There is no sun here, only slightly brighter times and very dark times.
What the boy saw every day when he looked up was the dark mantle.
Old Figg said he would leave the precious candlestick to him. In the past few days, whenever the boy wanted to reach out and touch it, Old Figg glared back.
"You have to wait until I'm dead before you can touch this treasure of mine." Old Fig said.
The boy had to give up the idea of touching the candlestick.
In his incomplete memory, the boy remembered that his mother had said that he should always be kind.
So he visited the girl with the broken hand several times and brought them some bread, which of course was stolen.
The boy became friends with the girl, and by accident, he also became friends with a child named Roman.
When the boy told Old Figg about this on the bed, Old Figg looked very worried.
"Kid, you are still young, I don't want you to make so many friends." He said.
"Why, old Figg."
"Because in this slave cave, friends are easily consumed." Old Figg was worried that he did not speak clearly enough, and said, "They may disappear without knowing it one day."
"Oh? Dead?"
"Hey, you're so direct. Maybe I shouldn't worry about you."
Old Figg said, coughing suddenly.
He was in poor health and would sometimes wake up from coughing in his dreams.
After coughing for a while, Old Figg managed to regain his breath and said, "You're not far from touching the candlestick, little buddy."
The boy felt sad for a while and said nothing.
"Don't worry, it's not the first time he died." Old Fig said, ordering the boy to close his eyes.
Old Figg doesn't have to do this, he has no eyes.
Early the next morning.
When the boy got up, he saw old Figg praying as usual.
There was no icon in front of Old Figg, only the candlestick. He said that he was reluctant to use it and had never put in a candle or lit it.
The boy had never seen candlelight either.
Old Figg said that he had seen hundreds of candles in noble houses, which were very bright all the time.
The boy tried to imagine the scene. It was probably a dozen bonfires piled together.
Old Figg touched the boy's head and said, "When I get clean water to baptize you, I will light this candlestick for you to see."
Originally it was the priest who came to baptize, but there was no true religious priest here, so old Figg didn't mind overstepping his bounds.
Anyway, he did something even more transgressive - compiling scriptures.
The boy nodded, but not expecting anything.
I have said this for a long time, many times.
It's just that it's too difficult to get clean water in the slave cave.
Old Figg walked out of his residence. Those slaves who could not work were waiting to die here, or they went to the market and stood there, waiting for the passing nobles to take a fancy.
Old Figg sat down among the crowd, and even though he was blind, he could sit exactly where he was.
Apart from talking about the scriptures he made up, Old Fig's favorite thing is to brag about his deeds back then.
Especially when he was put to work in the manor, he said that he inspired a group of brave slaves to jointly resist the nobles.
"Oh, that commotion." One slave said in disbelief.
Old Figg turned his face to the source of the sound, squeezed his eyes, and tried to look like he was "glaring".
"That was an uprising," he said seriously.
"An uprising of only a dozen people? It's not even a riot."
After the slave finished speaking, he realized what he had said wrong and looked at old Figg carefully.
He expected old Figg to be furious.
However, old Figg hung his head in despair.
"I was too young and people were too insensitive."
The boy had heard it so many times that he threw stones at the statue.
The statue of Mariel, the hero who inspired slaves to work.
The god on the side looked at the statue.
He knew that the hero Mariel not only oppressed himself, but also oppressed others after his death.
Everyone respects the heroes who are respected by the princes and nobles. Even if they occasionally curse those high-class slaves or nobles, when talking about the so-called heroes, they will never say anything bad at all.
The same is true when it comes to King Andry.
Old Figg sneered at others doing this.
He would always tell the boy privately how many statues he had smashed during his uprising.
"Isn't that hero bad?" the boy asked him.
"Of course it's not good! It can be said that no one is more evil than him. He was bewitched by the princes, nobles and priests, and mistakenly thought he was making sacrifices! He is just a bitch! That is not the will of the Lord!"
Old Figg scolded the so-called heroes like this.
.............
When a boy makes friends, of course he has to do something for his friends.
Especially the girl with a broken hand, the boy felt that she and her mother were so pitiful.
She had starved to death before, and the whole family starved to death together.
Now his father is dying, and she and her mother are still suffering from hunger.
So the boy and another friend Roman ran out of the slave cave and went to the market dedicated to slave trading.
In the chaotic market, most of them were slaves, well-dressed, some were servants of nobles, and some were high-class slaves.
As for the bad ones, some are ordinary slaves. They may go to the market to sell something during their work breaks. Of course, ordinary slaves are not legally allowed to own private property, so their masters can spend their savings as long as they want. Stuff it into your pocket.
Others, like the boys or the people in the slave cave, are slaves without owners. Old Figg told the boy that they do not have the right to freedom, but they are actually free. However, there is a small problem. It is easy to become free. Die free.
Therefore, ownerless slaves are often eager to stand in the market, sell themselves at extremely low prices, and express their gratitude to the noble priests.
"There is a priest there, and he is preaching there." Roman pointed at the priest of the Torment Temple who was standing on the high platform and dressed in black.
"What will he say?"
"I remember something... that the more we Sambo people suffer now, the happier we will be when we return to the world in the future.
Moreover, we Shanbu people are the most able to endure hardships and are superior to other ethnic groups. "Roman said at the end according to his memory, very excited.
The boy vaguely remembered the words of old Feige, a Shanbu native from the Republic, and said, "Really... But Old Feige said that Shanbu people are not born to endure hardship."
Roman did not agree with the boy's words. The one he admired most was the hero Mariel.
God looked at all this and understood that this was the oppression that Mariel had given to the people of Shabu.
However, what Mariel brought, or rather what the aloof King Andri brought, was a widespread numbness.
Everyone is worried about survival.
No one wants to die again, because then the soul will really be gone.
The boy and Roman were walking through the market, and saw slaves executing slaves on the high platform. If they committed a crime, only one of them could survive, and they had to duel with each other.
When the heads of the slaves were chopped off with swords and fell to the ground, the Shabu people burst into loud cheers.
It was as if the parasite between them was really executed.
The god followed the boy.
In this hell, no ancient words can be recited.
God watched all this quietly.
He felt that this scene was very familiar, as if he had seen it somewhere.
Have the Shanbu people always been like this?
He looked at the tower that was being built anew.
The giant worm fell into a deep slumber from its feast.
Those strong and superior slaves took advantage of this opportunity and began to build the tower that could return to the world.
The higher that tower is built, the more difficult it is to build.
King Andri, as they call him, had devoted countless efforts to this tower.
The royal family of this hell has exhausted several generations of kings to death for this tower, even though they were destroyed by giant beasts every time.
He shook his head.
What is...the remedy for salvation?
Karl asked then.
In this hell where I cannot recite ancient words, how can I verify the answer...
The boy also saw the huge tower being built anew.
Old Feige often told him: "Everyone only remembers how many generations of kings died of exhaustion, but they don't remember how many generations of Shanbu people died of exhaustion."
However, Old Fig also said that he didn't know how they would return to the world if they didn't build the giant tower.
The boy stared at the giant tower for a long time.
Until Roman pulled him and reminded him that he had found his goal.
The boy looked in the direction Roman pointed.
They were carriages belonging to several nobles, with exquisite shapes.
Several servants packed boxes of bread.
In this hell, there is a special kind of rye that does not need sunlight. However, the yield is small and it needs to be planted in large quantities. It is wheat specially eaten by slaves.
The bread made from rye was much harder than the bran bread the boy had eaten before.
"As long as we steal one box, we can eat for a long time." Roman said greedily.
The boy also nodded. The slave knows the preciousness of food better than anyone else.
However, the boy was also worried that stealing an entire box of bread would be difficult given their strength.
He told Roman about this.
Roman didn't think so.
"Don't be afraid," Roman was about to say his name, but he quickly remembered, "Um... I originally wanted to call you by your name, but I almost forgot that you don't have a name."
The boy shrugged helplessly.
Rolling his eyes and thinking for a while, Roman asked: "As a friend, do you want me to give you a name?"
The boy shook his head and said, "No, old Fig said that one day he would get clean water and baptize me, and then he would give me a Christian name."
Roman didn't say much. He pointed to the carriage and said, "You are more skilled than me. I will attract their attention. You secretly move a box. If you can't move it, just throw some bread away."
The boy agreed to the plan.
