Chapter 422: Suniva
In recent days, Oswin Suniva, the governor of Province Suniva, had been working tirelessly to resettle the victims. Or at least those who didn’t look ready to attack others.
This was his land, a place he and his ancestors had been guarding for centuries.
Being on the border, they had long maintained their own personal army, something that had once made the previous duke uneasy.
The current Archduke, however, had been generous, sending food supplies during the harsh winters of the past decade.
Everyone, including Oswin himself, had believed things were moving in the right direction.
But this sudden disaster had left his hair white, as though he had aged decades in mere months.
At night, he tossed and turned, plagued by nightmares of screaming people. Before dawn, he dressed and returned to the endless burdens of counties still under his command.
The Royal Army had already claimed much of Suvina. What little land remained was his to protect, and yet he could not provide what his people needed most.
Food.
It was only during lunch that he sat with his family.
His fourth son spooned plain porridge in silence while his wife busied herself with menial tasks such as filling the glasses with water.
His three daughter-in-laws were sipping their gruel with their kids silently, clearly worried about their husbands.
At the center of the table lay a plate of pickled vegetables and a few pieces of dried root.
Only his second granddaughter had an egg in her bowl.
She had turned fourteen that day. If not for the disaster, they would have celebrated with a lavish banquet.
Lady Suvina rested a hand on his shoulder. "It is good we can still sit like this."
Oswin silently nodded.
His three sons fought with the soldiers while his precious daughter labored tirelessly in the refugee camps.
What he had not told his family was that his eldest was already dead.
Afraid he might rise as one of those flesh-craving wretches, Oswin had ended his misery with his own hands.
But he could not bring himself to tell Crystal that her father had died on her fourteenth birthday.
"It’s all my fault, my love," he whispered. "I’ve burdened you all with me."
Their household’s grain had long since been given to the people, leaving his own family with scraps.
"Don’t worry, my lord," Lady Suvina said softly. Though her face was lined with age, the twinkle of her youth still lingered in her eyes. It managed to put Oswin at ease, even if it was only a little bit.
"His Grace promised to send help, right? I am sure the supplies will be here soon."
The other provinces had long since ceased offering aid. Only a few small cities that traded with them still sent supplies. But now, with the winter deepening, even that had dwindled.
Oswin hummed. "I only hope they arrive soon."
Two months had passed since he sent that letter to the Northern court.
Even if help was dispatched the same day, it would take weeks to reach the border.
He only prayed they had not been abandoned by their liege as well.
Rising from his seat, he made his way toward the refugee camps with his officials.
The streets were blanketed in snow stained with blood. Injured people wrapped in coarse cloth huddled against the walls, staring into the distance with hollow eyes.
They looked as though they had already abandoned hope.
Illness in winter was a death sentence, even in ordinary years, let alone now.
Mothers who had given birth couldn’t produce milk for their kids. The fathers had no comfort to offer.
The sound of mourning lingered in the chilly air.
Ruins stretched as far as his eyes could see. Never had Oswin imagined that this once-bustling city would become so empty, so lifeless.
His legs felt heavy as he walked to the station where his daughter was distributing porridge.
The shouts and cries for ’more’ were far too clear, piercing through his ears and into his heart.
"How long can we last?" he asked his daughter. She had thinned, her lovely features overshadowed by fatigue and hunger.
"If we distribute porridge once a day, we can manage for 45 days at most."
Together, they retreated to the office at the back with their own thoughts.
If the situation here was so dire, what of the other cities?
Oswin dared not think about the little towns at the edge of the border. Those were the first to be captured, and many were already slaughtered for resisting.
And it was not only the invaders he had to fight. Powerful families in Suvina refused to offer any aid. Some even urged surrender, claiming it would spare further bloodshed.
But how could they bow to a man who cared nothing for whether they lived or died?
Oswin was no fool. He knew what Silas Valaria had done.
The young king, drunk on power, had murdered the ruler of a neighboring empire, then taken his wife and the daughter as his own concubines.
Silas had even slaughtered innocent men, women, and children without cause.
Silas said His Grace Xion had killed the holy maiden, but everyone knew the truth. The divine healer had saved many lives during that battle with the earth-shattering monster.
Those who survived had crossed Suvina on their way home. Everyone in Suvina had heard how generous their two lieges had been.
The Archduke had sent food more than once, and if not for that, Oswin would not have held out this long.
Word had even spread of the new school opened in the Darkhelm capital. A sacred place that allowed even the poor to study if they passed the entrance test.
Silas called Darius a devil and Xion the enabler of sin, while he himself was the cruelest of all.
How could such a vile man ever be a leader?
Oswin resisted fiercely and without compromise. And so his motherland withered before his eyes, while he remained powerless.
All his hopes now clung to a single, thinning thread.
"My lord, should we continue distributing the porridge?" the official subordinate asked.
Oswin looked at the nearly empty grain storage and nodded. "Yes, continue. In a few days, relief grain will arrive."
He said it as much to reassure himself as the soldiers.