Chapter 151: Slums (1/2)

The northern side of Lancaster City was its rundown slums.

This was once a residence for the common citizen. Although it was not as elegant and noble as the southern aristocratic district or as prosperous as the trade district at the east, nor was it too different from the rather chaotic western black-market district—but everyone could live well.

Until the fall of Tierra.

Lancaster wasn’t destroyed by much then—but that only applied to the noble residences and the trade district.

The residential area of the common citizens had been struck most heavily, and the lack of management or maintenance reduced it to battered slums. Many buildings devastated by the fires of war then were left as it was, about to collapse at any given moment even though so long had passed since then.

And in the ruins of one of those houses, three shivering children were surrounding a dying bonfire, doing all they could to draw a little warmth from the cinders.

Simba was an orphan whose parents had died in the war years ago. The house they left had been occupied by local thugs, and not only was he unable to fight back at his young age, he was chased out after they had taken every last bit of valuables.

In the end, he was left adrift, ending up int the wreck of a house, doing odd jobs for merchants in the trade district day after day with some theft on the side, but always barely surviving.

Even so, winter was longer than expected this year. All the food, firewood and every last coin they had prepared before it was used up, and yet the sun seemed to have no intention of revealing its face amidst the clouds.

“Fire’s dying. Add some wood,” Zazu suggested hesitantly.

Simba shook his head. “No. We can’t take anymore planks off this house—it’s already weak enough, and any wind would topple it if we keep dismantling it.”

The prolonged winter had bloated the price of wood at the shops to one rion per stack, something Simba and his brothers simply couldn’t afford.

“Brother…”

Nala’s eyes were closed as she leaned on Zazu. The skinny and sickly little girl was drifting between dream and consciousness and mumbling very softly. “I’m so hungry…”

The two boys looked at each other, but there was nothing the adults could do, much less children like them.

“If push comes to shove, I’ll get some wood from outside the city.” He gritted his teeth as he made his choices. If I could just get a handful of stacks, we’ll have wood to burn, and food for Nala!”

“Don’t be reckless!” Zazu’s face dropped as he quickly tried to warn off Simba. “The forests are as wild as it is fearsome, and few of those rion-thirsty lumberjacks ever come back. Even experienced hunters and well-equipped city watch have been killed! I’ve even heard from the mercenaries at the taverns that they had spotted a rare Dragonfang—those things are much scarier than saber-toothed tigers!”

“But there’s no other way,” Simba said in anguish. “There are no odd jobs to be done in winter, and there’s no one on the streets to even steal from …”

Zazu was about to retort when both he and Simba promptly stopped talking—they heard footsteps outside.

The weight on those steps were light—the boys would never have heard anything if it wasn’t for the crunching sound of thick snow.

Could it be slave traders?