FL - Chapter 41: A New Life for the Slaves

Column after column of slaves, bound in iron chains and coarse rope, were led by slave traders onto the soil of Crimson Tide Territory.

Their eyes were filled with unease. Each of them was silently guessing at the fate that awaited them.

But the moment they stepped into the territory proper, they froze.

Clean houses. Neatly laid roads. The scent of cooking smoke drifting through the air.

This was nothing like the slave camps stamped into their memories.

No filthy, mud-caked tents. No rotting food stinking to high heaven.

Even the soldiers guarding them showed none of the contempt and scorn they'd grown so accustomed to. They simply kept order with a calm professionalism.

This only made the slaves more anxious. The more unfamiliar something was, the more unsettling it felt.

But that was only their first impression. What truly shook them to the core was the lord's speech on the square the following day.

It was morning. The square in Crimson Tide Territory was packed shoulder to shoulder.

The fifteen hundred newly arrived slaves had been assembled here in orderly fashion.

Louis's voice rang out across the square. "Welcome to Crimson Tide Territory."

That single word threw many of them off balance. They'd been sold and shipped here. And they were being welcomed?

Louis went on. "You may treat this place as no different from the ones you came from. But I hope it will become a place where you are born anew."

The slaves exchanged uncertain glances, their eyes still guarded.

"I will not have you work for nothing. Crimson Tide Territory will provide stable food, shelter, and labor. Your sweat will not be wasted. Every person's effort will have meaning."

"And more importantly." He paused for a beat, then spoke with deliberate clarity.

"Here, as long as you work hard enough, you can shed your slave status."

Boom.

The slaves' hearts slammed in their chests. The square erupted.

"...What?!"

"What did he just say?"

"How is that possible?!"

Freedom?

There was still a chance for them to gain freedom?

Could there truly be a master in this world willing to give up his slaves?

They'd been bought and sold, driven like beasts, long inured to the weight of their chains. They'd stopped daring to hope their fates could ever change.

This was too beautiful a promise. So beautiful it bordered on absurd.

The murmuring in the square grew louder and louder. Some were overcome with emotion. Others looked lost and dazed.

But most sneered coldly, cynicism plain in their eyes. They'd heard too many lies in their lives.

Louis saw it all. But he believed time would prove everything.

...

A few days passed. The slaves adjusted to their new environment.

Morning sunlight spilled across the streets of Crimson Tide Territory, carrying a warmth rare in the Northlands.

A young slave stood frozen outside his wooden cabin, a bowl of steaming wheat porridge in his hands.

This was his breakfast. A generous portion, more food than he used to receive in an entire day.

Not far off, other slaves were emerging from their homes, gathering in twos and threes around fire basins for warmth.

"The bed here is softer than the straw mats I used to sleep on," an old slave murmured.

"Same here," another echoed, his expression complicated.

There was no endless whipping here, no cursing and abuse. Every day brought ample food. And their living quarters, compared to their old slave camps, were practically heaven.

But what stunned them most of all was witnessing free citizens with their own eyes.

"Hey. Are you a slave?" A young slave hesitantly asked a craftsman who was repairing the road.

The man paused his stone hammer, wiped the sweat from his brow, and grinned. "I used to be."

The young slave's eyes flew wide. "B-But now you're..."

The craftsman cracked a wide smile. "Because I worked hard, the Lord granted me the status of a free citizen."

"Really?" The young man's voice trembled.

"Of course." The craftsman clapped him on the shoulder. "As long as you work hard, the Lord won't shortchange anyone."

Examples like this multiplied.

They found free citizens in the fields. They found free citizens in the smithies.

Those who had once been slaves now walked with their heads high, dressed in decent clothes, living lives of dignity.

The slaves' doubts were shaken to the core.

They began to believe. Perhaps freedom was not a hollow promise after all.

As the days passed, the slaves' fear and anxiety faded. In their place came familiarity with Crimson Tide Territory and a fierce longing for the future.

"As long as we're willing to work hard, we can make it, too!"

That thought spread quietly through the slave population, spark after spark catching flame.

They no longer merely obeyed in passive silence. They began pouring themselves truly into their labor.

And they began to feel, from the bottom of their hearts, gratitude toward the man who had given them this chance. The young lord.

Whenever he toured the mines or workshops, the slaves would pause in their tasks.

Their eyes followed him as he left. And in those eyes was no longer mere awe. It was a trust and respect too deep for words.

Of course, the sudden influx of such a large population brought not only labor, but also challenges that couldn't be ignored.

Food was not a major concern. The prior stockpiles and the family's support kept the grain supply stable. But housing had become a difficult problem.

Crimson Tide Territory's original population was small, and homes had been built strictly to demand.

Now, with fifteen hundred slaves suddenly added, what had been comfortable housing became desperately tight overnight.

But with a little squeezing, everyone could still fit.

The slaves were assigned to the existing Semi-Sunken Dwellings, temporarily sharing quarters with the original settlers.

In any other place, this kind of crowding would likely have sparked resentment, even conflict. Yet Crimson Tide Territory remained remarkably stable.

Because everyone believed the lord's promise. That new homes would be built, and quickly.

More than that, the craftsmen had already begun laying foundations in the outer zones. New housing was under construction, progressing faster than anyone had expected.

And Louis told them: "Bear with it a little longer. There'll be more houses soon."

So even though the living quarters were slightly cramped, the slaves rarely voiced complaints in private.

The housing shortage was only the immediate problem. What truly worried Louis was sanitation.

One afternoon, Louis set aside time to inspect the newly built residential zone.

The houses here had only just been raised. The wooden beams still carried the fresh scent of sawdust, and the roads were freshly laid dirt.

Seen from a distance, the rows of houses stood orderly and neat. Arguably one of Crimson Tide Territory's greatest recent achievements.

But as Louis walked deeper along the narrow paths, something felt off.

On both sides of the path, he spotted piles of garbage. A musty, moldering odor hung in the air.

In particular, at a street corner, a yellowish-brown puddle glistened greasily under the sunlight. Louis's throat gave an involuntary lurch.

An environment like this might not cause trouble in the short term.

But as the population grew, problems with drinking water, waste disposal, and environmental hygiene would inevitably become crises.

If it was allowed to fester and disease broke out, Crimson Tide Territory had nowhere near enough doctors to cope.