"According to the Code of Lochos, the punishment for theft varies depending on status and circumstances."
"Non-caught thieves must compensate double the value of the stolen goods. If the theft occurs at night, the victim has the right to kill the thief on the spot."
"He was caught in the act. A slave would be whipped and then executed by being thrown off a cliff, with the master paying compensation. A freeman would receive forty lashes and be handed over to the victim. If unable to pay compensation, they could be reduced to debt slavery until the debt is cleared."
The boy didn't struggle, just shouted, "I am a freeman!"
Calliphone's gaze swept over the subdued boy, her lashes lowering, "But considering his youth and orphaned state, leniency can be applied."
The law is rigid; people are flexible.
The Code of Lochos had no provisions for the protection of minors, but if the thief was a child, they were usually treated leniently. People generally tolerated minors; even strict enforcers wouldn't be too harsh.
Unless they were unlucky enough to encounter a rigid or harsh person and were caught red-handed.
Calliphone was not harsh; she couldn't bring herself to be cruel.
Besides, she hadn't actually suffered any loss; the boy was at most guilty of attempted theft.
Otherwise, even if she didn't reduce him to slavery, forty lashes would be too much for him.
Caelan, "A-Bo, let him go."
Perturabo's hand twitched, and the boy flinched, afraid the movement might cut his artery.
But Perturabo's hand was steady as a rock; the blade made the boy's neck cold but didn't leave even a red mark.
The boy slowly lowered his head, his throat bobbing.
But he didn't run. He just stared at the ground as if trying to see through the stone.
Calliphone's voice was soft, "Go. I don't blame you."
The boy's body trembled violently. He bit his lower lip hard but remained rooted to the spot, his stomach growling.
"Go? Where would he go?"
Caelan took the girl's wrist and turned away. "People must pay for their mistakes. Perturabo, watch him. From now on, he is your slave."
Perturabo glanced down at the boy, his gaze as indifferent as if passing over a stone by the roadside.
The boy kept his head lowered, as if pulled by an invisible chain, silently following his new master.
"Brother Caelan," Calliphone gently tugged Caelan's sleeve, "why can't we give him a chance?"
Caelan reached out and pinched Calliphone's cheek. "Does he look like someone who needs a chance?"
Calliphone blinked.
She was very intelligent, but her heart still held a soft innocence that blinded her to some things.
"What has he lost by becoming a slave from a freeman?"
Calliphone's voice was very soft. "He will no longer be a citizen. The law will no longer protect him."
Caelan asked, "Did the law protect him before?"
The girl's silence was more deafening than any answer.
"Look into his eyes. If he really wanted to escape, he would have run long ago. But what would await him?"
"Either starving to death in a ditch in three days, or being caught stealing again. Either way, the outcome is the same."
"As a slave, he loses his freedom, but gains the shackles of survival. As long as the debt isn't cleared, the master has to keep him alive."
Calliphone couldn't help looking back at the thin boy. "So, he deliberately let us catch him?"
"If he could actually succeed, he would have fled long ago. Even if he failed, he could take the opportunity to choose a safer path."
"But what if he encountered a cruel person? Wouldn't he then..."
Caelan's voice carried a hint of resignation, "Why do you think he targeted you specifically? A noble lady like you, who clearly seems naive and kind-hearted, wouldn't have the heart to kill him. What he really should worry about is that you're too soft-hearted and would set him free."
A faint blush crept across Calliphone's cheeks. She had almost let him go out of compassion.
But before the blush could fade, her eyes dimmed.
She would rather die than become someone's slave, yet there were people who would humble themselves to survive.
Calliphone looked back at the mountaintop. The magnificent temples and palaces of Lochos gleamed in the sun, yet countless poor souls like this boy huddled in the dark alleys. The palace feasted every night, while ragged children begged in the mud.
Lochos was the most prosperous city-state in Olympia, but whose prosperity was it really?
Click!
Perturabo's gaze cut like a blade towards the affectionate pair ahead. Calliphone was practically leaning on Caelan!
'Why did they have to stay so close?'
His knuckles tightened silently, the golden, jeweled scabbard making a faint sound in his palm.
Though he could hear every word of Caelan and Calliphone's whispers, an inexplicable irritation stirred within him.
Of course, he knew he couldn't cling to Caelan's arm like his sister did. The very thought made the hairs on his neck stand up.
But this rational understanding did nothing to ease his frustration; instead, it fueled the nameless fire. What right did Calliphone have to be closer to Caelan than he was?
He fiercely turned his face away. This wasn't jealousy. Absolutely not. He simply loathed being excluded!
Weren't they supposed to be a trio? Why was he the only one left behind?
Perturabo's gaze swept over the boy, who immediately stiffened, his thin shoulders shrinking instinctively.
Perturabo's face showed no emotion. He strode forward, the sound of his boots on the ground making the boy's breath almost stop.
But he didn't stop before the boy. Instead, he walked straight to a bread stall.
He raised his hand, a gold coin between his fingers, shimmering in the sun.
"One loaf of bread."
The vendor's eyes widened. He waved his hands hurriedly, "One Lokan, this... this is too big; I can't make change..."
His fingers trembling slightly, he quickly took a freshly baked wheat loaf from the rack.
"No, no charge. It's a gift!" he stammered, presenting the bread with both hands.
Perturabo's expression remained cold. He flicked his finger lightly, and the gold coin landed steadily on the wooden counter with a clear ring.
"Keep the change. Give me several more loaves." His voice carried an authoritative tone that brooked no argument.
No change needed; it wasn't his money anyway. It was the money his rich sister had given him.
Perturabo tossed the bread to the boy, who caught it clumsily.
The vendor quickly pocketed the coin, his hand moving so fast it was a blur. He nodded excitedly, "Yes, yes! I'll wrap them right away!"
He hurriedly grabbed all the wheat loaves from his stall, wrapped them hastily in clean linen, and respectfully handed them over.
"Enjoy."
Perturabo took the package with one hand and turned away.
"I... I..." The boy clutched the bread helplessly, stammering.
"If you don't eat it, throw it away."
Perturabo threw out the cold words and quickened his pace to catch up with Caelan and Calliphone ahead. Their intimate conversation had become indistinct with distance.
The boy stumbled after Perturabo, his trembling hands clutching the golden-brown bread.
Steam, carrying the rich aroma of cheese, wafted into his face, making his stomach growl embarrassingly.
He cautiously took a bite. The soft bread melted in his mouth, the savory cheese and sweet wheat filling it instantly.
He almost cried with happiness. This was definitely the most luxurious thing he had ever tasted in his life!
Perturabo saw his expression, his own face still impassive. In Lochos, the dietary gap between the upper and lower classes was also an insurmountable chasm.
The poor could only afford black bread, mixed with bran and sawdust, barely enough to fill their stomachs.
Commoners ate barley bread. Though not refined, it was at least pure grain.
The wealthy enjoyed fermented, baked wheat bread, soft and sweet, sometimes with cheese added.
As for the nobles, their white bread was a luxury.
Made from fine, white refined wheat flour, mixed with sesame seeds and poppy seeds for flavor, stuffed with melted cheese, drizzled with honey, and garnished with dried fruit and fennel, each bite was a delicacy beyond the reach of commoners.
The price of one white loaf could feed a commoner family for a month on barley bread.
White bread was an unattainable dream for the lower classes, but the most ordinary staple on the royal table.
Calliphone lowered her head dejectedly, her voice so soft it almost vanished into the air, "I... did I do something wrong?"
The girl's slender shoulders trembled involuntarily.
"The first child I taught was called Konrad. He came from Nostramo."
Calliphone looked up. Perturabo, following at a distance, also perked up his ears, his pace quickening unconsciously.
"On Nostramo, the lower classes were worse off than Lochos's slaves. Slaves at least had black bread. They only had garbage," Caelan paused, "and human flesh."
Calliphone's slender fingers covered her mouth. Even in the worst times in Lochos, no one ate people. In Lochos, even among non-believers, cannibalism was considered extreme sacrilege. Anyone who deliberately consumed human flesh was sentenced to death or exile!
"Nostramo was also a vertical city. The nobles lived in the spires, the wealthy in the upper hive, the commoners in the lower hive, and the underhive was for the dregs."
"It was a city ruled by gangs. Countless gangs ruled tens of billions of people."
"In Konrad's eyes, many people in that city were guilty."
"The underhivers were guilty because they ate people."
"The lower-hivers were the most numerous, but most were innocent because they were too exhausted to commit crimes."
"The upper-hivers were guilty of exploitation."
"The nobles were even more heinous. The Midnight Phantom hanged them from lampposts with nooses."
"Their children were also all guilty, guilty of benefiting from their parents' sins."
"Konrad had the gift of prophecy. He could foresee everyone's future. So, he judged them based on that future."
"If they were doomed to fall, they were sentenced to death."
"But if their future still held redemption, Konrad would give them a chance to atone."
Caelan looked gently at the young woman, his voice like a spring breeze, "Calliphone, I won't declare you guilty, nor will I declare you innocent, because I am not a judge."
"But if your heart deems you guilty, then make amends, atone. Don't let it become a shackle that binds you."
The sin of Lochos was not rooted in individual malice, but in the system itself.
The nobility were the beneficiaries of this system, and thus its most loyal defenders.
If Calliphone wanted to change the world, she would have to confront that deeply entrenched system, inevitably putting her at odds with her father.
Yet this was not an irreconcilable contradiction.
Perturabo possessed extraordinary talent. She could help Dammekos realize his ambition to unify Olympia, allowing the Tyrant to still reap rich rewards amidst systemic change.
The depth and breadth of this change would depend on how resolute Calliphone and Perturabo were.
They had new ideas and the power to change. They held the key to Olympia's future.
But bloodshed and sacrifice were inevitable. Revolution was never gentle.
"The underhivers of Nostramo, did my brother judge them?"
Perturabo had unknowingly walked alongside them, his voice carrying a certain curiosity.
Caelan had always been reticent about his brothers, never telling their stories in detail.
Caelan claimed his brothers were better than him, but Perturabo didn't agree!
Caelan stated, "When granaries are full, people learn etiquette; when food and clothing are sufficient, people know honor and shame."
"Maslow's hierarchy of needs also states that human motivation is determined by human needs."
"These needs are arranged in five levels: physiological, safety, love and belonging, esteem, and self-actualization. Only when lower-level needs are satisfied do people pursue higher-level ones."
"When facing the threat of survival, physiological needs come first, and morality is often the first to be discarded."
"In Nostramo's underhive, survival and morality were diametrically opposed."
"Everyone there bore original sin. To survive to adulthood, they had to feed on their own kind."
"But Konrad accepted them. These children, burdened with original sin, became the first followers of the Night Lords."
"They cleansed their sins with blood and sacrifice, overthrowing the tyranny of the nobles."
"To this day, many of them still fight."
"Konrad gave them a chance at redemption, and they repaid that kindness with loyalty."
Perturabo stared silently at Caelan, complex emotions flickering in his eyes.
His brother's performance was acceptable, but that was all.
As the first-found son, such accomplishments were far from enough to earn his approval!
Because he would do better than Konrad. Olympia would eventually become a better city-state than Nostramo!
Perturabo asked abruptly, "My brother is the Lord of Nostramo. What about you?"
"I am an educator, not a revolutionary. Achievements need not come from my own efforts, nor fame from my own establishment."
"Does my brother have parents?"
"Of course."
"Who is his mother?"
Caelan's gaze softened, tinged with nostalgia, "Dorothy. A girl much like Calliphone, innocent and kind."
Perturabo stared into Caelan's eyes, "And his father?"
"Me, of course."
"Heh." Perturabo let out a meaningful cold laugh.
"I'm the only exception?"
Perturabo was very reluctant, feeling indignant.
He now understood why Caelan had made Dammekos his father. Because of twistedness.
Not because Caelan was twisted, but because he was twisted!
"Truly disappointing!"
Perturabo gritted his teeth, cursing himself. He had almost made a tragedy of his life!
"Master, aren't your... your sister and father going to eat?"
The boy followed Perturabo, his gaze involuntarily drifting to the bulging bread package in his master's arms, swallowing.
Perturabo's pace hesitated almost imperceptibly. His cold gaze swept back towards the boy.
The boy immediately lowered his head, afraid his impertinence would anger his master.
He had already fully embraced his role. This was the path he had chosen for himself.
Perturabo asked, "What is your name?"
The boy's shoulders hunched, "Zoris."
"It's all yours. Eat as much as you like. Remember what you just said."
Perturabo casually tossed the bulging package towards the boy, landing heavily in his arms.
Perturabo turned and strode away. Zoris stood frozen, holding the bread, staring blankly at his master's retreating back.
The master seemed very pleased, but what had he just said?
Zoris couldn't figure it out.
Well, what's done is done. Let's eat first.
The boy looked down at the warm bread in his arms, the golden wheat fragrance mingling with the rich scent of cheese.
The joy came so suddenly that even his chewing became tentative, afraid his master might change his mind.
Water reservoirs dotted the city evenly. Servants carrying jars formed long queues by the pools.
When the winding streets suddenly opened up, the bustling market square unfolded like a scroll. Merchants under colorful awnings displayed pottery and spices, their calls and haggling weaving the cacophony of everyday life.
Calliphone was still lost in the contradiction of whether to challenge her father, while Perturabo's steps had become unusually light.
He held his head high, a breeze playing through his hair. Perturabo was in a good mood.
Caelan gently pinched Calliphone's soft cheek, "Weren't you the one who wanted to visit the market? Why the long face?"
Calliphone's voice was muffled, "I don't have a long face."
"Are you being twisted now, too?"
Calliphone puffed out her cheeks. Was everything that resisted him considered twisted?
Perturabo chimed in, "Exactly. So twisted."
Calliphone's eyes widened in disbelief. 'Brat, who are you to call me twisted?'
'Who was the one being twisted all the way here?'
Calliphone bit her lower lip stubbornly, "I'm not going!"
Caelan asked, "How about eating something before we go back?"
The girl said childishly, "No. I'm full of anger!"
"Who made you angry?"
"Stinky brother!" Calliphone fumed. 'Asking on purpose!'
Perturabo tilted his head slightly, "Sweet sister."
Calliphone stomped her foot. 'Why did that make me even angrier?'
A faint, almost imperceptible curve lifted the corner of Perturabo's mouth, "I see."
He seemed to understand how to win.
'Twisted? What twisted person? I, Peturabo, am never twisted!'
Perturabo pointed to a bread stall, "Caelan, I want that."
Most of the bread sold in the market was barley bread.
Wheat bread required fermentation and baking, produced in smaller quantities and usually pre-ordered.
The flatbread Perturabo pointed to was a type of snack, usually a flat cake filled with cheese, sometimes with minced meat and other seasonings.
Since Perturabo asked, Caelan would oblige, but unfortunately, his pockets were empty.
Caelan looked down at the girl still holding his arm, "Calliphone."
"So annoying!" Calliphone grumbled quietly, reluctantly handing a silver coin to Caelan.
Perturabo was the one who made her angry, yet she had to pay!
Caelan handed the flatbread to Perturabo, and the curve of Perturabo's mouth visibly deepened.
He didn't really want to eat it. He wanted it now, but not for the eating.
....
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