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After the New Empire enacted a law granting land ownership to farmers who were willing to cultivate lands left barren after the war, groups of pioneers began to leave the cities behind.
There were vast swathes of empty land throughout the New Empire’s territory, uncultivated plains where wild grass swayed in the wind. Quickly, small rural villages popped up, and tentative farmland emerged. These villages were so tiny that city dwellers had no reason to visit them, even though the inhabitants of these villages might visit the cities now and then.
Around Luanda, a city within the New Empire’s territory, small villages began to sprout like mushrooms after a rainstorm, as residents sustained themselves by consuming their own crops and selling any surplus in Luanda. The city was situated at the southwestern edge of the continent, which was a safe zone but was neither a strategic location nor a bustling hub. As such, it remained largely ignored by the Empire.
In one such unnamed village on the outskirts of Luanda, there was a stranger.
He was more of a wanderer than a guest. He had been staying for quite some time in an abandoned barn, left empty since the village’s only cow had died. Leaning against the barn wall amidst rotting straw, he lay motionless, as if lifeless.
—Hey, mister!
A girl with long, curly brown hair came running toward the man.
He slowly lifted his head, as if he were a weary old tree, to see who was calling him.
The girl stopped in front of him and held something out in her hand.
“Mister, you haven’t eaten, have you?”
He remained silent.
“Here, eat this. My mom told me to bring it to you.”
In her hand were three cold boiled potatoes.
She claimed...
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