After casting one last, reluctant glance at that warm, cozy scene, George left the brightly lit street and turned into a dark, narrow alley—the only path to his lodging.
Suddenly, an unfamiliar voice called out to stop him.
"Wait."
Cold sweat instantly broke out across George's face. Horrific rumors flashed through his mind: it was whispered that a black market lurked in the kingdom's shadows, where ogres and hobgoblin retainers would gather to secretly traffic human organs and flesh and feast upon them, something strictly illegal under ordinary law.
Had he stumbled upon the rumored black-market merchants?
George wanted to run, but his feet felt as if they were filled with lead. He could only turn his head stiffly, stammering with a tremble, "D-don't take me."
Through his panic, he saw a robed figure standing not far away. He couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman, but their build was roughly similar to his own. At the very least, it wasn't an ogre or a hobgoblin.
George let out a long breath of relief.
The mysterious figure spoke in a rather gentle tone, merely asking him, "Don't be afraid. I am no lackey of the evil dragon. Tell me, are you a resident of Northwind Keep?"
George scratched his head, perplexed.
"I suppose so. I live here every day, after all. You know the 'Giant Savant' Food Processing Factory in the southern district? That's where I work."
To his shock, the stranger pressed several silver coins into his hand and asked, "Then could you tell me about the situation here in detail?"
Surprise and delight washed over George at once, sheer joy spreading across his face. He never imagined he would stumble upon such a windfall.
He hurriedly stuffed the precious silver coins into his clothes, terrified the person before him might change their mind, and babbled repeatedly, "Of course, of course!"
These were silver coins—wages that would take him several months of hard labor to earn!
And if George's gaze could pierce that robe, he would surely have been stunned by the delicate features and graceful poise beneath the hood—for this supposed stranger was none other than the organizer of the Arcane Hermitage, the young silver dragon of Clan Melvold known as "Silver Stars," Olivia.
Years had passed, and the Arcane Hermitage had grown increasingly formidable, yet she had never once met that gold dragon, Anhel.
Though grieved and despondent, the young silver dragon wizard could only presume that her righteous draconic kin had likely been captured—or perhaps even brutally slain.
Olivia decided to gather intelligence first and ascertain the state of the city.
"Do you feel that your life is better or worse now compared to before?"
George gave an honest, simple smile.
"I couldn't really say. I used to be a peasant on Lord Brad's estate. I never had enough to eat, and my parents died early on. A few years ago, our lord fell. The kingdom's lords said that His Majesty Cassius 'liberated' us, and that's how I was able to come to Northwind Keep."
Here, George scratched his head sheepishly.
"Thinking about it, though, it must be better. Now I work in the food processing factory. I'm worked half to death every day, but at least my belly is full. Last winter, not a single coworker in the factory starved to death. You'd never see that back on the estate."
"Hmm... you're asking where the food comes from?"
"The kingdom's big shots used wondrous magic to create something they called 'energy filler,' though we usually just call it 'paste.' It doesn't taste like much, but it really fills the stomach. The first time I ever ate my fill in my life was in the factory mess hall."
As if recalling something, he added in a joking tone, "Before, there was a coworker who'd just escaped from a manor. He'd never seen so much food before. The first time he came here, he gorged himself on ten pounds of paste and nearly burst his gut right then and there."
Olivia was taken aback. This was vastly different from what she had imagined.
In the picture she had envisioned, Northwind Keep by now ought to have been boiling with popular resentment and echoing with wails of misery.
After all, given the greed and tyranny inherent to red dragons, the lands under their dominion were usually subjected to brutal exploitation. What was more, in the poems and novels of the northern nobility, the Kingdom of Cinders was painted as a demonic den of hell.
Even she could not avoid harboring preconceived notions.
Having lived in the Northlands for a long time and moved through human society, Olivia was somewhat familiar with the cruel serfdom of the North and harbored no small amount of criticism toward it.
Yet as an outsider, cautioned by clan elders, Olivia could not meddle in human society as she pleased. She could only feel sympathy for these vast hordes of "gray cattle" and offer occasional charity.
To think that this red dragon would actually expend precious magical resources on production—and even liberate serfs—struck Olivia as utterly inconceivable.
By Bahamut, that was a red dragon!
As racial nemeses, silver dragons understood these terrifying chromatic dragons better than anyone.
In stark contrast to the affinity silver dragons felt toward humanoids, red dragons despised everything, often regarding humans, elves, and the like as delectable snacks. Even subjects living under their rule were treated merely as reserve rations and cannon fodder.
Olivia found herself thinking that perhaps this "Lord of Cinders" was not entirely irredeemable.
But perhaps...
Did he harbor an even greater scheme?
With that thought, Olivia continued probing for information.
"You mean His Majesty Cassius? I've never seen him. Word has it he's been slumbering recently, though I guess that's normal for dragons. There are some other rumors floating around, but he doesn't seem to have eaten any humans, and the folks spreading those lies were rounded up by Nocturne."
At the mention of Nocturne, George couldn't help hunching his shoulders.
"Lowly workers like us don't really know what the big shots think. We mostly learn about His Majesty through the Kingdom Daily. How did that passage go again?"
"Oh, right... 'His Majesty Cassius is the great, benevolent father of both the realm and its subjects. With towering might, he shattered the old order to forge the new order of the Kingdom of Cinders. With an iron wrist, he established the rigorous, standardized Kingdom Code, granting every citizen equal standing before the law, enabling humans and retainers to live in harmony, and ensuring that those high-and-mighty noble lords can no longer oppress us at will.'"
George rolled it off his tongue with practiced ease, reciting the lines with rhythmic flair as if delivering dialogue on a stage.
After all, the Kingdom Daily repeated these praise-filled words about the red dragon almost every single day, and propaganda from every channel sang his praises incessantly.
He and his fellow workers had heard it so often their ears practically had calluses, but it had certainly left a deep mark on their memories, even to the point of becoming a conditioned reflex.
Olivia frowned slightly.
It seemed the red dragon's dominion over this land had grown increasingly entrenched, almost impossible to shake. If she wished to resist, she could not even find a suitable ally.
"How could this be...?"
At the thought of that missing gold dragon, a surge of righteous indignation rose in Olivia's heart once more: How could a monster who brutalized the righteous ever be a fitting ruler?
Yet hearing George's earnest words, she found herself at a loss for speech, unable to find any ground on which to refute him.
Even a silver dragon had to admit that for these serfs from miserable origins, the red dragon's rule might genuinely have improved their lives.
Hesitating for a moment, Olivia could not help but ask, "Has... has no one rebelled against him?"
Chapter 240