Chapter 49
Chapter 49
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 49
Chapter Title: Pilgrim's Progress
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"The transportation and placement of the slaves is complete. We've prioritized assigning them to the area where the school was built. For those who don't know the language, we'll teach them the language at the school first before proceeding with additional mental education."
"Uh-huh."
War prisoners—slaves from foreign lands—are generally assigned to 'other regions.'
If you group slaves who share the same language and homeland together,
there's a risk they'll band together, plot rebellions, or harm other slaves.
The slaves I bought this time were transported according to that principle as well.
From my perspective, it was problematic if the new slaves formed factions and clashed with the existing ones.
"First, we need to interview the slaves in our estate's slave dormitories one by one."
"I'll prepare it."
"And... relay this to the Empire: from now on, no matter how many war prisoners and slaves they capture, we'll buy them all. Just ask them to do the minimum 'quality control' so the goods aren't damaged beyond use. In return, we'll cover all the management costs, so bill us for it."
"...They'll definitely try to overcharge us. Is that okay?"
"The more they overcharge, the more they'll want to keep our trade stable. After all, they'll think they're already scamming us."
In a respectful, equal trading relationship, the moment that respect vanishes, you can abandon the deal and draw your sword at any time.
A merchant turning into a bandit when things don't go their way
isn't all that rare, is it?
The imperial family is a group that can become bandits at any moment. And if the imperial family draws their sword, it's hard for us to cope.
But if they're already scamming us, there's no reason for the imperial family to draw their sword.
Instead of smashing the back of a fool's head who brings in good money,
it's far more profitable to keep trading and suck the straw dry.
"Ahh, I see. Indeed, from the imperial family's perspective, there's no reason to gut the goose that lays the golden eggs. To actively overcharge like this—it's a method I couldn't even imagine. I'm in awe of Your Excellency's foresight."
"...Isn't the Riddle House just too obsessed with making money?"
Even though there's only one carrot.
"No Riddle would leave gold behind. If it's harder for a rich man to enter heaven than for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle, then the Riddle family's business is forging a giant needle from gold to widen that hole."
"Heh."
Right. The Riddles are that kind of house.
That's why I can attempt all these experimental ventures.
Worship of gold.
Earning gold is the Riddle family's virtue.
The prestige of nobility,
the distinction between slaves and freemen,
all lose their shine before the glimmer of yellow gold.
That's why
we can indulge in such extravagance.
"Send really badly damaged slaves to the healing priests. Revive them and sell them at a high price."
"Understood."
.
.
.
Moltke adapted to his new life quickly.
No.
In the sense that it still lacked a sense of reality, calling it 'adaptation' felt wrong.
It was more like happiness had been forcibly hammered into his brain.
"Ahh, this is called rations. For just one talant bill, you get a quality lunch."
"...Pardon?"
"However, rations are only distributed at lunch, so you'll have to buy the other meals with talants yourself."
Delicious meals.
"Tch. Maintain proper order."
"S-Sorry!"
"You are His Excellency's property. Don't act foolishly and tarnish his dignity."
An overseer who got annoyed but didn't hand out overly harsh punishments.
"Oh! Moltke, you didn't come to learn painting again today!"
"...Art teacher."
"Come tomorrow without fail. I've already checked your schedule with the overseer, so no excuses about not being able to make it. In my eyes, you need to learn painting. Your talent for depicting despair is truly special."
"Thank you for the kind words, but..."
"What, are you going to spout that outdated nonsense about slaves and freemen being different? That's the drivel of stupid classicist painters."
A few kind people free of prejudice against slaves.
"......"
This is strange. It feels like I've come to another world.
Maybe when riding the carriage here, I crossed into another world.
No.
Perhaps treating slaves like this is actually the 'normal' way?
Was his homeland truly the 'evil nation' the Empire described, and the Empire a civilized country that even respected slaves' human rights?
He didn't know.
He couldn't comprehend his own situation.
And.
The most incomprehensible thing was something else.
"Who is that? She looks like a priest..."
"She's the personal priest of Lady Goldenwood, the master's fiancée. Occasionally, if a slave has a fatal injury, she bestows healing grace."
"...A priest heals slaves?"
"Yes. It's permitted by the master. However, slaves who fail to protect themselves and dare damage his property have half their future talants withheld at source to repay the debt."
"What does 'withheld at source' mean?"
"...I'm not entirely sure myself. Just think of it as docking half."
Moltke stared blankly
as the priest treated a slave.
Behind the priest reciting the prayer, a halo symbolizing divinity appeared.
This wasn't mere pretense of healing.
She was truly expending divine power to heal the slave.
"Why go this far for a mere slave..."
The church priests believe [The Word became flesh and dwelt among us].
In other words, the Word is divinity itself.
Not a metaphor.
Church priests truly expend the Word to heal people.
"......"
The priest, finishing the treatment, sighed and slumped into a chair.
Then, as if leisurely,
she picked up the prayer book she had been holding and began reading.
The priest's murmuring voice could be heard.
"Lord of healing... You said, 'I have come that they may have life, and have it abundantly'..."
Like someone reading the prayer for the first time,
the priest repeated the prayer aloud several times.
Forgetting.
Forgetting a single Word
was the price of wielding God's authority in a mere human body.
That is why
priests do not heal people recklessly.
"......"
Knowledge is a privilege, and a priest's knowledge is the very link connecting them to the Word.
The more divinity they wield, the further priests drift from God,
and all priests exercise His authority in the fear of possibly 'forgetting God.'
Thus,
the church does not call divine power 'miracles.'
Healing people in God's name is merely authority.
Rather, the price of that authority is too harsh even for those who wish to remain priests forever.
It means to be humble.
The more you borrow His name,
the more you do His works,
the further He distances Himself from you.
You are not God.
Man is not God.
Therefore, man must always be humble before God.
That is what divinity is.
"...Heaven."
This was heaven.
Only then
did Moltke realize the nature of the strange experience he had undergone.
In truth,
he had already died once!
.
.
.
At the very moment the war prisoner shed tears of感動 in heaven,
Matthew was receiving education at the seminary.
Thanks to the school's consideration, Matthew could attend the seminary while hiding his slave status.
The priestly robes covered his slave brand, making it possible.
Of course, removing the robes would reveal the brand, so the seminary provided him a private room.
"Matthew."
"Yes, brother."
"...That professor-like speech of yours never gets easier to hear. I told you to talk casually with fellow students."
"This way of speaking is comfortable for me."
"Anyway, did you hear? Tomorrow's the day for the 'Washing of the Heart' ritual."
"The Washing of the Heart ritual."
"Yeah. Finally, we get to experience the work of 'real priests'!"
The Washing of the Heart ritual. In other words, a rite to cleanse the heart.
A kind of religious ceremony held monthly at the seminary.
It was also the only day student acolytes who hadn't received holy orders could experience divine power.
It was reason enough to be excited,
but Matthew smiled gently and pointed out his peer's words.
"A priest's work is to spread the gospel to the world, spiritually guide the faithful, and do all things in love. There is no such thing as the work of a 'real priest.'"
"You always say such professor-like things..."
"It's the right thing to say."
"Well, that's your strong suit—being so straitlaced. That's why you're reliable. Who was the bishop you studied theology under?"
"I studied under Bishop Dori."
"Seeing you, he must be a very devout and diligent bishop."
"Hehe."
Unable to deny kind words about his teacher,
Matthew simply smiled softly and let it pass.
"Anyway, the board should have the locations for tomorrow's 'Washing of the Heart' ritual posted today... Ugh, just not the field hospital."
"Wherever it is, I think you'll do well."
His peer ran off alone to check the board.
And returned to Matthew with a bright smile.
"Oh! We're assigned to the same place."
"I see. Looking forward to it."
"Not curious where?"
"I am. Where?"
"The Academy! Lucky it's close."
"The Academy..."