The Shame of Shatren (5)

Barak's dumbstruck expression told me what the status window would have. It was telling me that this was, indeed, the right answer.

Compiling all the reactions I'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠seen while playing through this game, I had managed to piece together exactly what Barak had intended by handing over that milk.

"I see. So this was a test of me. A rather cleverly laid one, at that."

"...!!"

Another tremor ran through Barak's eyes.

I made it clear, once and firmly, that I had no intention of withdrawing from this place.

"It'd be best to bring it to her while it's still warm, so give the order right here and now. Take that milk to Delphina immediately."

I waved him off with a flick of my palm, signaling him to hurry along. Barak swallowed hard, then—

"...As you command."

Without even a word of excuse, he bowed his head, opened the door, and stepped outside to carry out my orders.

It didn't take long before Barak returned empty-handed and gave a small nod toward the door. Several figures filed into the chief's house behind him.

That scene meant the answer had been correct.

"We will gladly accept whatever punishment our rudeness deserves. When word suddenly reached us that the young lord had become the lord of Rusmayer, we simply could not bring ourselves to believe it."

"Well, I suppose that's fair. It would have been strange. If the man claiming to be the new lord of Rusmayer knew nothing of the land's customs or traditions—nothing even of a disease that's common knowledge in the neighboring territory—that would be odd, wouldn't it?"

"No, my lord. The number of people who know of this disease is vanishingly small. I cannot fathom how you came to know of it... If you had investigated separately, someone from the Vagrand ducal house would have come, but no one ever did..."

Barak still wore the expression of a man who couldn't wrap his head around it.

If I told him Camilla was the one who told me, he'd jump clean out of his skin.

The mere fact that Camilla—who had once managed this very territory for the Deol family—was now a maid of House Vagrand would already be enough to shock him.

Anyway.

This test had sprung from suspicion toward Karsein, a man who had become a territorial lord out of nowhere.

Surely it wasn't suspicion alone—they'd likely been looking for an excuse to question my fitness as a lord on the grounds that I didn't know this much. I had seen a bad ending triggered by choosing differently before, which was why I could read this situation from every angle.

"So, is the test over now?"

"Yes, my lord. However, the punishment should fall on me alone—"

"Forget it. I already know the nearby nobles used you all, so some suspicion was to be expected."

"..."

Did I go too far?

Having his blind spot pierced in a single stroke, Barak clamped his mouth shut. Nothing for it. I would have to take the reins of the conversation myself.

"More importantly—who are they?"

"Ah, yes. These are the leading young men from the villages under Rusmayer's care."

The young men bowed in turn, introducing themselves by village and name. Every one of them hailed from a village within Rusmayer Territory.

The fact that they were only being brought in now meant, as Barak had admitted, that he had been testing me.

"So that's why the children gave me four of Rusmayer's tokens... I had no idea you'd been observing me that closely. I apologize."

Bowing his head one final time, Barak confessed that until moments ago, he had not entirely withdrawn his suspicion.

Discarding the insane options like how dare you look down on me, I picked a reasonable one and spoke.

"Everyone, have a seat first. There's something I need to say as well."

The young men representing each village took their places.

And then came a scene I already knew by heart.

"Is it truly the case that you have come to govern our territory?"

The first question was whether it was really true that Rusmayer had been placed in Karsein's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hands.

"It is. I paid the sum directly to the Imperial Family and received certification as lord."

"Good heavens."

"So Kiyan was telling the truth..."

"Our Rusmayer, and..."

A faint chorus of sighs escaped them.

Were those sighs laced with celebration? No. They were not.

"Forgive me for saying so, but please keep your hands off our governance. Young Lord Karsein."

"We wanted to belong to a house, but nothing beyond that."

"We will repay what you've given us. If you intend to collect taxes, we'll scrape together that much under imperial law, however long it takes. So please—leave the direct governance to us."

Even in the very situation they had prayed for, Rusmayer did not want Karsein—in another sense entirely.

The reason was simple. Simple enough that even I could guess it easily.

"We do not ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠want to become like Shatren Territory."

The story of Shatren, ruined by Karsein Vagrand, was widely known in every surrounding village.

Shatren had enjoyed prosperity year after year thanks to its rare specialty crops—and then, in a single stroke, it had been crushed into the dirt. Who in their right mind would welcome such a man as their lord? However desperate things became, people would choose the lesser evil over the worst.

The options appeared without missing a beat, ranging from instant tickets to the afterlife—dead flags—to ones that merely looked ambiguous.

Just from reading them, one could gauge exactly how deep the people of Rusmayer's distrust of Karsein ran.

It wasn't merely distrust. It was distrust laced with wariness—fear, even.

The right answer here is option 8. I share information that not only the Modrich Count family, but other houses are lying in wait to seize this land—and in exchange, I buy the statue that serves as the symbol of Rusmayer.

As the options made clear, Karsein could not avoid taking compensation from Rusmayer Territory here.

From these impoverished villages. From this destitute, wretched land.

Only by wrenching compensation from their hands, as if robbing them, would this option disappear. What a vicious set of choices.

And yet, if one thought it through, there was a workaround. Treat it not as seizing the statue but as purchasing it, and funnel the money the ducal house paid Karsein each month back to them as support.

In fact, in the game, I had used exactly this method to help Rusmayer and raise their affinity. By establishing that precedent, I won Rusmayer's trust and proved that—unlike Shatren—this territory could be saved. Working through each step one by one to earn the right to attend the Eastern Noble Conference had only been possible because I had improved this territory's situation even further.

But.

That was the wrong path.

I had seen their wavering eyes with my own. I had seen the glimmer of hope in them—the unspoken wish that someone would help them. And even now, those same eyes stared back at me.

I know it well, because I too once hoped for someone's help.

I can say this with certainty, having been rejected even by my own family. They are hoping, with everything in them, that I will help. They worry because of what happened to Shatren, yet they cannot bring themselves to ask for that help aloud.

Of course, one could call that an overly realistic reading—nothing more than game flavor text—but the numbers said otherwise.

It was no exaggeration at all.

Their affinity had already been rising before the episode even concluded. All of them, carrying some quiet expectation this whole time.

Which is why I do not choose option 8.

"Doesn't that just mean you want me, your lord, to shield you one-sidedly? What exactly is in it for me?"

"Young lord, to interpret our words that way is far too extreme!"

"And we already told you—we'll pay the taxes!"

"Let me correct a serious misunderstanding of yours. I didn't buy this territory for the sake of pocketing a few taxes."

"You have only two choices. One is to accept me as your lord. The other is for the master of this land to vanish once more."

"Wh-what did you say?"

"If you won't look for a better solution to your situation—if you intend to just keep lying there like this—then I have no intention of embracing you either."

At my resolute words, the territory's people began to panic.

Yes. Soothing that weak-hearted desire to lean on someone else was never a healthy way to solve anything.

What they needed was the will to stand.

In this desperate situation, in this crisis, in this hell they were living in—the will to reach out their own hands and climb the steep road themselves.

"I will return at this hour tomorrow. The choice is yours to make. Whether you intend to raise this village back up or not—I will come, see it for myself, and judge."

With that, I walked out of the chief's house.

What had happened to my affinity no longer mattered all that much.

After the door closed, a brief silence settled over the room. Before long, groans began to spill out. And once the groaning subsided, every head bowed low.

One of the representatives spoke up, his voice utterly dispirited.

"Isn't this just giving us a sickness and then selling us the cure? Just when we thought we finally had a lord who would protect our territory, he suddenly issues an order this extreme?"

"It's impossible. Young Lord Karsein clearly has no idea that we lack the strength to stand on our own. And even knowing nothing, he still told us he'd collect every last tax without fail..."

"And yet now he tries to wash his hands of us. Setting aside whether he investigated us or not—this is too harsh. Too cruel."

The village representatives began to deliberate whether they shouldn't go after Karsein right away, when Barak spoke in a low voice.

"...No. This is our fault, not the young lord's."

"Chief Barak?"

"Has Rusmayer not been receiving help one-sidedly all this time? The young lord has every right to demand what is due to him."

"Even so, we remember the fall of Shatren Territory all too well! If our territory collapses entirely through some careless mistake, there will be no turning back from that!"

The other young men nodded in agreement. But Barak alone shook his head.

"Think carefully, all of you. Did the young lord ever once give a reason for why he came to govern this Rusmayer?"

"That is..."

Everyone fell silent.

They hadn't even asked why Karsein had come to govern this territory. Not why he had offered his help, nor what he hoped to gain from it.

"What a thoroughly insolent, addle-brained lot we are. And on top of that, we want to sit under the young lord's protection and take and take. Tell me—how are we any different from those nobles, or those knights who did nothing but play at banditry?!"

The roar rang through the room, and a heavy silence fell over it all.

Smack!

One man finally came to his senses and struck his own cheek. Hard enough to leave his handprint burning red. The rest were no different—staring squarely at the disgrace they had committed, clutching their heads or biting their lips raw.

"And yet... the young lord still gave us a chance."

"A chance...?"

I will return at this hour tomorrow. The choice is yours to make. Whether you intend to raise this village back up or not—I will come, see it for myself, and judge.

Karsein's voice echoed in the minds of every man in that room. And then, nodding to one another, they threw open the door and began to file outside.

That's right. We're the ones who must be first to answer the young lord's question.

As they turned his words over once more, each of them realized what had to be done.

.

.

.

Meanwhile, as Karsein boarded his carriage to return to the ducal estate, a girl came running toward him, gasping for breath.

"Young looord—! Wait, pleeease—! Haah, haah."

I didn't know every resident of this village, but the girl's silhouette somehow looked familiar. As the distance closed bit by bit, I could make out who she was.

That's... Diena, isn't it?

I had no idea why she was rushing toward me like this. But if something had happened in the territory, perhaps she'd have word of it. Karsein stopped mid-step toward the carriage and set his foot back on the ground.

"Thank goodness...! Whew, I'm out of breath..."

Karsein had been about to ask ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠what was wrong, but seeing Diena catch her breath, he realized it was nothing urgent. If something had truly erupted in the territory, she would have blurted it out even in this gasping state.

Then it was nothing serious. Waiting for her to catch her breath posed no problem at all.

"You're leaving already? It seemed like you hadn't finished looking around our village yet... Please stay a while longer!"

Stay a while longer, she said. Karsein wanted to, God knew he did.

If he lingered here, he could learn more about each village's character and gather further intelligence on Rusmayer. The episode had been moved up, so some things differed from what he already knew, and he could have pinned those details down more precisely. There were other preparations to make as well, ones he could get a head start on—saving time in every possible way and clearing away unstable elements with ease.

But now was the time to go. As the danger rating indicated, lingering any longer in this territory was a risk.

And yet.

...Huh?

At the window that had popped up right beside him, Karsein's eyes went wide.