In the north of the Source Continent, in Uppsala, a medium-sized city in the eastern part of the Iceland Nation's Atlant.
Woooo...
Even though it's the last month of spring in other parts of the continent, this land seems to remain in winter, with cold winds swirling around eaves and trees, blowing away the lingering snow and stinging faces.
"Stop! Please stop! I've already paid the three-fold window and fireplace taxes for the King, the Church, and the lord. You can't take my precious porcelain away!"
An old man wrapped in a shabby sheepskin coat cried woefully to the heavens, unable to stop those soldier-like wolves and the lean tax officer leading them, who carried a faint smell of sulfur.
The neighbors on this street cautiously peeked out their heads, each showing reluctance, yet even the few young people who were outraged dared not take action.
Because none of them could avoid the fate that befell the old man!
