Chapter 223: A Nation of the Sighted Blind (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 223: A Nation of the Sighted Blind (2)
That final statement changed everything.
It was entirely different from the arguments they had been throwing around thus far.
The possibility that Count Rondon wasn't a traitor—contrary to public rumor—and that Roman Dmitry had indeed paid off the Redford Kingdom's debt on his behalf was shocking enough. In a situation where simply accepting the fact that they had murdered innocent soldiers was suffocating, the mention of the Annabelle Orphanage crossed a line.
Annabelle.
Just what kind of person was she?
At first, she had simply handed out food to homeless children. But as the number of children in her care grew, people began to ask if she was running an orphanage. Thus, the Annabelle Orphanage was born. She never hesitated to provide shelter—even if only briefly—not just for children, but for anyone starving and seeking comfort.
The Saintess of Redford.
The people revered her.
When even the king abandoned the well-being of his own nation, her good deeds were the sole ray of hope shining in the darkness.
That was why they couldn't believe it.
The people muttered among themselves, their expressions dazed.
"…Count Rondon is the patron of the Annabelle Orphanage?"
"That makes no sense. There's no way a man branded a traitor would sponsor the Annabelle Orphanage."
In truth, the operational structure of the Annabelle Orphanage made no logical sense.
While it had started as simply sharing food, over time, the orphanage's charity grew far beyond what an ordinary commoner could ever afford. The people had harbored doubts. Even though they knew it defied common sense, they had never made an effort to dig up the truth.
Whatever the reason, the fact that Annabelle cared for the people remained unchanged. No matter how chaotic the world was, they blindly wanted to believe that someone like her existed in Redford.
But if a traitor was Annabelle's patron… they wouldn't be able to handle the cascade of truths that would follow.
Hadn't they spent all this time praising Annabelle's grace, always pairing it with venomous gossip about how traitors like Count Rondon were ruining the country? That was why the riot had erupted so naturally. While Jacqueline was indeed the first to raise his voice, everyone had eagerly agreed to take up arms because the target was Count Rondon.
Everyone fell silent.
Just as panic began to set in, a robed figure stepped forward, cutting through the crowd.
* * *
As she pulled back her hood, the crowd gasped.
The face revealed beneath the robe belonged to Annabelle, the woman they called the 'Saintess of Redford.'
"…Lady Annabelle. Is what Roman Dmitry said really true? Please, tell us it's not. Prove to us right here that Count Rondon, the man we condemned as a traitor, never sponsored the orphanage."
It was a desperate plea from one of the citizens.
At those words, Annabelle shook her head, her expression steeped in sorrow.
"Everything Lord Roman Dmitry said is true. So please, put down your weapons."
The citizens hesitated.
Even with the testimony of the Saintess herself, they couldn't easily bring themselves to lower the weapons they believed were protecting their lives.
"I am not as great a person as you all think. I simply couldn't turn away from starving children, so I shared a little of my food with them. Then, one day, Count Rondon came to see me in person. He said he had been watching my good deeds and promised that if I established an orphanage to care for the people, he would provide the monthly operating costs. That is the truth behind the Annabelle Orphanage that you did not know."
She was undoubtedly a good person.
But while good deeds require a matching character, reality cannot be resolved by character alone.
"Running an orphanage is a practical matter. If I didn't have the money to buy food for the people, and if I couldn't secure the livelihoods of those who helped me, I wouldn't have been able to devote myself to the orphanage the way you remember. I, too, am just an ordinary person who couldn't survive without working, just like all of you. To be honest, I wanted to speak the truth every time Count Rondon was criticized. He sent funds to the orphanage every month to help the people, and he never stopped his support—even when he was being condemned as a traitor."
Annabelle choked up.
Looking at the bewildered crowd, she recalled her memories of the Count.
"The title of the 'Saintess of Redford' is entirely undeserved. Without Count Rondon, I wouldn't be here today. Yet, whenever I asked him why he didn't reveal the truth, he always said that who does it is not as important as the fact that someone is doing it. If… if I had known that you would attack him, I would have revealed the truth even if he tried to stop me. He does not deserve to be treated like this. He is the one who fully deserves all the love and reverence I have received. This… this is truly wrong."
She didn't want to blame the people.
They hadn't known the truth.
Yet, Annabelle couldn't suppress the note of reproach in her voice.
She was merely an ordinary woman. The people had built her up to be someone grand, but without Count Rondon, she would never have become the person she was today.
After the riot ended, the children had run back to the orphanage with bright faces.
Each of them showed off a shiny gold coin, offering it with innocent smiles to Annabelle, asking her to accept it. Such warm hearts. If she hadn't known that those gold coins were paid for with Count Rondon's blood, Annabelle might have smiled genuinely at the children's sincerity.
But then, she heard the truth.
Her world crumbled.
Upon hearing that the mob had attacked, she rushed to Count Rondon's side.
There, she met Roman Dmitry, who told her exactly what she needed to do for Count Rondon's sake.
Annabelle spoke again.
"We have made a terrible mistake. Both you, who failed to see the truth, and I, who knew the truth but remained silent. So please, let us not do anything we will regret further. Count Rondon, the man you called a traitor, cares for the Redford Kingdom more than anyone else. Lord Roman Dmitry came to help at Count Rondon's request. This is your last chance. Please, put down your weapons."
With those final words, the people fell into a stunned silence, as if cast under a spell.
* * *
It was Roman Dmitry who finally broke the silence.
"On the day you stormed the mansion to attack Count Rondon, I asked him a question. I asked why he didn't speak the truth. The poverty of the Redford Kingdom is not the responsibility of the Rondon family, so why did he endure the condemnation and do so much for the kingdom, acting nothing like the traitor he was made out to be?"
That day, Count Rondon had answered him.
In this age of hatred, in this harsh reality, he said that for the Redford Kingdom to survive, there needed to be someone to absorb the people's resentment.
"He knew that if he spoke the truth, the criticism directed at him would fade. But he chose not to. In an age of hatred, if the target of the people's blame was not a mere noble but the king who rules the Redford Kingdom, he knew that today's riot would have escalated into a full-scale rebellion that would overthrow the nation."
Roman looked at Jacqueline.
From the moment Annabelle appeared, Jacqueline's face had gone pale, his mind reeling.
"Jacqueline. Was this riot truly your own doing? Loading the gold coins onto the carriage to resolve the debt with the Golden Bank was a strict secret that no one but an insider could have known. Yet, you knew the exact route the carriage would take and lay in wait. That information—who gave it to you? And is the person who gave you that information still standing here today?"
"…What do you mean by that?!"
Jacqueline's eyes widened.
Come to think of it, there were strange inconsistencies.
He had only been venting his frustrations as he did any other day, but the pub owner had escalated the situation with instigating remarks, almost as if he had been waiting for the perfect opportunity. It was the same when they marched on Count Rondon's mansion. Hadn't Jacqueline been anxious that things would spiral out of control when the mob started throwing hostile remarks at Roman Dmitry?
And now, just as Roman Dmitry pointed out, the pub owner was nowhere to be seen.
The man who had fed him the carriage's route had vanished like a mirage the moment they plundered the gold coins.
"The one who gave you the information has likely already disappeared," Roman continued. "You certainly had opportunities to see the truth. The suspicious source of the information, and the fact that ordinary commoners who cannot use Aura somehow managed to defeat the Aura Swordsmen escorting the carriage. If you had thought about it for even a second, you would have realized how absurd it was. What this series of events means is clear. There were instigators driving Redford into chaos, and you crossed an irreversible line because of them. Even though Count Rondon cared for his country more than anyone else, your single choice resulted in the deaths of innocent soldiers and left Count Rondon bleeding."
The truth was harsh.
The true purpose of the 100,000 gold.
Annabelle.
The fact that they had been played for fools.
The people were utterly dazed.
The plundering of the gold coins, an act they had just celebrated, turned out to be a foolish, manipulated decision dragging the Redford Kingdom into the abyss.
Roman Dmitry spoke again.
"I will ask you one last time. Is Jacqueline truly a man who can be called a hero of Redford?"
* * *
Was this what it felt like when one's thoughts completely ground to a halt?
The people were speechless.
Just a few minutes ago, they had been furious.
They firmly believed that attacking Count Rondon was the righteous thing to do, and they had gathered their strength to strike down Roman Dmitry for persecuting the 'hero' of Redford. The crowd filling the square—people who had struggled through grueling days of starvation—had eyes gleaming with murderous intent, determined not to let anyone take the gold coins from their hands.
But the truth was entirely different.
Realizing that Roman Dmitry and Count Rondon had been working to save them this entire time, the strength drained from the people's hands.
Clang.
Clatter.
They dropped their weapons.
All hostility vanished.
They could no longer raise their blades, nor did they dare to look Roman Dmitry in the eye.
Their faces burned red with shame.
Looking back at their actions, they finally realized just how foolish they had been.
At the center of it all stood Jacqueline.
Having led this entire riot, he felt as though he would lose his mind under the crushing weight of reality.
'I was manipulated… What on earth have I done?'
Roman Dmitry's words pierced deep into his chest.
He was right.
There had been so many opportunities to see the truth.
The people had condemned Count Rondon as a traitor, yet whenever a project arose, he hired as many outside workers as possible. At first, the public had reacted with hostility, assuming he was exploiting cheap labor. However, his attitude and treatment of those workers proved that he actually cared for them to an almost excessive degree.
Back then, when Jacqueline had asked what life was like inside the estate, a long-time servant of the Rondon family had told him:
"To be honest, I am very happy with my life in the Rondon household. I know I might get beaten in the streets for saying this, but Count Rondon is not the evil man people claim he is. He cares for and treats his servants better than anyone, and we respect him deeply. So please, do not hate him too much. No matter how the world portrays Count Rondon, we know he is absolutely not that kind of person."
It had sounded absurd at the time.
With the entire world condemning the Count as a traitor, Jacqueline had scoffed at the lone servant defending him. He had assumed it was simply the price of comfort. Since they didn't have to starve under Rondon's shadow, he figured the servants had no choice but to show gratitude, no matter how much of a traitor their master was.
He had seen the truth, heard the truth, and experienced the truth.
There were those who recognized the truth even without it being spoken aloud. But Jacqueline, unlike them, had turned a blind eye to it all.
On the day he attended the party, even after packing leftover food to feed his wife, he had gone straight to the pub to vent his grievances.
Perhaps it was just a pathetic inferiority complex over the luxuries he could not enjoy.
"Ah…"
Suddenly, he looked down at his hands.
The red stains, which he had looked upon with pride just moments ago, now caught his eye, shattering his world.
He had made an irreversible mistake, just as Roman Dmitry had said.