hozzenplozz shook his head and said to Frederick, "This is the only way now."

With that, he finished the mush in his bowl in one gulp, then licked it clean.

Frederick asked, "Is she your mother?"

Hozzenplozz used the excuse he had prepared long ago. "She's my aunt."

By now, each refugee had been given a bowl of mush, and there was a little left in the pot. The people here poured two buckets of well water into it, preparing to boil it.

Some people couldn't wait and wanted to go drink it directly, but the person maintaining order stood by the pot with a stick, and no one dared to take another step.

Frederick didn't dare let them drink raw water. If a cholera outbreak happened in the camp, it would be over.

Just then, the clerics came forward. They still had some credibility among the refugees and told everyone to wait.

A knight walked to the side of the pot and threw a ping-pong ball sized Small Fireball into it. He stirred it a few times with a ladle, and in a moment, the water in the pot boiled.

Although this pot of coarse grain bun soup had a burnt smell, the refugees didn't care about such things. Having something to eat and drink was good enough.

This meal wasn't filling for people who had been hungry for a long time, but it was a proper hot meal and soup, which gave many refugees a little energy.

After they ate their fill, they were herded into another shed with only burlap for a roof. The ground was covered in straw; this was where they would rest and sleep.

The priest pointed to the enclosed areas on either side and said they were latrines. Anyone who relieved themselves elsewhere would be hung up and beaten.

Everyone sat numbly on the straw, unsure if they had even heard him.

Hozzenplozz carried Old Mrs. Kaspar onto a carriage and, along with the young monk and a few refugees with children, left this temporary camp.

The passengers on the carriage stared blankly. When the clerics told them to get on, they got on. No one asked where they were going.