Early in the morning, Roland woke up shivering from the cold. He climbed out of the icy bed, put on his woolen coat, and dipped his feet into a warm bucket of water.
This was the exclusive privilege of corruption reserved for Your Royal Highness—every morning, the maid would place freshly boiled water by his bedside, along with a clean towel and warm milk, instantly warming his body.
Of course, compared to the common practice of the Great Noble who always ordered bed-making, he considered himself sufficiently restrained. The Fourth Prince had originally brought the head maid Tilly to carry out this plan, but unfortunately, she met her end before it could be realized. Roland disliked this approach, so he handed over the vacant position to the older and more experienced Maid. In fact, this choice was highly appropriate, as the castle now housed many witches, yet she still maintained perfect order both inside and outside the castle.
The fireplace flame had long gone out, leaving only white ashes swirling in the air. A bone-chilling wind blew through the window crack behind him, making it hard to believe it was still mid-autumn. Roland wiped his feet dry, rinsed his face with another basin of hot water, then walked to the window and closed it—the one that had been open all night.
Although open fire stoves were widely prevalent during this era, he remained concerned about carbon monoxide poisoning and maintained a gap in the wall every night before going to bed. The indoor temperature could be kept warm during the first half of the night, but as the firewood burned out, the room became no different from the outdoors by dawn.
Roland thought he needed to find a way to solve this problem, or he'd never be able to sleep in again.
After breakfast, he led the Nightingale, Chief Knight, and a group of guards on a routine patrol of the city walls.
A vast expanse of grass lies between the new and old city walls, now blanketed in snow. Walking on the thick layer of snow, your shoes make a creaking sound.
He looked up at the sky, which was a pale gray, occasionally pierced by a snowflake that drifted into his neck, bringing a chill. He knew such weather was likely to persist until next spring... or even longer.
"How's the defense holding up?" "Much better than last time," Carter Lannis said with a relaxed expression. "Most First Army soldiers are battle-hardened veterans armed with rotating rifles. A hundred-meter stretch of the wall can be guarded by just ten men to suppress the swirling demonic beasts below. The new wall is half a meter higher than the old stone walls, making it nearly impossible for wolf hybrids to scale directly—it's essentially a training ground for soldiers. As long as there are no hybrid beasts, these monsters won't cross the line." "Perfect." Roland climbed the wall, greeted by soldiers who stood tall and saluted him. Their intense focus and determination made them look nothing like the original militia. Back then, though they stood on the wall firing wooden spears in unison, it was just reflexes from repetitive drills. Their eyes were vacant, their movements stiff, and most had trembling legs under closer inspection.
The soldiers' eyes now gleamed with confidence. After completing their salute, they shifted their gaze forward again, continuing to monitor the battlefield.
Walking along the city wall to the hidden forest side, the area is noticeably more lively.
The temporary shelters for serfs and fugitives were built in this area. From the top of the walls, one could see long, parallel earthen slopes stretching down like undulating waves. Each raised slope contained over ten rooms, constructed identically to cave dwellings. The thick earth walls maintained indoor warmth, and with the heating device known as a "kang" (a heated brick bed), a simple cloth cover would keep the interior cozy.
The whole residential area was divided into two parts, the western part near the city wall was used to settle the refugees, and the eastern part far away from the city wall was allocated to serfs.
Every day, the town hall would send people to distribute food and charcoal here, while refugees were required to provide logistical support for the First Army guarding the city walls. As for the serfs, most had already stockpiled enough wheat for their own needs. Except for a few resourceful individuals who ventured out to find odd jobs to earn extra money, the rest remained largely confined to their cozy homes.
Just then, a fierce argument erupted at the intersection of East and West districts. Roland followed the commotion and saw a crowd gathered on the main street in the residential area, shouting and arguing. One of them, dressed in a blue-and-white uniform, appeared to be a municipal clerk. The argument soon escalated into a brawl, with two groups of people locked in a chaotic fight.
"Your Highness?" Carter asked.
"Let's go and see." Roland nodded.
The group arrived at the scene of the disturbance. Chief Knight charged into the brawl, leading the charge, and within moments knocked several of the most violent attackers to the ground. Roland's personal guards drew their long swords and shouted for everyone to stop, quickly bringing the situation under control.
When they realized the visitor was Lord, the crowd immediately knelt down in unison.
"What's your name?" Roland asked, his brow furrowed as he stared at the clerk who'd taken two punches. "What's going on here? Who attacked you first?" "Your Highness, I'm Koya Havis," he bellowed, clutching his face. "That damned vagabond first struck! The man in the brown linen! I was just handing out food when he pounced like a rabid dog!" The fugitive Koya had pointed at looked up. "Your Highness, it's not like he said. These people colluded with serfs to extort us—charging for every bowl of porridge. You promised it was free when you took us in!" Roland was taken aback. The Eastern Border fugitives had already been sorted through by the town hall. Craftsmen, skilled laborers, and literate individuals had been relocated within the ring. The rest were supposed to be ordinary civilians. Yet the tone and diction of his words didn't sound like those of a commoner.
In stark contrast, the city council member who constantly spewed derogatory terms like 'damn' and 'vile dog' was utterly disappointing. Given his name... he was most likely a Knight who had defected to the Duke of Lain.
"I did say this—until you were officially admitted to Border Town, the porridge and shelter were free," Roland repeated before the refugees, "and it still holds true today!" "Your Highness, mercy!" "Long live the Lord!" "Thank you, Your Highness!" the refugees prostrated themselves in reverence.
And Koya Harris' face turned ashen.
"Yet, fighting and injuring people within the territory is equally unlawful, especially attacking a municipal council member," Roland signaled to the bodyguards. "Arrest all the vagrants and serfs who assaulted the victims and bring them to the castle. I will personally adjudicate this brawl." He paused, then looked at Koya with evident interest. "I'd also like to ask you about the matter of the paid porridge."