Tamm looked up, as if seeing through the dense forest and High Mountain to the fertile plains below, his eyes filled with undisguised envy. That was his parents' and brother's land.
And he himself seemed to be forgotten by the world.
Just then, the sound of birds taking flight came from the forest below the mountain. Savages! Everyone stood up alertly, drew their weapons, and took up battle positions.
Savages were all over the Brightmoon Mountains. Although they had suffered heavy losses, they had found traces of some savages in the past few days, although it could not yet be confirmed whether they had returned.
When they saw that it was the Lord's soldiers and officer Brin emerging from the dense forest, their taut nerves relaxed, only to be replaced by intense curiosity.
Their gazes were all focused on the strange cargo, covered with black cloths, being pulled by horses.
The gate was opened, and Brin strode into the camp, walking up to the gatehouse with the familiarity of returning home.
His voice, loud as a bell and roaring like a bear, instantly drowned out all the noise in the camp:
"Young men! I am Brin! I come on the orders of Lord Arthur!"
The younger sons exchanged glances, their eyes filled with confusion and bewilderment.
Brin ignored their reactions. He stretched out his thick arm, pointing to the rapids below Offshore Cliff and the steep, despair-inducing slope, and spoke loudly.
"I know what troubles you! Lord Arthur knows too!"
His voice echoed through the valley, carrying an undeniable power: "Today! Here! On behalf of Lord Arthur!"
"I will build you real fields! Fields that can hold water! Hold soil! Fields that can grow golden wheat!"
A suppressed murmur rose from the crowd.
"Crazy, crazy."
"Build fields on a hillside?"
"There's no water, how can we plant?"
"By hand? How many plots can that irrigate!"
Brin had anticipated their doubts. He didn't explain further, merely waved his hand: "Bring out the goods!"
The soldiers stepped forward and yanked off the black cloths from the carts.
Under the sun, a pile of oddly shaped wooden parts appeared before everyone: huge gears covered with precisely meshing wooden teeth, long, smoothly polished drive shafts, and bundles of chains fitted with wooden scrapers. To the uneducated, these things exuded a mysterious aura from inside out.
Everyone was stunned. They had never seen anything so complex. They couldn't understand it, not at all. It was beyond their simple understanding of things.
Brin jumped down from the wooden wall, led the younger sons, and personally directed the soldiers to begin assembling by the rapids below the cliff, where the younger sons' abandoned, half-finished fields lay all over the cliff.
A huge waterwheel was firmly fixed in the most turbulent part of the rapids. The icy rapids crashed against its blades. The younger sons gathered around, watching curiously. What was this thing? Some even couldn't resist touching it.
Subsequently, the complex gear sets were carefully installed by the soldiers, meshing precisely. They had rehearsed countless times. A long drive shaft extended up the slope, fixed to wooden stakes that had been driven deep into the ground earlier.
Tamm couldn't help but ask the craftsman beside him, "What are they doing, my friend?"
The soldier didn't stop his work, grinning to reveal two rows of molars: "Just wait and watch the show."
"Lord Arthur's miracle!"
The soldiers worked on and on until the most crucial step arrived: the chain, fitted with countless wooden buckets, was installed in an inclined wooden trough. One end of the trough was deeply immersed in the rapids, while the other extended all the way to a newly dug pit halfway up the mountain.
Brin walked to the waterwheel by the stream, personally gripping the wooden lever of the brake valve, and looked up at a soldier at the very top, who was pulling a winch.
Everything was ready!
He took a deep breath, looked back at the soldiers with excited faces and the young men with confused expressions, then he abruptly moved the wooden lever.
Everyone's gaze converged on the inclined chain and the soldier at the furthest end, who was turning the winch.
The immense power of the water was instantly released. The waterwheel let out a heavy groan and began to turn slowly.
Immediately after, a grating, teeth-aching sound filled the air as the gear sets on the bank began to turn, driving the long transmission shaft.
The soldier at the top began to continuously turn the winch, and with a rhythmic splashing sound, the long chain started to move upwards.
Water from the stream was scooped up by the tightly connected wooden buckets, then, following the wooden trough, it was scraped up the hillside, level by level.
The water formed a silver ribbon, sparkling in the sunlight. With just one soldier turning at the very top, it defied everyone's common sense, stubbornly climbing higher.
Only one person! A miracle! This was a miracle!
Everyone held their breath, their eyes wide, unable to believe what they were seeing.
The crowd was dead silent.
Finally, the first stream of water, with a splash, poured from the end of the wooden trough into the reservoir halfway up the mountain.
All the younger sons instantly erupted.
One after another, the younger sons let out dream-like exclamations, breaking the silence.
"Oh... Oh, Seven Gods above, this is a miracle!"
"Water... water really went up the mountain!"
Water really could be led up the mountain!
Their suspicion, frustration, and confusion vanished, replaced by an almost fanatical excitement. This fact, like a bolt of lightning, split through the gloom in the hearts of all the younger sons.
Brin looked at the crowd and roared: "Get moving! Everyone, get moving!"
"With water! We must have fields that can hold water!"
The younger sons seemed to be injected with infinite strength. They rushed back to the camp, grabbed their long-idle hoes and shovels, and charged towards the cliff slope that had once filled them with despair. This time, no urging was needed.
Under the guidance of Brin and the accompanying old farmers, a war to transform dead land into living land officially began. Hundreds of people worked simultaneously, hoes digging into the hard ground, shovels clearing away gravel.
They worked tirelessly day and night, sweat soaking their clothes, and mud covering their faces, but not a single person stopped.
They carved the steep hillside into layers of flat terraces, and the excavated stones and soil were used to build sturdy field ridges along the edges of each terrace.
The sun continuously rose from the sky and slowly set, but no one stopped their work.
When the afterglow of twilight, for who knew how many times, bathed Offshore Cliff, with the joint efforts of hundreds of people, the first perfectly standard rectangular terraced field, only half a suleiman acres in size, miraculously appeared on the steep hillside.
Brin personally walked to the water-filled pool halfway up the mountain and opened the valve of the outlet.
Clear stream water flowed gently along the newly dug irrigation ditch, finally spreading into the brand new field.
The sturdy field ridges held the water firmly within. Soon, the field was filled with a shallow layer of water, which, in the setting sun, resembled a golden mirror, its dazzling light reflecting on the cheeks of the younger sons.
"It's a field!! A field that can be cultivated!!!!"
Tamm was the first to roar. He threw down his tools and rushed barefoot into the field.
Seeing this scene, the younger sons went completely mad. One after another, they rushed into the terraced field. The cool stream water covered their ankles, and beneath their feet was soft soil where hope could be planted.
This was their land!
It was their own land, created with their own hands, truly belonging to them!
More and more people rushed in. They cheered and jumped in the terraced field, splashing the muddy water of life towards the sky and towards their companions.
Brin stood on high ground, watching this bustling scene, a smile appearing on his rugged face, shared by the accompanying soldiers.
This was indeed a miracle, but it was a miracle created by Lord Arthur.
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