After I died, my personal maid rebelled.

A beautiful day begins with old George's angry shouts.

As the chief architect hired by the Duke and the best carpenter in the Northern Territory, old George was very strict when it came to building houses.

"Master, it's not that we don't want to do it, it's that they're afraid to cut down the trees."

The militiamen were helpless. They had to prepare so much timber every day that they simply couldn't keep up with the demand. To make matters worse, the farmers in the southern commercial district avoided cutting down trees like the plague, so much so that they didn't even dare to swing their axes.

Old George glared at them, and another group of emaciated farmers trembled.

"These trees belong to the men... If the men find out..."

"What kind of damn master is this!"

Old George was furious upon hearing this, but seeing their fearful and cowering expressions, he couldn't muster any anger and let out a long sigh.

He walked up to the farmers and reassured them in an encouraging tone: "There are no more lords now, they've all been killed by the Duke. The Duke will give you all this land and these trees, but you must live up to his potential and make something of yourselves."

"If you don't build the village now, you'll be the ones freezing to death in winter. You're not even afraid of death, so what are you afraid of? Are those lords really that terrifying?"

"Don't even mention these unwanted trees in front of me. I've secretly cut down all the precious trees in the Duke's house. It's no big deal. He's the most powerful nobleman in our Northern Territory. Look at me, I'm still doing just fine."

After saying that, old George realized they had no reaction and was at a loss for what to do.

He now seriously suspects that, under the oppression of those nobles, these peasants may no longer consider themselves human beings.

It seems that in their eyes, only nobles are human beings, while the rest are nothing more than a group of wild beasts living in the mud, capable of understanding speech and enslaved by others.

The alienation brought about by his ideas was something an old carpenter like him couldn't solve; the construction of the village could only be done slowly now.

After taking a puff of the cigarette he'd casually grabbed from Oswald's table, old George waved for them to leave.

Since things have come to this, let's eat first.

Fortunately, nothing went wrong during the meal; these farmers would eat as much as you gave them.

Even though the militiamen were all strong young men, they ate less than the farmers, despite having the same amount of food.

Old George sat alone in the corner, smoking and worrying, when Sister Janet, who had been sent to examine the farmers, arrived.

As soon as she got off the carriage, Jenny looked around and found that it was still an empty lot, without even a house in sight.

She looked at old George with a puzzled expression, and their eyes met.

"So that's how it is..." After listening to old George's story, a touch of sadness appeared in Jenny's eyes.

"Leave this to me. I know how to handle this situation."

It sounds counterintuitive that the most prosperous commercial district is home to the most humble farmers, but Janice knows that the growth of wealth can never outpace the greed of the human heart.

The commercial district has convenient and developed transportation. Once the price of grain in a certain part of the kingdom rises sharply, the nobles will directly mobilize troops to kill people, seize the grain of all the residents in the territory, and then transport the grain onto ships to sell it at the highest price, making a huge profit.

They could certainly take a peaceful approach and make money together with the residents, but they would never do so.

Never, ever believe that they can share even a fraction of the benefits they already hold tightly in their hands. Even if those benefits were entirely brought to them by the people at the bottom of society.

Jenny walked toward the farmers' gathering place, put her veil back on, and spoke to them in a solemn and dignified voice.

"I am the messenger of the goddess, and I convey her will to you."

The farmers all trembled, rushed over, and eagerly prostrated themselves before the others.

"Listen up! The nobles who exploited the goddess's children—that is, you—have been punished! It was the goddess who commanded the duke, this messenger from hell, to destroy the nobles' bodies and cast their souls into hell, to suffer eternal imprisonment and endless torment in flames!"

While I was busy with official business in Oswald, I suddenly shivered. Strange, why did I feel a chill despite the bright sunshine?

Jenny kept a cold face, though she herself almost couldn't hold back.

The strongest human emotion is hatred. Even if these people lose their self-respect and the ability to feel emotions, even if they become numb due to deep-seated fear and are unable to understand or accept the kindness of others, they will not forget hatred.

They wouldn't believe someone would suddenly be kind to them, but they certainly believed that a goddess, someone even nobles had to worship, had the power to punish them.

Just as they knelt before nobles out of fear, in their understanding, nobles knelt before goddesses also out of fear.

They feared the nobles' swords, and the nobles must also fear the goddess's swords falling from the sky.

Now, the goddess's servants tell them that the goddess's sword has fallen, and the duke, as a messenger of hell, has come to earth.

"As the worshippers of the goddess, I hereby admonish you: The messenger has brought you the goddess's judgment; from now on, you must obey the messenger's every word and deed!"

After speaking, Jenny turned away, unable to bear watching the tears welling in their empty eyes. As she left, a cathartic wail erupted behind her. The cry was squeezed from the depths of her heart, extracted from her very bones…

The age of hatred is over. Now, it's time to embrace hope and build a new life.

……

Having achieved the most important goal of his journey, Paul was no longer in a hurry to continue. He rode alone and swiftly through the tall, dense forests unique to the northern territory.

He loves nature, and he loves every blade of grass and every tree growing in the sunlight.

Moreover, the northern territory was much safer than he had imagined. Paul would occasionally encounter a few travelers by the roadside. This kind of dense woodland was most likely to breed bandits. But the travelers seemed relaxed. Even when they heard the sound of horses' hooves, they would only walk a little further away and continue chatting and laughing with their companions.

Major policies are often reflected in these details. At least one thing Paul could judge was that the bandits in the Northern Territory had been basically eliminated.

"Where are you all headed?"

Since they wouldn't be able to reach Green Canyon today anyway, Paul tugged on the reins, slowed down, and started talking to passersby.

"Oh, it's a knight." The pedestrian carrying a tool bag smiled at him. "What else could it be? We heard the Duke is recruiting carpenters in the south, and we thought we'd go help out since we're nearby."

"Recruiting carpenters?" Paul thought of the dilapidated city gates he had seen along the way and realized that they were probably there to repair the city's defenses.

"Yes, the southern nobles rebelled and were wiped out by the Duke. But the people there are really suffering; they don't even have houses. The Duke said that since they are all from the northern territories, they should know how to help each other. We think that even without wages, we should lend a hand."

"I see," Paul thought to himself, "these people are so warm-hearted. Today I've met several more people with beautiful souls."

Paul enjoyed being with beautiful people. He dismounted and chatted with them along the way, eventually arriving at an open space next to a vast farmland.

"Ah, right, saw slowly, don't rush, try to cut as evenly as possible."

"Air dry, carbonize, then sand and oil... Good, you did a great job."

The open space was bustling with activity. Seeing Old George gently directing everyone to work, the carpenters were immediately amused and went over to shout to Old George.

"Master George! You seem to have honey stuck in your throat, it sounds a bit sweet to me!"

Upon seeing that the visitors were several younger men, old George's expression quickly shifted from sunny to cloudy, and then to stormy.

"Get out! Stop causing trouble here and get back to work!"

The group of carpenters quickly became friendly, and although they complained, old George was relieved by their arrival.

He wasn't good at management to begin with, so having a few more expert assistants would lighten his load considerably.

Paul put the horse aside to graze, then took off his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and joined the work team.

Because he blended in so naturally, no one noticed anything amiss at first, until they saw a tree trunk the size of a millstone and seven or eight meters long float past them.

Wait... what's going on? Whose subordinate is this? How did he get into our militia?

"Who is he?" Old George put down the blueprints and asked, squinting.

To be able to carry such a heavy tree trunk, one would have to be at least a high-ranking officer in the military, the kind who is specifically responsible for charging into battle and killing the enemy.

"Oh, the knight we met on the road is also a kind-hearted person. He heard that we were going to build houses for homeless people, so he came along."

"Oh, it's a knight!" Upon hearing someone vouch for him, the militiamen quickly lowered their guard and continued to lower their heads, their faces contorted with worry as they dug at the wood.

Is this the gap between us and the elite...?

Paul, with his immense strength, was quickly welcomed by the militiamen. Soldiers admired capable people the most, especially those who could do the work of four or five people.

Although the farmers started working, they were not used to talking to strangers, so Paul began to ask the militiamen for information.

"Did they live such a miserable life before?"

After learning about the farmers' past, Paul felt a pang of unease, but he was merely a knight who could only protect the safety of ordinary people and was powerless to solve their survival problems.

"Let me ask again, what exactly is this 'Hell Messenger' they keep muttering about?"

"That one," the militiaman looked left and right, then whispered in Paul's ear, "The nun tricked them. They were afraid of being punished for cutting down the nobles' trees. So the nun lied to them, saying that Goddess had sent the Duke as a messenger of hell, and that he had already taken the nobles to hell."

"Only in this way can they feel at ease; otherwise, they wouldn't even dare touch a single leaf on the tree. Now that they hear the Duke is a messenger from hell, they dare to cut down trees, build houses, and even accept the land they're given."

"Hehe, don't expose this lie. His Highness the Duke wants them to live in peace."

Paul heard this, and even though these words were too outrageous, he did not doubt them at all, but only sighed almost imperceptibly.

The kingdom is more than just a commercial district; he has witnessed far too much hardship and difficulty in the lives of ordinary people over the years.

However, not a single leader has ever stood up and said: We must change this.

But today, he saw it.

Oswald, no wonder even the archbishop values ​​him so highly...

"Where is that nun you mentioned? Can I see her?"