The land was flat plain.
Farther away stretched an unbroken forest, only three hundred meters from this small village. It was a forest protected by the Romon God and could not be reclaimed.
Now, with the mist having dispersed, this forest too had benefited, growing even lusher.
A small river wound its way through the land, bringing drinking water to the village and serving as its source of irrigation.
Although the spring wheat had only just been sown, the wheat planted during winter tilling had grown lush and green after spring arrived. Fields upon fields of wheat swayed from side to side in the wind, rolling in wave after wave.
All of it could be harvested from May to June.
Not far away stood a village enclosed by wooden fences. Its name was Gading Village. The wooden houses were uniform and neatly arranged, and a group of people stood before one of them.
"Have they not arrived yet?"
At the entrance to Gading Village, two men stood atop a rise, repeatedly looking toward the other end of the path.
A small number of villages had been enfeoffed to lords, who personally served as village chiefs.
Most villages belonged to Count Salante's territory—he had been promoted—and he appointed people as village chiefs, all of them pious and capable believers selected for the role.
These two men were stewards under the village chief. They normally held a little authority and were considered figures of some standing in the village.
It was these two who had gone to arrange Peter's family's marriage proposal.
The girl who was to marry Peter's eldest son, John, was named Meilin. She was a plain yet delicate-looking girl.
Her family was doing fairly well. Her parents and relatives were all carpenters. Under ordinary circumstances, such a girl would