CHAPTER 471: CHAPTER 449: LATE AUTUMN

"From now on, make sure you recognize our six faces. Once we move, you need to follow. Keep an eye on the work badge around your neck. No one else but us six can command you. Understand?"

Boritz stood on a wooden post at the dock, completely disregarding the risk of falling, and shouted loudly at the refugees from Rapids City in front of him.

Behind him were the other five guiding City Hall junior officials. Each of the six was responsible for guiding 40 households, totaling 200 people per guide.

"We understand." Sharet, mingled with the crowd of a thousand or so, answered sporadically along with everyone else present.

As one of the first batch of refugees to set foot on Autumn Dusk Island, Sharet naturally felt fearful, especially at the village at the head of the New Life Bridge.

When he saw a group of beastfolk carrying a statue of the Three-headed Evil God running towards them, he nearly turned and ran away.

After all, those beastfolk were notoriously known for their savagery and chaos.

Thinking back now, Sharet still felt a bit unsettled.

For some reason, he couldn’t shake the familiarity of one of the heads on the Three-headed Evil God statue.

Crossing the New Life Bridge and coming down to the dock, that lingering fear only slightly dissipated.

During this period, for the transportation of food and raw materials, Mayor Vite had reinforced the original dock area, extended the boardwalk, and cleared weeds from the paving stones.

Not far from the sawmill, a few beastfolk could be seen carrying saws, stepping on pedals, and cutting logs into desired shapes.

While Sharet was still gazing towards the sawmill, Boritz jumped down from the wooden post, inspecting around, as someone else took over the address: "All of you were registered and quarantined at Joan of Arc Castle. On behalf of the nameless town of Autumn Dusk Island, I welcome you..."

"Sharet." His former neighbor Asle nudged Sharet in the ribs, "Is this it? Is this the capital of Savior Pope Country? Without even a name?"

Just as Sharet was about to respond, Boritz, with a stern face, walked over briskly: "You sure have a lot to say. Didn’t I say no chatting during the briefing?"

"Hey, isn’t there a principle where one can speak freely..."

Sharet immediately nudged Asle, knowing that he was usually a rebellious troublemaker. Otherwise, with his skills, he wouldn’t have been ostracized and forced to move after their old master died.

"Rules are rules!"

"Come on, the Pope Country itself said freedom. What’s wrong with wanting freedom?"

Boritz looked him up and down: "What’s your name?"

"Grandfather, my name is Asle!"

"Guards, take him away. Quarantine unqualified. Move to isolation for seven days." With a big cross scrawled on the clipboard with his quill, Boritz whistled, and two beastfolk guards started walking over.

"Why you, you damned fat pig, who do you think you are? You’re just one of Saint’s Grandson’s dogs... mmm..."

The burly beastfolk guards grabbed Asle by the neck and forcibly dragged him out of the crowd towards a bunch of dark shacks in the ruins.

"Don’t be afraid." Boritz patted Sharet’s stiff shoulder with a smile, "Respect is mutual. Follow the rules, and you’re welcome here."

Watching Boritz walk away, Sharet let out a long breath, clearly recognizing Boritz as the highest-ranking among the six guiding junior officials.

After extracting and punishing a few more rebels, the remaining people straightened up, and soon, the over a thousand refugees were organized into groups.

Sharet was lucky to be in the first batch of refugees to leave the checkpoint, heading towards the small town on the island.

As he stepped out of the checkpoint formed by crossbeam and chevaux de frise, Sharet was taken aback. He had expected the small town on the island to be desolate, but this dock was far from shabby.

Before him lay a dock plaza over a hundred meters long and twenty meters wide. At the edges of the plaza stood several newly built wooden warehouses, where ordinary folks and beastfolk moved back and forth along the street.

Peering over the shoulders of beastfolk carrying dried fish, Sharet saw a T-shaped road at the other end of the plaza.

On either side of the road were over a dozen beastfolk residences and four or five shops, including inns and taverns.

Even a shop bearing signs for a tailor, general store, barbershop, herbalist, and blacksmith left Sharet puzzled.

"Stay close, don’t get separated. Children and the elderly can ride in the cart, first come first served, no fighting." Boritz paced the front of the group, and once everyone was ready, he gave a satisfied shout to set off.

To Sharet’s surprise, the road to the small town was much better than he had imagined.

The New Life Bridge aside, the few-kilometer-long road ahead was paved with bricks and well-maintained.

Recalling that this had once been a military city of Ancient Aier, Sharet felt somewhat relieved, for Ancient Aier was known for its unparalleled technology.

On both sides of the road, the previous puddles and small wetlands had disappeared, replaced by lush flax fields.

As a crop that thrived in moist and acidic soil, flax was well-suited to this predominantly acidic island.

Additionally, flaxseed could be pressed for oil, and flax stems could be turned into clothing. Currently, the island had several textile workshops weaving fabrics from flax.

"See those flax fields?" Boritz said with a hint of admiration, standing beside the marching group, "They belong to the War Monks. Back in the day on Autumn Dusk Island, when the Pope could only provide half-pay, he compensated with land.

Each of the first batches of enlisted War Monks received dozens of acres, not to mention the first batch of farmers on the island, each receiving hundreds of acres.

... You have no chance now. Mayor Vite has prohibited opening lands around the city. If you want to buy, you can only purchase lands to the south and develop them yourself."

Passing by the ruins of the Broken Gate Church surrounded by forest, it shimmered in the sunlight as if wrapped in a thin veil of light and shadow.

A few butterflies and bees danced among the cracks in the walls and vines, extracting nectar from the emerging flowers.

Unlike the tension before setting foot on the island, seeing this vibrant scene filled Sharet with a sense of relief.

This Lake Heart Island was not as desolate as he had imagined; his bold gamble had not been a mistake.

"Alright, now look to your right." Hearing Boritz’s words, Sharet turned to his right.

On the hillside appeared a palace garden enclosed by towering walls, with a spire emerging from behind. The golden tower tip seemed to pierce the sky.

"That’s the Mechanical Palace, the lodging of the Pope and the Saintess. Guards are stationed nearby, so don’t court trouble, understood?"

Sharet hurriedly nodded. He surely would not venture into the places where such high figures lived—a well-known common sense.

Stepping onto the fishbone-patterned ground, directly west in front of the Mechanical Palace, a gentle river meandered.

This river was enveloped by shrubs and bald cypress trees, and under the blazing sun, its shimmering waves appeared like a flowing corridor.

Sharet glanced at the sign by the riverbank, where an ancient, simple, yet strangely understandable text read: Parra River.

The water was frighteningly clear, as if it reflected the entire sky.

Fish and birds chased each other along the tree canopies, and colorful pebbles resembled the black stars of the day, embedded like the blue sky washed by emerald waters.

"What are you looking at? Keep up with the group." Boritz shouted at Sharet, who had fallen behind.

"Coming, coming." Sharet picked up his pace, holding onto his soft felt hat, and made his way onto the arched wooden bridge. Beyond those bald cypress trees lay their final destination of the journey—