September first.
The seedlings in the rice paddies were lush and verdant, shimmering like a silver mirror on windless days, occasionally disturbed by a breeze causing the slight glimmer of light to dance. White egrets stood in rows by the field ridges, stepping their slender bird legs, seeking food in the mud.
"Grandpa, hurry up, hurry up! If we're late, we won't see anything!"
"Don't rush, don't rush, there's still half an hour."
The egrets flew low.
On the ridge, a little boy and girl each held one of the old man's hands, charging forward with the determination of little calves.
It had been almost two months since the Ghost Mother Cult's blood sacrifice, and the major bandits had been cleaned up. The Imperial Court had also issued a tax-exemption decree a few days earlier, and life seemed to have unknowingly returned to the way it was before.
