Pulas, "Harvest City," was a renowned free, neutral city-state on the Aidan Plain in the southwestern Antares Continent.
The city-state imposed few restrictions and low taxes, and many farms surrounded it, growing a considerable range of crops.
Because of Insect Cattle, some low-grade insect beef could be even cheaper than grain, though it did not keep well.
Under these circumstances, ordinary grain instead became all the more valuable.
The existence of delicacies such as grain-fed bug beef, in particular, made staple grains even scarcer.
As such, Pulas already enjoyed a steady income from its many outlying farms.
The caravans that stopped there thanks to its low taxes brought it a distinct prosperity as well.
Yet behind every prosperous facade lay shadows that sunlight could not reach...
Drip.
Moisture condensed overhead in the sewer and dripped into the foul-smelling channel below.
Wastewater from across the city gathered here, filling the sewer with an overwhelmingly moving stench.
Footsteps sounded as a figure in a black hood carried an oil lamp through the pitch-black sewer, bringing a little light.
Squeak, squeak.
Huge rats, startled by the movement, scurried aside.
There were also vagrants curled up in corners beneath tattered cloth. Whether asleep or awake, they acted as though nothing had happened.
Whatever they heard or saw, they had to pretend to be sound asleep. That was the rule for surviving here.
Creak.
A wooden door opened, and the figure carrying the oil lamp entered a hidden room in the sewer.
"Back again so soon? Was the stuff any good...?"
The room behind the concealed door seemed to have a decent ventilation system, and the smell was much fainter. A hoarse voice came from behind a counter, followed by a stooped figure who also wore a hood.
"I never got to use it. She