HTLCCBFT Chapter 118

Has The Lord’s Career Chart Been Filled Today? – Chapter 118

Although still far away, Piggs was moved to tears the moment he saw that familiar city again.

As a merchant who often traveled between different cities, he had undoubtedly seen many city walls far taller and more magnificent than this one.

Yet, mysteriously, no city—not even the former Gregor City—could compare to the overwhelming sense of security Laina City gave him at this moment.

It must have been because he had once been saved by the Lord who ruled this land and the silent deity who sheltered the people within its borders.

The guards stationed at the city gate that day had spotted the disheveled Piggs from afar.

They certainly remembered this pig merchant who had “vowed to return and settle permanently” before leaving.

“Mr. Piggs.”

They nodded slightly to him, instinctively glancing behind him.

There were no boars as instructed by the Lord, no expected family members, and no carts laden with possessions befitting a prominent pig merchant.

Just as they grew puzzled, Piggs, who had only just wiped away his tears, began weeping again: “Is the Lord in the castle? I wish to see him! It’s a matter of great importance!”

He dared not hope the Lord would send troops to rescue his family.

In fact, he knew all too well that from the moment they were captured by the rebellious slaves, their chances of survival had been slim.

But whether driven by the desire to avenge his family or by loyalty and gratitude to the Lord… he had to inform him of this grave matter, which could very soon threaten Laina City, as quickly as possible.

Seeing his haggard face and exhausted mount, the guards exchanged glances and silently reached a decision.

Soon, Oliver in the castle received the report from the gate guards and promptly decided to grant Piggs an audience.

When Oliver saw Piggs again—filthy and even more pitiful than during his severe illness—he was slightly taken aback, despite having learned from the Cat God the day before that “a group of ragged refugees had fled from Albury.”

He glanced at Fosse, and the butler immediately understood, instructing the attending footman Johan: “Prepare hot water and food.”

Hot water and food were quickly brought.

The aroma of the food awakened the hunger Piggs had deliberately ignored these past few days. With Oliver’s permission, he wept as he devoured the food, gulping down hot water to soothe his parched throat, all while murmuring: “May the great Cat God be with you, esteemed divine messenger… Thank you for your generosity… Thank you…”

Oliver sighed softly: “Focus on eating.”

Once Piggs had regained some strength, he eagerly recounted the events in Albury City.

However, Piggs actually knew very little—he had been ambushed by the rebels occupying the area as soon as he approached the town, completely unprepared.

All the savings he had painstakingly accumulated over years of travel, as well as his wife and children, were lost in the sudden attack.

During the disaster, it was seized by the rebels.

If not for the fact that he was riding a reasonably good fast horse, he would never have escaped the subsequent pursuit.

“Slave rebellion?”

Oliver frowned slightly, looking at the rarely surprised Fosse: “Who is the lord of Albury?”

He truly hadn’t expected it to be for such a reason.

Mainly because the nobility’s powerful deterrence over the lower classes had long been deeply ingrained through generations of influence.

Generally speaking, the more brutal the methods of a lord, the more they were feared by the people, and the less likely they were to dare resist.

Especially the lowest class of slaves—they had long been crushed by suffering and power into docile livestock.

No, even livestock would lose their temper when whipped too hard, but they didn’t dare at all.

For the vast majority of slaves, even when subjected to the harshest exploitation, they only thought about how to please the steward as much as possible, so that they would be whipped less and could receive slightly more food.

After all, whether it was cruel punishment or generous rewards, they could only obtain them through the lord’s granting.

Even the few bandit groups roaming outside were mostly composed of freedmen—slaves didn’t dare imagine joining such organizations.

And bandit groups naturally looked down on slaves who possessed no combat ability whatsoever.

The more Oliver understood this era’s context, the more he had to recalibrate his understanding of slaves’ tolerance limits.

One could imagine—to drive such docile lambs to become jackals, achieving the “feat” of inciting slave rebellion that even those eight previous inhumane lords of Laina had failed to accomplish…

The lord of Albury was either too benevolent and easily bullied, or so cruel that even the devil would admit defeat.

—Most likely the latter.

Fosse replied very calmly: “Your Highness, the lord of Albury is Viscount Butor. But the Butor family has been in decline since a hundred years ago.”

The implication being that it was completely reasonable for Oliver not to remember Viscount Butor.

Not only had the Butor family failed to produce a single courtier in the entire past century, but they had also unfortunately chosen the wrong side every time the political situation in the royal capital changed.

Coupled with each generation of descendants being both mediocre in ability and extravagant in spending, they quickly fell out of favor with their patrons, eventually ending up in this small Albury City.

Oliver pondered this thoughtfully.

Geographically speaking, Albury City was undoubtedly Laina City’s closest neighbor.

Even the lucky escapee Piggs had returned to Laina, yet he hadn’t seen any messengers from Albury City, nor received any so-called plea for assistance…

From this perspective, that Viscount Butor had either already died at the hands of the rebels, or stubbornly decided to handle it himself, or perhaps sought help from the more powerful neighbor, Gregor City.

Of course, even if he had received a plea for assistance, as the Duke, Oliver had absolutely no obligation to send troops to rescue a lower noble who wasn’t his vassal.

Moreover, he had been in Laina for quite some time now, yet Viscount Butor had consistently shown indifference: as a viscount, not only had he not personally visited Laina City to pay respects to His Highness the Duke, but he hadn’t even sent a single diplomatic envoy.

He clearly looked down upon this duke whose circumstances seemed even more dire and precarious than his own.

Oliver had been busy managing affairs in his territory and had no extra energy to speculate about his neighbors.

As for the young lord’s plight, the butler Fosse, who appeared vengeful over minor grievances, thus harbored resentment towards Butor for intentionally snubbing his young lord.

Nor could he overlook the equally detestable Count McKenna.

Oliver frowned.

The information Piggs provided was too scant, and the Cat God… understood nothing of human relationships or grudges and entanglements, only able to describe what it saw in simple, straightforward terms.

As a deity, it remained utterly indifferent to political changes in other cities from start to finish.

He had no doubt that if those refugees hadn’t been heading for Laina, it probably wouldn’t have occurred to tell him at all.

“You may go rest now. There are vacant rooms available in the town. Until we decide on the next course of action, as commoners, you and your servants may stay temporarily.” After brief consideration, Oliver looked at the despondent Piggs and said concisely: “In Laina, you are safe, even if you possess nothing.”

Piggs knelt deeply, feeling the weight of this promise, and choked out: ‘Thank you for your mercy, respected Highness.'”

In truth, he still carried some wealth on his person – even in his hasty escape, he’d managed to preserve it.

At least short-term expenses wouldn’t be a problem.

But hearing the Lord make such a promise to him, he felt genuinely grateful.

Not long after Piggs departed, the city gate guards came running again.

This time they appeared somewhat panicked, excitedly reporting to the Lord that they’d seen many refugees arriving from Albury City!

Many?

Hearing this adjective, Oliver couldn’t help feeling somewhat troubled and asked: “How many exactly?”

When he got the answer “three to four hundred” from the anxious guard, he was momentarily speechless.

…..How could he have forgotten – this was an era where slaves didn’t count as population, and a clash of a thousand peasant soldiers was considered a “large-scale war.”

Of course there weren’t that many vacant houses in the town district. No matter how generous Oliver was, he couldn’t unconditionally provide for commoners fleeing from other cities as he had for Piggs.

In reality, whether privileges enjoyed by commoners or taxes they needed to pay, these only existed within that specific city.

When the city fell, the lord died, and they were forced to leave…

In other towns where relations between city lords were poor, they – who could bring not the slightest benefit to the local lord – would likely receive treatment worse than that of obedient serfs, even if they had been freemen of Albury City.

Even if Oliver weren’t the most noble duke, but merely a lower-ranking noble whose title was inferior to Viscount Butor, he could rightfully close his gates and refuse shelter to these destitute refugees.

No one would condemn him for it, much less would anyone have the right to punish him for it.

The people waiting despairingly outside the city gates for their fate certainly understood this perfectly well.

They all lived in the outer areas of Albury City, being the poorer craftsmen or small merchants among the commoners.

Generally speaking, those with greater wealth and power reside closer to the castle.

This arrangement ensures their homes are less vulnerable to direct external attacks and more likely to receive protection from the Lord’s guard.

If fortunate enough, they might even be admitted into the castle for superior shelter.

However, this rebellion struck too suddenly.

It’s said the Lord was still leisurely enjoying his breakfast in bed, completely unaware; the knights hadn’t yet risen from the beds of women in the taverns; the butler was sternly watching as greedy wine merchants haggled over final prices while sacks of grain were hauled out of the warehouse and barrels of wine rolled in…

Then came the blades.

The next moment, rebels swarmed like a tidal wave.

Slaves who had once endured hardships without daring to shed a tear now wore ferocious expressions, brandishing sickles used for harvesting wheat.

They wildly swung at the minor nobles in bright attire and commoners alike.

That portly minor noble—who had climbed to the position of sheriff by leveraging his beautiful sister’s role as the Lord’s mistress—was instantly reduced to a skeleton by enraged slaves wielding sickles.

Ironically, it was the commoners living in the worst locations, farthest from the epicenter of the riot, who, though still despised by slaves for their free status, at least… had a chance to flee.

Recalling the hellish scene, their shoulders trembled uncontrollably once more.

Time seemed to crawl, each moment of waiting stretching into an eternity.

Just as they grew numb with fear, believing they would starve to death, the city gates swung open.

To expedite the entry of these hundreds of people, the heavy gates—usually only half-opened—were now fully ajar.

That posture…

It was as if the city’s master was gently opening his arms to welcome these terrified, wounded souls.

They stared blankly, disbelief flooding their eyes, yet no one dared move.

Was it an illusion?

“Great God Wheet,” someone murmured dazedly in prayer. “Thank you for your protection.”

“God Wheet?” A guard who had stepped out, puzzled by their hesitation, chuckled at the words.

With fervent eyes, he declared, “Since you’ve chosen to seek refuge in Laina, you should only believe in our omnipotent and great Cat God!”

---

TL Note: Merry Christmas! Short hiatus as I need to work this holiday season 🫠