Chapter 25
Chapter 25
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: The Child Who Doesn't Cry
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Faint moonlight illuminated the rundown house.
In the quiet night when everyone was asleep, a small voice leaked out from there.
"What's wrong? Come here."
The woman who had woken from sleep embraced the sobbing child with a tender smile.
"...I had a scary dream."
The child burrowed into his mother's arms, shedding tears drop by drop.
Feeling the child's body heat, she realized there were advantages even to their cramped, shabby home where they huddled together.
"It's okay. Brave children don't cry."
The man lying on his side stroked the hair of the child in his wife's arms.
Feeling the warm touch of his parents' hands, the child gradually stopped crying.
The woman lifted the child from her embrace and cupped his small face, wiping away the tears with her thumb.
"Our baby has so many tears, what are we going to do? Didn't you hold them back yesterday?"
"My tears aren't that many! Yesterday Jason pinched me so I cried, and today it was because of the scary dream!"
The child pouted and burrowed back into his mother's arms. The man patted the child's back and exchanged smiles with his wife.
A peaceful night, no different from any other.
The thunderous roar that shattered that comfort came just as they were about to fall into deep sleep.
Kwaaang!
A explosion like thunder shook their peaceful night.
"Darling!"
The woman bolted upright and looked at the man, her face pale with fright. The man's face was equally ashen as he rose.
After the explosion came horrific screams.
Not just one or two.
Something terrible had happened in the village.
They hurriedly threw on outer garments and rushed outside.
The child, with an anxious expression, was held in the man's arms.
Looking outside toward the source of the sound, a crimson blaze was sweeping in from afar.
The once-quiet village was filled with unfamiliar noises.
"...What in the world?"
In an instant, they realized the rapid approach of hooves pounding the ground.
The child, gripped by fear, burst into tears.
But this time, it wasn't a dream.
"Run, now!"
A man running from afar shouted from the edge of the darkness. Trailing him were flames floating in the air.
Knights holding torches.
A silver flash gleamed in the thick darkness.
The fleeing man spewed blood and collapsed on the spot.
"Run!"
Seeing this, the man shouted to his wife. He ran holding the child, and the woman stuck close by his side.
Screams echoed from all directions without end.
Their minds were in chaos.
No time to think about what was happening.
Just the thought of escaping this place.
They ran to distance themselves from the approaching threat. But they didn't know where to go.
They simply fled from the screams and the sound of hooves.
They darted through alleys, zigzagging every which way. Death was closing in from all sides.
Kwachik!
Then, an arrow lodged into the back of the fleeing man.
"Kuh!"
Letting out a short groan, the man staggered. Fearing the child would be hurt, he forced his collapsing body upright, swaying unsteadily.
Another arrow pierced his back like a sprouting shoot. The man toppled forward, still holding the child.
"Daddy!"
The child pinned beneath cried out. In that moment, the woman beside them threw herself over him.
A mounted knight passed by their side and drew his sword.
Blood spurted from the end of the silver arc.
The woman's back, collapsed over the child, was dyed deep red.
"...."
The child's eyes shook violently as he lay pinned to the ground.
The child froze, unable to even make a sound. He seemed not to know what to do in the face of his parents' deaths.
Tears welled up in his eyes and flowed down powerlessly.
The woman covered the child with her body. Then, stroking his hair, she whispered softly.
"Shh... Don't cry, baby. You must never cry."
She pressed down on the surging blood, soothing the child as if nothing was wrong.
Was it her wish that reached him?
Thankfully, the child did not cry.
A relieved smile formed on her lips as silent tears streamed from her eyes.
She gently patted the child as if lulling him to sleep.
The rhythm of her patting slowed gradually.
Her touch, growing faint, eventually faded away without strength.
The child, too, lost consciousness right there.
* * *
It was an early morning with the chill air of dawn lingering.
A week had already passed since entering Francia.
We were passing through the highway flanked by the Kterer Mountains.
"Can't we skip a proper breakfast just this once?"
Iriel, who had forced herself up, glared at me.
At some point, we had become able to converse without Allen as an intermediary.
The content of our talks wasn't exactly pleasant, but Allen had clapped enthusiastically, calling it tremendous progress.
To her suggestion, I replied without a moment's hesitation.
"You're not asking because you think that's possible, right?"
"It's just a habit of mine to say it."
"Good thing you're not an idiot."
"What's with that tone? I'm not some old man."
"Stop grumbling and prepare breakfast."
"Yes, yes. Fine."
Contrary to her words, Iriel grumbled as she went to prepare breakfast.
"Ugh, making such a fuss about eating well and living well. If you want a proper breakfast, do it yourself. Always complaining that the pancakes are tough, the soup is salty—always so much to say."
My eyebrows twitched involuntarily at her muttering while roughly handling the utensils.
I couldn't just let that slide, so I called out to Allen, who was still half-asleep, in a gentle voice.
"Allen."
"Ah, yes!"
Startled awake, Allen looked at me.
I nodded toward the grumbling Iriel.
Allen jumped up and led Iriel aside, coaxing and soothing her.
Managing subordinates is best left to middle management; if the superior steps in directly, it only undermines dignity.
It's called delegation.
A short while later, Iriel returned with her lips pursed and began preparing breakfast.
Now we could finally have a quiet morning.
I nodded in satisfaction.
"You seemed to know well the problems with your cooking earlier, so pay extra strict attention to today's meal. We should enjoy the journey, shouldn't we?"
Having offered advice for a better breakfast without holding back, I turned my gaze to the book in my hand.
It was a book titled *101 Ways to Truly Enjoy a Long Journey*.
"We should just burn that book."
Iriel let out a deep sigh.
"Huh? Isn't that smoke rising over there?"
Allen, who was helping Iriel, pointed to the distance.
Gray clouds were rising from the midpoint of a distant mountain. The distance had kept it from our sight until now.
Allen tilted his head.
"Was there a village over there?"
"Probably slash-and-burn farmers."
Iriel answered.
The number of citizens fleeing cities due to the tyranny of those in power was steadily increasing.
Such people either escaped to foreign lands to live as lowly commoners or eked out a living by clearing fields in the mountains.
A harsh life wherever they went.
They were staking their lives on a better hell.
"Somehow feels ominous..."
Allen trailed off. Slash-and-burn folk who needed to hide their homes wouldn't light such a large fire.
"We'll go check it out. Pack up."
I closed the book and stood.
We quickly packed and headed toward the smoke. The terrain wasn't too rugged, so we could ride up.
Pushing through dense underbrush for a while, we caught a faint smell of soot carried on the wind, mingled with the scent of blood.
Our ominous premonition was turning real.
How far had we gone?
We arrived at a small village burned completely black. It was so tiny it barely qualified as a village, but it seemed they had settled there quite some time ago.
At the village entrance, several heads dangled like fruit from the trees. Beside them, a long cloth listed their crimes.
It said that those living in the territory without paying taxes were no different from bandits, so all were executed with extreme punishment.
At the end was the name of the one who had ordered it.
-Vitero Chezen, Baron.
"Let's go in."
Entering the village, all the houses were burned down, and corpses littered the streets.
It was the second such sight since coming to the Valencia continent.
The village where I met Aidheal had been like this too.
"How could something like this..."
Iriel covered her mouth and swallowed the rest.
She knew such incidents happened frequently across Francia, but the difference between hearing about it and seeing it firsthand was greater than imagined.
Without averting my eyes from the carnage, I said,
"Search for survivors. Enemies might still be around, so stick together in pairs."
We split into two groups to search for survivors.
The village was small, so it wouldn't take long.
I slowly surveyed the streets strewn with the dead.
Time seemed to flow backward, the events unfolding before my eyes.
The corpses on the ground and the marks around them spoke to me.
People fleeing a sudden raid, pursued by cavalry.
After the mounted ones swept through once, infantry followed to mop up.
Last night's terror and screams had left clear traces.
"Lord Jenes!"
Hearing my name, I followed the voice.
There, Iriel was holding a child.
He seemed unconscious.
Beside him were the bodies of a man and woman who appeared to be his parents. The child, covered by their corpses, seemed to have survived.
"Set up camp in the forest and tend to the child."
I sent Iriel off first.
Allen and I stayed in the village; we had work to do.
·
·
·
A short while later, flames rose from the village center.
The pile of corpses was engulfed in fierce fire.
I quietly watched the raging blaze.
*How many more must die from now on?*
I had no answer.
Even now, unjust deaths were likely occurring somewhere.
I slowly turned my eyes from the flames.
Yet their deaths lingered in my mind, uttering cries of resentment.
"He's just woken up."
Going to Iriel, she was feeding the now-conscious child some porridge. The thin, grubby child had clear whites in his eyes.
"...Thank you for helping me."
The child said in a tiny, hoarse voice. I nodded in response and sat on a tree stump.
"What now?"
Allen asked, inquiring about our destination.
The answer was set.
"We're going to Chezen."
At my words, Iriel shot me an anxious look. The meaning was clear.
*What are you going to do there?*
Allen read it and replied.
"Don't worry. We just have to trust Lord Jenes."
It was unquestioning, blind faith.
Since witnessing me annihilate the bandit horde firsthand, he had shown unwavering belief.
Iriel nodded with an uneasy expression.
In the brief silence, the child cautiously spoke.
"...What happens to me now?"
"We'll take you somewhere safe, so no need to worry. Right?"
Iriel, soothing the child, looked to Allen. Allen scanned the map and said,
"There's an orphanage run by our side on the way, so we can drop you off there."
"See? You'll have lots of friends there. No need to worry about that."
Iriel comforted the child with a kindness I'd never seen before.
I was honestly surprised she could make that face and speak like that.
What on earth had happened in those ten years?
"...Thank you."
The child said softly.
In his slightly relieved eyes, I saw an empty void.
He seemed young enough not to understand the situation, but apparently not.
The child seemed to grasp his parents' deaths and the loss of his home better than anyone.
Yet, for some reason, the child did not cry.