Berserk: The Prophet

.........

—Located somewhere on the coast of Juda—

The waves crashed against the naked bodies of the children, who looked as if they had been sunbathing for a long time, their backs turning bright red. It was hard to tell whether they were corpses or living people.

The passing fishermen quickly moored their boats on the shallows and rushed toward the small body.

"Child, wake up!" the old fisherman cried out, his voice filled with anxiety.

Fortunately, the child's chest was still rising and falling slightly, and the fishermen breathed a sigh of relief. They quickly carried the child onto the boat, found a clean old blanket, and carefully wrapped the child in it.

When Green woke up again, he didn't know how much time had passed.

He looked at the unfamiliar and shabby room, the old fishing nets hanging on the walls and a few pieces of clothing covered in patches, filled with doubt.

Just then, the old fisherman came in carrying a bowl of hot porridge. When he saw that Green had woken up, he smiled kindly and said, "Child, you're finally awake. Drink this porridge to warm yourself up."

Green's lips trembled as he mumbled a thank you, but the old man's manner of speaking suggested he was a master of roguery.

The aroma of the food awakened Green's taste buds, and his hunger gradually intensified as he became more aware. At that moment, this bowl of dark, savory soup was a true delicacy.

Green finished the wheat soup in a few gulps, and the warmth spread from his stomach to his whole body, but he still felt a little unsatisfied.

Fortunately, he had regained some strength and mustered up his courage to look at the old fisherman: "Old man, where am I?"

The old fisherman smiled gently and slowly said, "Child, this is a small fishing village in Qiuda. I rescued you on the beach."

"Thank you, sir, but I can't quite remember what happened before," Green said, his voice tinged with confusion.

The old fisherman patted him on the shoulder and comforted him, "It's alright, child. If you can't remember, don't think about it for now. Get well first."

"Thank you, I'm sorry to have troubled you."

The old fisherman waved his hand, his wrinkles deepening with a smile: "Don't mention trouble. How could we just stand by and watch someone die? Just stay here and rest easy. Once you're fully recovered, we'll figure out your identity."

Green nodded gratefully, a warm feeling welling up inside him. In this unfamiliar place, the old fisherman's kindness made him feel a sense of warmth.

...Life isn't always terrible.

Green tried hard to recall what had happened before, but he couldn't remember anything about becoming a dragon after the burning of Chester Fortress. A sharp pain shot through his head.

"Hiss..." Green cried out in pain. If he thought about it any further, it would give him a terrible headache.

Alright, let's rest for a bit and figure out where we are first.

After settling in the fishing village for a few days, Green recovered and began learning fishing techniques from the old fishermen, helping them organize their fishing gear, and then they went out to sea together.

—In any case, you can't just eat for free.

...This is the lesson Gambino taught him.

It's summer now, a great time to catch sardines.

Green gradually adapted to the rocking of the waves and learned from the old fishermen how to spot schools of fish. Whenever he cast his net and his catch was plentiful, a simple joy would well up in Green's heart.

...This must be the joy of life. I wish Guts were here too.

Summer passed quickly, and autumn arrived in the blink of an eye. In addition to fish, the harvest in this fishing village consisted of crops such as flax and rye.

Every day, he would follow the old fishermen fishing from the moment he opened his eyes, and then spend his time killing bandits and thieves on Barkley's land to earn some extra money, occasionally taking on tasks from the mayor. Since he couldn't travel too far, the items he could use for trading were limited, but he still managed to save up a small amount of money.

As the third autumn rain arrived, carrying a salty sea breeze, Green was helping an old fisherman repair the hull of his boat, which had been gnawed by barnacles. The tide was two fingers higher than usual for this time of year, and the salt marshland at the east end of the village was mostly submerged. The villagers were busy reinforcing the dikes with wooden stakes and reeds.

"This awful weather." The old fisherman smeared the last handful of asphalt into the seams of the boat and looked up at the leaden sky. "The last time the water rose this badly was in my grandfather's generation—that year the wheat rotted in the fields, and more than twenty households had to rely on dried fish to get through the winter."

Suddenly remembering something, Green asked, "Uncle, can the rye grown in our village withstand flooding?"

The old man shook his head with a wry smile: "Rye is drought-resistant but not flood-resistant. If it soaks for another three days, the harvest will probably be lost. But the flax planted on the western highlands is fine; those things have deep roots."

He suddenly lowered his voice, "I heard the village chief plans to trade salt for some wheat seeds, but the caravan the village finally managed to organize was robbed by pirates last month, and now even salt is in short supply..."

"I'm afraid it's going to be a tough winter," Green sighed as well. The weather was getting colder and colder, and he knew he had enough money to cover his travel expenses.

"Yes, the lord will be coming to collect taxes soon."

The old man who rescued Green was named Charles. He had the typical appearance of a person from the coastal region of Juda—brown skin and brown eyes, with rather deep-set features.

His wife died of illness during a bad year, and their only two sons were taken away by the lord when he conscripted soldiers.

...It is said that he was taken by the lord to fight in Grant.

...Grant.

Thinking of that place, Green could only remain silent. After all, such an indescribable fact had occurred, and besides, he didn't know what the situation was like there now.

The lord's tax collection team arrived at the fishing village in late autumn.

Three oxcarts escorted by chainmail knights rolled over the muddy village road, the iron bells hanging from the shafts startling crows in the reeds, and the lord's two coat of arms were positioned on either side of the tax cart.

The tax collector, wrapped in a wolf-skin cloak with his nose red from the cold, was preparing to collect taxes from each household according to the sheepskin tax slips. As soon as the villagers saw this scene, they had already gathered together.

When the tax collector opened the wooden door of the first house, Green was squatting behind Charles's woodpile, wiping his harpoon.

An old woman's wailing came from the crack in the door: "Master, this year's tide has ruined the rye..." Her words were cut off by the dull thud of a whip.

"Take the iron pot away!" the tax collector's shrill voice pierced the rain. "If you keep arguing, we'll take your granddaughter as collateral!"

“In addition to the land tax payable to the lord, Thomas Weaver was also required to pay one-tenth of the land’s value, in accordance with the Royal Palace Tithes Act.”

"Thomas Weaver owns two acres of land that produces 12 bushels of rye per year and is entitled to a tithe of 1.2 bushels."

"Sir, all the rye in my yard has rotted from being soaked..."

"Shut up!" The tax collector's eyes swept over the pickled fish barrel in the corner. "Isn't the land suffering because God is angry with you? Paying tithes to atone for your sins is the wise choice you should make!"

"The tithe is levied on the original value of the land, regardless of whether you grow wheat or seaweed!"

He lashed the old man's knee with his whip, and the old man stumbled and crashed into the earthenware jar containing sardines.

"Don't we still have fish to offset the tax? Bring them all over, we can't skimp on the tax due!"

"No, sir! This is the only food we have left to get through the winter!"