Aurelian shook his head repeatedly. None of the remaining answers were what he wanted to hear.
"Unfortunately, all of them are wrong. Looks like these three pieces of bread will have to stay with me."
"My lord Aurelian, who exactly is this enemy you speak of?"
A young man asked unwillingly.
The corner of Aurelian's mouth curled up. It seemed he had successfully piqued their curiosity and taken another step toward success. He moved on to the next step.
"You just mentioned hunger, and you mentioned cold. I think you're already very close to the answer. Our enemy is also the root of all evil. They forced us to come to these cruel Frostlands, made us endure hunger, bitter cold, loneliness, and every kind of suffering. We must take revenge on them. I think you should know the answer by now, shouldn't you?"
"C-could it be... n-nobles... nobles like you, my lord?"
Another youth cautiously asked in a low voice, but there was no confidence in his words—only a trace of fear.
Hume, the fat man who had been listening to Aurelian's questions, slapped his own chubby face. He felt as though the world had gone mad.
Lord Aurelian, don't you think you're stirring up enough trouble already? You actually threw the blame onto the nobles.
He knew perfectly well how Aurelian had ended up here. Wasn't it because he was an illegitimate son?
These youths and those settlers were nothing more than attachments brought along with him. Their lives and circumstances had never been in their own hands.
It had been so in the past, it was so now, and it would be so in the future!
So Hume was racking his brains, unable to understand what his lord was trying to do.
After all, Aurelian himself was a