After the onset of the recovery month, the weather in southern Ansu began to warm up rapidly.

It's a pleasant change for people who work in a place like a port terminal.

As the temperature rises, the frozen rivers begin to thaw, and the water frozen on the earth in the form of snow and ice melts into a trickle with the power of the sun, which in turn converges into streams and streams, and finally flows into the major rivers with the glacial water flowing down from the mountains, and as the water level rises, the number of merchant ships moving on the rivers gradually increases, and these merchant ships come and go to feed the porters who work on the docks, commonly known as "mules".

Sam is an old resident of Tanzania, and his family's settlement in this mining town dates back a hundred years, when the town had just built its outer walls and the docks had two trestles, his ancestors were a "mule" on the docks, and then the profession was passed down from generation to generation, to his grandfather, to his father, and finally to him.

His parents and grandparents have witnessed all the changes in the town in the past hundred years, but for the vast majority of the time, the town has actually changed almost nothing - the city walls are still those walls, the trestle bridges are still those trestle bridges, the mines in the back mountains and the farmland outside the city can support a limited population, and the land that the lord can govern is also limited, so when a town grows to a certain size, there may not be any changes in a hundred years - in the whole life of Sam's grandfather, The greatest thing he had ever witnessed, and which he most often bragged about to his children, was that he had seen a trestle added to the pier and that the lord had built a mill south of the town.

And Sam, in the past two months, has seen three trestle bridges, two trading houses, four warehouses and a new bridge rise in the southwest corner of Tanzania.

He felt that he would be able to witness more things in his life than his ancestors combined.

The ore production in the back mountains has increased several times in the past two months, and the number of merchant ships passing through the river has also increased several times, and many strange machines and magic devices have been transported into the city, and it is said that all these changes are related to the "Cecil Collar" that has just appeared in the lower reaches of the Baishui River. It is said that the lord and that Gawain? Duke Cecil made an agreement, and in the process reaped great benefits, and the whole town was developed......

But these things are not easy for Sam to understand, and he doesn't pay much attention to it, he only focuses on his own work on the docks - and happily, he has a lot of work.

As an old resident of the town, an old fellow on the docks, Sam has an unusual position in this increasingly busy place, although he is also a person who works for people, and has to listen to the dock master's assignment, but Sam is the leader of the "mules", and there are more than a dozen people who have to obey his orders, which is the most "decent" thing he thinks.

Early in the morning, after emerging from the dark and damp shack, Sam rushed to the dock to direct the brothers to load and unload the ship.

As the water level of the Whitewater River rises, large ships have begun to dock at the docks these days, mostly from the Carol Territory or the Plains of the Whitsunday in the north, loaded with spices, tea, and fine cloth, which are unloaded and transported by caravans to the town's "civic quarters" and the lord's castle, before being refilled empty, mostly ore, which then sail down the river to Cecil's Territory, where the owners make a fortune.

"It's all sharp! In the morning, don't be like you haven't eaten! ”

Sam walked on the trestle, which was wet with the early morning mist, and supervised the "mules" to carry the ship's cargo, his red nose swaying unsteadily in the mist, and a smell of wine seduced the worms in his stomach: the ship in front of him was filled with half a cabin of good wine in addition to cloth, and one of the barrels probably cracked when he was dangling in the river, and a lot of fine wine seeped out of the mouth, and it was the best Karna wine—the owner was standing by the gangplank at this time, sighing and frowning, He was afraid that he would have to pay the merchant a lot of money for the loss, and the peddled mules were scrambling to carry the broken barrel—they must have been prepared to sneak a few bites while no one was looking.

Sam shook his head, he wouldn't risk a whip for the temptation, but he wasn't prepared to stop the slippery heads, they would be able to taste the good wine anyway, and go back and brag about it, and the bad luck would only be two whips.

Another ship approached the dock, and Sam looked up to see the ship with its tall, wide deck and red-painted broadside, and he saw soon that the cover under the side of the ship (where the cabin was located) had been opened, and several pairs of eyes were looking out of those narrow windows.

That curious and panicked gaze was not like that of a sailor on a ship, Sam pouted, he knew it was another kind of "cargo".

It could be a slave, or it could be a homeless man from the north who took a tailwind, or it was pretty much the same anyway.

After the establishment of the new Cecil Territory in the south, this kind of "cargo" became a frequent visitor on the river, and basically except for the days when the river was blocked in winter, several ships full of people passed by here every day, and it was not known how much land and food the new Pioneer Territory could support so many people.

Sam wasn't a big fan of the ships that carried people - they often didn't have much to do, and the owners usually took in the slave traders or the "Gawain?" Cecil's "Duke's money is responsible for sending people to Cecil to receive it, and they only stay here in Tanzania to replenish some clean water and dry food."

But maybe there were some shipowners who were just piggybackers, and there were other goods piled up in their holds, and the slaves and outcasts slept with the goods—there was something to be done in this case.

Thinking like this, Sam saw the dock master in the distance wave his hand to himself, and then raised his hand to point to the red side of the boat that had just come up to the trestle, and when he saw this instruction, he quickly stopped thinking and quickened his pace towards the ship.

The boat was stable, the gangplank was lowered, and a captain in a brown cotton coat came out and nodded to Sam: "Call a few neat mules, and the barrels in the cabin will be unloaded." ”

Sam beckoned enough men, then jumped on the boat himself, followed the captain to the hatch, opened the cover, and peeked inside.

He saw that the cabin was full of barrels, and there was scarcely room for them, and the terrified sights of the hosts, all of whom he had seen before, were huddled in the crevices between the barrels, all withered and pale.

Sam frowned, these people were cramped here to even sit and rest, let alone lie down, and they didn't know where they came from or how long they had been in this terrible environment—but one thing was clear, these people were certainly not as valuable to the ship boss as the wine.

Strangely enough, these men were not ragged slaves, nor did they look like outcasts, and several of them even wore decent woolen clothes - where did these people come from?

While the men were at work, Sam went to talk to the boatswain who was standing next to him overseeing the work—he did not dare to speak to the owner, who was a real decent man—and he asked about the origin of the "hitchhikers" in the warehouse, who were not ghosts, but were well-dressed, and as a man who was begging for a living on the docks, he inquired about some things on the ship, but he bragged about them in the tavern after he returned.

"They? "From the plains of the Holy Spirit," the boatswain spat to the side, "fleeing." ”

"Plains of the Holy Spirit? That's far away! Sam looked surprised, "What are they doing all this far?" ”

"It's all Blood God Cultists, and a few Shadow Cultists," the boatswain said casually, "It's said that there are people in their local church who have had an affair with the cultists, and even the people who often enter the church are suspected of hereticals, and the killing of cultists on the plain of the Holy Spirit is so great that the Inquisition of the Holy Light Church has burned thousands of people to death—these people can't survive in the local area, so they have fled." ”

As he spoke, the boatswain shook his head: "There are three dead on the road, and they are all thrown into the river for fear of getting sick." ”

Sam's hairs tightened when he heard that he had something to do with the cultists, and his eyes turned awkward when he looked at the passengers in the cabin—he looked at the people as if there were really a few cultists hiding in them.

"Look at your cowardly appearance—these people don't get off the ship, they're going to be sent all the way to Cecil's collar," the boatswain couldn't help but shake his head when he saw Sam's appearance, "but it's up to Cecil to see if you want these people, after all, they're related to heresy...... If not, these people will have to be thrown into the wilderness, but that is better than burning. ”

Sam wiped his red nose and felt a little awkward in his heart.

He believed in the god of blood.

The wind, which had already begun to warm up, seemed to be cold again.

At the same time, in Cecil's only church of the Light, Pastor Wright ended his morning prayer.

He was a devout believer, a preacher who was passionate about preaching—and while many would have been deceived by his powerful appearance, Wright himself knew that he had never been one to put things into force—especially on his fellow citizens.

The Lord of Light protects the world and teaches the art of Light to the fragile mortals who can heal and exorcise evil spirits, in order to protect the world, so the essence of the Way of Light should also be to protect, not destroy—so Wright tempered his body, because he hoped that even if it was time to eradicate evil, he could use the power of the Light to fight the enemy, so as not to tarnish the power that should be used to soothe and protect people.

It's his obsession, and he knows it's a bit stupid, but he doesn't plan to change it.

But a letter sent to the church a few days ago made him a little entangled.

Wright cleaned the prayer hall of the church, then sat down in the front row of seats, took out the church letter from the plain of the Holy Spirit from his bosom, and read it again.

“…… Evil breeds, and heretics are active...... They are all ignorant people who believe in other gods polluting the pure faith of the world...... The Lord wants this land to be restored to purity, and the solution is to clear the hearts of mortals from confusion and false beliefs......

“…… Therefore whoever does not listen to the light and does not agree with the teachings of the Lord...... It's all heretical......"

The white letter paper was crumpled together, but it was re-unfolded, flattened, folded and folded.

Wright looked up at the bright skylight of the church and the statue of the Holy Light shining in the sunlight of the skylight.

"Lord, do you really think so......