Starting Today I'll Work As A City Lord

"Thump, thump…"

Freya pulled her foot out of the snow, which had piled up to her knees. After traveling for two to three days, she was finally approaching Blade City.

"Whew…" Freya exhaled a puff of warm air, her face showing signs of exhaustion. She hadn't slept well at night; it was just too cold, even with her thick fur coat wrapped around her.

"Once I cross the grove ahead, I'll reach Blade City." Freya tucked away the fur map in her hands, which Bella had given her before leaving.

Thinking of Bella, she couldn't help but sigh. "I hope her choice won't be a mistake; otherwise… if Her Highness the Princess finds out that Bella is doing something so foolish, she'll just laugh until her stomach hurts."

"Thump, thump, thump…"

With each step, Freya sank into the snow, making her way through the woods. After half an hour of laborious walking, she finally reached the edge of the forest and spotted a city in the distance, surrounded by various buildings.

Once she got closer, Freya took some precautions: she wrapped her wolf ears in cloth, tucked her wolf tail into her clothing, and wrapped her greatsword in burlap before stepping confidently toward Blade City.

As she approached, she observed a diverse array of buildings—some were wooden cabins, while others had mud walls. The architectural styles varied greatly: oval-shaped, triangular, flat-roofed wooden sheds, and pointed thatched roofs…

Many of the buildings had collapsed under the weight of the snow, and the frozen corpses were scattered everywhere. Among the living, there were plenty of people—humans and beastkins alike—but many appeared to be in very poor health. Some were skeletal, with vacant eyes, and regardless of age, the expressions on their faces were the same.

The children were slightly better off; despite their physical condition, some would still manage a smile. In contrast, the adults mostly displayed confusion and despair.

Freya knew that these people were all slaves, belonging to the Lord of Blade City. As for why these slaves were allowed to live outside the city without any guards, that had to do with the nature of Blade City itself—a city built on slavery, where eighty percent of the population were slaves. It was a place that slave traders favored.

Food was entirely controlled by the city lord. Every day, he would distribute just enough meager wheat soup to prevent the slaves from starving. Most importantly, the slaves living outside the city were considered inferior "goods," while those inside the city were viewed as high-priced "merchandise."

Slaves living outside the city could attempt to escape, but they would be unlikely to get far—especially in winter, when they would soon succumb to the cold.

The most significant difference between cities in this era lay in the ruling methods of their lords. Sometimes, the disparities between two cities could be extremely vast, especially given the eccentricities of the nobility.

"Thud thud thud…"

A group of footsteps crunching in the snow, accompanied by heavy breathing, made Freya quickly hide. She did not want to be caught and sold into slavery.

Not far away, seven or eight slaves were holding up a wooden plank with a haughty man sitting on it. His eyes scanned the surroundings with disdain.

"Hey, everyone… Listen up! The city lord wants to dig a moat, and he needs three hundred strong men. Work hard, and you'll get some wheat porridge to drink."

Many of the slaves recognized him; he was a clerk in Blade City, one of those responsible for managing the slaves outside the city.

"I'll do it! I'm strong!" 

"My son needs wheat porridge! I'll go, I'll go…"

The pale and feeble cries were merely attempts to survive, even if a bowl of wheat porridge would only fill their stomachs halfway.

"Bastard, you're so skinny! Are you trying to scam a bowl of porridge? Get lost!" The clerk spat out, his words dripping with contempt.

The slaves remained undeterred, pushing toward the clerk's direction. They desperately needed that bowl of wheat porridge; if this continued, most of them would not survive the winter and would end up starving or freezing to death.

Freya, hidden in the shadows, felt a chill in her orange eyes. To dig a moat in this snowy weather? Was the intention to work them to death or freeze them?

"Alright, we have enough people. Hurry up and follow me; if you're late, don't bother coming!" The clerk knocked on the wooden plank, and the slaves below bore expressions of agony. They trembled as they held up the plank, turning to follow the clerk into Blade City.

Behind them trailed three hundred slaves, a mix of beastkins and humans. In Blade City, there was no distinction between beastkins and humans; their only identity was that of slaves.

"This is the third time, right? Just yesterday, three hundred people were taken away, and now another three hundred are being taken." One of the slaves muttered.

"Are they not coming back? Did they move into the city? Were they sold off again?" Another questioned, anxiety lacing their voice.

"Maybe they are living somewhere else," A third offered, but their tone was doubtful.

"How is that possible? Just yesterday... a few children starved to death!" 

"... That's just fate!" 

Freya listened silently, her gaze cold and flickering as she moved stealthily in the shadows, inching closer to Blade City. The beastkin who resembled the princess was inside the city.

She trailed behind the group, making sure to stay quiet. The further she walked, the more surprised she became; they were not heading toward Blade City at all. Instead, they veered toward a small hill with only a few lonely pine trees dotting the landscape.

Freya paused, hiding behind a rock, and watched as several horsemen gathered beneath the pines. They were laughing and joking, their knightly swords gleaming in the dim light. Each appeared to be in their early twenties, clad in exquisite knight armor.

Seeing their attire, Freya immediately recognized their identities: they were all nobles.

"What are these people doing here? Picking slaves?" Freya furrowed her brow, sensing that something was amiss.

"Ah! No, please… don't!" A voice cried out in desperation.

"Don't kill me! I don't want the wheat porridge anymore; my son is still... Ah..." 

"Ha ha ha... Run away, just run! If you don't escape, we'll kill you!" 

"These 'horse thieves' are really weak. When I get back, my father will surely praise my bravery! Ha ha ha..." 

Freya's orange eyes trembled as she watched the nobles play a cruel game of "knights chasing horse thieves."

"This damned world, everything is evil!" She thought bitterly. The laughter of the nobles echoed in her ears, mixing with the desperate cries of the slaves, and her heart ached with anger and helplessness. 

At that moment, she made a decision. She couldn't just stand by and watch. If she was going to change anything, she had to act. The image of the princess flashed in her mind, fueling her resolve.

Freya gritted her teeth, often pondering why humanity could sink to such depths of depravity. She had imagined people to be ten times more vicious than they actually were, yet every time she encountered them, they were ten times more cruel than her darkest thoughts.

Each time, she tried to envision a better world, one filled with kindness and compassion. But now she wondered:

Is there still goodness in this world?

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