Wasteland.

The plague destroyed many things, from the simplest to the most complex. In the past, no matter how depressed the village was, there would always be a section of dry and hard pavement, or a circular venue for gatherings. But now, even the most prosperous villages were deserted, and the priests had to rely on the peasants to carry them across muddy roads when they reached the villages. The tall trees that used to be used as a landscape now have an eerie atmosphere because they are not inhabited. Many country roads are gone, weeds grow luxuriantly, and when people walk by, their clothes are covered with blades of grass and wet with dew, and even at noon, the roads are always foggy.

Foxes and wild boars are no longer afraid of humans, and even hounds cannot frighten them away. Many areas reported the re-emergence of wolves in decades, and the sheriff could not send a single soldier to organize hunters to round it up. Grain failure is already an inevitable thing, countless grains have missed the harvest time in the past year, and they have rotted in the land in vain, which makes the four fields full of a strange ** atmosphere, and there are many wild grasses that people think have been eradicated a long time ago.

Witchcraft began to revive in corners beyond the reach of the clergy brothers, a tree said to ward off the plague was worshipped in some villages, a blacksmith was respectfully called a prophet, and still others were overrun by the pagan Varans who migrated from the mountains, erecting stones and carving horrific faces on them. These reports filled the abbot's office at the monastery, but the abbot did not care about them.

For a while, he was like a tailor. Patch the scarred ground.

Not long ago, he sent the Gothic chief to restore a mill by the river.

There is no way to determine the age of the mill. In the oldest records of the local church, the mill also existed for a long time. The original name of this mill was the Holy White Cattle Mill. This must be the name left over from the Zenda era, when the Zendha people still worshipped chickens and cows, and would sacrifice grapes to the gods. Since then, the mill has been known as the White Cow Mill, but it was abandoned more than a decade ago due to war. Local farmers have repaired one of its milling houses, but none of the parts are good, all of them are homemade wood, the parts have to be replaced every few days, and the flour grinding efficiency is very underground. Farmers who need to grind noodles from outside are on the sidelines all day long, and farmers often quarrel and fight over the order.

When the Goth Governor arrived at the place, some of the farmers who were guarding the place refused to let the Goth Governor investigate the mill. They occupy the place and charge the people who come to grind the dough through their own mills. The Gothic governor showed a deed stating that the monastery owned the mill, but the farmer spat on it.

"Fatty!" The farmer said viciously to Goth's appearance, "Take your piece of paper and go back, you haven't taken care of this place in ten years, and now that we've just fixed it, you're going to take it?" Don't even think about it. ”

"I don't want your rags." Goth calmly looked at the machines that the farmers had built. "These things wear themselves out every time they turn, and they have to be replaced with new bearings every month. And its reels are very unreasonable, and you can only do half a day's work in a day. I'm right. ”

The farmer didn't care what he said, "So what. Wood doesn't cost money, we can do it ourselves. I also have time to wait for it to slowly make the flour, which is better than anything else. ”

"And you don't have a river next to it. but with animal power and manpower," said the goth chief, poking the farmer's chest with his fat finger. "You're wasting what God has given us."

"It's this nonsense again," said the farmer and the men behind him, with their fork sticks. "To deceive people with God, and then to take everything from me? You can try it. ”

"I won't try," said the goth chief, taking a step back, looking up at the mill, and then looking around at the riverbank, muttering to himself, "it is indeed the craft of the Zen masters, and there is hardly a waste of an inch of the riverbank land here, and there is no better place for dozens of miles upstream and downstream." There are five mills here, and you can't even use up one, so why should I fight with you? We've lost enough people, and we can't waste any of them, so stay here if you love it. But I urge you to make another living as soon as possible, and I promise you that not a grain of wheat will be put in your machine for many years to come. ”

The Valan soldiers brought with him by Mr. Goth were very unhappy with this restraint, believing that they could drive the peasants away by drawing their swords, and that anyone who dared to resist would be cleaned up.

"Lord Steward," said an old Valan soldier to the Goths, "these fools have unclean mouths, and I can help you cut off their tongues and nail them to the pillars, and next time they won't dare to speak casually." Or instead of cutting it off, pull the tongue out of their mouth and nail it on, which is more vigorous. Well? What do you think. ”

"It's useless," said Goth, "that when they have no tongue, they will let their sons speak, and go on and on forever." Just stand your guards. ”

The soldiers shook their heads and walked away, tucking their swords away in their scabbards.

The tall spires of the abbey could be seen in the distance, and the voices of people in the distance could be heard chattering with each other--- and nearly ninety farmers, craftsmen and priests, led by the Lothar brothers, were trying to repair the broken bridge. Simple camps were built around the area, which made the farmers and craftsmen curious, for the momentum seemed to be a long stay here, and how long was the bridge that the abbot of the monastery was going to build? A few days ago, what was even more surprising was that the abbot of the monastery did not send soldiers into the city to hunt down the fleeing peasants, but merely provided some of the clergy brothers with ox carts and many copied recruitment notices, and told them to go to the city to post them, and to ask them to buy all the supplies they needed on their return. Instead of carrying anything of value such as spices, olive oil, and ointment, these ox carts carried many bags of grain and salt. The brothers of the monastery could only secretly lament the abbot's imperiousness and ignorance, and now the opportunity to travel to the city was very scarce. And the dean doesn't seem to know what to do with business to bring the most benefits.

The quarry near Xiaodonghu City also received relief from the dean, and the owner of the mine there had died in the riots in Xiaodonghu City some time ago. So far, no one has questioned them. The miners were hungry and stared at the rough stones mined under the grass shed in a daze. These stones used to be bought at a very cheap price in the city of Little East Lake. It was used to repair the walls, build new houses, or load them onto ships and transport them to the other side of the East Lake, where they were sold to the Berks--- who were working on two castles before the plague, one to be renovated on the old site and the other purely on a new site. The plague put a halt to the Berke's work, and the new castle was completely abandoned. The craftsmen died or fled, and there was not a single one left. In the rainy weather, there was no sign that there were 300 people working here.

The cessation of the major works hit these stone miners very hard, and they had no food because no one wanted their stones. Artisans began to gather and raid nearby villages and even military strongholds, just to loot enough food to feed their families. The sheriff did not dare to inquire into the crimes of the men, and in Creel there was said to have been a massive revolt of miners, and the sporadic news had made people fearful of any crowd. Kalinin after cleaning the city. Once, the miners were restocked, sending sixteen bags of wheat and a box of rusted coins that were too rusted to make out their shapes, and it took them a long time for the miners to figure out that they were silver coins that Salander had stopped using a hundred and twenty years ago. Bored, the miner washed one of the best-preserved silver coins, the obverse of which was carved with a flame. The back is carved with a winged lion. The miners were amazed and hungry, and in a fit of rage, smashed the coin boxes with hammers. These silver coins, which could no longer buy anything, were rolling down the ground everywhere.

Miners starved to death every day, and theft and looting became the only human interaction among the inhabitants of the area. People are trying to survive. The slightly tender bark has also been stripped away, and all the fruit is still green. No one can live decently--- only through deception and robbery can people take food from other equally poor families.

Grain, grain, grain.

These settlements, far from the towns and dependent on supplies, were the first to suffer from famine. The miners felt the scarcity of food immediately after the plague, the women sold for a small piece of wheat cake**, the men burned the forest in droves just to force the wild deer out of the forest, and even squirrels and cats became food, leaves, roots, eggs, turtles, frogs, and people dug into the ground and ate everything they could eat.

In fact, the thing that people don't want to mention the most is what happened under the mines: according to some old miners, the miners used slaves, and under the mines, there were more than 100 dark-skinned slaves. After the plague began, the craftsmen were struggling above the ground, and no one paid any attention to what was happening at the bottom of the well. For nearly twenty days, not a single loaf of bread was sent down the well. The iron chain connecting the wellhead to the bottom of the well has been shaking, and there must have been someone below shaking it day and night, and the sound of the iron chain rattling made people upset, so some living craftsmen sealed the wellhead with stones. Soon there was a scraping sound behind the stones, which became weaker and weaker, but it was always ringing, and people were not in the mood to care about it, so they could only avoid the well, not wanting to hear it, and not wanting to think about how terrible it was.

When the sound finally stopped, the stench began to spread from the bottom of the well. In the foul-smelling air, the miners, who had been weakened by the plague, began to suffer from strange diseases again, people had blisters on their noses, and they were thick with green, some were just fine, but after a while they would die after a spasm, some had black spots on their skin, and ugly black scars on their faces, young people looked like old men, and old men were whimpering, and some were mad, tearing their skin day and night, and running around in the clearing. More than a month ago, a group of fanatics, ragged and whipping themselves on the back, passed by the mine. Many miners followed these people, who called each other brothers. Extort food from every village it encounters, demand supplies. These people proclaim that the end of the world has come. Only by following them can one ascend to heaven, the Salanders, the Virgias, the Creelians, the Rhodoks, the Kujits, these people mingled, and the huge crowd rampaged through the field like a blind bull.

So much has happened, just in the last few months.

The few remaining miners became numb and sat in the miners' shacks. stared blankly at the road in the distance, waiting for death to come.

It was under such circumstances that the abbot of the monastery sent a cart of food.

Many of the miners prayed for the abbot of the monastery until the day they died, and it was remembered as a dream, when the priests of the monastery clumsily jumped from the ox carts, the Valan soldiers called for men to help, the bags of grain were delivered to every miner's house, and for the first time in a long time, the smoke of roasting food appeared in the huts. It's like a colorful circus with all kinds of wonderful magic. The barren land has been transformed into a place of prosperity, the air of decadence has been washed away by the young and able-bodied, and everywhere there are monks and brothers posting notices, and soldiers maintaining order on the side. Recruit craftsmen, order stone. People were sweating hot and busy.

The miners were in tears. Grab the hands of every soldier and priest and ask their Savior---Lord Innocent--- what he needs in return.

Lord Innocent's request is pitiful: stone.

From this day on. All the miners here started working for the monastery and saw it as a reward. The monastery was only charged two stones for every three stones, and the miners promised to give priority to the needs of the abbot in all future situations.

Goth didn't understand what Innocent was trying to do, but he felt that perhaps out of so many deans and lords, only Lord Innocent was doing the right thing. This reminded Goth of the words he had heard in his youth about compassion for the poor, which Goth had forgotten for a long time, and for so long nothing had reminded him of these noble things. But now, Goth found that perhaps those statements were really justified, and above all, that there was a real benefit to be done: looking around, almost every village was being revived, and every ruin was being restored by the monastery, and the plain was beginning to come alive, and all this was due to the seemingly intricate series of plans of the abbess.

In any case, it would not be a bad thing for the farmers to grind the grain cheaper and process the grain more quickly, so that they could free up their hands to do something else.

More than ten days later, Mr. Goth stood on the bank of the river and waved his hand, and more than a dozen craftsmen and farmers worked hard behind him, pulling many ropes with great force. At the back of the crowd, there were two groups of ploughing horses, the grooms carefully holding their reins and letting their strength converge in a line. It took Mr. Goth two weeks to prepare--- and he instructed the men to assemble it little by little, nailed it with fine wood and fine iron parts.

The huge water wheel was pulled up by the people, and its height almost covered the roof, and it obscured the light of the setting sun. People looked up at it with awe, and they couldn't understand how the shattered parts had slowly become such a spectacular water wheel. Even the mill farmers on one side with the old machines crossed their arms and crouched to the side looking at the strange thing.

Many ropes swayed and pulled the water wheel, and the Gothic steward had not closed his eyes for several days, and in his hand he held a copy of the Swadian book "Turn the Forest into Your Dinar", which recorded many examples of engineering, and Goth knew that many very good works were ruined by the last minute of negligence, and he did not dare to relax at all. His voice was hoarse, and the people pulled one rope and let go of the other, so that the center of the wheel was aimed at the shaft of the long shaft that jutted out of the riverbank.

Foot after foot, one could almost see the roulette wheel assembled, but it shook again. The muscles of the people who pull the rope are swollen and do not dare to relax in the slightest. All of them held their breath and watched nervously, only the sound of the water flowing.

There was a muffled sound, and the entire weight of the water wheel disc pressed against the shaft, and the creaking sound reached everyone's ears, and people gritted their teeth as if they were carrying the weight with the bearing. Then the first stream of water poured into the blades of the water wheel, and it shivered heavily, squeaking and turning, and a steady stream of water poured into its blades.

The water wheel is getting faster and faster, as fast as a dragonfly's wings, dazzling people.

The banks of the river were full of people, and people were climbing on the shoulders of those around them, poking their heads into the river and looking at this wonderful water mill.

Then there was a 'Bang!' from the mill. Bang! Bang! The sound of the people all looking back at the mill on the side, Goth did not need to look to know that the six pounds inside were constantly pounding the grooves, and if they succeeded, he felt a wave of happy fatigue sweep over him.

"You idiots!" A farmer rushed out of the mill excitedly, shouting at the crowd: "Bring all the wheat in the world!" This thing can mash them all into flour in a day! That flour will be so fine that you can't even grab it! (To be continued.) )