At the "admissions office" of the Academic State, people were on edge over Prince Colin's exam papers, while on the other side of the border, the Eagle Rock Territory was not idle.
It had been two days since Sir Richter's triumphant return.
In these chaotic two days, this noble lord had already completely forgotten the "spoils of war" he had brought back to the castle.
Right now, he was busy appeasing his angry wife, who was ready to leave ho at any mont, and had no ti to care about the dozens of won added to the dungeon.
The dungeon was cold and damp, with water droplets seeping from the walls, carrying a musty sll and an air filled with rot and despair.
A dozen scantily-clad won were locked in the sa cell, huddled together, cold and hungry, their glamorous makeup ruined by tears of fear.
Most of them were sobbing quietly, but not everyone was resigned to fate, like a red-haired girl nad Lina, whose strong arms still retained a hint of life force like wild grass.
She grasped the cold iron bars and shook them vigorously, shouting hoarsely at the drowsy guard in the corner.
"Hey! How long are you going to keep us locked up? Sir Richter's anger should have dissipated by now! We've given you money, what else do you want? That thing? Then just bring it here, I'm hungry too."
The on-duty soldier was woken up by the rude shouting and spat out the grass in his mouth as he lazily walked over and leaned against the cell, mocking them.
"Be grateful, you witches who sold your souls to the Enchanting Demon. If it weren't for the lord's rcy, you'd have been hanged on the city walls long ago!"
The guard's scolding frightened many of the tear-stricken girls, but Lina was not afraid and instead let out a sarcastic laugh.
"Go to hell? Ha, just for this?"
The soldier chuckled coldly.
"Girl, this is no small matter. You probably don't know your place in the Holy Word Book. Even if my lord kills you now, no one would say anything."
"Don't try to scare with the Priest's stuff. I would rather they use the Holy Light to shine on my dad's coffin."
Lina placed her hand on the cold bars, lowered her voice, and suddenly switched to a tone full of allure yet utterly clear: "Dear soldier, I ask you, my sisters and I can't even make a few Gold Coins by breaking our backs all night. If such a small amount of money can send us to hell, then where do those nobles who seize the farrs' lands, those rchants who swallow millions of Gold Coins on behalf of the nobles... where should those who forced us here go? To Heaven?"
The guard was stunned by her question and opened his mouth, unable to think of a rebuttal for a while, before finally squeezing out a sentence.
"That's a different matter... If anyone really did that, I believe the Holy Light would certainly punish them."
"Let's assu that's the case then, it seems Sir Richter is a devout exception."
Lina suddenly shifted her tone, becoming gentle: "But... doesn't the Holy Light shine on those worse than us before illuminating us? Let's not beat around the bush, let's make a deal. It's cold and damp here, my sisters need to eat, and you need money, don't you?"
"From now on, you take thirty percent of the money we earn. In return, next ti when the lord goes mad, you let us know beforehand, and we'll hide. No need for such ugliness, and you benefit too, right?"
Upon hearing "money," the soldier's heart skipped a beat, and his once-devout face beca less so.
He had no interest in these unbathed won but was genuinely tempted by the ntion of money. His captain was about to retire, and if he could persuade the Steward, he could possibly move up.
No one wants to guard a cold and damp castle dungeon.
Moreover, he thought that this person wasn't entirely unreasonable. Since the Holy Light prioritized blessings, it made no sense to arbitrate punishnts indiscriminately.
Since those truly wicked lived well, praying to Saint Sis every day, those who didn't provoke the truly unworthy wouldn't die... Hell didn't have ti for the likes of a lord's house servant to worry about.
He might not even be able to go if he wanted to!
And most importantly, the risk was extrely low.
Sir Richter had never set foot in this foul-slling dungeon, frowning at the stench of decay before leaving.
If one day the Knight Master suddenly rembered these won, he could just say they caught a plague and were dead, buried outside the castle to avoid contamination.
Unless so day, by sheer accident, the noble prince patronizes these won's tents, what could happen otherwise?
But the likelihood of that was incredibly small; even his lord looked down on these common won.
This deal was a sure profit!
After an internal struggle, the soldier finally decided to accept this life-changing deal.
However, to maximize profits, he cleared his throat and resud his soldierly authority.
"Thirty percent is not enough," he said gravely, "The risk is too high, and I can't earn this money alone... I need forty percent to distribute! Also, you're not allowed to wear those sheepskin coats anymore!"
Lina raised an eyebrow, retorting.
"Not allowed to wear sheepskin coats? Saint Sis above, this is the Northern Realm, do you want us to freeze to death on the snowy plains?"
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