Golden October arrived, walking through the cessation of wind and rain, and the warm sun shone down on the tropical highland, where the shores of the Lake Region still brimmed with life, with tall grass and warbling birds.
Harvest time had come. Chiwaco, with a bamboo basket on his back and a farming tool in hand, stood in the fields before the Milites encampment. On his aged smiling face, there was the joy of harvest time, and flowing through his deep pupils was the golden hope. Hope that had been nurtured through the drab, protracted rainy season, now transformed into tangible, ripe fruits.
"The harvest is bountiful!"
The old Militia murmured to himself. A hundred thousand acres of lush farmland unfolded before him, like the most touching and graceful long scroll extending to the very edge of the sky. Ten thousand Milites dispersed according to their units, carrying bamboo baskets, holding Stone Sickles, and busy bending over in the harvest fields.
"Blessings of the Chief Divine! To think I’m alive to see this day of bountiful harvest! It’s like a dream."
Chiwaco looked around greedily, his eyes gleaming as if he wished to remain in this moment forever. Everywhere in front of him were busy figures, around him echoed the low shouts of work chants, and his nose filled with the pleasant scent of grain.
Huge pumpkins had been harvested, linked into long green and yellow stripes, and were laid out to dry in front of the distant thatched cottages. Large groups of Milites, carrying wicker baskets and wielding Stone Sickles, came and went in an unending stream. They piled the harvested beans into small mountains in the cool sheds among the fields, then wheeled them back to the encampment with pushcarts. As for the main crop, corn, it grew in large swaths of greenery, its cobs long and full within the leaves, the husks just starting to yellow, signaling the final harvest was at hand!
"Uncle, what are you looking at?"
Weizti, his head wrapped in a scarf and carrying a scythe, approached the old Militia. He followed the other’s gaze but saw only the usual harvest fields and busy crowds, in this unusual year of chaos.
"First, we’re harvesting pumpkins, then beans, and later we’ll get to the corn. Each person is expected to harvest ten acres, and my back is about to break!"
Weizti wiped the sweat off his face, muttering complaints under his breath. The tense busyness of the harvest had already lasted two weeks, and he still had a little over three acres of beans left to gather.
"Ah, I never used to get tired doing farm work in previous years, but this year, I’m just not used to handling the farming tools. Probably because it’s been too long since I last farmed, and this time we have too much land. Uncle, you’re in charge of so many people now! Why don’t you just do like Lord Huitu, and find a few people to take care of both our workloads? ...Er, even just sharing it a bit would be nice."
Hearing this, Chiwaco finally turned around and heavily patted Weizti on the head.
"Blockhead, after clenching a gun to kill people for a year, can’t you get used to work that sustains life? Even if you were a blade of grass, you shouldn’t forget your roots, or you’ll become like duckweed on the water, never knowing where you’ll drift. That Lord Huitu, at his very roots, is not the same as us rural folks..."
The old Militia looked thoughtful, stretched as he gazed into the clear sky, displaying a kind of ease and more propensity to chatter.
"...Besides, each person only has ten acres, and all the farming tools are provided; we just need to put in the labor. What’s there that can’t be done? These past two years we’ve walked over corpses... Now we can stay in the fields, peacefully farming and harvesting, sleep through the night without worry, and when there’s free time, even bring some food to Luwei... I hope that these days will last long!"
Hearing his uncle’s words, Weizti obediently nodded his head, since the uncle always had a point. He continued to look around.
"Uncle, with so many people working, the wild rabbits and stupid deer have all fled without a trace! Otherwise, hunting one or two would mean we could have some meat tonight. Eating pumpkins, black beans, and cakes every day without even a bit of grease, my mouth is terribly craving it!... I could even bring some good stuff to Luwei, she loves meat."
Chiwaco first glanced at Weizti, but when he heard the latter part, his expression softened considerably.
"Blockhead, although we had wine and meat when guarding the gates of the Capital City, those days were hollow, but now, our days are filled with substance. When we were in the village before, when could we afford to have our fill of mixed grains every day, let alone cakes on festival days? We didn’t dare to think of such things, and as long as we weren’t starving, it was considered a good year... Mmm, Luwei is still young, growing, so I’ll go to the Priest in the encampment later tonight to ask for some meat. Once the busy period is over and we’re allowed out of the encampment, you take it to the village where the families are, and give it to her."
"Great! Uncle, get an extra portion of meat. Little Ayuli’s wife is pregnant, so when I go to the village to see Luwei, I can also take some for her!"
Weizti nodded vigorously, showing genuine concern for his brother’s wife.
Since the Milites chose their land and established their encampment, they’ve continued to maintain military discipline, though it has eased slightly. The relatives of the soldiers were also grouped together and arranged to stay in nearby villages to give the Milites confidence and focus. Every few days, if the fields weren’t too busy, the Milites could take turns leaving the encampment to visit their families. Weizti was just about due for his turn.
After the war, with many able-bodied men lost, the Lake Region was left with many young widows. Under the arrangement of the Priest, over the past few months, the single Milites had successively married, with the quick ones even having children. If food supplies were sufficient, it wouldn’t be long before a baby boom ensued. Little Ayuli of the seven Militia was among the first to marry, with his bride being from a family of a Samurai who died in the city. Such marriages between rural Militia and city Samurai would have been unimaginable before, but now they had become commonplace.