Chapter 28

    Drought

    The memories of his past as a bear resurfaced once again. At this moment, the young boy appeared even calmer than James. Even if he had only one claw left, he still remembered well how to kill these wolves.

    But if he had a choice… he wouldn’t want to do it.

    The starving wolves, drooling at the sight of food, lunged first. One led the attack while its partner coordinated seamlessly to strike at blind spots. They had hunted large prey many times before—taking down these hairless apes shouldn’t be an issue. For their pack, for their family… No matter the risk, they had to succeed.

    At the same time, their supposedly weak target—Kit—was already familiar with such attacks. With a simple crouch and a slight twist of his body, the fangs of both wolves bit only empty air. Seeing this, the overly protective elder brother’s anger flared. His short sword aimed precisely and struck with full force at one wolf’s skull.

    The impact shattered it like a smashed watermelon. The scent of blood spread thickly in the air. The headless body twitched as its nerves continued to fire. Witnessing its companion die in an instant, the remaining wolf went into a frenzy. Its fangs and claws struck with increased speed and ferocity. James, misjudging the force, had to step back in shock. This crazed wolf was nearly as strong as him. The large young man had to exert his full strength just to hold his ground.

    If left alone, victory would eventually be James’s—the frenzy wouldn’t last long. But in the process, the older brother would surely sustain injuries. Kit couldn’t stay idle.

    His young body was far more agile than when he had been a bear. His physique…posed no hindrance to fluid movement. He shifted his posture in a mere instant, eyes locked onto the fierce battle.

    Though it was a brutal melee between man and beast, there were always openings to slip into. The moment he spotted such an opportunity, Kit moved at full speed. His right hand grabbed the wolf’s neck. His left fist struck its abdomen. Then, with a swift twist of his small wrist, the sharp twin blades in his hands sliced deep into the flesh, causing blood to gush out like a fountain. The second wolf collapsed into a pool of its own blood. Its entrails spilled messily onto the ground… It had underestimated the seemingly weak, small human.

    (Phew… That was exhilarating.) The young boy inhaled the familiar scent, a grin spreading across his face.

    James regained his senses within moments. As his battle rage faded, the stench of fresh blood from his own kill hit his nose, making him gag and vomit. A firm pat on his back helped him recover. After wiping off a bit of blood, Kit went to retrieve his two dust-covered little brothers.

    “Two wolves! Brother James, Brother Kit, you’re amazing!” Alan’s eyes sparkled with admiration for his older brothers. The bigger one received most of the praise, while Ethan, now seated on his ‘personal ride,’ patted his third brother’s head just as Kit often did to him.

    “Brother Kit, your head stinks.” Huh? This little rascal! So, you want to play, huh?

    “How about riding on Brother James’s shoulders instead, Ethan?”

    “No way… Brother James smells even worse.” At that, the small arms around Kit’s golden-brown hair tightened their grip. The one accused of being the smelliest of the two sniffed himself in confusion. Kit could only watch in amusement.

    The two wolf carcasses had relatively intact pelts. After hanging them up to drain the blood, the group resumed their journey. Alan rode atop James, who carried both hefty wolf bodies. Meanwhile, Kit trudged along, burdened by a tightly-clinging little brother and the berry plants he had painstakingly dug up.

    Upon arriving at the church, the nuns, having heard the news, rushed over to check for injuries. The two older boys, who had taken their younger brothers into the forest, received several scolding. However, since they had managed to slay two wild beasts with ease, the elders let them off lightly. At the very least, they felt somewhat reassured now.

    That evening, everyone at the church had a chance to taste boiled wolf meat, stewed until tender with various herbs. The flavor wasn’t particularly pleasant, but it was edible.

    No one complained—after all, animal protein was far more valuable than boiled grains.

    .....

    The drought in the fifth month had a far wider impact than expected. Major cities and border villages in the southern and eastern regions had begun experiencing water shortages. Rivers that once flowed year-round had dried up, leaving only cracked, parched mud. Fortunately, every area still had some stored crops, thanks to early planting at the beginning of the year.

    However, some places struggled due to lords who either neglected their responsibilities or… were outright selfish.

    The Seris Kingdom, with its capital in the central region, had to dispatch soldiers for strict inspections. But the inspectors could only enforce rules in nearby cities. Traveling to the larger outer cities during such difficult times was nearly impossible.

    Moral City, the central hub of the south, had no choice but to send letters requesting urgent aid as it faced severe crisis. Meanwhile, Boral City, situated on the northeastern coast, relied on marine life and ocean resources, so it faced fewer issues. Russel and Theras, located in the north near the great mountains and lush forests, each had their own means of survival.

    But these were merely assumptions made by the capital—no one knew the actual situation for certain.

    At present, Russel City was struggling with food shortages. However, Lord Audric Russel continued to rule justly and without exploitation. Even so, emergency letters kept piling up on his desk, stacking into a near-mountainous heap. Among them was a letter from Captain John, along with enclosures from other priests—left untouched for quite some time.

    Just before the scheduled tax collection in Central Seris, Lord of Russel finally noticed the letter. Upon reading its contents and realizing how much time had already passed, Lord Audric immediately summoned Father Jackson of White Wings Church for verification.

    Unfortunately, the sack of sweet potatoes that had been sent along was not stored properly. No one knew where that coarse cloth bag had ended up. Its delicious contents remained a mystery. Thus, the city lord of Russel was not particularly excited about them. But at least, he was relieved to know that his people still had a way to survive—by purchasing wild produce from the outer villages to sustain themselves through the end of winter.

    “The contents of this letter—are they true, Father Jackson?” The aged leader did not waste words. He had long grown weary of the flattery and empty pleasantries of high society.

    “It is the truth, my lord. We would not lie about something this important in writing.”

    “But the claim that these sweet potatoes are remarkably delicious—isn’t that an exaggeration? I still remember the texture of those wild foods. Back when I was young, my uncle once brought some for me to eat—those survival rations were tough, fibrous, and scratched the throat terribly…”

    Recollections of past disasters were quickly shared. His skepticism toward these crops remained. Father Jackson sipped his hot tea leisurely as he listened. He, too, had once thought the same—but that belief had long since changed.

    (I need to hurry and get that little Kit to shove some food down this old lord’s throat—so he, too, can become a sweet potato fanatic. Heh-heh-heh.) Had Lord Russel heard this thought, he might have shuddered.

    When the tax collection date arrived, a military convoy and Lord Russel’s trusted inspectors set out, accompanied by church representatives. The key officials had been instructed to thoroughly verify the facts at Redwood Village. Father Jackson was also requested to travel and provide aid to various villages along the way, which he accepted without hesitation.

    A relaxing retreat in the mountains of Redwood sounded like a pleasant break.

    This journey even came with generous compensation—nothing to lose, only gains.

    The tense expedition had only one group of members who seemed unusually cheerful—the clergy of White Wings Church. The supplies they carried were precisely measured, showing no fear of food shortages whatsoever. A soldier, familiar with the church, approached with a concerned question.

    "Father Jackson, is carrying only this much really enough? The reports about the outer regions aren’t looking good."

    "More than enough. We’ll head straight to Redwood before looping through Blackwood and Sunwood, just as Lord Audric planned. There’s a mountain of food there. You don’t need to worry." The soldier’s gaze still held traces of skepticism, but all he could do was give a warning and pack some extra food in case of an emergency.

    If they traveled on horseback at a normal pace, it would take about two days to reach Redwood Village from Russel City. For a large convoy hauling tax collection carts, the journey would take around five to seven days, depending on how urgently they traveled.

    Not long after leaving the city limits, they were met with a vast expanse of dry, brown forest. The landscape blended seamlessly with the sweltering heat, further exhausting their already weary eyes and sapping their morale. The once-abundant shade of towering trees was now scarce. Only the occasional rocky overhang provided brief shelter from the scorching midday sun.

    They… were forced to take breaks from noon until the afternoon, only resuming their journey when the sun’s intensity waned. Traveling under such conditions did more harm than good.

    The seven-day trip stretched into ten days. Yet, the White Wings Church members had anticipated these conditions and remained as cheerful as if they were on a casual forest stroll. By the time they neared Redwood… The two priests’ supplies had dwindled to almost nothing, leaving everyone concerned. They were prepared to share their rations if the two priests asked for.

    Time passed as the distance gradually shortened. Finally, their last meal of hard bread and dried salted meat came to an end. The two priests from White Wings Church strode down the familiar path, moving ahead of the convoy as they felt that the caravan’s pace was unbearably slow. The group, once numbering over ten, was now short by two. Those who remained behind took a break by a small stream that still had a gentle flow of water.

    "I really don’t understand Father Jackson."

    "He probably has acquaintances at Redwood Church. Don’t overthink it. By evening, we should reach the village."

    "But… how are you going to deal with Captain John’s angry outburst? Things will get messy when we return."

    "Ah!? I forgot! Damn it…"

    The commander of the expedition scratched his head in frustration, suddenly remembering…

    John had explicitly asked everyone to notify him immediately if a trip to Redwood was planned…

    But in the rush to depart, they had completely forgotten… leaving the high-ranking officer behind without his knowledge.