The northern part of Lancaster was a run-down slum.
Once upon a time, this was also an ordinary civilian district. Although it was not as elegant as the noble district in the southern part of the city, nor was it as prosperous as the commercial district in the eastern part of the city, and was quite different from the slightly chaotic black market in the western part of the city, at least everyone could live a good life.
Until Tierra fell.
Lancaster wasn't much damaged, but that was only in the case of the city's core noble district and business district.
In fact, it was the civilian district that was most affected by the war. With no one to manage or repair it, the civilian district was reduced to a slum, with many of the buildings destroyed in the war still hanging by a thread and about to collapse at any moment.
And in one of the ruins, three shivering children were huddled around a bonfire that was about to die out at any moment, doing their best to draw some warmth from the flames.
Simba was an orphan. His parents died in the war a few years ago, and the house they left behind was occupied by a group of ruffians. Not only did the young Simba's resistance have no effect, but the ruffians robbed him of all his money and chased him out.
In the end, he ended up wandering in the ruins, where he met Zazu and Nana, who were also orphans.
The three children hit it off and formed a small group. On weekdays, they helped the merchants in the commercial district to run errands and do odd jobs. Occasionally, they would steal. They could barely make a living.
Winter this year, however, was unexpectedly long. The food and firewood they had stored before the season came were long gone, and even the few coins they had were completely spent. Even so, the sun showed no signs of peeking out from behind the clouds.
"The fire is dying. Add some more wood," Zazu suggested hesitantly.
"No, we can't dismantle the wood anymore. It's very fragile now, and a gust of wind would collapse it."
Simba said, shaking his head.
The long winter had pushed the price of firewood to one Rion per bundle, and Simba and Nana simply couldn't afford it.
"Brother …"
Leaning against Zazu, Nana, a sallow and emaciated girl with her eyes closed said with a voice as soft as a mosquito's hum. "I'm so hungry …"
The two boys looked at each other, but at this time, let alone two children, even the adults did not have a good idea.
"If it really doesn't work, I'll go out of the city to chop some firewood." He gritted his teeth and made a decision. "As long as I can bring back three to five bundles, we'll have firewood for ourselves and food for Nana!"
"Don't do anything stupid!" Zazu's expression changed, and he quickly tried to dissuade him. "Not many of the woodsmen who set their sights on Rion made it back alive. The coyotes in the forest are numerous and vicious this year, and many experienced hunters and well-equipped city guards have fallen! I also heard from the mercenaries in the tavern that they saw a rare Dragonfang in the forest. That thing is much scarier than the Saber-toothed Tiger! "
"But there's no other way." Simba said with some pain, "It's impossible to find other odd jobs during the winter, and there's no one on the streets that I can make a move on …"
Zazu was about to say something, but the two boys stopped talking in tacit agreement. They had heard footsteps outside.
It was a very light sound. If not for the thick layer of snow on the ground that creaked as they walked, they probably wouldn't have heard it at all.
Could it be a slave trader?
The two boys looked at each other and quietly picked up a rock that was the size of half a head, their hearts racing nervously.
If children like them were captured as slaves, their lives would pretty much be over. No one in normal need of slaves would buy dirty, emaciated children as slaves. There was an 80% chance that they would be sent to the underground black mines to work until they died of exhaustion. They might even be used as food for the various monsters raised in the Colosseum and thrown to be eaten.
Nonetheless, both Simba and Zazu breathed a sigh of relief when the person appeared by the door. Although they were still wary of him, it was not as exaggerated as before.
It was a tall and skinny middle-aged man who called himself Mufasa. His back was slung with a strange single-edged sword that was different from the heavy longswords of mercenaries — long and thin. Despite the freezing weather, he was only wearing clothes that were randomly sewn from linen like a vagabond.
Still, his clothes were very clean and not a single stain could be seen on them, just as there were no ugly creases on them and they were very smooth.
Clearly, washing and ironing would take a lot of energy, so much so that Simba began to wonder if clothes made from rags had to be washed so often. The feeling.
It was not the first time Simba and Zazu met him.
Not long after the beginning of the winter, the middle-aged man had enthusiastically asked them if they wanted to join a mysterious church. The man did not specify what kind of church it was, so Simba had thought that it was an unspeakable cult, so he had ignored it.
He certainly did not want to bring Zazu and Zazu to join some bizarre cult, only to end up as an offering to an evil god or something.
It was fortunate that the man did not pester him and left after Simba refused.
He appeared a few times after that, but just like the first time, he simply left after his persuasion failed.
Mufasa raised his hands in surrender when he saw the two youths holding rocks, indicating that he meant no harm.
"It's so cold here. You don't mind if I warm myself by the fire?" He simply walked to the bonfire, seemingly not noticing the wary and hostile looks on Simba and Zazu's faces.
No one saw what he did, but the bonfire burned brighter all of a sudden. The fire swayed in the room with only half of the ceiling left, and a warm feeling spread out, making Simba feel as comfortable as if he was taking a hot bath, even though he could not remember when was the last time he took a hot bath.
Mufasa glanced at a calf's knee bone that was full of teeth marks in a corner and could not help raising his brow.
Out of nowhere, he took out a helmet-like pot and put it on top of the bonfire. He scooped a handful of clean snow from the outside and put it into the pot to boil. Then, he took out a bunch of spices that Simba could not name and put them into the pot. Finally, he took out a piece of bacon, pulled out the sword on his back, and cut it into pieces as thin as parchment paper. He then put them into the pot and cooked them.
Simba couldn't help but blink his eyes. That long sword was a kitchen knife used to cut meat? But wouldn't it hurt others if it was that long?
Soon, the aroma of meat soup wafted, leaving Simba and the others gulping.
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Chapter 151:
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