Chris's sentence for Oliver was severe-so severe that when the clerk announced it in public, the priest of the Goddess of Agriculture raised his sword and killed himself... He swung hard, slicing halfway through his neck.
Oliver feared punishment, whether it was Prince Chris's sentence of three years in the mines or the anger of his fellow clergy in the Goddess of Agriculture Church.
Both filled him with profound terror, and he was scared to death... So, upon hearing his punishment, Oliver decided to kill himself and carried it out without hesitation.
As scarlet blood spurted from his neck, it marked a priest of the Goddess of Agriculture's descent into hell... Clergy who committed suicide would not be accepted by the deity they served.
The cold wind swept up dead leaves and lashed the watchtower's rough logs like an icy whip, carrying the scent of approaching winter and war.
Wrapped in a thick cloak, Papper sighed contentedly at its warmth before lifting his head and widening his eyes to peer through the enormous Monocular mounted on the wooden railing, trying to see farther.
Papper was poor, and his name meant pauper. Simply staying alive had exhausted his parents and taken everything they had, leaving them no energy to give him a good name.
"Tweet, tweet, tweet..."
A shrill whistle sounded below the wooden tower. Papper instinctively leaned out to look down. Oh, it was the overseer, screeching curses at refugees who were slacking off and ordering them to hurry up and lay the barbed wire in front of the trenches.
By now, barbed wire and trenches surrounded Anvil Fortress inside and out, layer upon layer enclosing both the fortress and the neighboring refugee camp like barbed thorns wrapped around a giant beast.
There was little worth looking at in