Lord: I have built a witch's sanctuary.

Chapter 41 The Echoes Because of You

"Clang!"

A chipped tin mug slammed heavily onto the table, spilling its cheap ale and making the already greasy oak table even dirtier.

This is the most chaotic area in the lower city of Frostwolf, and the stronghold of the Rust Brotherhood.

The air was filled with a mixture of sweat, musty tobacco smells, and the earthy odor unique to basements that never see sunlight.

"Boss, this is unbelievable!"

The speaker was a burly man with a face full of scars, nicknamed "Broken Tooth".

He wiped the wine stains from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, which was covered in black ash, while staring at the cow with his eyes wide open, as if he had just seen a sow climb a tree.

The woman sitting opposite him was casually wiping a short dagger.

Katerina.

The leader of the Rust Brotherhood, the uncrowned queen of the Lower City.

She wore a tight-fitting leather armor that accentuated her breathtaking curves, but the two highly poisonous daggers strapped to her long, slender thighs were enough to instantly kill any man with ill intentions.

"Spit it out if you have something to say."

Katarina didn't even look up; the blade of her dagger reflected a cold glint in the candlelight. "If it's just another case of someone else's dog going missing, I'll knock your last front tooth out too."

"No! Boss, it's those vampires from the Alchemist's Guild!"

Broken Tooth was so excited he was spitting everywhere, his large face contorted in shock. "Those guys who usually practically squeeze every last drop out of us are actually setting up huge pots of porridge in the West Square today!"

Katarina paused, her hand still wiping the dagger.

She slowly raised her head, her sharp, cat-like eyes fixed on Broken Tooth: "Are you drunk? The Alchemist Association is giving out porridge? Unless the sun rises from the sewers."

"It's absolutely true, boss!"

The man with the broken tooth was so anxious that he kept slapping his thigh.

"Not only did they distribute porridge, they also sent those arrogant apprentices with alchemical mortar to repair the roofs of those poor wretches!"

"There's even a healer distributing free medicine to refugees suffering from frostbite! Those are healing medicines; normally a bottle costs three silver coins!"

Katarina narrowed her eyes.

There must be a demon in the abnormal situation.

She knew all too well what kind of people the Alchemists' Guild were after all these years in Frostwolf City.

They were a bunch of guys who calculated the cost of even breathing; their blood was cold, their hearts were black, and all they cared about were gold coins and magic crystals.

"You went to get yours too, right? Bring the porridge over." Katarina coldly stretched out her hand.

Broken Tooth paused for a moment, then quickly pulled out a clay pot wrapped in cloth from his pocket and carefully handed it over: "Big Sister, I specially brought this pot back; it's still warm."

Katarina lifted the lid.

A rich aroma of grains instantly filled the room, which was filled with the smell of sweat.

It wasn't the kind of bland, watery broth used for hot pot, but rather a real bowl of oatmeal porridge, with even some small bits of meat and grease mixed in.

She might not be able to get this quality every meal, even in a decent tavern.

She stuck a finger into the porridge and stirred it, then picked up a little and put it in her mouth.

It has no strange smell.

According to magical monitoring, there is no poison.

Most importantly—there's no sand.

"How's it going, boss? Did those alchemists lose their minds?" Broken Tooth looked at her expectantly. "Or did they put one of those drugs in the porridge that makes people mute?"

"There's no sand..."

Katarina muttered to herself, her brows furrowing even more deeply, "Not even a grain of sand was mixed in..."

In the North, nobles and the church had an unwritten rule when distributing porridge during famine years: the porridge had to be mixed with sand or moldy chaff.

This is not because they are bad—although they are indeed bad—but for the purpose of selection.

Only someone starving to the extreme, someone who has given up all dignity, would drink porridge mixed with sand.

This keeps out those decent people who want to take advantage, ensuring that limited food supplies can feed more cheap labor.

But now, the Alchemists' Association is providing this kind of "good food" that even small merchants are reluctant to eat.

"Boss, this is great news!"

A younger brother couldn't help but chime in, "Whatever their motives, we brothers can still get a few bowls, which saves us a lot on food expenses! I think that even though the snow season came early this year, the lives of ordinary people in the lower city are actually better than in previous years."

"Is it better?"

Katarina sneered, then plunged the dagger in her hand into the table, embedding it deep into the wood. "Fool! You think that's porridge? That's money to buy your life!"

The henchmen around him trembled in fear.

"These big shots are insatiably greedy and selfish."

Katarina stood up and paced back and forth in the cramped stronghold, her leather boots creaking painfully on the decaying floor.

"Their food reserves are probably enough to bury the entire lower city. This sudden generosity can only mean one thing—"

She stopped and looked out the window at the swirling snow with a sinister gaze.

"What are they afraid of, or... what are they plotting that's bigger than this? Big enough to require the support of the entire city?"

"Pass down the order."

Katarina's voice suddenly turned cold, carrying an undeniable air of authority.

"Brotherhood members, you can eat here, you can take here, but watch your eyes! Don't eat their food and end up getting your skin peeled off and used as a drumstick!"

"Especially those alchemy apprentices, keep a close eye on them! See if they're actually repairing the house, or if they're burying some kind of alchemical array inside!"

……

At the same time.

The inner city of Frostwolf, at the top of the Alchemist Guild Tower.

It's warm and spring-like here, with an expensive constant-temperature magic array operating silently, completely isolating the frigid outside the window that could crack rocks.

The air was filled with a luxurious scent called "ambergris".

President Pym stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, holding a glass of wine with a color like a ruby.

"President, this...this is such a waste."

His assistant, standing behind him, looked distressed, his face twitching as he held a long bill in his hand.

"The grain we distributed this morning, if sold on the black market, would be enough to buy equipment for several knights! And those ointments... that's money!"

The assistant couldn't help but step forward and suggest in a low voice:

"How about we add some sand to the porridge? Or replace the oats with aged rye flour? And use the diluted medicine too? Anyway, those lowly people can survive as long as they have something to eat. Giving them such good food is simply a waste!"

Chairman Pym turned around, a meaningful smile appearing on his well-maintained face.

"Add sand? Dilute with water?"

He took a sip of his drink, shook his head, and said, "You've been by my side for five years, how come your perspective is still as narrow as a rat in a sewer?"

The assistant froze, his face flushing red: "President, I'm doing this for the benefit of the association..."

"Interests? If we had just discovered that Lorraine had survived the snow season, I wouldn't have argued with you."

Pym scoffed, pointing to the snowstorm outside the window. "But do you even know what day of the snow season it is today?"

"The... tenth day," the assistant answered instinctively.

"Yes, the tenth day."

Pym's voice became somewhat ethereal, as if he were seeing a very distant place through the wind and snow.

"Then do you understand the significance of a good-for-nothing young master, exiled by his family and without any resources, surviving for ten days on a snowfield without the protection of the Witch's Tower?"

The assistant's pupils suddenly contracted.

"You mean... that young master Lorraine survived to the tenth day of the snow season?"

"It's Lorraine, the one everyone has condemned to death." A glint of shrewdness flashed in Pym's eyes.

"The informant at the watchtower just reported that the magical fluctuations in the direction of the White Wolf outpost have not only not subsided, but are even stronger than when I first discovered them."

"What does this mean? It means that in that seemingly hopeless situation, he not only survived but also established a defensive line."

He slammed the wine glass down on the windowsill, making a crisp sound.

"If he dies, everything we're doing now is a waste. But what if he comes back alive?"

Pym turned around, stared into his assistant's eyes, and said, word by word:

"In this world, the most precious kindness is that offered help in times of need, but it's also the hardest to find. Because if you're going to help someone, you have to see it through to the end! Otherwise, it's better not to help at all!"

"Don't forget, disaster relief is the lord's duty, not ours."

"If Young Master Lorraine returns alive and hears that the Alchemists' Guild is using sand-mixed, moldy pig feed for disaster relief, then everything we've done will not only be in vain, but we'll also make enemies."

"Since we've started, we need to do it beautifully, so flawlessly that no one can find fault with it!"

"I want the entire Frostwolf City to know that when the Countess abandoned her cause, it was our Alchemist's Guild that protected her people!"

Pym picked up his glass again and raised it towards the void, as if to greet an unseen opponent.

"Giving away this pure white grain could potentially secure the Frostwolf Territory's exclusive rights to potions for decades to come. Can't you see the math?"

The assistant was stunned, and cold sweat instantly broke out on his back.

Looking at the smiling middle-aged man in front of him, he suddenly felt that he was more terrifying than the man-eating monsters outside.