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month record rogue 5 1 2
The conflagration engulfing the mountain has burned for three days and three nights, and none can escape the smoke's nauseating grasp as they choke and cry. Grimy commoners take out what containers they can as they wait for the fire to die out, scooping up the ashes to carry away. Some without containers even shove ashes into their pockets before they go. The young general slowly follows the quiet crowd until he reaches the ashes, where he reverently takes up two cupped hands worth to place in an old wine jar.
'Candles here! Free candles—'
Someone shouts, not far from him. The woman lifts up a big bag of candles, each no longer than a joint of the finger, yet she is nearly out of stock. She is surrounded by a massive crowd seeking candles. The young general parts the crowd and asks with a doubtful voice: 'There has been no meat here these past few months. Where did you get the fat to make those candles?'
This sudden appearance of candles was suspicious, to say the least.
The woman replies: 'They are gifts from the gods. Forget the candles—only through the grace of the gods are we able to stand here.'
One of the Pacifists? Or perhaps that group influenced by the Shanhaizhong?
Seeing more and more people join the crowd, the woman points a finger out to the vast stretches of ruins behind her, and addresses the crowd once more: 'Look, my friends. We, the people of Yan, have always put our dead to rest with care, but now we have no choice but to let our parents, children, husbands and wives lie out there to rot. The nobles and mandarins say they will spread sickness, so they set them alight.'
The young general orders her to shut up, but she hides herself in the crowd, shoving people aside as she shouts even louder: 'You, or you, that's the only bowl you own, right? But do you even know whose ashes are in it? Don't you hate them? Don't you care how things became this way, why you weren't able to live a peaceful life with your loved ones?! It's all because of this... of this 'great' hunt, this arrogant hunt!'
She continues hiding as she speaks, for the young general has drawn his sword. He leaps over the crowd with his qinggong, heading straight for her. The angry mob crowds around him, shouting one after another: 'Let her speak, coward!' 'Kill us all if you think you're man enough!' 'What reason do you have to pull out a sword?!'
The young general is jostled and pulled about by the crowd, while amidst the chaos, the woman's shrill voice resounds above: 'Look at the price we had to pay! Can you still bear it? Can your hoes and shovels still—'
Her last few words are cut off by a blade of cold steel piercing her chest. The young general's hand trembles with rage.
'No matter... My candles... have been passed out.'
The woman is mad, cackling in her final moments. The crowd also goes mad as they weep, question, or harangue him in anger. He bears their blows, shouting: 'Do not forget how difficult it is to find a land bearly touched by Catastrophe! If I were you, I would burn her candles. We, the people of Yan, have slain our 'gods'. We have nobody to rely on but ourselves!'
After breaking away from the crowd, the young general's face is covered in bruises and exhaustion. According to martial law, these people should be put to death. But his blade should be pointed toward the Feranmuts, not them.
He looks all across the road, but sees no young men and women, only the elderly and a handful of children. Collapsed homes dot the wilds. A shrine to Sui built by the locals stands tall, but the only offerings it has received are a few stones. This was the price the woman spoke of. As the war progresses, the people become unsure if they will even meet again the next day. Granting them peace of mind? The young general lets out a bitter laugh.
With these sorrowful thoughts clutched to his chest, the young general returns to the war camp. Night falls, and his second-in-command urgently knocks upon his door, finger pointed towards the houses, which all of a sudden glimmer with specks of light like stars. An enemy raid?! Shanhaizhong, Pacifists, or bandits?
'We sent people to ask questions, and they said it was them taking a stand,' said the lieutenant. The young general's eyes widen slightly, as he recalls the words he said earlier that day.
Some of the commoners had lit those precious candles of theirs, setting them out on the street. The lights start from the cemetery in the north before slowly spreading across the entire area. The young general now remembers what he saw earlier that day—
Young children, bereft of guardians, playing about in the ashes and mud of the battlefield, laughing as they did.
Collapsed homes are rebuilt by elderly folk working together. In response to the damages caused by the great wild hunt, they have ingeniously designed homes that collapse easily, but are brought back up just as easily.
The temple to Sui still stands, but it was built long ago, and the stones offered gather dust. Now, the land in front of it is used to dry clothes, where they can bask in the light of the rising sun.
The young general, lost in thought, looks out at the candle flames as they extend their reach. He can only hope there will be less sacrifices needed in the future, and less still after that.
