Soup was being cooked as part of a charity program organized by Phoebe and Kate—
an effort to ensure that no one in the territory went hungry.
Passersby gratefully received bowls of soup as they passed the steaming cauldron.
At that moment, Michael, clad in a black hood and accompanied by his grandfather Alfred, had just stepped outside the keep.
Before diving into full-scale war preparations, he wanted to see the state of his territory for himself—how the people were feeling, whether things were going well.
Taking a spoonful of soup handed to him by a generously built middle-aged woman, Michael took a sip and glanced at his grandfather.
"It's not exactly gourmet," he said, "but it's hearty. Plenty of meat and vegetables."
Alfred, sipping his own bowl, nodded with quiet satisfaction.
"Yes… Above all else, the foundation of everything is simple: sustaining life. Those young women are doing well."
Michael's face warmed with a smile as he thought of Phoebe and Kate.
