Chapter 8: Hungry Fangs in the Night
A row of simple large pots was set up on burning firewood, with the faint aroma of wheat porridge permeating the air.
The slaves lined up in a long queue, holding rough wooden bowls, waiting for the porridge to be distributed.
Their eyes were full of gratitude. In past days, they had struggled with hunger every day.
Even a bit of leftover food had to be fought over. Now, having hot porridge to drink was already a great blessing.
Lord Vaerik's kindness is beyond repayment!
Standing behind the stove, George scooped porridge with a huge wooden ladle while worriedly muttering:
"My Lord, if you keep cooking like this, I'm afraid there won't be enough food... If one day the shortage becomes too large, we'll..."
His words were cut off by Vaerik's casual wave.
"When people are hungry, they need to eat. Just cook when I tell you to. Why so much nonsense?"
George opened and closed his mouth, but finally just sighed and resigned himself to continue scooping porridge.
His new master was good in every way, except for being too generous, not taking food seriously at all.