Early the next morning, before the sky had fully brightened, the column continued its journey.
Along the way, Henry passed one of his farmsteads after another, where serfs were at work, dressed in clothes just warm enough to keep from freezing to death.
The sky was a dreary gray, with a few snowflakes drifting down occasionally. Across the vast land, the serfs wore tattered hats and a thin layer of linen on their hands. Their figures looked exceptionally frail in the biting wind.
The serfs held hoes and shovels, turning over the earth one strike at a time. Although the ground was frozen solid, they continued to labor under the supervision of foot soldiers.
Beads of sweat seeped from their foreheads, a stark contrast to the falling snowflakes.
All around them were plots of land that had already been tilled, awaiting sowing.
