Ch.104Gibson’s Port Road (2)

After a simple meal at the inn, I knelt in my room and offered a solemn prayer.

“I pray to the Sun of Humanity. Please ensure that my mercy and justice never weaken or rust…”

The Sun of Humanity.

Lord Nariakira Saburo watches over me.

Among countless masses. Like a sunbeam piercing through clouds to illuminate a rose blooming in a garbage bin.

I have received the Sun’s blessing, and I must fulfill the duty of one so blessed.

To give all those illuminated by the Sun a chance at a better life.

And to punish, in the name of the divine, the shadows of evildoers who block the Sun’s light.

Though this is now Maria’s time rather than Saburo’s, even moonlight shines by reflecting the sunlight, so my prayers will surely reach heaven.

When I finished praying and rose, my wife, undressed and lying on the bed, yearned for intimacy with me. As a husband fulfilling my duty, I removed my armor and clothes, approached her, and kissed her.

*

The next morning.

Knock, knock, knock!

While my wife and I were still in bed, a knocking sound echoed.

My wife dressed herself properly and approached the door, asking who was seeking us so early in the morning.

“Who is it?”

[I believe a knight is staying here…]

“I am his wife. What business do you have with my lord?”

[Ah. You’re his wife. Well, the village chief would like to speak with the knight.]

My wife looked at me, and I nodded.

“He will come out shortly. Please wait.”

[Understood, ma’am.]

As the footsteps gradually faded away, my wife returned to the bed and kissed me again.

I cherished her, engaged in intimacy once more, then properly dressed myself. After kissing her again as she lay panting on the bed, I opened the door and went downstairs.

*

Downstairs, at the most spacious and elegant table in the inn sat an old man who seemed to say “I am the village chief” with his demeanor, along with a young man who appeared to be a clerk. When I approached them, they stood up.

“Excuse me, but are you the knight who showed mercy to the refugees yesterday?”

“I am.”

“Ah. Please, sit down. I cannot speak to you while standing…”

“Hmm.”

I nodded slightly and took a seat, moistening my throat with the low-alcohol ale that had been prepared in advance.

I looked around at them as they hesitated to speak, and immediately realized they were unaccustomed to private audiences with knights.

“Are you the chief of this village?”

“Y-yes… um…”

“Victor Walker. Address me as Sir Victor.”

“Ah, yes. Sir Victor. I am Gary Alex, humbly serving as the head of this Hamilton village.”

I turned my gaze to the young man.

“I-I’m Cheyenne!”

I nodded and then asked them in a deliberately stern tone why they had not opened the village gates.

“Why did you not open your gates to refugees who lost their village and wander homeless? Given the size of your village, allowing them passage would not have caused any serious problems…”

Hamilton village was quite large for a village.

About 4,000 to 6,000 people?

It was hard to believe that the passage of barely 300 refugees from Smithy village would negatively impact the village’s finances or security.

When I reprimanded them, the village chief, sweating profusely, barely managed to answer, and his response was rather shocking.

“What? You planned to leave them on the brink of starvation before offering food to turn them into laborers for your mines?”

“I-I’m sorry…”

For a moment, I had to suppress the urge to draw my sword and cut down the beasts before me.

I could have understood if they had simply distrusted the refugees and locked the village gates until they all died or left.

The world is harsh, and while they might be criticized as cold-blooded, it would be difficult to consider the outright rejection of the refugees’ existence as a sin.

After all, they weren’t responsible for destroying Smithy village, nor were they bound by any contractual relationship between villages.

However, if they had done this purely to use them as unpaid laborers, or worse, as slaves, then as a knight, I could not ignore such evil deeds.

“To confess such wicked schemes before me—I don’t know whether you’re stupid or brave. Did you summon me thinking you could escape the judgment of a righteous knight?”

I threatened the two people sitting before me, barely containing my anger.

“B-but Sir Victor, didn’t you save them? We merely decided to do this if the situation deteriorated to its worst. If things got that bad, wouldn’t most of those refugees leave anyway, and only those who couldn’t leave would accept our offer?”

“Don’t try to obscure the issue, village bumpkin. Don’t you know that a choice without options is ultimately coercion? Don’t think I don’t understand that by the time it reached that point, the refugees who couldn’t leave would clearly be those who were sick, too old, too young, or otherwise unsuitable for long-term travel and labor.”

“T-that’s…”

“You’ve denied them the opportunity to fight, thus mocking the Blood God Karyl. You’ve refused to help those in distress, treating mercy and humanity as mere illusions, thus insulting the Love Goddess Medina. You’ve plotted greedy deception instead of wise mediation, thus deceiving the Wisdom God Logos. And you’ve dreamed of a future through forced labor and control rather than prosperity through honest work, thus degrading the Abundance Goddess Moneta.”

As I enumerated their sins one by one, everyone in the inn, including those before me, turned pale.

They were desperately looking toward the inn’s entrance, but my companions, who had come down at some point, were controlling their movements.

“Gary! Gary! Do you wish to die? Do you truly wish to be cut to pieces by the sword of a knight who follows the Four Gods and the Two Moons?”

“P-please spare me! I will never plot such things again!”

“Your soul is already tainted. How dare you attempt to deceive the gods? How could you possibly enjoy wealth and glory? Although I am an outsider not belonging to this village, a wandering knight who must endlessly train, even if I take your life, it will not cleanse this village of its sins.”

“T-then what should I do?”

“I will lead those pitiful refugees to Gibson’s Port. And this village must support them in every way possible to atone for its sins.”

“By support, you mean…?”

Gary looked up at me again with a stupid expression.

Once more, I had to barely suppress the rising desire for slaughter, and I called for Cheyenne, the village clerk who was fidgeting nearby.

“Cheyenne…”

“Y-yes!”

“How long does it take to reach Gibson’s Port from here?”

“Um… assuming travel by carriage or horse… about a week.”

“Then, right now, in this place, calculate the amount of food needed to feed 300 refugees and the number of carriages required to transport it.”

“!”

At those words, the trembling village chief’s body suddenly froze.

Three hundred people was enough to fill an entire military company.

Obviously, the food and water they would need for a week, plus the carriages and the hay and water for the horses pulling them, would clearly melt away the village’s finances like cotton candy.

But if he didn’t comply, he couldn’t guarantee his own life, and if he did, the villagers who would suddenly become beggars after everything was over wouldn’t leave him alone.

In other words, regardless of how things unfolded, his position as village chief was certainly forfeit, so it was understandable that he turned pale.

Of course, I merely “understood.”

“Have you finished your calculations?”

“Yes… Sir Victor.”

“Good. Now go and prepare the carriages, food, water, and horses. And…”

I looked at Gary.

“It will be your role to inform the villagers of this, ‘Chief.'”

“Eeeek…”

The blood drained from Gary’s face, and the villagers in the inn who heard this wore indescribable expressions.

“Needless to say, if you dare tamper with the horses, carriages, water, or food, I will never forgive you.”

“O-of course! Sir Victor!”

“I’ll be counting on it.”

I kicked the crawling piece of meat called the village chief out of the inn, and soon after, the voices of an angry crowd began to be heard.

Cheyenne, trembling at the sound, tore out a page from his notebook with the calculations and handed it to me, and I passed it to Simon.

Simon, wearing a stern face, briefly counted with his fingers, then nodded, and only then did he finally sit down and sip the now-lukewarm ale.