I had no idea there was such a beautiful waterfall upstream from Lang Village’s river.
Well, I’ve only been coming here since last autumn.
“That’s the shrine dedicated to the water goddess,” Matthew tells me.
I wouldn’t have noticed it if he hadn’t pointed it out. It just looks like a rock to me.
“Matthew, I want to offer some flowers.”
Maggie gathers small white blossoms growing around the waterfall’s basin and places them gently in front of the shrine.
“Hm... I can sense something, but I’m not sure if it’s the water goddess.”
The waterfall itself feels far more refreshing.
“It’s thinner than it was last time I came,” Matthew says with a sigh.
Still, the misty air—negative ions, thank you past-life science class—is so soothing.
Matthew might be disappointed, but I think it looks lovely, like fine white silk streaming from the cliffs.
“Does rain-making actually work? Won’t it rain eventually anyway?”
My intuition’s telling me to stay out of this. And I trust my witch’s instincts.
“But if it doesn’t rain now, the wheat will be ruined.”
“If we can’t pay our taxes, we’ll become serfs!”
Yikes. That’s grim. Though I’m not totally sure what being a serf actually means.
“Lang Village is a frontier settlement,” Matthew explains. “There aren’t any serfs here. Our taxes are reduced, too. Otherwise, no one would live this close to the Great Forest. We’re here to keep the Great Forest from spreading.”
He’s speaking so passionately, but honestly, I’m not quite following.
“Can I ask something? Even if you became serfs, wouldn’t life stay pretty much the same?”
“Zoe, serfs can’t leave their land. Second and third sons would get sent off to work as serfs on other frontier farms.”
Matthew looks exasperated, but... I still don’t really get it.
“Isn’t that already kind of what happens?”
Even now, younger sons have to clear new land, become servants, or turn adventurer, right?
“It’s completely different! No girl wants to marry a serf!”
Well, serfs would marry other serfs, wouldn’t they?
Oh—wait. Maggie’s parents run the general store and lumber yard. She probably wouldn’t become a serf.
Is she worried about Matthew?
“Would the village chief become a serf too?”
Maggie scolds me—“How can you say that!”—but Matthew starts thinking seriously.
“I don’t think he would, as long as taxes get paid. But if too many villagers fall into serfdom, he might be held responsible.”
“That’s awful!”
Maggie reacts like she just swallowed a frog. She’s really not okay with the idea of Matthew becoming a serf.
Then Matthew launches into a full-on lecture about serfs.
Apparently, serfs work the lord’s land and have to hand over their crops. On top of that, they’re expected to do corvée labor—clearing land, fixing irrigation ditches, patching roads, and whatever else needs doing.
They’re taxed more than regular farmers and barely scrape by. Even getting married means paying another tax.
It all sounds exhausting.
“Is there a way to stop being a serf?”
“Almost never. Sometimes someone who clears a ton of new land becomes a free farmer as a reward, but it’s rare. And serf children are born serfs, so… yeah. We really want to avoid that.”
I still think it sounds a lot like debt slavery, which I also don’t want anything to do with.
In this world, they’re strict with criminals—lots of executions. But if you go into debt, you become a debt slave and can buy your freedom back once you repay it.
“What’s the difference between serfs and debt slaves?”
Might as well ask. Selina grew up a noble, so she doesn’t know much about this kind of thing.
“Farmers usually become serfs,” Matthew explains. “Merchants and even minor nobles might end up as debt slaves.”
Ah, I get it now. I definitely don’t want to be either.
“Wow, nobles can become debt slaves too?” Maggie looks surprised.
“They usually don’t,” Matthew says. “Their families pay off their debts for them. But if they go too far, their relatives give up on them, and down they go.”
“Wait... if you become a debt slave, are you still a noble?”
They both stare at me like I’ve grown another head.
“Of course not!”
“Yeah, I figured.”
We got a little off track, but Matthew’s clearly worried Lang Village won’t be able to pay its taxes and will fall into serfdom.
“But it might rain anyway, right?”
I don’t know Lang Village’s weather patterns. It’s different from the Great Forest.
“There was barely any snow this winter.”
Matthew wasn’t here—he was at school in Carlton—so he’s going off what he heard.
“Yeah,” Maggie adds. “Normally it piles up past our knees, but this year it barely reached our ankles.”
“So there’s less snowmelt. And on top of that, hardly any rain. We didn’t get much before the summer festival either, but we usually get more this time of year.”
Okay. So this year’s just dry.
“Still, doing a rain dance doesn’t guarantee anything.”
I’m starting to feel like maybe I could help a little... but I don’t want anyone blaming me if things go wrong.
“And you really should tell the village chief!”
That seems obvious, but Matthew shakes his head.
“I’ve tried! He won’t listen. So we’re doing it ourselves.”
So he’s gathering kids to make a last-ditch effort.
“That doesn’t sound very effective.” I doubt singing and dancing will change the weather.
“Zoe, you’re the forest witch’s granddaughter. Maybe you can make something happen?”
“Maggie, that’s not how it works. No one has the power to control weather…”
Witches aren’t miracle workers. But... I did manage to make water fall around the fields, didn’t I?
Maybe I could make it rain. Just a little.
“Zoe, you just need to play the summer festival music. The rest of us will sing and dance with all our hearts!”
Well… if it’s better than doing nothing… maybe I can help.