Those were the Political Commissar's exact words.
"Not to mention, we have the Demi-human Princess here. There are some elders in your people's tribes who are over a hundred years old—some of them really did see the Demi-human Kingdom when they were children."
"They seem quite pleased with us."
"By the way, I heard you have three children at home. We've only just gotten started, and we're completely broke, but I do have a little money on me. You've just arrived, so you probably don't have any. Take this. Winter's coming, and you can use it to buy some supplies."
Back then, Helge had just enough money from the Political Commissar to cover the cost of food for the winter.
A month later, heavy snow blocked the mountain passes. Supplies couldn't get through, and after Helge finished fighting, he had money but could only worry helplessly where he was.
When the weather improved a month later, he forced his way home. He found that the Grain Storage Tower built by his people, and the land they had cleared in the spring at the humans' persistent urging,
had kept his tribe alive, even though they only ate once a day.
Because of the Witch's legacy, passed down by Cecilia, demi-humans were forbidden to eat people.
They must not eat people.
In winter, they could freeze to death, but they could not eat the dead.
In previous years, surely some children would have frozen to death again.
All it took was for some humans to come. These humans were very different.
They worked every day, and people organized all over the place, calling out that they wanted to change their lives.
And so, life changed.
The images in Helge's mind, memories of his tribe's past, began to grow jumbled.
Raiding, and... cannibalism.