Chapter 233: Undercover Slave
Phield drew a line across the blueprint. "I originally planned to build across the river, placing the eastern and western warehouses on opposite banks. That way, materials could be transported directly by water, and it would also make firefighting more convenient. However, this design is meaningless for now—those corrupted fish in the river will crawl ashore and beat people up."
Everyone was stunned.
Wasn’t a warehouse supposed to be just a square little building?
"Yes, my lord... your design is simply... I can’t even describe it."
"Haha, cut the flattery. I’m also looking forward to you improving on it. I’ll reward you with gold."
With a rough construction schedule set, the craftsmen immediately set off.
After seeing them off, Phield arranged for Ashina to once again scout Starnight City, while he himself busied himself with the piled-up administrative work.
After being away for a month, 207 slaves had earned one gold coin, half of them soldiers. Nearly all the soldiers had shed their slave status and become freemen. The other half were diligent laborers—farmers, quarry workers, lumberjacks, and the like.
Two hundred gold coins were recovered as redemption fees, putting Phield in a great mood. As he scanned the list, however, he noticed a problem.
"All the ones who became freemen are men. Hardly a single woman. That means no one’s having children. And men with nowhere to vent their energy are bound to cause trouble."
Phield stroked his chin, deep in thought.
Men naturally had an advantage due to their physical strength, working harder and earning faster.
"Should I lower the redemption price for women and children?" The thought flashed through his mind, only to be dismissed. "No. Favoring one side is harming the other. I set the price at one gold coin from the start—I shouldn’t change it arbitrarily."
In truth, female slaves already had many implicit benefits—for example, being deliberately managed separately from men, and being assigned work like cooking and mending clothes.
With too many slaves and low productivity, reducing the slave population was inevitable.
His fingers tapped lightly on the table as Phield dipped his quill into ink and wrote while speaking aloud, "Then let’s do it this way—so long as both the freeman and the slave agree, a freeman can pay double the price to redeem a slave from bondage."
As for whatever private agreements they reached, the domain would act as a witness.
"Of course, they must not violate the law—things like usury are absolutely forbidden."
Phield figured there wouldn’t be many fools willing to redeem slaves for others, but at least it gave both sides a glimmer of hope.
"There’s no perfect strategy that solves everything once and for all."
Understanding this, Phield took a sip of tea and snapped his fingers. A corrupted black crow burst out the window and soared into the sky.
"I’ll need to patrol the territory regularly."
...
Meanwhile, Tate finished his speech. Its content was simple and direct: loyalty to the lord and hard work.
Only after finishing did Tate allow the slaves to eat—and they had to line up.
Anwei’s eyes darted around restlessly. In his left hand, he held half a piece of black bread; in his right, a bowl of thin soup with floating vegetable leaves.
"This stuff is pig feed... sigh. If it weren’t for Miss Florine’s orders, I’d rather clean corpses at underground gatherings than come to this hellhole. Why couldn’t they let me pose as a craftsman? Saying being a slave would avoid suspicion..."
Thinking of Florine’s addictive figure and the dozen or so rewards she had given him, Anwei felt as if he were "high," his entire being burning with desire.
Florine, Simon’s Divine Chosen, had promised that once he obtained the formula, he could become her regular partner. That was the only reason Anwei—a notorious gutter rat—was willing to infiltrate the perilous Northern Province.
Watching the surrounding slaves wolf down their black bread with soup, licking even their fingers clean, Anwei curled his lip in disgust. He felt like throwing up.
"Damn it... where is that bliss drug? The lord could’ve just sent a squad of knights to kill Phield—that would’ve been much simpler." Anwei fumed inwardly. "But the lord must’ve underestimated him. This guy actually has Divine Chosen. Once I find a way out, I’ll report back—maybe I’ll earn another chance to enjoy Florine."
When Phield returned to the territory, Tisiana had dispelled the gray mist the entire way—every slave had seen it. But knowing didn’t help; they had no way of escaping the mist.
"Hey! You spilled your soup, skinny dog. If you’re not drinking it, I will."
A burly slave nearby snatched Anwei’s bowl and gulped it down.
Before he could take more than a few swallows, a veteran guard strode over and knocked the man to the ground with a single punch. Dragging him away like a dead dog, the guard lashed him five times under the watchful eyes of everyone.
Several nearby slaves—clearly the brute’s companions—looked visibly displeased at the sight.
"This could be an opening."
Anwei licked his lips, an idea forming instantly.
Soon, Tate divided the slaves into dozens of small groups, each marked with a number. Temporary shelters were built, trees were felled, fields were cultivated—everyone was put to work.
Finding the beaten brute, Anwei approached him, ignoring the man’s hostile glare. Making sure no one was watching, Anwei stuffed his half-piece of black bread into the man’s hand.
"You..."
The brute was stunned. He sized up the ugly yet sickly pale Anwei. "Name’s Lay. What’s this supposed to mean?"
"Nothing much. Just wanted to say something." Anwei spoke in a coaxing tone. "There’s no future in working like this. You could toil your whole life for the lord and still just be a dog. Don’t you want to eat meat to your fill? Don’t you want women in your arms?"
"We’re no match for the lord’s guards. Look at their weapons—and their armor."
Though Anwei’s gaze was fierce, it carried deep fear toward the guards. "Besides, nobles are the offspring of the gods. The fact that he has Divine Chosen proves it."
Fear of nobles was etched into the bones of the lower classes—especially in the Sacred Griffin Empire, where might made right. Nobles would casually kill commoners for amusement.
"There aren’t many soldiers. We’ve got over a thousand people. One spit each and we could drown them." Anwei continued to tempt him. "As long as we seize the granary and the armory, this place becomes ours. If they want food, they’ll have to look to us."
"Most importantly, I never said we have to kill the noble. We can just strip him of power. Or take out the ones who help him—like the captain of the guards and his advisors. If he wants to control the slaves, he’ll have no choice but to rely on someone with influence—like you."
"Hiss..."
Lay thought it over, then nodded in agreement. "That makes sense. I’ve got a few brothers—we used to be bandits before getting caught and turned into slaves. I’ve long had enough of being ordered around."
The two of them grew more and more excited, already beginning to envision a bright future.
What they didn’t know was that a black crow nearby had been listening the entire time.