Liss's Change
Two days later, at the tip of the Southwest Peninsula, at the former site of Winters Harbor.
On the edge of the dilapidated castle, Baron Cyril von Eichberg, the former Lord, was huddled in a dark, damp, musty storeroom.
This place, which used to be a corner for storing miscellaneous items, has now become his only place to live.
His bedroom, which used to be the most spacious and had the best view, had long been occupied by Thorsten.
Since the Sauron occupied this place, Cyril's pitiful prestige has completely collapsed.
The people had long seen through his weakness and incompetence, and now a new, more powerful ruler had taken over. In addition, with the emperor far away, the laws of the kingdom and the status of the nobility had long lost their binding force here.
People felt nothing but disgust and contempt for him, and no one was willing to provide him with food or service anymore.
Cyril was forced to live like the lowest of the low, gathering wild fruits, digging for shellfish, or trying to fish with clumsy skills.
But he's used to a life of luxury; how could he possibly do all that?
Others wouldn't give him any leeway, and often even snatched away the meager amount of food he managed to find.
In a short period of time, he became emaciated, dressed in rags, with his hair and beard in a mess, and his eyes filled with hunger, fear, and resentment.
Just then, footsteps and voices came from outside.
His former maid, Liss, was now dressed in relatively neat clothes, strutting around the dilapidated territory with an air of arrogance, accompanied by several Sauron soldier.
Her face held an unprecedented, slightly arrogant sense of satisfaction.
When the surrounding villagers saw her, although their gazes were complex, most of them would lower their heads slightly, showing a certain degree of awe.
After all, she is the woman that this Commander Sauron has "set his sights on".
Liss was no longer the submissive maid who followed Cyril's every whim.
Only after following the formidable Thorsten did she truly understand what the aura of a strong person and the demeanor of a conqueror meant.
She admires the strong, a simple and direct admiration stemming from her most primal survival instinct.
To her, concepts like patriotism and national righteousness sounded hollow and laughable.
She was merely the lowest-ranking maid in a fallen noble family; what did the fate of the nation or the extinction of her race have to do with her?
Is it her fault that the country is poor? Is she, a maid who can't even get enough to eat, to blame for the army's defeat?
In her view, it was only those high-ranking officials who ruined the country, yet they, the people at the bottom, had to bear the consequences.
She was born into a peasant family. Because her family couldn't afford a decent dowry, they couldn't even arrange a proper marriage. In the end, she could only be sent to the Eichberg family to work as a lowly maid.
Later, in order to deal with the kingdom's Northern Border Reclamation Order, the Eichberg family treated her like a piece of extra luggage, casually tossing her to Cyril had also been exiled to the Northern Territory to await his death.
She wasn't pretty, and Cyril didn't like her. She did the dirtiest and most tiring work every day.
Washing mountains of laundry, hands covered in chilblains from working in the icy river; busy in the smoky kitchen, burns were commonplace.
Later, Cyril's party was attacked by the Sauron, suffering heavy casualties, including many maids. She was the only survivor, and wandered with the remaining soldiers and slaves until they finally arrived at a Remnant Slope on the Southwest Peninsula.
Because she was the only maid left by Cyril's side, despite her mediocre looks, she inevitably became the object of Cyril's desires.
During the day, she had to compete with the rough male slaves for farm work and food, and was often teased and bullied; at night, she had to endure Cyril's merciless abuse.
Life was like wallowing in mud, with not a glimmer of light in sight.
Until that night, everything changed.
The Sauron Army named Thorsten led his men and charged into the Remnant Slope like a whirlwind.
She witnessed Thorsten drag Cyril out of the house like a chick and slam him to the ground.
At that moment, Cyril's usual "arrogance" in showing off to slaves vanished, leaving only embarrassment and fear.
Then, Thorsten noticed her. That night was still forced and painful for her, but strangely, in that brutal conquest, she felt an unprecedented, chilling power.
She despised Cyril, a coward who only dared to bully the weak, while Thorsten, though ruthless, possessed an undeniable aura of strength.
Moreover, since that night, the way others treat her has subtly changed.
Thorsten assigned several slaves to do things for her, and she no longer had to brave the cold winds and scorching heat to farm and fight for food; she could eat her fill and stay warm every day.
Although she knew she was still just a tool for Thorsten's sexual gratification, at least Thorsten understood that "possession" also meant "protection."
He commands a powerful army and is a true strongman.
More importantly, because of her connection with Thorsten, those who had bullied her in the Remnant Slope now treat her with utmost respect.
This tangible improvement in survival and elevation in status gained by attaching oneself to the powerful was far more convincing to Liss than any vague or unrealistic principles.
In her view, power is truth, and anything that allows her to live and live better is worth following.
So now, she willingly follows Thorsten and enjoys the small but real rise in status that comes with it.
Cyril saw Liss as if she were his lifeline.
He scrambled out of the storeroom, threw himself at Liss, and pleaded in a hoarse voice, "Liss! Liss! It's me! Give me something to eat! For our past friendship! A piece of Black Bread, no, even a little bit of bran will do! I'm starving!"
Liss stopped and looked down at the emaciated man who reeked of foul odor, her eyes filled with undisguised disgust and contempt.
She scoffed, her tone sharp, "Affection? Master Cyril, what affection do you have between us? Is it the affection of using me as a bed warmer, or the affection of taking your anger out on me at the drop of a hat? Now you remember me?"
"Hmph! Lord Thorsten's food is for useful people, not for feeding good-for-nothings like you! You might as well fend for yourself!"
Cyril trembled with rage at this humiliation. He raised his head and stared at Liss with venomous eyes, his teeth grinding together. But in the end, under the indifferent gazes of the surrounding Sauron soldier, he dared not say a word and could only slump to the ground like a lump of mud, his eyes filled with despair.