Festival of Silver Dust and Iron Blood (2)
In Nostrum, trials fall under the lord's jurisdiction. The lord serves as judge. The accuser—what the Empire calls a "prosecutor"—is a knight. And there is no defense attorney. The accused must prove their own innocence.
But here's where a problem arises.
"I demand a duel!"
Declaring a duel to prove one's innocence. More precisely, not innocence per se, but that one's abilities are too formidable to perish in such a place. Nostrum holds to the belief that the strong define justice. This stems deeply from how the kingdom has survived thus far.
"If a hero commits a crime, should they be punished?"
"Even for minor offenses, shouldn't we weigh their feats in saving the nation more heavily?"
"What if we execute them recklessly, only to find out they were a savior of the realm?"
Heroes who emerge in moments of crisis. The secret to Nostrum's endurance through countless plagues. A true hero will survive even false accusations and prove their mettle against a knight in a duel. Through combat.
"That prisoner... awakened mana right before death!"
In life-or-death peril, a hero might awaken their latent talent. 'Though nobles exploit it far better.'
If a prisoner proves themselves via duel, that's the end of it. But nobles introduced the law of "duel proxies." When was it? 'A few generations back.'
One of Nostrum's heroes was a commoner female mage who incinerated a noble trying to assault her with magic. She later became the kingdom's greatest mage, but at the time, she was just a pretty low-rank one. Her accuser was a senior knight. No way a low-rank mage could beat a senior knight in the vast arena of a trial hall.
That's when Lord Cardian stepped up. With no connection to the commoner woman, he claimed complicity and demanded to duel in her stead, causing a huge uproar. That incident birthed the proxy duel tradition.
About two hundred years had passed since then. What started as loved ones, friends, or lovers posing as "black knights" to save their dear ones had twisted.
'Hiring duel proxies with money.'
Summoning knights stronger than the accusing knight. Or the accused's mentor or fellow regional knight. Or even retired central order knights now living in the countryside as first proxies.
It was utterly vulgar in every way—but 'Even if a thousand innocents die unjustly through duels, if one hero emerges, that's enough for everyone.'
That's the kind of kingdom Nostrum is. And indeed, that's how they've triumphed over the Empire, plagues, monsters, and disasters until now.
'So when the Empire conquered us, the knights got utterly crushed.'
Knights who only swung swords without a thought suddenly faced an imperial courtroom.
"What?! No duels in imperial courts?!"
"The defendant will remain silent."
"If you're a prosecutor, draw your sword!!"
"That's not that kind of prosecutor."
Sigh... that's Nostrum for you. Many knights knelt before the majesty of the law. While the Empire also valued strength as justice to some degree, it wasn't the absolute priority like in Nostrum.
'That's why no one said a word when Father slaughtered those maids.'
On the day Father declared treason. He killed several maids. Officially, it was announced they leaked Gibraltar's vital secrets, but murder is murder.
Yet no one held him accountable. If a local lord-judge commits a crime, the king judges—but even the king couldn't put the Gibraltar Margrave on trial. Accusing him was pointless. If the Margrave demanded a duel, the accuser-knight would lose their head.
'The victor is destined for great things. That's why they won, survived, and will one day become Nostrum's hero.' That's the average Gibraltar mindset—what they call "common sense."
However.
Everyone knows trials work that way, but still.
'Would scammers avoid crime out of fear of execution?'
Trials only happen when a crime gets caught. 'Don't get caught, and you're fine.'
Commit the crime without getting caught, done. Even if dragged to trial, the Margrave won't duel personally. With such flimsy thinking, the festival grounds teemed with scammers.
First off.
"Come on, come on! Straight from Seirene!"
"Is this an orange?"
"You bet, kiddo. Got money? This here's the famed Seirene specialty, the o-range!"
A guy peddling fake goods.
"Wanna see? Look at that red hue!"
"Whoa—!"
Impressive.
"Why's it red?! Is it really an orange?"
"Of course! It's the ultra-rare Red Orange, produced in tiny quantities even in Seirene!"
"How much?"
"One for 10,000 gold—no, 100 Somnus!"
I pulled out a Somnus gold coin carved with "100" on the back from behind a wood scrap.
"Perfect! Running errands?"
"Yeah! Grandpa gave me lots of money and told me to get some market experience!"
"Ah, starting economics early, huh."
The merchant beamed approvingly, bagging one Red Orange and one regular orange.
"Hey, I only bought one?"
"It's a bonus! Give it to Grandpa."
"Wow! Thanks!"
I bowed 90 degrees, paper bag of two fruits in hand.
"Bye now!"
The merchant waved happily.
"Oranges that red?"
"From Seirene? Let's check... Glaphados Farm, huh."
"Such a farm exists?"
"Who knows. Pricey, though..."
Maybe because I'd shouted so loud, people murmured and gathered.
"Step right up! Come one, come all! Hahaha!"
The merchant quickly forgot me, hawking Red Oranges to the crowd.
"Wow."
So.
"That scumbag's got no conscience."
He couldn't hear my mutter from afar.
"......"
I glanced around casually.
A plainly dressed boy flinched near the alley and bolted.
"Eek, eek...!"
"Number 45, huh. What're you doing here?"
"Ah, aaah...!"
The white-haired girl—White No. 45, beret hiding her hair—rolled her green eyes side to side upon seeing me.
"Th-that..."
"You think that merchant's a total sleaze too, right?"
"......Y-Young master, is that you...?"
"Yeah."
No. 45 kept scanning me up and down.
"What, don't I look like me?"
"You do now, but earlier with that old man..."
"When'd you catch on?"
"When you said 'wow' and called him trash...?"
"Good. Meant for you to notice."
I pulled the Red Orange from the bag and handed her the bag with both fruits.
"Yours. Snack on it midway."
"Y-yes...?"
"You've had grapefruits, but not real kingdom oranges."
"Uh, th-that..."
"How much are grapefruits in the Empire usually? Knight reports don't list per-unit prices."
"...About 50 cents each."
"50 cents."
Click, click.
"So that merchant's flipping 650-cent fruits for 10,000 each?"
"Th-that..."
"That's why you popped out, frustrated."
"......"
I patted No. 45's shoulder.
"Good job. No need to log it. I'll sort those Somnus coins they bring in personally at settlement—face to face."
"B-but if you send someone else for settlement... Ah, no! I trust your memory, Young master...!"
"It's fine. I logged it too."
I drew a fresh Somnus gold from my inner pocket.
"This one's my special-make Somnus gold."
"I-is that okay...?"
"Of course. I'm the Somnus gold manufacturer."
In this market, I could mint currency on the fly. Same for everyone else, of course.
"Young master, over there. Isn't that a scam...?"
"Scam? Hmm. Well, smuggling Empire grapefruits from Seirene and hauling them to Gibraltar to offload?"
I sliced the so-called 10,000-gold Red Orange—grapefruit—in half, scooped the pulp, and stuffed the peels back in the bag.
"Eat the rest too. Miss home, sure, but pricing like that?"
"Ah.... Y-Young master..."
"That's why I only bought one. My 10,000 included the thrill of first Empire fruit."
A tangier sour than southern Nostrum oranges.
"Won't buy at that price next time. Not a sucker—"
"Hey—! Over here!"
A familiar bellow.
"Pick whatever! I'll buy it!!"
"Ooooh—!"
"Noir! Noir! Noir!"
"......"
The sucker arrived.
"Young master."
No. 45 pointed seriously at the black iron plate Noir held up before the merchant.
"Is it okay to let him scratch it like that...?"
"Yeah."
The merchant scribbled his name, item, and price on Noir's plate with an iron stylus, grinning.
"The dumber the scammer, the greedier for quick gains—they bite."
Noir was diligently gathering intel now.
"Hahaha! I, Noir Gibraltar, shall remember your name!"
"No beating the real deal in acting."
"Oranges the color of our baby sister's eyes! Ugh, true gems!"
"Kid's got a good heart. The kid does."
I dumped the remaining grapefruit into my mouth.
"No. 45."
"Yes, Young master."
"Take good care of him."
"...Not like, marry him or anything, right?"
"......"
"N-no, not that I hate marriage—"
"Do as you like."
I straightened her crooked beret and turned away.
"Gather intel hard. No need to ask directly—stay safe."
"Yes...!"
Some Whites were disguised, patrolling the streets.
"I'll find every Empire good Gibraltar's never seen and report back...!"
Which merchants brought what from the Empire.
* * *
Festival, 11:55 a.m.
Gibraltar's festival timing was peculiar. Typical night markets start around 4 p.m. and run till midnight—but
"Noisy."
Father enforced an 8 p.m. cutoff to respect Mother's early bedtime. Instead, events kicked off at dawn, and now the festive mood was ripening.
'Lunchtime soon.'
Everyone knew fireworks peaked at night, so merchants hustled to sell more beforehand.
Festivals demanded food, naturally. Amid imported produce and goods, dedicated zones wafted savory scents: breads to deep-fried meats.
'No need to buy stuff, but gotta eat if hungry.'
Even penny-pincher's resolve crumbles when empty stomachs meet food aromas—wallets open. Though it'd be Somnus gold, not proper coin.
"Um, sir."
"What?"
"This..."
"Damn. What? It's money, right?"
Gradually.
"I'll refund it—got real gold instead?"
One by one, folks thinking 'Why not?' emerged.
"Food'll be just 10% then."
"Uh, sure...? Works for me. Ahem."
The early lunch guy took back his Somnus gold, paid with proper coins.
'That's how it goes.'
Inconvenience with new Somnus gold. Given Nostrum's conservatism, it'd never catch on properly.
'Even one-off events—folks can't stand hassle.'
Too trivial to report or arrest.
'Still, keep an eye out.'
Expected scenario—no issue.
'Father scaring everyone straight?'
Fear of Father's trials keeping bold crimes at bay?
'Empire market would've seen child abductions, counterfeits, protection rackets by now.'
"My kid's gone." "This money's fake." "Who gave permission to trade here?"
'Now I get why some revolutionaries missed "pure" Nostrum.'
Among those captured before treasonous Grey Margrave, some said:
"Empire life was too complex for us—imperials exploited that constantly."
'Still, something juicier—'
"Ah."
There.
"Wow."
Ahead.
"Ahem. Kids."
A fancy-suited man without a stall gathered children, preaching.
"Got it? Not gold—collect lots of these."
"Wood scraps are sharp to extract..."
"Can't we just steal gold? Lucky hit for thousands, even ten thousand."
"Tch...! Way higher odds! Lowest's 100 gold...!"
Pickpockets boiling in crowds—standard.
'Lame.'
Sacrificing Somnus flowers for mere thieves? Personally deflating—
"Gather as much Somnus gold as possible. We'll cash 'em cheap, buy back. Steal, buy—we scrape it all."
Oh.
"What if markets ban it?"
"Then... heh."
The man grinned slyly, pointing skyward.
"Dark by evening—no one'll notice."
"Yes."
"Sunset's hours off."
Ooh.
"You kids make these meantime, sell to merchants dumping stock. Use 'em. Got it?"
"These are fakes."
"Fake or not."
Finally.
"Victim's fault for falling for it."
Scammers discarding trust, preying on the gullible—my heart raced.
Still.
"Tch..."
Could use an Empire-style player, but none tantalizing.
"No gutsy ones, like counterfeiting..."
Or fake Somnus sales.
"Might just end up enjoying fireworks."
Well, honestly.
"Duh. No real pros hitting a small-time fest like this."
That'd be fine too.
"Here—! Handmade jewelry! Gem-carved pretties! Gift to your sweetheart for the eve!!"
"......"
"Oh, buying? Pricey's though..."
"Gimme."
"Ah...! Y-yes! Right away! Bag—"
"No need."
To boost Somnus circulation, time to spread more.
"Thank you!"