Ashius raised his head and looked at the land in front of him.
There used to be paths paved with stone slabs, and there were civilians coming and going along the muddy edges, dragging their redundant and ragged clothes back and forth. Women with gloomy eyes holding water jugs, their children dragging their feet with dull expressions, travelers carrying the dust along the way showing their slumped tired shoulders at the door of the wine house, the city dead and lifeless - maybe people living in such a century are not happy, and their lives are even filled with lamentation and pain.
But at least before they arrived, the clothes of these people were stained only by mud and rain. Their hearts would not be able to withstand the harm of the sword tip, and there would be no loved ones' heads at their feet.