When the first group of immigrants reached the border of the Gray Marsh Fief, they saw a barren wasteland stretching as far as the eye could see.
Kane held his wife's hand. Their two older children followed behind, while Mara carried the youngest on her back.
A cold wind swept past, stirring up the dead grass on the ground, and everyone instinctively pulled their thin clothes tighter.
"This... is the Gray Marsh Fief?" someone from their hometown asked hoarsely, unable to hide his disappointment.
"Where's the city they showed in the booklet?"
No one answered.
Their guide was a taciturn sergeant. After counting them, he simply waved for them to follow.
The group moved forward in silence. The children found everything new and exciting, laughing and playing, but that only made the adults feel more dejected.
Kane's heart sank little by little as he remembered that beautifully illustrated booklet.
Was this really a scam?
Had they used a year's wages to lure us into this godforsaken wasteland as slaves?
He dared not pursue the thought. He only tightened his grip on his wife's hand.
Just as almost everyone in the group became convinced they had been deceived, the scenery ahead began to change.
Neat expanses of farmland came into view.
The furrows were straight and the irrigation channels clearly defined. The fields were lush green, plainly planted with carefully tended winter wheat.
That vibrant green dispelled the gloom in their hearts.
With something to hope for, even the road beneath their feet seemed easier to walk.
After a little over another half hour, the outline of a town finally appeared on the horizon.
Everyone's eyes widened, and their steps slowed.
There were no muddy dirt roads. Instead, level streets paved with white stone bricks greeted them, so clean they could