Clang—
Clang clang clang!!
Strains of clear and distant copper drum sounds rose from various parts of the Tilaimei Plain.
"...get up quickly!"
"The Lord of Tilaimei has decreed, the spring harvest starts early! Hurry up and get up!"
The slave stewards lit torches and kicked open the doors of the huts one by one, shouting loudly.
"What's happened?!"
The slaves were suddenly awakened from their sleep, still somewhat bewildered.
Old Mylon was getting on in years, and waking up now made his heart beat fiercely, his lips dry.
"What's going on..." he muttered in panic.
But soon, in the resounding shouts of the knight steward, Old Mylon immediately understood the situation.
"The spring harvest is starting early... but it's still nighttime, you can't see anything, how are we supposed to harvest the wheat..." he couldn't help but mutter.
"Hurry to the threshing ground to gather! The last ones there will be punished!"
