The sun was blazing.
"Smack!"
The long whip, accompanied by a sharp whistling sound, lashed across the back of a thin boy, tearing the thin fabric and leaving bluish-purple marks.
But the whip never stopped, like a venomous snake biting. Under this fierce attack, the hemp clothing was quickly torn apart, and the skin on his back was torn open, flowing with bright, vivid blood.
But the boy gritted his teeth, carried the timber, endured the scorching sun and the beatings of the whip, his gray-green eyes filled with determination, his bare feet treading on the burning earth, and moved forward without uttering a word.
"You're really stubborn, hehe. With your small frame, I don't believe I can't handle you!"
The overseer, brandishing his whip, sneered. He deliberately aimed at the thin boy, but the effect of making an example of him was clearly not good, which made him quite resentful.
The surrounding slave laborers, however, remained indifferent, carrying heavy building materials, their hearts already numbed by the cruelty of reality.
"Smack!"
The sharp whip lashed out once more, tearing open the raw, bloody wounds that burned under the scorching sun, causing sweat to pour down and bringing even more intense pain.
Finally, the boy cried out in pain, the wood flew to the side, and he was knocked over onto the dry ground.
"Hmph, useless piece of trash, can't even handle this little thing!"
The foreman grinned smugly and viciously accused the boy of being weak and using the least amount of wood.
But when he turned around, he suddenly realized that he had been following this thin boy all the way, and the destination was right in front of him. Coupled with the contemptuous looks from some nobles, he was immediately quite annoyed.
"waste!"
He vented his anger on the boy, kicking his thin body to the ground. The boy's tattered hemp clothing was stained with a patch of blood. Just as he was about to strike with his whip, a strong, powerful hand grabbed his wrist.
"Stop, Yabo, you'll kill him."
A bearded man looked at the injured boy and said in shock and anger, "If you kill him, the chieftain will not forgive you!"
Upon hearing this, Yabo, who was about to retaliate, glared at him. He withdrew his whip, stared coldly at the boy panting on the ground, and a sinister sneer appeared on his lips.
"You really think you can eat and sleep well just because you're a bastard? Heh heh, stop daydreaming. That awful, low-class hair color, it's like a piece of burlap. Your mother is probably a prostitute in a tavern, hanging out with a bunch of mercenaries who drink beer."
Yabo looked at the boy with disdain, thinking that teaching a lesson to a slave class lower than himself would make him realize the privileges of the powerful.
As for the concern about the boy's retaliation?
Heh, he knew of at least three mistresses belonging to the clan chief. Not to mention that the clan chief was a notorious womanizer in private, and one-night stands were commonplace for him. As his subordinates, they were used to it.
He's too busy with women to even think about getting to know his illegitimate children who have been fathering children with him everywhere.
"asshole……"
The boy suppressed his anger, his fingernails digging into his palms, tearing away a layer of flesh to keep him alert and prevent him from being blinded by rage.
Prolonged oppression taught him to be patient and tolerant.
"This hair color is indeed a bit terrible, but these eyes do resemble the clan chief's."
The bearded man glanced at the boy's pupils and suddenly exclaimed in surprise, but Yabo punched him in the chest, signaling him not to talk nonsense, as the lady was patrolling nearby and he shouldn't bring unnecessary trouble upon himself.
"You're just a slave who dares to talk back to me before even activating your rank. However, I'll let you off this time for the sake of my friend. But if you dare to put on that sour face again, don't blame me for hanging you up and beating you... Then, I'll invite your mother over so she can have a good look at her son's heroic posture, hahaha!"
Yabo withdrew his gaze, laughed loudly, and turned to walk towards the construction site on the other side.
The bearded man looked at the boy with pity, tossed him a packet of topical medicine, and before leaving, looked into the boy's grey-green eyes and asked curiously:
"Child, what's your name?"
“François…”
...
"Squeak!"
The dilapidated door was pushed open, and Francis, dragging his wounds, walked into the wooden house that reeked of decay.
He was holding three bronze eagles and a packet of medicine, but a woman took them all.
The woman's skirt was stained with oil, her long flaxen hair was dry and dull, and the pale light set off her sallow skin and slightly bloated figure, revealing the signs of her aging and fading beauty.
Francis didn't care. The woman was his mother, a waitress who was often taken advantage of in the tavern. If the customer offered a good price, she wouldn't mind working part-time as a one-night stand to buy some meat for her young child and improve their diet.
"Injured again?"
The woman removed Francis's clothes, washed his body, and then applied medicine.
The bearded man was one of her former customers and, in his youth, could be considered her childhood sweetheart. At the woman's behest, he took extra care of Francis.
Faced with his mother's question, Francis remained silent, knowing that she already knew.
"Hmm, it hurts a little when the medicine is applied, just bear with it."
The woman applied some medicine with a cotton swab, and the latter remained silent. In the quiet wooden house, however, there was a slight grinding of teeth.
After applying the medicine, the woman looked at her rough fingers and felt somewhat dazed.
If she hadn't been blinded by love in her youth and fallen for that handsome and outstanding man, perhaps she would have had a completely different life...
"Who sent it?"
Suddenly, Francis's gaze sharpened as he stared at a pot of flowers on the windowsill. The delicate pink violets had taken root and sprouted, climbing up the wall outside the window, their blossoms clustered together, hanging down like a vibrant and captivating curtain.
These are flowers enhanced by magic, allowing them to grow rapidly in a short period of time.
If the magical amplification exceeds a certain level, the violet will undergo a mutation, evolving into the Purple Orchid Fragrance, from which its essence can be extracted, making it highly sought after by magicians.
"Oh, it was a gift from Uncle Tom."
"Tom? Isn't that guy a bastard from the Bucktooth Mercenary Group? How could you accept his stuff?!"
Francis was subtly angered. His cold and calm expression finally changed, and he looked somewhat displeased.
"Don't be so rude, Uncle Tom has been very kind to our family."
The woman laughed as she left Francis's side to carefully dress herself at the dressing table, but seeing the wrinkles on her cheeks in the mirror, she took out some cheap foundation and patted it on.
"By the way, you should eat something first, and then go help out at the tavern tonight. I've already spoken to the owner about it."
...
As night deepened, Francis sat on the stone platform, gazing up at the waning moon in the sky.
The moon looked as if it had been bitten off, looking utterly miserable, which caused the whole world to darken.
Legend has it that after the goddess of night devoured the night sky and shattered the moon, the broken moon became the goddess of night's eye. The moonlight swept across the land, and the goddess's gaze could take in the entire Norse land. She was regarded as the watcher of the Norse gods and was also known as the goddess of watchfulness.
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