Free Web NovelThe north wind, laden with snow dust, blew from the distant mountains, like a biting blade, sweeping through the streets and alleys of Red Tide Territory.
Even though Red Tide Territory was considered a southern region of the North, it finally felt the chill of deep winter.
Stepping outside, the exhaled white mist was so thick it seemed capable of freezing in the air.
Thin ice began to quietly spread across the river surface.
Occasional low growls came from the forest, belonging to beasts beginning their migration south.
And the hunters of Red Tide Territory seized this brief opportunity, harvesting a good amount of game.
All of this indicated that the harsh winter of the North had truly arrived.
However, the arrival of winter did not cause the slightest disorder in Red Tide Territory.
Every household stuffed the distributed cotton cloth into door cracks to prevent cold wind from entering their homes.
Straw was also laid at the doorways, soft to the touch and preventing slips.
“Come, quickly put this on!” A mother draped the new cotton padded jacket, distributed by Red Tide Territory, over her child, carefully tightening the belt.
Inside the house, the stove fire glowed red, and hot soup bubbled, as children laughed and played around the stove.
No matter how much snow fell outside, it couldn't penetrate this semi-underground house.
“We’re not afraid of the cold anymore,” a child shouted excitedly, rushing into the snow with his companions, plunging into the vast white world for a snowball fight.
In a corner of the street, several old people, wrapped in thick clothes and blankets, sat resting against a wall, looking up at the street scene, filled with emotion.
“Originally—every year we just endured,” an old hunter sighed, his eyes dimming slightly, “but many still froze to death. It’s nothing like now, with food and clothes, all thanks to Lord Louis.”
A refugee hugged the new cotton padded jacket in his arms, his eyes slightly red: “If Lord Louis hadn’t taken me in—I probably would have frozen to death on the snow plain long ago.”
In the distance, the slaves shoveling snow stopped their work, looked up, and exchanged glances.
“Yes,” one of them said in a low voice, “us too—we’re no longer afraid of being discarded like materials, at will.”
In everyone’s eyes, there was a hint of belonging and hope, something that had never existed in previous winters.
In every corner of Red Tide Territory, at dining tables, and by hearths, people were grateful for the person who had brought such changes.
“Lord Louis is our sun.”
“Yes, it’s the only winter in this snow plain where no one will freeze to death.”
In the small square at the village entrance, the villagers’ cheeks were red from the cold, and the white mist they exhaled slowly dispersed into the air.
They huddled together, looking at the stage.
A territory official in a thick cloak stepped onto the high platform, unfolded a document, and his clear voice echoed in the cold wind:
“Fellow villagers, please note that Red Tide Territory is about to enter an extreme cold period! This will be a severe winter rarely seen in many years, and we must unite to overcome these difficulties.”
He raised the parchment in his hand, his tone solemn, with a hint of passion: “Our great Lord Louis, with a benevolent heart, will not abandon anyone to hardship!
He has ordered that no matter who they are—commoners, slaves, or refugees—as long as they are in Red Tide Territory, they are all citizens of Red Tide!
If you encounter any difficulties, you must report them immediately; Red Tide Territory will never leave anyone unaided!”
Among the crowd, some were already murmuring, “What a benevolent and great Lord—”
The official’s voice grew more impassioned as he continued to read with sincere emotion: “Lord Louis always keeps everyone’s safety in his heart! fгeewebnovёl.com
While other places face impending disaster, with widespread freezing and starvation,
Here in Red Tide Territory, we have smoked fish, granaries, winter clothes, and hearth fires!
We will be the only land in the Northern Empire where no one freezes to death!”
As soon as this sentence was uttered, a low cheer and clamor erupted in the crowd, their faces filled with pride and gratitude.
“Long live Red Tide Territory!” someone couldn’t help but shout.
“Long live Lord Louis!” The shouts quickly rose and fell, making people feel Blood boiling in this harsh winter.
The official raised his hand to signal for silence: “Remember, this is not a miracle, but the result of our unity and struggle! As long as we follow in Lord Louis’s footsteps, we will surely overcome the winter and usher in a new spring!”
The crowd erupted in a new round of applause and cheers.
Their eyes all showed a light, carrying hope and firm belief; they believed that Lord Louis would keep his word.
Just like the soft article he wrote, under Lord Louis's governance, Red Tide Territory's winter, though cold, was orderly and stable.
Every household had brightly lit hearths, and children could still chase and play in the snow.
Cooking smoke slowly rose, and food like smoked fish, rye, and potatoes filled the warehouses.
However, other Northern territories outside Red Tide Territory were not so fortunate to have a Lord like Louis.
The wind blew from the north, carrying snow particles that fiercely struck the eaves.
This was Baron Mckinney’s territory.
Also in the North, but a territory slightly more south than Red Tide Territory.
Yet, there was not a single person on the streets, only dead silence, not even other animals.
Several dilapidated houses had large holes in their door cracks, allowing wind and snow to freely enter.
Inside, a few commoners huddled in corners, wrapped in thin, almost transparent, tattered blankets, their faces frozen a deathly pale.
The child was so weak that even his cries couldn't be heard; he just stared blankly with dry eyes.
“—Just a few more days, maybe the snow will stop, maybe we can go out and find some tree bark,” someone whispered, his eyes numb but with a hint of hope.
But no one responded to his words; everyone was too cold, too cold to even nod.
A broken wooden barrel was filled with snow; this was their drinking water and food.
An old man huddled in a corner, his breath faint, his eyelids fluttering.
Suddenly, a gust of wind blew open the door, his body trembled, and he stopped moving.
“Dead, dead,” someone whispered, his voice trembling, making it unclear if it was from cold or fear.
But no one paid attention, because this was all too common.
These were still free people, and in the slaves’ cellars, it was even more inhumane.
In the corner, several emaciated figures, reduced to mere skeletons, lay askew, wrapped in tattered burlap sacks, like withered branches that could shatter at any moment.
The air was mixed with mold and putrid smells, heavily pressing on everyone’s chests.
In that smell, there was not only the scent of death but also a suffocating despair.
Several bodies lay against the wall, their faces covered with a thin layer of frost, their wide-open eyes staring fixedly at the ceiling, as if still waiting for a glimmer of salvation before death.
But this was a place where the sun of Red Tide Territory could not reach.
No one cried, and no one panicked.
Only hollow eyes silently watched, not even bothering to move.
One dead? Dozens dead?
It made no difference.
The dead slaves were thrown into the snow, without even a proper pit, left for the strong winds to pile snow upon their corpses.
This was their “final resting place.”
In a corner, a middle-aged man leaned against the cold earthen wall, cradling his dying wife.
His lips were frozen purple, and his voice was barely audible when he spoke: “Just endure, live one day at a time. Are we to hope for salvation from that master?”
He didn't finish, letting out a cold laugh.
The laugh was low and dry, like frozen, cracking firewood, sending a chill down one’s spine.
No one responded; only a gust of wind swept through, and the tattered curtain trembled violently, as if mourning the dead silence «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» here.
However, the scene shifted.
Inside Baron Mckinney’s mansion not far away, it was like another world.
The hall was brightly lit, and the burning logs in the fireplace crackled, dispelling all cold.
The long banquet table was piled high with food: whole roasted lambs, freshly cooked suckling pigs, glistening sausage skewers, and baskets of fruit casually stacked.
Many were just bitten a few times and then discarded, rotting and turning black.
Large bread crumbs were scattered on the floor, mixed with spilled wine, trampled into a messy pulp.
Baron Mckinney was drunkenly half-leaning on a chair, his arm around a young maid, his breath reeking of alcohol.
His fingers idly pinched the maid’s plump breasts, laughing wildly: “Come, give me a kiss, bring me some good luck!”
The knights around him were also flushed from drinking, cards scattered across the gambling table, and piles of copper and silver coins stacked high.
“Haha, Lord Mckinney, your hand is terrible!” a knight laughed, throwing down his cards and downing his cup of wine.
“Less nonsense!” Mckinney grumbled, throwing the wine jug, kicking it to the floor, the strong scent of wine splashing everywhere, slowly flowing along the stone tiles.
No one bothered. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓
Anyway, in this house, there was plenty of wine, meat, and women, inexhaustible and endless.
The world inside the house and the world outside were as different as heaven and earth.
Mckinney was actually just a newly appointed baron, temporarily taking over.
His elder brother, the previous baron, had died in the battle of Snow Eagle City, and he, relying on his family status, naturally assumed the barony.
Although he had just experienced war, Mckinney’s territory had not actually suffered any attacks from the Snowsworn.
Instead, due to its remote location in a mountain valley, the temporary peace became a breeding ground for his indulgence.
War and famine were merely topics of conversation at the gambling table for him.
“Hey, come on, let’s continue! Bring that good bottle of wine too!” Mckinney laughed loudly, his eyes scanning the maids on the other side with a lewd gaze, “Come, come, come closer!”
Amidst the clamor and chaos, the butler, head bowed and back bent, carefully stepped forward: “Ahem, L-Lord...”
Mckinney was embracing the maid and drinking, his eyes hazy as he glanced at the butler, frowning: “What is it? Can’t you see I’m having a good time?”
Cold sweat beaded on the butler’s forehead as he whispered: “It’s, it’s about the granary... We just took inventory and found that... the reserves... might not be enough for the entire winter.”
“Hmph, if it’s not enough, then it’s not enough. Let those slaves starve to death. We can just buy new ones next spring. Who cares if a few worthless lives starve to death?”
The butler’s face turned pale, his eyes shifted, and he finally gritted his teeth and reminded him in a low voice: “But... it’s not just the slaves; even the manor’s food supply may be insufficient.”
As soon as these words fell, the previously boisterous hall suddenly fell silent for a moment.
Mckinney slowly turned his head, a hint of chilling malice in his drunken gaze: “—What did you say?”
