It snows practically every Winter Festival, and this year is no exception.
Early in the morning, heavy snow began to fall in Ice Rock City, while the overcast sky blasted gusts of bone-chilling cold wind.
In such harsh weather, the kind-hearted lord did not make the slaves go out to work.
They were all huddled together in the newly-established refugee camp, seeking warmth from each other's bodies.
Suddenly, the camp began to stir again, a cacophony of excited shouts filled the air, as the benevolent lord had had the soldiers bring wine for the slaves.
Of course, the wine was far from premium, and it was heavily diluted, but for the majority of the slaves who hadn't had a sip of alcohol their entire life, it felt like a heavenly ambrosia.
The fiery liquor dispelled the cold shivers, and countless slaves praised their lord's kindness as they knelt on the ground.
At that precise moment, the kind-hearted lord was still nestled in his warm bed.
