The sun had nearly disappeared behind the distant hills when the refugee procession finally came to a halt.
For hours, the people had been walking along the dusty road, carrying whatever little they had managed to save from their homes. Some carried bundles of clothes, others held sleeping children in their arms, while the elderly leaned heavily on walking sticks.
The drought had taken everything from them.
Their fields had turned barren, their wells had dried, and the villages that once echoed with laughter had become places of dust and silence.
Among them walked a young merchant couple.
At least, that was what everyone believed.
The Emperor had exchanged his royal robes for a simple brown cotton tunic and worn trousers. His hair was tied carelessly, and his face was covered with a little dust. Without his crown, imperial ornaments, and entourage, he looked like an ordinary man.
