In the wake of a heavy snowfall, Atester City had transformed into a world of pure white.
Most of the residents in the city had entered a state of winter hibernation. Only the workshops near the slums remained bustling with activity.
Alistair, the Chief Executive of Atester, looked over the documents submitted by his subordinates. A flicker of emotion, difficult to discern, flashed in his eyes.
Since the onset of winter and the falling snow in Atester this year, there had been very few deaths from starvation, and the number of people who had frozen to death was also remarkably low.
“Only four people have died?” Alistair asked, rubbings his eyes as if he couldn’t believe it. “Are you certain these statistics are accurate?”
His subordinate quickly shook his head and said, “These are the most authentic figures, Lord Alistair. We wouldn’t dare deceive you.”
“But how is it possible that only four have died?”
“Sir, is it not a good thing that so few have died?”
“It’s not that it’s bad; it’s just hard to believe. In the past, after the first snowfall of winter, dozens would die. Even then, we never knew if there were many more deaths left unreported.”
In previous years, by the end of an entire winter, the number of those who starved or froze to death would be at least several hundred. If they followed the current data, the death toll by the end of this winter might be kept under 100. This was a monumental achievement for the city’s administration.
Alistair began to write a report, detailing the hard work and dedication of the administrative officials.
But as he wrote, his hand suddenly froze. He let out a bitter laugh and stopped.
Was it really the result of the administrative officials’ hard work and lack of corruption? Alistair couldn’t help but turn his gaze toward the direction of the Saintess’s estate. Before she arrived, things had never been like this. Hunger and cold were the standard norms for the common people.
‘So, this is the Saintess?’
‘She truly deserves her title.’
He felt a bit moved and a bit dazed. There was also a trace of anxiety—he feared that if the Saintess ever returned to the Holy Land, Atester would lose the vibrant vitality and prosperity it enjoyed now.
Alistair crumpled the document he had been writing. If the Saintess praised their administrative work, he would gladly accept the honor. But if she didn’t mention it, he wouldn’t dare try to claim credit for himself.
***
Inside Frezeya Manor, Aililan was huddled up for the winter.
“Quick, add some more charcoal,” Aililan urged.
“By the way, notify the finance department. They must ensure the subsidy policy for charcoal is implemented properly. Price gouging is strictly forbidden, but we also can’t let the charcoal merchants suffer losses.”
“Also, tell Betiliana, the head of the Inspection Office, to keep a close eye on where the subsidy funds are going. If anyone reaches out a hand to steal it, chop it off.”
A maid hurried off to fulfill the command, venturing out into the heavy, goose-feather snow to deliver the orders.
Currently, grain prices in Atester were extremely stable. Thanks to the mutual market with the Xian People, many grain merchants had gathered here, making it impossible for prices to be manipulated.
Charcoal, however, was priced at around two silver coins per catty. In previous years, even during heavy snow, it wouldn’t exceed four copper coins. Aililan estimated that a subsidy of about one copper coin per catty would be sufficient.
As for those who took the subsidy and still raised their prices, they were simply looking for death.
Therefore, even for 1,000,000 catties of charcoal, the subsidy would only amount to a little over 1,000 gold coins. Yet, it could save many people at the bottom of society. Aililan was more than willing to foot the bill for this act of kindness.
*Creak—*
The main door opened, and the cold wind caused the indoor temperature to drop significantly.
Yarandale, the head maid, entered wearing a white hooded cloak. Behind her followed a glamorous and seductive woman.
Yarandale bowed respectfully and said, “Lady Saintess, I have brought her.”
Aililan breathed into her hands and shivered. “Thank you for your hard work. Also, I’ll need you to make a trip to the Fourth Feather Legion. Check if the soldiers’ winter clothes have been distributed. I’ve heard some commanders are padding their rosters with phantom soldiers.”
Yarandale bowed and retreated, stepping back out into the heavy snow in her white cloak.
“Hehe.”
A burst of seductive laughter rang out, carrying a hint of mockery. “I didn’t expect you humans to practice padding rosters with phantom soldiers too. Can such an army really have any combat power? As the Saintess, do you really indulge them like this?”
Aililan rolled her eyes. “Do you think I’m stupid enough to touch the army carelessly?”
“Then, my beautiful and lovely Lady Saintess, if you don’t want to move against that army but still want them to have combat power… there is no such good deal in this world.”
“Who says there isn’t? The Fourth Feather Legion will be sent to the Demon Lands for rotation battles. People will die there. Those soldiers who exist only on paper or the incompetent commanders who rely on seniority to lead on the front lines—if they die, I’ll count them as martyrs.”
The army was not something to be moved easily, and Aililan didn’t want to provoke it unless necessary. But if she really wanted to clean house, it wasn’t difficult. She could simply send them to the front lines for combat rotations and dispatch her own trusted aides to monitor the army.
Padding rosters or sending old commanders to the front? Either way, it would be the commander who died. If they won, she would reward them. If they lost, they would be punished or killed.
Aililan considered herself to be quite merciful.
The seductive woman’s body trembled slightly, and she spoke with a hint of exasperation. “You, the Saintess… why is your heart so dark?”
Aililan wrapped herself in a rug, flipped a pancake over the charcoal fire, and said, “Enough of that, Ginea. Yarandale said you wanted to see me. What is it?”
The visitor was the Succubus, Ginea. She had now become Aililan’s messenger.
The two were in a cooperative relationship, though it was the kind that couldn’t be made public. Only a few within the Succubus tribe knew about it. In the eyes of many demons, Ginea had simply found a new way to make money. As for the human army entering the Demon Lands, they suspected that another human traitor had emerged to make deals with the demons.
This exclusive trade route allowed Ginea to flourish, making her even more dependent on Aililan. Without this source of wealth, she wouldn’t be as influential as she was now.
Ginea chuckled and tried to lean toward Aililan to show her friendliness, but a long leg poked out from under the rug and pushed her away.
Aililan frowned. “Speak.”
Ginea had no choice but to sit by the fire. “Can we increase the trade volume? The 200 cattle and 1,000 sheep from last time weren’t nearly enough to go around.”
Aililan refused immediately. “No.”
“Think of something,” Ginea pleaded. “If that’s really not possible, sell me some people.”
“I’m supposed to sell people to you?”
“Who said humans go there to be eaten? Most humans who go there are turned into Half-Demons. Human wisdom is a precious resource; it’s a waste to eat it. Ordinary humans help us build, and high-intelligence humans help us manage our territories.”
*Cough—*
Aililan nearly choked on her hot tea. She asked in surprise, “Humans turning into Half-Demons to help you manage affairs?”
Ginea nodded her head vigorously, trying to curry favor. “Of course. You might think demons are strong, but a clan that can produce a few tens of thousands of high-intelligence demons is considered a major power. The rest are just like wild chickens—Horned Demons, Lesser Demons, and things like that.”
Aililan sat up slightly, a hint of playfulness in her eyes. “Does that mean if I kill all the high-intelligence demons, the demon threat is over?”
“It’s useless. Unless you can exterminate every last imp or flatten the Demon Lands entirely, new high-intelligence demons will be born even if we all die out.”
“And…” Ginea suddenly lowered her voice and smiled wickedly. “Our current batch of high-intelligence demons is considered friendly toward humans. Our thinking is modeled after human civilization. But if we all die off and a new batch is born, their ideology might be focused purely on bloodshed and war. Lady Saintess, please believe me, that would be a true pain for your human civilization.”
Aililan felt as though she had swallowed a lump of something foul. These people were blatantly acting like rascals, like a pustule on one’s body—knowing full well that if you cut them off, it might kill you.
Aililan wanted to develop Atester, only to find a pile of trouble right at her doorstep.
‘A pile of crap… Truly a massive pile.’
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