Heroes and Lovers Day

Barbarus

The wind swept across the cornfields of Barbarus.

Isha laboriously raised her head. The corn, improved by the Magos, had long since grown taller than an adult. The densely packed stalks resembled lush underwater weeds on a riverbed, while the sun cast mottled rose-red light, making everything feel even more dreamlike.

But this was Barbarus, the place farthest from dreams.

No, it was not that the people of Barbarus did not dream—rather, everything here was rigorous, practical, focused first on fundamentals, and rarely entertaining.

Even though this land's greatest purpose remained food production, and it truly could supply part of the military's provisions, all human relationships here had been altered by some ancient and solemn presence. People had adapted to militarized lives, and to having less entertainment.

Isha fell silent for a moment. In the distance, the bells of a Cult of the Underworld church rang out. White birds swept across the horizon. She touched her braid and pressed down the corn stalks before her.

A thin black cross stood out amid the towering cornfield. It was the grave of heroes. Every child from Barbarus was returned to their homeland after death, and in remembrance, a black cross was erected in their hometown.

But one cross did not represent one of The Deceased—it represented all of The Deceased within forty-nine kilometers of it.

Otherwise, Barbarus would have been filled with crosses long ago.

Several butterflies still rested upon the cross. They were one of Barbarus's rare native species after torrential rains—pale and tattered, not particularly beautiful, yet dearly loved by the people of Barbarus.

Isha lowered her scythe. She had not come here to plant crops; that work had long been handed over to massive machines. The people slipping through the fields were "hunting."

There were animals on Barbarus