Chapter 7
Chapter 7
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: Villain Protagonist
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The tenant farmer pointed at the barren, empty field as if he still had some leeway to survive and spoke up.
Judging by the fact that he thought I'd just inspect the farm and head back after coming all this way, this bastard was clearly a total blockhead.
"Open your house door."
"Pardon?"
"I said open the damn door, Valpa."
"Ah, th-that...! My lord... The house right now... uh... I've got the concubines over, so it's a total mess inside..."
He tossed out a surprisingly plausible excuse, but I just shook my head and walked up to the door. I pulled out the mace I'd left by the horse and smashed it into the door with full force.
Bang!
The wooden door, crafted from fine timber, shattered into splinters in an instant. A pet cat suddenly doused in wood chips bolted up to the attic.
The wife and daughters still inside the house screamed and collapsed right there. I stroked my mace while surveying the living room.
Sure enough, it was that house. Robin had the good sense to grab the tenant farmer. A few servants and slaves poked their heads out, wondering what the commotion was, but none dared charge at Robin or me.
"My lord! My lord! Please... please show mercy! I swear, I have nothing hidden!"
Even now, the tenant farmer was still lying through his teeth. I brushed past the wife and daughters, who were trembling in terror at the sight of me, and stomped down on the door leading to the basement.
Crunch!
The massive door splintered apart, revealing a huge basement spacious enough to double as a shelter for the territory's folk. Lit only by faint outside light, it was stuffed floor-to-ceiling with grain—an amount that dwarfed the pittance he'd brought as tax, even by rough estimate.
"Valpa. What's all this in your basement?"
"Ah... th-that... I! I just... gathered up some empty sacks..."
I was sick of this lunatic's bullshit. I grabbed the wife standing right beside me by the hair and slammed her to the floor. Like her husband, the middle-aged woman was well-fed and plump as could be. The moment I hurled her down, her daughters trailed after her like ducklings, huddling together.
I pointed my mace at the wife and asked.
"What if I tear open one of those sacks right now and wheat spills out? You've got two daughters. One wife. Three sacks to check should do it."
Even scum like this cherish their families. The tenant farmer quit denying it and slammed his forehead into the dirt, yelling.
"Forgive me! I got greedy and..."
"You? So the other tenant farmers aren't doing the same?"
"No! They're all in on it!"
"You sure?"
"Yes! Yes! Absolutely! I'm so sorry, milord! I got greedy and slipped up! Just forgive me this once..."
People don't change. A con artist who tricks you once will do it again. Forgive them the first time, and they'll bet on a second. Punish them halfway, and you breed hate—leaving loose ends. So what then?
I seized the wife's hair again and yanked her upright. She stared at me, shaking like a leaf. Her daughters clung to my legs, begging for their lives. The wife looked worthless, but the daughters? Pretty decent faces on them.
I flung the wife toward the tenant farmer, then kicked the two daughters off my legs and herded them into the corner.
I picked out one servant still lingering by the mansion entrance and ordered.
"You. Run back now and fetch five guards, fully armored. Bring the gear for escorting prisoners."
Time for some lively inquisition.
The mansion staff had plenty to say about the tenant farmer, dragged in like a dog. Was it my sudden violent turn, or the idiot caught red-handed hoarding wealth? Who knew.
Didn't matter. What counted was the mace in my grip and his whole family hauled pig-like into the heart of the lord's manor. Dragged in like pigs? Time to pound 'em like cutlets. I swung my mace through the air, practicing my form. Bound tight, the tenant farmer shivered at the sight.
The wife sprawled beside him kept murmuring to him.
"H-Honey... what happens to us now?"
"I-I don't know. Sorry."
A real tearjerker. The two daughters huddled tight against their father, quaking like aspens. Unlike their fat, ugly parents, the girls were well-kept—genuinely beautiful. I felt a twinge, but shook it off firm.
Valpa the tenant farmer was caked in mud. Guards hadn't bothered with a cart—just roped him rough and dragged. Same for the wife and daughters. Criminals had no rights in this land anyway.
Especially tax cheats skimmed from the lord. No excuses there. This was light treatment short of me personally grilling them.
"Valpa. You know your crime?"
"Yes! A death sentence offense! Punish me, and spare my family..."
Bang!
I smashed the mace into the ground, silencing him. Quick as his skim, the tenant farmer confessed, begging punishment for himself alone—family spared.
Sieri, drawn by the noise, asked Robin what was up. After his rundown, she approached me.
"My lord. Perhaps... mercy for the family..."
Sieri voiced her thoughts cautiously, mindful not to undermine me. I shook my head.
"Sieri. Crime demands punishment. One mercy sets a rotten precedent. If I botch the first example, others'll think, 'He'll go easy on me too,' and dive back into villainy."
Sieri fell silent. Her favorability might've dipped a hair, but no yielding here. Go soft on a con man, and he'll bite. Had to crush it clean. I sent Robin to usher her back inside, then eyed the tenant farmer.
"Punish you, spare the family. That's your plea, Valpa?"
"Yes! Yes! I beg you!"
He headbutted the floor again. Convinced his own neck was done for. But tax evasion was grave—and no way the wife or daughters were clueless.
They'd laughed at the fool lord, partied on the loot. No stopping hubby or daddy, that much was clear. Accomplices, all. Treat 'em equal. Give inch, evil takes mile. This case would show tax cheats their fate, crystal clear.
I ordered soldiers to shove the daughters aside. Swung the mace lightly before the wife. Her froglike face quivered, tears streaming. Tenant farmer flailed prone on the ground.
A few air swings to warm up, then I tapped her skull lightly, sighting the spot. Pinned her leg underfoot—no wriggle room.
"My lord! My lord! My fault! Punish only me! I beg!"
She thrashed to break free. I measured the arc, set my stance. Tenant farmer's scream peaked.
"My lord! Mercy! Sorry! I'll die instead, my lord!"
Clang!
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙ Status Window of the deceased cannot be viewed. With a clean crack, the shrieking wife went quiet. Her head whipped around, tumbling across the floor. The lolling neck—bones gave out. I ignored the sprawled corpse and jabbed my mace toward the daughters.
Robin stepped up to me.
"My lord. The daughters too...?"
"Not killing them."
The tenant farmer's screams trailed to blank shock. He stared at his wife's fallen form, then crawled to her, pawing the cooling body—hoping for a stir. Fat chance.
"Ah... aaah..."
I flicked blood flecks from my mace and called the daughters forward. Pretty faces, sure—but no urge to test 'em. Who knows if killer-of-mom gets willing legs, or a bed-shiv surprise.
Current vibe? Slay the girls too, and my rep tanks hard. Whole-family massacre rumors? Sieri's favor dips for sure.
Care for optics? Spare 'em.
"Example for dodging the lord's taxes: execute tenant farmer Valpa and wife. These daughters..."
I paused, then asked Robin.
"Slave trade legal in our territory?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Sell 'em as slaves then. Fetch a trader."
Tempted to offload Aira too, but the nutcase wouldn't fetch squat. Body still useful, skills got spots—keep her a spell.
Valpa buried his face in the corpse, sobbing. Softens the heart... till I recalled his endgame lies. Composure snapped back.
"Right. Let's wrap this up."