In the outskirts of Iron Fort, a small farming village.
"My lord, please have mercy, my old wife is gravely ill and we are relying on these little grains to keep us alive!"
Under a dilapidated eave, an emaciated old farmer with white hair and wearing ragged clothes knelt on the ground, pleading desperately.
He used his withered arms to tightly hold the leg of a fat middle-aged man dressed in brocade robes in front of him.
He sobbed, "Please let us have some food for my two sons, who died because of the work for building the castle for the City Lord..."
"Get lost, you wretched slave!"
On the other side, the fat middle-aged man in brocade robes pushed the hunched-over old farmer away with a disgusted look on his face and coldly snorted, "If you dare wail in front of me again, I'll burn your doghouse down!"
