Глава 13

I'm a fortunate woman.

When my grandfather passed away in the sunlight that shone upon the greenhouse, with his favorite flowers in his hands, he had already arranged everything for me.

I was going to live the rest of my life as both of us had hoped: In this town. In this tiny little greenhouse.

That is, until they arrived.

I was incredibly fearful that my life would be ruined...

But that Sarkaz gave the order, and so my job remained here in the greenhouse.

I am still the town's gardener.

It has been a week since the two 'Self-Salvation Corps' people arrived.

Likewise, it has been a week since I last saw the Sarkaz officer who would turn the soil for the daisies in town.

Good afternoon, Magdelene. Your flowers look just as beautiful as always.

Thanks, Henk. Have you seen Will? I'm looking for him.

He ordered some flowers the first thing this morning, but he still hasn't come to pick them up even though it's afternoon already.

Will ordered flowers? Oh, they must be for Freda's birthday.

He ditched right around noon. Most likely, he left to prepare whatever surprise he has in store for Freda.

Don't worry. He'll remember once Freda gives him a scolding.

Everyone seem very exhausted.

I've been hearing noises around the work site at night. Has no one been getting any proper rest?

The devils are apparently trying to show off for somebody. They're working us to the bone like there's no tomorrow, but I haven't seen any bigwigs visiting, either.

You're really lucky that you were given a decent job and don't have to suffer like us.

I didn't expect us to finish building this in a month just by gritting our teeth a little. It's like a miracle!

I'm willing to bet that before, the Londinium lords would've hauled all this into their museums!

I thought you used to hate this job...

Magdelene, the world has changed.

(You should try to get on the Sarkaz officer's good side, too. You have nothing to lose, pet.)

Thanks for the advice. I'll think it over.

Henk's suggestions are always so sincere.

But his idea has left me terrified.

At night, whenever I can't sleep, I'm kept awake by the noise coming from the square, as though there's an iron hammer striking my head repeatedly.

And occasionally, I'm jolted awake from my dreams by those strange rocks.

I can't help but to think back on the worries of those two Self-Salvation Corps people a week ago.

Perhaps the Sarkaz changed more than just the way we live.

Again?

How come the cannonfire's sounding closer lately?

I heard there's more than one group of folks who want to take over Brentwood. If they come to blows, it'll be a hot mess here again.

What's wrong with the way things are now, with everyone getting along? I hope this isn't going to delay our work!

Magdelene, finally!

That devil who keeps visiting you brought others to wreck your greenhouse!

What...?

Are you done? I said it's impossible for those Victorians to be hiding here.

That's not for you to say.

This house is clearly useless, and it's only still standing because you insisted on keeping it around. Who knows what you might be hiding here?

Grr, we're all fighting to the death for His Highness, but thanks to you and how weak you are, we've been letting chance after chance go to waste!

Watch your tone, mercenary. I am still a member of the Royal Court and the commander here.

Relax. If I find any guerrillas hiding here, I'll off you immediately and apply to join the Royal Court on the achievement.

Now lose that pacifism of yours. I'm getting sick of it.

Their actions are a serious interruption to the Military Commission's plans for this place.

If it wasn't for your setbacks on the front lines fueling their ferocity, the boss wouldn't be having us rush everything to finish our job so quick.

So you might as well shut up.

My greenhouse...!

No—

(Shhh—)

(Don't move. Just watch quietly.)

Nnf... nnf—

The black soil buried all of them.

The daisies, roses, bluebells...

Their rhizomes were all mercilessly crushed under their feet.

The new buds growing toward the sunlight, too.

Freda asked me to plant these seeds for the festival. She was really looking forward to it.

She said it would be the biggest harvest festival in ten years.

All of us were looking forward to it.

But now, the new buds are no more.

Relax, your fingers are bleeding.

Don't try to break free.

(I'm saving your life, <i>Gardener.</i>)

Let her come.

Better that she wants to fight. That way I can just kill her and finish this right here and now.

You're too soft on this town, 'Commander'.

Glaring won't kill me.

Ugh, what a drag.

Flowers mean nothing to this war.

Armories, explosives, incinerators. That's what you really need.

The very last new buds here are crushed.

Grandfather, we won't have fresh flowers during next year's harvest festival... Not anymore...

Let me go.

I'm calm.

Have you found what you were looking for?

Count yourself lucky that I didn't.

Then please leave.

Heh.

I thought you'd have a bit more guts than those idiots at the work site.

Hmph, Victorians.

Don't move. Your fingers need bandaging.

I couldn't stop them.

I... had some setbacks on the front lines.

Soon, there will be another here to take over for me. He... He has other plans for the town.

There's an opening in the cement construction about two hundred meters to the west of the town's entrance. The guerrillas nearby blew it open.

They won't give this chance up, so we need to fix this opening by 5 AM tomorrow.

What a weird Sarkaz.

Why is he telling me this?

The roses can still be saved. You must find a way to plant these poor things again.

If that opening piques your interest... take these roses and cut through our camp tonight. It's the safest route.

If somebody stops you, tell them you're delivering an order for me.

Of course, I'd be very happy if you could stop by and put a rose in front of my tent.

Some things should never be ruined, <i>Gardener.</i>

My name is not <i>Gardener,</i> Sarkaz. It's Magdelene.

Hm, then let us reintroduce ourselves. My name is <i>Shovel.</i>

<i>Shovel?</i>

Remember, Magdelene. Time waits for no one.

'What we are planting for the harvest festival represents hope.'

That's what my grandfather taught me. The flowers that line the streets during the festival each year are entrusted with everyone's simple wish for a bountiful harvest.