Chapter 7: Lead Wall.
The black fog that swallowed the First Empire of Isgard sank into sated slumber, like a gorged beast. The Black Domain’s creep slowed to mere hundreds of meters northward each year.
The Second Empire of Isgard, rebuilt in the North Ismark Basin, gained breathing room.
Over the next century, the church’s optimistic faction—pushing active resistance and production—gained dominance. Pessimists urging only repentance faded.
Vigil Calendar Year 105, the church reformed, boldly proclaiming: Holy Lord Sura would lead the faithful to vanquish the Black Domain and restore light and order.
Hopeful zeal lifted spirits. The empire, survivor of migration, entered a golden era.
To ease population pressure on food, every fertile inch of the basin was tilled. Royals and nobles pushed north, borders crossing the colder Aetheron Mountains.
By Year 200, population neared ten million. Yet as revival seemed sure, southern fog stirred again.
Fog barriers advanced to the Ismark southern foothills. Corruption sickness raged like plague.
Rotting skin, twisted limbs, mutated organs. But terror lay beyond flesh: it gnawed land, water, beasts, plants. The empire’s new roots hollowed by unseen force.
Most feared among victims: subwomen born of twisted life.
Their emergence warned the continent’s last refuge faced Sura’s stern rebuke. The church declared them abandoned for inner filth, cowardice, sloth.
Year 240, the first Black Tide struck. Fog, sluggish for two centuries, surged north like a pent-up tsunami!
Countless grotesque Black Domain demons poured from the depths. Breaching fog barriers, they swarmed over Ismark, dragging folk who nearly forgot catastrophe back to bloody war.
Year 244, the tide receded. Fog advanced hundreds of kilometers into the mountains. Hundreds of thousands became bones. Nearly a million writhed with sickness.
Skies darkened. Pessimism cloaked the empire. Amid gloom, a glimmer.
Three-Eye Society founder, great court scholar Yanis, discovered lead’s stunning fog-repelling effect. Pillars every hundred meters halted spread!
Year 294, at eighty, Yanis saw the first experimental lead wall rise in Ismark. Heavy pillars lined the fog edge like silent giants.
Spread stopped instantly.
Lead, once common, skyrocketed tenfold in years! Wild folk remedies sprouted.
Despite church and scholar warnings, lead basins, bowls, spoons, jewelry—hawked as “Sura’s blessed shields”—frenzied the poor.
Worse, secret lead-powder cures for corruption spread.
Soon lead-poison deaths far outstripped sickness. The empire-wide “lead mania” died before the second tide.
Lead became strategic material, strictly controlled. Even through regime changes, the law held.
…
Post-migration, frugal farmers learned livestock dung’s value under Three-Eye and church guidance. Ash and compost spread widely, sparing villages open sewers.
Good harvests accumulated. Iceberry lived easier.
In five years, more groves for giant berries. Livestock doubled. Most homes repaired. The central square paved with gravel. Chief Mocus beamed with pride.
Priest Finn, senior itinerant, settled permanently. He had a prayer house, led rites, hosted higher clergy.
Regret: past fifty, without connections, promotion ended. Reality for most low clergy.
Today, a Degbrun caravan arrived. With Bishop Alric—a heavyweight—and town officials.
Every three years, lands remeasured. Lords’ duty. Key places got tax officers. Remote like Iceberry: merchants proxy.
Villagers rough but savvy. Good ties with agents eased burdens in crises.
But fraud caught by inspectors or civic patrols meant more than bad luck. In thirty years, over ten chiefs hanged in Degbrun lands.
Prospering Iceberry drew notice. This year, a real tax officer came.
From afar, Mocus spotted a familiar squat figure. Grinned wide, waved. “Hey! Mr. Matt!”
“Haha, Holy Lord bless! Honored Lady Renat, we meet again. May you stay ever youthful and fair!”
Squat merchant Matt ignored Mocus, went straight to Renat, doffed hat, bowed deep—near fawning.
Renat’s retired Lantern status aside, Black Domain trinkets sold through him years ago warmed his attitude.
Plus rumored Sura-blessed black-haired Cary, future Lantern. Ties with Renat: a sure long-term gain.
Empire-wide, barely a hundred new Lanterns yearly. In sparse Hildemark, one or two was fortune.
“Mocus, no need to envy.” Finn shrugged, patted the miffed chief, whispered. “Matt’s eagerness proves your decision right.”
“Fine, feels better… I see the tax officer. Twenty years chief, met such bigwigs twice. Best never.”
Mocus breathed deep, swallowed slight, washed hands and face at the well, avoiding poor impressions.
Finn smiled, straightened his old silver-threaded robe, approached Bishop Alric amid attendants.
Caravan unloaded in the square, set stalls. Villagers swarmed.
A small village saw caravans few times yearly. Housewives clutched coin purses, eyes cautious on goods, spending on necessities.
Especially salt. Two years’ good livestock growth needed more for winter curing.
Nearest rock salt in neighboring Lanemere. Still choking: six crowns per kilogram. Many winced.
“Hey, Mocus, come.” After dismissing Matt, Renat beckoned with odd expression.
“Still pestering for your Black Domain weapon?” Mocus frowned, misreading. “Greedy bastard wants all treasure!”
“No, wrong.”
Renat grabbed his sleeve, pulled behind a wagon, voice low. “Matt brought bad news… Count of Thornvik in trouble. Tied to Eternal Night cultists…”
“Those hell-crawled black maggots, sabotaging lead walls again?”
At “Eternal Night,” Mocus shivered, face pale, traced triangular sign hastily.
“Yes. Careless, disaster for all. Bishop Alric oversees wall repairs personally.”
Renat nodded, gazed worriedly at waving blue-yellow fields beyond. “Degbrun garrison too. They’ll demand extra labor, supplies under cult hunt. Harvest cannot suffer!”
“Got it. I’ll see the tax officer, settle land check fast!” Mocus steadied. “You greet garrison outside. Doru goes with.”
He beckoned militia captain, whispered orders.
From a cabin corner shadow, Cary and Maren peeked. Two pairs of eyes curiously watched the fine-clad, grave officials and clergy afar.