"Niv, set up the surveillance network here. I'll take a stroll through the city."
Hel spread her wings and flew toward the city.
Niv tilted her head, observing for a moment, then quietly lifted her wings. Hundreds of undead insects fell from her feathers.
These tiny bugs, less than two millimeters in size, were Hel's latest creation. They had excellent vision and hearing, and were highly sensitive to magic. Small and fast, they had completely replaced the previous undead fruit flies.
Once released, the insects immediately dispersed, crawling into every corner of Gordon Castle. Some hid in building cracks, others among the flowers outside.
Before long, the entire castle had come under Niv's surveillance. Despite the flurry of tiny bugs stirring a few petals, no one inside the castle noticed anything unusual.
Meanwhile, Hel landed on a bell tower in the city's commercial district after leaving the castle. She looked down at the busy residents below.
Unlike the chaos in the Dessert Nation or the cutthroat competitiveness of the Scholar Nation, the people of the Garden Nation exuded a natural sense of ease.
The residents were elegantly dressed, cheerful-faced, and orderly in their work. Yet most tasks required little effort. Every house—be it a standalone villa or a townhouse—was filled with flowers.
The light workload gave them ample free time for gardening and leisure.
'This city is too harmoniously perfect… something's off,' Hel thought.
From Mandrake Territory, through half of Ymir's vassals, she had seen cities either deeply stratified, like Caramel City—where nobles and merchants ignored commoners—or oppressed by capital, like the Scholar Nation, where people became factory slaves.
But Gordon City was a perfect utopia, yet the subtle wrongness in its harmony quickly caught her attention.
In the southern part of the city, the scene was different.
Although still orderly, the streets were lined with dilapidated rowhouses and a persistent stench of blood lingered.
A group of fully armed knights escorted ragged villagers into a small square.
The lead knight dusted off his armor, removed his helmet, and approached a noble-dressed official, carrying one of the villagers in his arms.
"Tax Officer, here are this quarter's human tax subjects for Gordon District: 125 households in total—45 healthy men and 80 women."
"Good. Give me the list of these 125 households. Their head tax is waived for three years."
The tax officer waved, signaling the clerks behind him to proceed.
Soon, the 125 individuals were led to a large tent.
"Men go there. You will be trained and become mercenaries of Gordon City. Do not attempt to escape. Any deserters will be hunted across the continent, and their families will pay the price."
The clerk shouted at the crowd, then turned to the young women.
Under Garden Nation law, citizens were divided into tiers: the high nobles, wealthy merchants who served the nobles, city residents serving the elite, and the lowest—peasants living outside the city.
Peasants had to pay an annual head tax. If they failed, their entire family could be enslaved.
However, officials knew that excessive taxation could reduce the population, threatening future labor resources.
Thus, the labor allocation policy was enacted: each household that supplied one adult laborer within three years could enjoy a three-year exemption from the head tax.
Male laborers were generally sent as state mercenaries for foreign campaigns. Women were assigned jobs according to age and appearance.
"Those remaining, follow me. If you want to serve as maids to nobles—or even the royal family—you must answer honestly. Anyone caught lying will be punished, and their family's tax exemption revoked. Every year there are always a few fools. I won't have a repeat this year."
The clerk led the girls into the tent, where two middle-aged women in identical uniforms awaited.
"Line up, one by one. Those who disobey will be sold as the lowest-grade slaves to small villages for reproductive labor," one of the women warned.
The girls, now anxious, quietly formed a line, ready for questioning.
The questioning was simply a registration of basic information. Young, attractive girls were separated from older, less appealing ones.
Once registered, the girls moved through two passages into the tent's inner chambers for further examination.
When the questioning neared the end, a gray-haired girl in a linen cloak stepped forward.
She lifted her hood, revealing golden eyes that surveyed the two women with calm authority.
One of the women frowned. "Gray hair? Not bad… though the hair is unfortunate. Let's see if any noble would like this type."
She glanced down at her records but realized the pages had no information for the girl.
"This… there's no record of you. Who exactly are you—"
Before she could finish, Hel, disguised and blending in among the girls, fixed the woman with a sweet, confident smile, her golden eyes piercing.
"No, there is a record of me."
With that, Hel controlled the woman's hand to write her details on the next page of the document.
In the "Name" field appeared boldly: Imshi.