Raised Taxes

On the dirt road in the countryside, a donkey cart slowly moved forward, producing the rhythmic sound of its wheels turning.

The sunlight was bright, shining down on a young man with golden hair, though he seemed a bit irritated by the sun.

He lay on the donkey cart, legs dangling outside, swaying slightly in rhythm with the cart's movement.

His upper body leaned against a pile of sacks, which appeared to be filled with supplies. Beside him was a standard-issue military backpack.

The youth's golden hair glistened under the sunlight. He raised his right hand to shield his eyes, as if to block out the glaring rays of the sun.

Driving the donkey cart was a middle-aged man with messy brown hair and a face covered in stubble. He hummed a soft tune under his breath.

"Pear blossoms fall outside your window, someone writes of longing in soft strokes..."

He glanced at the young man with golden hair, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes.

The two men, along with the donkey, traveled down the country path, while the wildflowers and grass on the roadside swayed gently in the wind.

"It's been so many years since I've seen you, and you're looking more and more like your father."

The middle-aged man had dark, rough skin, and with his coarse hand, he ruffled the golden-haired young man's head, all while driving the donkey cart with one hand.

"Hodge, stop messing with my hair, you've done it several times already," the young man said, pushing Hodge's hand away.

He opened his eyes, revealing blue pupils, a hint of helplessness in his expression.

"Oh, I'm your elder. You won't let me?"

The golden-haired young man was too tired to argue with him and chose not to respond.

"How much longer until we reach the village?" he asked.

"Not long, about ten more minutes."

Upon hearing this, a sudden wave of nervousness welled up inside the young man, though his expression didn't change much. Inside, however, he felt uneasy.

Lying back on the cart, he gazed at the blue sky, his mind swirling with countless thoughts.

After four or five years of being away, he didn't know if the villagers still remembered him or if everything remained as it had been when he left.

Were the familiar sights and people still the same, or had they changed beyond recognition?

Hodge, steering the cart, occasionally glanced back at the young man, continuing his questions.

"How's life in the army? Are you getting used to it? How are Victor and Dillon?"

At the mention of Dillon and Victor, the young man's expression stiffened slightly.

Whenever this topic came up, the golden-haired young man would choose to remain silent, avoiding a direct answer. His once-relaxed demeanor became heavier.

Hodge noticed the shift in the young man and had a sense of what was going on.

"Your grandfather, Middleton, is still holding up. But you know, at his age, his spirit isn't what it used to be, especially since he's been worrying about you.

He keeps talking about when you'll come back, when you'll get married, and when you'll have kids."

Hodge changed the subject, bringing up the young man's grandfather.

Hearing Middleton mentioned, the young man's voice showed a hint of concern.

"How's his health?"

Hodge sighed, his tone filled with a bit of helplessness.

"Physically, he's still pretty agile, always keeping himself busy.

But his spirit isn't what it used to be.

The doctor told him to quit smoking, to cut back, but he doesn't listen.

He says, 'At my age, what's there to be afraid of?'"

The young man shook his head with a mixture of exasperation and fondness.

"He's always like that. He never lets go of that cigarette."

His father had a similar vice with alcohol, drinking daily, while his grandfather couldn't go a day without smoking.

"How's the village been while I've been gone? How are the people?"

Hodge spat on the side of the road and gave the donkey a quick flick with the whip.

"Not good.

After you left for conscription, the church raised taxes—military taxes, land taxes, and labor levies, plus they collected a lot of grain. Life's tough.

What used to be just one silver coin a year has become four or five."

The young man's face darkened at Hodge's words, casting a glance at his own bag.

His severance pay had only amounted to ten silver coins.

Frowning deeply, the young man felt a sense of heaviness in his heart.

He couldn't help but ask, "With the church collecting that much, how are people surviving?"

"How? We grit our teeth and push through."

A pang of bitterness surged through the young man.

The hardship in his hometown made him feel a deep sense of powerlessness.

"And my grandfather? How does he get by?"

"Your grandfather's doing alright.

The Matthews family is just down to you two. He's over seventy, so the church doesn't collect a head tax from him anymore.

They only collect yours. So, for Middleton, it's not too hard. Sometimes he even goes out hunting by himself.

The old man still has some skills left, though you'll need to take good care of him when you're back.

He doesn't say it, but in his heart, he's always looking forward to your return."

The young man sat up, turning to look ahead as the outline of the village gradually came into view, the stone bridge faintly visible in the distance.

The sight of the stone bridge brought back a flood of childhood memories, times when the three of them used to play and laugh there.

Now, looking at it again, his heart was filled with a mix of emotions.

"Hey, how old are you now?"

Hodge asked suddenly, breaking into his thoughts.

The young man paused, thinking for a moment before answering, "Let me see... I should be turning eighteen soon."

He recalled that he had been drafted into conscription when he was fourteen.

His birthday was on December 12th.

"If it weren't for the conscription, you'd probably be married by now.

Heck, your kid might even be walking by this time," Hodge teased, giving the donkey another flick with the whip as it briefly slowed down.

In the Divine Genesis Continent, most people married around fourteen years of age.

Conscription began at fourteen as well.

Infant mortality was high, and the average lifespan was around forty years.

The young man's grandfather, at over seventy years old, was considered quite rare, garnering respect from both the villagers and members of the church.

Stonebridge Village was small, with only sixty to seventy families.

Most villagers knew each other, living simple, quiet lives.

The young man's home was at the far end of the village, where it was more peaceful.

As the donkey cart approached the village entrance, the silhouette of the village became clearer.

In the distance, a few wisps of smoke curled up from the chimneys.

The young man, who had been lounging earlier, now sat up straighter.

His hands tightly gripped the sides of the cart, his heart pounding in his chest.

After all these years away, he didn't know what to expect—whether his home and family were still as they once were.

As the thought of seeing his grandfather again filled his mind, his emotions grew more complex—both excited and anxious.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves, eyes fixed on the village entrance.

A few elderly men sat lazily beneath a jujube tree at the entrance, puffing on their pipes in leisurely fashion.

Their smoke drifted slowly in the air, occasionally interrupted by coughing.

One of the elders stood up, balancing on a stone, and reached up to pluck a handful of jujubes from the tree, then passed them around to the others as they chatted.

It wasn't long before one of the elders noticed the approaching donkey cart.

"Hey, Hodge, how come you're back so early from the market?" an old man with sparse hair, yellowed teeth, and a face marked by age spots called out cheerfully, his pipe still in hand, eyes crinkling in amusement.

At his call, the other elders also turned their gaze towards the cart outside the village, squinting in an attempt to make out the figures on it.

"Who's that ?" asked another elder with a hoarse, slow voice.

"Hodge is back," the yellow-toothed elder responded with a grin.