The Southern Blood Bank

"Another one. Get him to the infirmary, quick!"

A Sverier Kingdom prisoner of war was hurriedly helped out of the mess hall, blood streaming from his nose.

Several managers from the Southern Fruit Company nearby paid no attention and carried on with their work, as if this had long been part of their daily routine and they were used to seeing it.

Frederick furrowed his brow in mild confusion and turned to ask Waldemar von Pisto, the Southern Fruit Company vice president accompanying him, "What's wrong with him? He doesn't look injured."

The man had started bleeding from the nose while eating. Frederick worried he might have some strange illness.

Waldemar answered promptly and deferentially. "These prisoners of war from Sverige and Suomi have an extraordinary fondness for fruit. They love it so much they can't get enough."

"Several kinds of fruit have just ripened. They taste wonderful, but eating too much can make your throat swell and hurt, or even cause nosebleeds like this."

"Even though they know that, they still can't control themselves. Whenever they get the chance, they gorge on it."

Frederick nodded silently, understanding.

He could see why. The Southern Coast of the Inner Sea had a warm, humid climate, a wide variety of fruit, and an abundant supply throughout the year. For people from the cold, barren Dark Lands in the north, the brief window each year when they could taste fresh fruit was all too short.

The forests beyond the plantations were like vast orchards, their branches laden with fruit. It was an irresistible temptation for them, and only natural that they couldn't resist.

Just then, a fierce rush of wind swept overhead. A peregrine falcon with dark golden plumage and keen eyes dove like an arrow, landing steadily in a nearby clearing. Its