Warhammer Divine Throne-Chapter 667 - 295, The Poor

A late winter day, the cold wind howled.

This was yet another normal winter in the Leonais Duchy, dark and cold outside. At night, no one dared to leave the village; the town walls made of fences were the only defense for the peasants. When darkness fell, bandits, robbers, vampire creatures, and beastmen roamed the wild, searching for their prey.

Inside, the fire in the stove hadn't extinguished; hot water was boiling inside and the floor was swept very clean. An elderly mother was diligently mending clothes, doing needlework.

She frequently cast worried and reproachful glances at the child lying on the yellow linen bed; the child knew he had done wrong. He hung his head low, not saying anything.

This was her youngest son. Her husband had died in the Knightly War five years ago.

This house wasn't far from the fence, and the elderly mother could occasionally hear the terrifying roars of wild beasts. While sewing clothes, she silently prayed, "Lady Shalya, my Lady Shalya, please bless Remon to come home safely."

Remon was her eldest son, the only adult labor force in the family now. During the off-farming season, he went to serve the Master Knight's labor service from early morning. The youngest son was only eight years old and wouldn't be able to work for a few more years. Since her husband died, through spring and autumn, from dawn to dusk, she and Remon tirelessly worked hard, never daring to slack off even for a moment, just barely surviving. Lunch was porridge mixed with flour, vegetables, and bran; only at night did they have black bread to eat.

But today, her youngest son got into trouble. The elderly mother took out a piece of black bread at dinner and cut one-eighth for herself, planning to leave the rest for her two sons. However, the youngest son ate all the remaining black bread and still cried out of hunger.

The elderly mother wanted to scold her youngest son, but seeing her son's skinny appearance—ribs visibly outlined on his body, and his thin arms and legs like reeds—she couldn't bring herself to scold him.

The youngest son's belly was round in an absurd way, a result of edema caused by chronic hunger. The long-term lack of nutrition made the belly swell, where pressing down with a finger would leave an indentation that took a long time to recover.

The family's grain reserves were running low; every day's rations had to be halved to barely make it to the next harvest. How could it be only the youngest son who was starving? Just after finishing the meal, the gurgling sound in her own stomach was audible.

The elderly mother forced herself to refocus on the needlework in her hands, feeling more anxious as the night grew darker.

"Ah, I've eaten too much again today. Remon will surely scold us when he comes back. Just scold me. Thomas was so hungry he couldn't bear it. Children don't understand; scold me, not him." The elderly mother gently stroked her youngest son Thomas's face. She was only in her early forties, yet her face was full of wrinkles and her hair was completely white. "It's okay, Thomas, it's not your fault, it's not your fault…"

"Mo... Mother." The youngest son timidly said, with tears in his eyes, "I'm... I'm sorry."

"Sigh~ it's all this bad harvest's fault! And that cursed tax collector!" The elderly mother shook her head, wrapping her brittle yellow hair in a kerchief, carefully checking how much grain was left in the house.

There were a dozen black breads and a bag of coarse flour left. If the daily consumption was reduced by another twenty percent, they should be able to last until the winter wheat was harvested.

In the village, some had already started eating tree bark. The elderly mother painfully cut another small half of a black bread. Doing labor for the Master Knight required bringing your own food, and such labor was always high intensity; Remon must eat something, otherwise he wouldn't hold up.

"Bang~" There was a suddenly a sound from the door. The elderly mother instinctively jumped up, looking nervously towards the door.

A blast of icy night wind blew inside, making them shiver,

The silhouette of her eldest son Remon gradually emerged from the night wind, looking utterly exhausted, carrying tools, and wearing only a thin layer despite the cold, with a beast-skin cloak stuffed with straw. "Hey, Mom, I'm back; I'm dead tired."

"Oh, Remon, you're back." The elderly mother felt very tense, like she was a child who had done something wrong, she said somewhat awkwardly, "Um, the bread is cut; you can eat quickly, there's hot water in the stove."

Despite his mother's unnatural movements, Remon didn't notice; he was just too tired. He washed his hands with the clean water from a bucket in the corner of the room, made a token prayer, then soaked the cut bread in hot water for a while, preparing to have dinner.

"Remon... what did you do today?" The elderly mother asked worriedly.

She saw the cuts and abrasions on her son's hands, the blood just crusting over.

"What else could I do? Cutting trees, digging ditches, building fences, chopping wood, each task must be done to perfection, some even require more effort, or else it's a beating waiting." Remon sighed, "The Master Knight is said to have left for something, and his steward is even harsher… Thank the lady, thank Lady Shalya, I managed to get back alive, Mom, what did you do at home?"

"Me? I did some mending... boiled water and cooked meals." The elderly mother's gaze shifted uneasily elsewhere.

"Where's Thomas?"

"Thomas has already gone to sleep." The elderly mother quickly said.

"... I'm finished; is there more?" Half of the black bread had been eaten by Remon in no time, yet the peasant's stomach still felt strongly hungry.