〈 Episode 70 〉The East Targets the West 16

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Ever since I became a knight in Cercen's service, the next few days had been normal, or, to be more precise, the most peaceful I'd ever had in my life, to the point where I wondered if this was how it was supposed to be.

"Square!

I grabbed an apple from the paper bag of apples and bread and took a big bite. The crisp apple juice coats my mouth, and I taste the refreshment.

"It's everywhere.

As I'm walking home from work, I see children with their hats tucked under their eyes and several people lurking in the shadows.

"Pickpockets.

They're picking people's pockets, just like I used to do. The guilt and nostalgia that came with it weren't good memories, but that's what memories are for.

"There are things I've struggled with.

Even if it makes my stomach churn, I'd say that life was freer and better back then, considering the many hard things that people go through.

"It's dangerous.

They're picking pockets, and if they fail, it could be life or death. If you pick an adventurer's pocket once and get caught, you could be in for a real hard time... and I've heard rumors that they can be unforgiving, maiming or even killing.

'Cause it's wrong.

It is wrong. But there's no one to take care of them, and there's no law that says they have to die on their stomachs. There is no world in which a child can be given a proper job, and even if there were, it would not be a big enough bowl to fill the hungry bellies of all the orphans here in Sirtus.

"Square!

I take another bite of apple and look at them. Their gaunt faces, their ragged clothes, the unpleasant smell of the slums.

"No big bowls.

No bowl is big enough to feed all the orphans, not Sirtus, not Deckard. Even if the children cry out that it's wrong, if they don't want to die, the orphans will go back to picking people's pockets.

"Tub!

I tossed a few apples to the orphans and disappeared into the crowd.

"I'm not that kind of vessel.

It was just a small act of compassion to temporarily fill their hungry stomachs, and however bad it may make you feel, they're hungry first. So, they'll use it to get a meal, and then they'll use it to pickpocket.

"Good or evil.

I hadn't really thought about it, and I could see why Serghen thought less of himself. Everywhere you go, there are beggars, lions, and children who collapse from hunger. A world where you had to be ready to draw your sword at any moment to defend your property or your food.

"Ha."

As you ride to the witch's house, you watch the sun set over a small hill. Since becoming a chamberlain, I've been given no orders, just a stamp on my face and off I go. Boring if you will, but when I look out at the various pickpocketing children on my way home from work, it's a life a hundred times better than the one I had before. At least my stomach was always full of food.

"I could have used some cheap grass porridge.

Sometimes I was given a strange mixture of cold gruel by the seekers at religious meetings, and I always kept a dagger in my left hand in case it was taken away.

"Bread and apple stew today.

Slowly, she added apples, shredded carrots, and potatoes to the cauldron, sifting through the stewing powder. Soon the witch's house smelled fragrant with food, and she sliced bread from the bakery and set it down.

"Ding, ding, ding!

Night guests are not welcome anywhere. I finish cooking and am about to sit down when I hear a knock at the door.

"Shhh.

A habit of life in the back streets, I slowly walked to the door, hand on the dagger sheathed at my waist, listening to the unfamiliar knock.

"Are you there?"

A strange man asked. The house already smells like food, and the lanterns are shining brightly, as if to announce the presence of people.

"Who are you?"

The man's cultured voice breaks the hungry night's sleep, and he answers with a slight ragged breath, his collar flapping in the wind as if he's been running.

"My name is Huram, I live in a village not far from here."

"Ding!

I grabbed the doorknob, combed the latch, and pulled it free. Slowly, I look up into his face.

"The village is a long way out, isn't it?"

"The village, yes. I work for a vigilante group licensed by the estate there."

He pushes his stiff pointed black hat deeply down on his head, as if to announce his vigilante status.

"...Is this a long story?"

I didn't like talking to him.

"Not really...a long story, but I think we should go inside and talk."

"Why?"

"Because it's a story that needs to be told."

I didn't see any annoyance in his demeanor or expression. If you're not bothered by someone else's story, it's almost like you have a crush on them or them on you. Or...it could be the complete opposite.

"Come on in."

I ushered him in, knowing that letting either of them leave would be something I'd regret later.

"Whoa, thanks."

"You can hang your jacket over there."

I pointed to the jacket rack and pulled out a chair for him to sit in.

"You've been...eating?"

He lowered his head briefly, as if he was a little rude.

"You said it was important to talk to me, so it must be urgent for you to come here on a night like this."

"Yes."

He removed his vigilante hat and set it down on the table.

"I beg your pardon, but what is your name?"

"...My name is Tyr."

"Do you know of Elisha?"

I could see in his face that he was going through a validation process to trust me. Elisha, a witch, and therefore he seemed even more focused on making sure I was indeed Tyr.

"You're talking about the Libra of Condemnation."

My body jerked toward him.

"It's a message from Elisha."

How she couldn't come, and what she had to tell me instead.

"I'm told you're acquainted with Elisha, and with Ceredor."

He certainly looked like he belonged in a coven.

"Yes."

"Let me tell you, from now on, this house will be closed, and you will be expected to rely on Count Sirtus in the future."

I could say nothing to that.

"Was there any other message besides that?"

"Not much."

He shook his head, but there was a momentary hesitation in his eyes.

"What is the situation with the Libra of Condemnation now?"

"...Even if I were to tell you a story, I don't think it would do you any good, Tyr."

He made an impatient attempt to lift his vigilante hat, but my hand quickly stopped him.

"I want to hear it."

"If you do hear it, you'll be deeply involved and in great danger."

"And you were told not to tell me this information?"

"...Yes."

"Then I'll leave it to your personal choice, Mr. Hurlam. If it ended up this way, wouldn't it be a greater risk if I moved to learn the secret of the Libra of Condemnation?"

"That is a personal choice, sir, and has nothing to do with my duty."

He is irrelevant to me, which means that even if I were in danger, he would only have to fulfill his role.

"And as a recommendation, stay out of the witches' business."

The lantern flickered in the breeze, sending goosebumps up the small of his back and shaking the shadows.

"Elisa is my lover."

I wondered if I could say it out loud, but right now I wanted to know how much danger Elisa was in, so I cowardly told her the lie she refused to hear.

"...You'll have to wait for another time."

"Mr. Hurlam."

I turned to stop him as he hastily finished his message and turned to leave.

"I haven't heard the whole story yet, and I can't let you go."

"Please don't, it's pretty dangerous right now."

I'd noticed the haste with which he'd come to me in the night, and the urgency of his steps and breathing when we'd first met, under the guise of a vigilante.

"We're being followed.

He had come to me, desperate to finish Elisha's message. Even now, he would be hunted. But.

"Could you at least be brief?"

"I am so sorry, Mr. Tyr."

I felt a slight pulse of mana from his hand. I feel it release the force in my wrist.

"Bang!

His concealed dagger clatters to the floor, and he pushes his vigilante hat back down on his head as he turns to walk out.

"You did not come here before today, and you must not come here after tomorrow. That's all I ask of you. Until then."

With that final salute, he grabs the doorknob and stares for a moment at the shadowy window beside him.

"Oh."

He looks at me.

"Run..."

"Kwaaaaaaang!!!!

The door crashes open, and inside, a few shadows move about, echoing the sound of iron footsteps, as if all my fears are coming true.

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