In the ghetto of Fort Gutun, there was a commotion.

"Drink, drink, this is the last bit of wine we have in stock, if we don't drink it, it's gone"

"Just have a drink, and we'll go find a job"

"Work, what kind of work can there be in chaos?"

A strong man was naked, holding a bottle of wine with an unknown amount of water, desperately pouring it into his mouth.

Sitting in the middle of the street were old and weak women and children, as well as strong men who had nothing to do.

They are blinded and hopeless about the future, like the walking dead.

Since the death of Viscount Sigger, the fighting at Fort Gutun has not stopped. First with Siegburg, then with Koch and Ayrshire.

At first, the war was outside the castle, and it stands to reason that there should not be much influence inside the castle. But under such circumstances, the interior of Fort Gutun was almost devastated.

Not long ago, Amos of Ayrshire came alone and started a long-planned plan, although he did not succeed in taking Fort Gutun while Baron Alden was on his expedition. But it wreaked havoc in the area, so that the food was almost reduced to ashes. As a last resort, the tax collector of Fort Gutun, with the orders of Baron Alden, sent an army to forcibly collect all the grain in the city, so as to give priority to the army.

Because the civilians were weak, they became the first victims.

At this point, all industries have withered, and there is not much food left in the homes of ordinary people.

The villages attached to Fort Gudon can flee en masse, but the inhabitants of the city are caged birds and cannot be free.

There was a feeling of hunger in the stomach, and everyone could only desperately pour water into their mouths in an attempt to eliminate this feeling.

"Father, I'm hungry," a child reached out and pulled at the man's clothes.

The man let out a long sigh, tears in his eyes, and stretched out the wine that had been mixed with water countless times in his wine jar and handed it to his child: "Drink some when you're hungry"

"Even if I drink, I'm still hungry," the little boy said to the man, his eyes showing grievance.

Then he looked at the woman next to him: "Mother, I want to eat."

"Bear with me, I'll have something to eat tomorrow," the woman's lips moved, and her voice was slightly pale.

The little boy's eyes were stained with tears, and he sobbed softly: "But, but my mother has been talking about it for four days."

"Tomorrow, which tomorrow is it?" the little boy asked, choking up.

The men and women were silent at the sound of this inquiry, wanting to reply, but not knowing how to answer. Don't say tomorrow, even if there are countless tomorrows, there will be no food.

As long as Baron Alden does not win a day, as long as the sound of the sword soldiers in Fort Gudon has not subsided, then it is impossible for himself and others to have a job.

Thinking of this, silent anger spread.

Looking at his arms and legs, he let out a deep sigh in his heart. Relying on his own people, wanting to resist well-armed warriors with fighting spirit is no less than a fool's dream.

Listening to this conversation, the people around him also closed their mouths at the same time. All of a sudden, the street seemed to be dead.

Some of them have not resisted, but when they think of the whip marks on their bodies, they can only weep. They are full of despair and fear for the future.

So much so that by now, they have become numb.

The voice came from the front, and everyone looked panicked like frightened birds.

During this time, the tax officer's escort gave them a powerful shadow, and as long as they heard the sound outside, they could subconsciously think of those fierce and vicious troops. Rummage through cabinets at home to find every grain of rice you have hidden.

In the midst of these countless frightened eyes, a girl in a white robe walked slowly. Behind her were ten carriages, and the heavy sound of them as they moved forward.

The sun shone down from the sky, as if to cast a layer of light on the girl's body.

Looking at this light, the panic in everyone's eyes gradually subsided.

As long as it wasn't the tax collector and his group of thugs in the name of the guards, it was a great blessing.

Jenny looked around at the men and sighed in her heart.

I've walked ten of these streets, at first puzzled and angry, but now all of them have turned into faint sadness.

This grief is both for these civilians and for this Gutunburg.

If I hadn't felt this way before. But since becoming a saint, after knowing some things that I have to do, this feeling naturally arises.

For example, Fort Guton's large-scale seizure of grain, if the Church of Light faced such a situation, it would not hesitate to carry it out.

After all, the short-term pain is worth it compared to the enemy killing him.

But it is precisely because of this truth that Jenny feels more and more helpless and sad.

"Erin, let someone set up the iron pot and start boiling porridge," Jenny said to Erin beside her, and then continued to walk forward without saying a word.

There is no hope for such a person, and it is not the time to spread the glory of our Lord.

Besides, in my heart, I vaguely don't want to use such a means to win people's hearts.

Only the purest heart can truly influence others, rather than inducing them with interests and power.

Looking at Jenny who was slowly moving forward, Erin replied loudly: "Yes"

Then he looked at a carriage and began to get busy.

Looking at the stopped carriage and the iron pot boiling porridge, there was a trace of incomprehension in the desperate eyes of everyone.

After a while, there was a burst of rice aroma, and everyone subconsciously swallowed their saliva.

"Anyone who is hungry can go home and get a bowl and line up to get porridge," Erin shouted at the crowd.

Everyone was stunned, thinking that there was an auditory hallucination.

Several servants dressed as strong men, seeing the stunned crowd, shouted angrily: "We only stay here for half an hour, and if we miss it, we will wait for tomorrow."

"Porridge?" the crowd still didn't react.

A child pulled the man next to him: "Father, I want to drink porridge"

"Good" The man's tone seemed a little lacking, obviously he hadn't reacted to this matter for a while.

Then he trembled and walked forward, and poured out the wine from the jar in his arms.

Looking at the poured drink, Erin frowned. Where is this wine, it is clearly water, and there is no smell of alcohol.

Several men dressed as housekeepers scooped a spoonful of porridge from the iron pot and put it into the wine jar.

After a while, the jar was full, and the man felt as if he were in a dream.

"Go, give your child porridge and save him from hunger," Erin said to him, looking at the stunned man.

The man woke up like a dream, his eyes widened in surprise, and he subconsciously blurted out: "Who are you, and how should I be grateful to you in the future?"

"Don't be grateful, it's all my lord's will," Erin said to the man.

The man subconsciously repeated: "My lord's divine will?"

Then with this question, he turned around and walked in the direction of his child.

The pot exploded in an instant, and countless old and weak women, children, and strong men hurriedly ran to their respective homes and came to line up to receive porridge with their own bowls.