Chapter 9 The Custom Of Hospitality

The village chief let out a sigh of relief at Sylas's words. At least it meant he would be spared for now. However, at the same time, a surge of anger rose within him.

'Pay the price? This insolent brat…!'

The thought that a young boy, barely out of childhood, would dare speak of repercussions to him, the village chief, was infuriating. He wanted nothing more than to shout back and dismiss the nonsense. However, escaping from here was his priority.

"Of course, the first option. It's my fault this has happened—how could I resent you for it? I've realized it's all the consequences of my past wrongdoings."

Tears welled up in the chief's eyes as if he had genuinely repented. It was a performance convincing enough to deceive anyone. Sylas stared at him for a moment, then lightly nodded and pointed toward the village with his stick.

"Alright, I'll trust you. I'll spare you, so go on."

"Th-thank you! May the goddess bless your merciful heart!"

The village chief bowed his head to Sylas several times before running back to the village. As he put some distance between himself and the hut, his expression changed. The tears vanished, replaced by a face twisted in rage.

'Just you wait, boy! Before today is over, I'll have you kneeling before me, begging for mercy!'

Grinding his teeth audibly, the chief disappeared over the hill. Watching him go, a cold smile formed on Sylas's lips.

"You've chosen the second option. Then, you'll pay the price."

Back at the hut, Sylas explained the situation in detail to Roderick. The basement was well soundproofed, so he hadn't been able to hear everything that had transpired.

"These wretched bastards!"

Roderick fumed upon hearing the full story. Even if there had been a real debt, charging excessive interest alone would have been cruel. But to fabricate a debt entirely and keep someone bound for life? It was beyond wicked.

"I will never forgive them!"

"Calm down, Roderick."

"How can I possibly stay calm?"

Despite Sylas's attempt to calm him, Roderick couldn't contain his anger.

"That scoundrel tried to frame you for something you didn't owe, and despite you sparing him, he still had the nerve to threaten you with future regrets!"

The more he thought about it, the more furious he became. He had suspected as much when they were first attacked, but now it was clear that the entire village was corrupt to the core. Unlike the enraged Roderick, Sylas could only manage a bitter smile.

"I'm not worried about myself, but I am concerned for you. The village chief isn't the type to make empty threats, so something will likely happen before the day is over."

"If that old man returns with others, then I'll fight too!"

Roderick declared boldly, ready to die in battle rather than allow harm to come to his lord's kin. However, Sylas shook his head.

"Stop. Aren't you my guest? Allow me to protect you according to the custom of hospitality. Otherwise, how could I face my mother after death?"

"...!"

The custom of hospitality—one of the sacred traditions—dictated that a host must do their utmost to treat and protect their guests. Failing to uphold it would be the ultimate dishonor. However, it was rare for people to truly observe this custom.

Even among nobles who valued honor, if a powerful individual demanded they hand over a guest, they would often comply. Commoners, naturally, were even less bound by it. After all, Roderick himself had been robbed despite arriving as a guest.

'Yet, to think someone raised among commoners would uphold the tradition so thoroughly.'

What an honorable person this was. It was a virtue seldom seen even among nobility.

"Understood. But if you find yourself in danger, I will still intervene. It is my duty to ensure your safety."

"Stopping you from doing so would be asking for disloyalty, so I won't object."

With Sylas's permission granted, Roderick clenched his fist. If that village chief did come back, he wouldn't let it slide.

The young master may have spared him even after his threats, but Roderick wasn't so forgiving.

At that moment, Roderick noticed a wooden stick in the corner.

"Young master, what is that wooden stick for?"

"Oh, I used it to chase away wild animals. Don't mind it."

Sylas smiled as he pushed the stick further into the corner. Roderick looked puzzled, glancing in the direction where the stick disappeared.

Judging by the fresh blood on it, had he perhaps used it to fend off a fox or something?

'But for that, it seems a little too fresh…'