It was freezing cold in the winter in the Four Northwest Towns. Although it was nothing serious for the barbarians from Iceland, it was tough for average people there. Every winter, it was common to see weak people die from the cold.
In fact, if it wasn't for the cold winter here, perhaps there would have been more people coming from the Commonwealth of Gold Coins to settle there. It was the cold winter here that provided newcomers who had fled famine a living space.
"Although it sounds reasonable, I don't like the cold winter at all." Haman pushed a trolley, walking on the empty street. In the trolley were corpses of people who had died from hyperthermia. "I should have been a small retailer, owning a booth or selling something on the street. Now I have to clear up the corpses…" he murmured unhappily, but he was not so unsatisfied with his job.
After all, thanks to this job, he was able to earn money to make a living at least.
