Becoming a Church Knight of the Church of the Morning Light often required enduring inhuman training and challenges, which was precisely why these knights could look down on ordinary territorial knights.
Sitting beside Croy was another young knight named Garnal. Having only recently become a Church Knight, he had accompanied Captain Seth on this trip purely to broaden his horizons.
Hearing Croy's words, he frowned and said with a hint of pity, “If his right hand was severed, doesn't that mean he won't be able to hold a sword for the rest of his life?”
For a knight, the right hand that held the sword was as precious as life itself. Having it severed meant they could never hold a sword again, and could never again be a knight.
Many knights would rather die than drag out a dishonorable existence.
Croy glanced at him and spat.
“Serves him right! It was merciful of the captain not to kill him. He should be deeply grateful that only his right hand was severed.” With that, he turned to Seth and said flatteringly, “Don't you agree, Captain?”
As the carriage rolled along, the road grew slightly smoother. The spires of the lord's manor loomed closer, their edges bathed in a dreamlike golden mist under the morning light.
Seth clearly had no desire to dwell on the subject. He waved his hand and said, “Let's drop it. We're almost at the territory. Let's go meet our Lady Saintess.”
...
The ground of the plaza in the slums was paved with uneven old stone slabs, with dry weeds growing from the neglected cracks. A long table for distributing bread stood in the center of the plaza, with a long queue snaking before it.
A young boy named Zane stood in an open space at the edge of the plaza. He wore an old, faded coat with sleeves that were a bit too short, revealing a pair of thin wrists.
He stood sideways, using his shoulder to shield his younger sister behind him, worried she might get jostled by the crowd.
His sister clutched his hem tightly, her knuckles turning white. She only came up to his chest, and her hair was tied into a messy braid with loose strands sticking out, looking as though it had been hastily thrown together before they left.
“Sister, this is it,” Zane said, turning his head to explain. “This is where they distribute the bread.”
His sister peeked out from behind him, eyeing the distribution table with a mix of curiosity and caution.
“Is this really the place?”
Zane nodded. “Yes. Usually, the Saintess distributes the bread here herself. She must have had some business today, so the steward of the lord's manor took over.”
The steward was a middle-aged man in his fifties. His clothes were bright and neat, instantly setting him apart from the coarse, hemp garments worn by the slum dwellers.
Hearing Zane's voice, he looked up and said, continuing his work, “Oh, if it isn't Zane. What brings you and your sister here today?”
Zane smiled and replied, “My sister has been wanting to see the Saintess with her own eyes lately, so I brought her along. It's a pity the Saintess doesn't seem to be here today...”
The steward nodded, handing a wrapped loaf of bread to a person in line. “Yeah, you're out of luck. The Saintess is at the lord's manor today, apparently waiting for some people sent by the Church of the Morning Light. Who knows what they're doing in our territory.”
With that, he straightened up and looked Zane up and down. “Speaking of which, you're almost of age, aren't you?”
“Another half a year and I will be.”
The steward sighed with emotion. “Time flies. You were only twelve or thirteen when I first met you, and now you're almost an adult. Once you're officially of age, you can sign a formal contract.”
“That way, your wages at the tavern will go up quite a bit. You won't have to worry about three meals a day anymore, and your sister can go learn a trade.”
His voice was slow, but it seemed to possess a certain magic that made Zane's lips curl upward as visions of a beautiful future flooded his mind.
After their parents passed away, Zane and his sister had their home seized by so-called relatives and were driven from the residential district to the slums. To keep himself and his sister alive, the twelve-year-old Zane had started working.
Many places wouldn't hire underage children, but the steward, who owned a tavern, took pity on him and hired him to bus tables. Although the wages weren't high, it was enough to keep him and his sister fed.
Once he came of age, he could officially join the tavern staff. By then, he would have some spare money to let his sister learn a trade, or perhaps she could even catch the eye of the lord's manor and be hired as a maid.
A bright future was finally within reach!
At that thought, Zane nearly laughed out loud. He was deeply grateful to the steward; after all, everything he had now was thanks to this man.
Just as he was about to voice his gratitude, a sudden, sharp argument broke out in the distance.
“Get out of the way! Do filthy commoners like you even deserve free food?!”
Crack!
A horse whip cracked through the air, sending the once-quiet crowd into an instant panic.
The steward quickly put down the bread and walked toward the commotion, frowning as he asked with a hint of anger, “What's going on here?”
Looking ahead, he saw a gaunt man clad in the standard light armor of the Church, looking down on an elderly woman who had been shoved to the ground. The loaf of bread she had been holding had rolled away, covered in dirt.
Croy's gaze bypassed the old woman and landed on the steward. He asked coldly, “Are you the one in charge here?”
The steward's heart sank the moment he saw the light armor, knowing trouble had arrived. However, he did not back down, nodding instead. “I am temporarily the one in charge...”
Croy raised a finger and pointed vaguely at the queue behind him. “Then do you know that you lot are blocking my path?”
Blocking his path?
The steward glanced around. This was the plaza of the slums—open on all sides with a clear view. How could they possibly be blocking any path?
The man was clearly looking for trouble!
The steward fell silent for a moment before asking, “And you are?”
Croy sneered, looking down at him as he tapped his light armor. “Don't recognize this armor? Are you a local? Look closely—this armor is from the Church of the Morning Light, and I am a Church Knight!”
The steward had already guessed his identity and only wanted to confirm it. Having received a definite answer, he quickly put on a fake smile and said, “Ah, so you are a lord knight from the Church. May I ask what brings you to our humble territory?”
Croy grew impatient. “Are you playing dumb or are you actually stupid? I said, you people distributing food here are blocking my path and wasting my time. Shouldn't you compensate me?”
Having said that, he rubbed his thumb and index finger together. The steward slapped his forehead and offered an apologetic smile. “Look at me, getting old and forgetful. Compensation is indeed due. May I ask how much you require, my lord?”
“Not much. Three gold coins.”
The steward's breath hitched. “Three gold coins? That's...”
That was half a year's worth of his wages. Even for him, it was an incredibly painful sum.
More importantly, he couldn't possibly produce three gold coins on the spot.
Croy saw through his embarrassment. He scanned their surroundings and scoffed self-mockingly, “Can't pay? Heh, figures. You bunch of beggars wouldn't have any money to compensate me. I was a fool to waste my time on you.”
With that, he pointed into the crowd. “How about this? I am a very generous man. If you let her come with me to learn the doctrines of the Church, I'll forgive you this once.”
Following his finger, the crowd parted, leaving Zane's younger sister standing alone in the clearing, utterly bewildered.
Rate on N.U.
