Chapter 41
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 41
After hearing Patrick’s words, Swallow lifted his left arm. A bracelet set with a vermilion gemstone sparkled in the sunlight. It was the second Demeura Patrick had given him—a piece of jewelry he utterly resented.
“Didn’t you say you’d leave immediately if you had a Demeura?”
“……Didn’t you say this was expensive?”
“I said it was expensive. I never said I only had one.”
“If you have several, where on earth did you get them?”
“I found them.”
Is he really going to keep pushing that excuse?
I want to go back. I’m already exhausted. All sorts of distracting thoughts tangled in his mind, but there was no turning back now.
Swallow straightened his slumped shoulders and looked up. The walls of Hastin were drawing closer.
*
“Boss, there are four simple ways to tell how lively a human town is,” Patrick suddenly said as they walked through the streets of Hastin.
When Swallow offered a half-hearted grunt in response, Patrick simply continued walking until he stopped in the Hastin marketplace.
“First, how bustling the market is.”
The market was empty. Numerous shops lined both sides of the street, packed tightly together, but the number of open ones could be counted on one hand. The street stalls, or vendors, had long since vanished. Even accounting for the late hour, the lack of human presence was severe.
The few shops that were open didn’t seem interested in actually selling anything, and not a single one sold food.
In short, they were barely hanging on out of a sense of obligation.
“Second, how much smoke rises from the hearths…… but you have to check for that about two hours before dinnertime. We missed our chance today.”
Even so, he didn’t have high expectations for that metric.
When they had climbed the hill with the witch Graphenia, they had seen for themselves that no smoke was rising.
Cold hearths meant the food supply wasn't flowing smoothly. It might seem like an over-interpretation, but in this situation, the guess was likely spot on.
‘The empty market alone is enough to be certain.’
In a town centered around agriculture, the fact that no bread was being baked was clear evidence that food distribution had failed.
Perhaps they were all wary of one another. When everyone was struggling for food, there was nothing to be gained by showing off your supplies.
Additionally, Patrick realized something else while walking through the streets of Hastin.
The residents weren't just wary of outsiders—the ‘knight and the beggar following him.’
The residents were, without exception, wary of each other. That was likely why most of them were holed up in their homes.
“What do you think, Boss?”
Having finished his thoughts, Patrick turned his head.
Swallow, who had been staggering along behind him, slightly lifted his bowed head. Periodically mumbling, “I’m hungry… I’m tired…” he looked no different than an Undead.
“Boss, you might as well just be an Undead.”
“……What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
Let’s just be grateful he followed me this far.
After a moment of self-convincing, Patrick sighed and added, “Third is how many mercenaries and Subjugation Squad members are at the Subjugation Agency…… but that only applies to regions with many Dungeons nearby, so it’s irrelevant to Hastin. And finally, it’s this place.”
As he finished speaking, Patrick stopped walking. Only then did Swallow’s soulless eyes sparkle with hope.
“A tavern.”
The end of the road. An orange light spilled from the tavern's interior, illuminating Swallow's face. The door wasn't latched, which meant they were open for business.
“A tavern is similar to a market. While the market represents the territory's…… are you listening?”
“O-Oh…….”
Patrick turned his head and glanced at Swallow. The bright light from within seemed to breathe life back into Swallow's dying eyes.
He had the classic look of a man who'd just been saved. The so-called strongest Ancient Monster looked like a man who'd been stranded in the desert for days, even though they'd only been walking for one.
“Let’s rest, Patrick. Let’s just rest here…….”
“I intended to stay here anyway, since the sun is setting. Go on in, Boss. However, you shouldn’t expect much—”
Whether he wasn't listening or was simply lost in a delirium of fatigue, Swallow pushed open the tavern door. Faint light and warm air enveloped him.
Three seconds passed.
Swallow’s expression, which had been bright for a fleeting moment, slowly sank into despair.
“Ah…….”
“See? I told you not to expect much.”
Patrick caught Swallow with one hand as he was about to collapse, finishing his sentence in a flat tone.
If you couldn't hear any noise from outside, how could there possibly be customers inside?
“This is the worst.”
The tavern was silent. Naturally, not a single customer could be found.
From the outside, it looked like a quiet village, but it had completely failed to function as a town.
Patrick muttered to himself.
He would have to check for more details tomorrow, but it was highly likely that the town of Hastin had been isolated. The exchange of goods with the outside world might have been completely cut off.
The secondary damage—Hastin being shunned by the lords of other regions—was likely far greater than the direct damage Swallow had caused by destroying part of the town.
“Are you from out of town?”
As he supported the mentally exhausted Swallow, a gravelly voice called out.
As if they had rehearsed it, Patrick and Swallow turned their heads at the same time. At their reaction, the man descending from the upper floor frowned slightly.
He had a fierce look about him, as if he'd never heard of etiquette or honorifics, further emphasized by his tanned skin, bulging muscles, and short white hair that suited him well. Seeing as he was wearing a sleeveless shirt ill-suited for the outdoors, he was likely the proprietor.
It was obvious he was the shopkeeper. He continued his questioning.
“……Where are you people from?”
“I am a knight belonging to the Pitari-on Black Hound Subjugation Squad from Netranje.”
“Hmm.”
When Patrick answered, stringing together names he'd heard before, the shopkeeper stroked his short beard. He then stared at the two of them in silence.
His gaze was different for each of them. When he looked at Swallow, it was with blatant bewilderment.
At the man's meaningful reaction, Swallow and Patrick glanced at each other. Patrick nodded as if he understood, while Swallow, still failing to grasp the situation, just furrowed his brow.
“Excuse me, Sir Knight, but the person next to you……”
After some hesitation, the shopkeeper spoke. Patrick replied while patting Swallow on the back.
“Ah, he’s a slave.”
“……Huh?”
The sound came from Swallow’s mouth.
A momentary silence. Swallow turned his head toward Patrick.
—Patrick, what kind of bullshit is that?
He shot Patrick a fierce glare, but Patrick simply held his head high and poked Swallow in the back with his gauntlet.
Swallow knew Patrick was trying to convey some kind of message, but dazed as he was, and with Patrick avoiding his gaze, there was no way for him to know what it was.
“Hey, Patr—”
“I understand his shabby clothes might be concerning, but I ask for your understanding. The situation is what it is. He's quite helpful to me, so I'm simply giving him the treatment he deserves. I hope you don’t take it too strangely.”
“I see. Since you put it that way, Sir Knight, I am the one who should be sorry. I was just momentarily flustered, not knowing how I should address him.”
The conversation flowed on without Swallow. Swallow, who had been frowning in disapproval, soon lost his battle with fatigue and his eyes began to droop. Only then did Patrick remove his finger from Swallow’s back and question the shopkeeper.
“We need a simple meal and a place to sleep to relieve our fatigue.”
“You came from Netranje, Sir Knight? You must not know much about the situation in Hastin. I’m sorry, but there is no food to serve you. It’s not just our shop. No matter where you go in this town, you won’t find a place that sells food.”
“……Is it because of the ‘Black Disaster’?”
“So you knew. Then I trust you will understand.”
He might have been a naturally polite person, or it might have been the respect he showed because Patrick was a knight. Whatever the reason, the shopkeeper bowed politely.
Despairing at the fact that there was ‘no meal,’ Swallow hung his head low in tandem.
“It can’t be helped if a meal isn’t possible.”
“No, what do you mean it can’t be helped that there’s no food……”
“Do not interrupt when your master is speaking.”
“……Yes, sir.”
Patrick’s delivery was so convincingly that of a master that Swallow backed down.
His expression was filled more with lethargy than humiliation. Patrick glanced at Swallow before speaking to the shopkeeper again.
“Then is it possible to stay the night?”
Perhaps a bit flustered this time, the shopkeeper habitually stroked his beard. The answer came after a brief silence.
“……I am truly sorry, Sir Knight, but the truth is, we aren't prepared for business at all. I only left the door unlatched for personal business. Furthermore, since I can't even serve you a meal, I can't in good conscience give you an unprepared room.”
“Hmm…… I think you can allow it.”
Patrick, speaking abruptly, slowly raised his right hand.
I had a feeling you’d say that.
The town was a wreck. In this state, how much could the innkeeper possibly earn from two guests? And what could he even do with the money? For both of them, it wouldn't amount to more than five Ounces of Silver Coins.
When even a drop of water was precious, five ounces of silver was pocket change. Anyone would refuse. It was a reaction Patrick had more or less expected.
Having finished speaking, Patrick flicked his finger toward the shopkeeper. A small, sparkling object—no one knew when he had taken it out—left Patrick’s hand and soared through the air.
Ting!
At the metallic ring, the shopkeeper reflexively held out both hands and caught the object.
“What’s with the sudden coin…… Huh?”
A moment later, the shopkeeper's voice echoed through the tavern, now several shades higher than before. The shopkeeper stared at the coin as if he'd seen a ghost, then looked back at Patrick. Patrick simply replied with a smile.
“A gold…… coin……?”
“How about it? Feeling a bit more hospitable now?”
*
To state the conclusion first, the power of a gold coin was great. It was a real-time demonstration of a famous saying Patrick often uttered: ‘Most things that can't be bought with money can be bought with more money.’
The place the shopkeeper guided them to was the largest room on the second floor, complete with a balcony that had the best view.
Judging by the two windows and the unnecessarily large space, it was likely a room reserved for special guests.
As soon as they arrived, Swallow threw himself onto the two joined beds. A slight miscalculation sent his ankle into the bedframe with a crack, but the mattress itself easily caught his falling body.
For a town on the periphery, it was a high-quality bed.
‘This is much better than the place I stayed with Melju in Riaze.’
Swallow’s small exclamation echoed from within the blankets where he had buried his face.
“Well then, I shall be out for a moment.”
Patrick, who had been sitting on the edge of the bed, stood up on slightly trembling knees after finishing his usual nagging.
“You get some rest, Boss. I don't need sleep anyway, and staying here would be a waste of time. I'm going to look around a bit more.”
“Patrick, I don’t recommend overdoing it.”
Even in the imperial capital, Riaze, people finished their daily routines by sunset. In a town this troubled, a knight roaming the streets at night would be incredibly suspicious.
“You don’t have to worry, Boss. On the contrary, some places are easier to move through precisely because it's night. If the shopkeeper asks where I am, just tell him I went for a short night walk. If he pries, just glare at him and say, 'It is my master's private business; do not interfere.' You have naturally sharp eyes, Boss. You look scary without even trying.”
Swallow's shoulders twitched at the word 'master' as he rolled over. His complaint-filled eyes turned toward Patrick.
“Now that I think about it, did you really have to go with the slave act earlier?”
“Pardon? Boss, isn't that your most comfortable outfit? If you're going to walk around in those rags, it's far better to be seen as a slave than a beggar.”
At the very least, a slave was property. They had an owner. Their low status made them special in a way—no one could touch them without answering to their master.