BGM: Bushido.
Because there were simply too many refugees from the Northlands, Cowell City, which had originally only been able to accommodate sixty thousand people, had no choice but to organize its druids to help the refugees build a temporary shantytown outside the city.
Nor were the Ffolk druids the sort of stubborn, primitive natural-balance zealots who were dead set against cutting down forests. Some Ffolk had even taken the initiative to use elephant herds to haul over a batch of logs.
Yet not many people stepped forward to claim those logs and build homes to settle down here.
It was plain to see that these refugees from the Northlands still had no intention of settling here for the long term.
The sight people saw most often was these dazed Northlanders taking a few bites of relief rations to hastily fill their stomachs, then running to Cowell's docks to wait for news brought by fishing boats from across the sea.
Each time, they went with a sliver of hope, only to return weary to the bone and lost in a haze, a sight that left a bitter taste in one's heart.
Just as Queen Alicia had told them, these people had not only lost their homes and loved ones. Perhaps they had also lost their faith and their direction in life.
So they had to be given tolerance and time—time to digest everything.
The Zelandians, accustomed to life in a highly developed, modernized city-state like Minas Tirith, truly found it difficult to adapt to Moonshadow Island's damp, rainy monsoon climate and its utterly primitive, unfamiliar surroundings.
They had long relied on Mages and machinery. Asking them to build houses with their bare hands was genuinely difficult for them.
More importantly, they had always wanted to go back.
Inside a dim