Judgment

In the heart of Raido Forest, Viscount Ricado set out once more toward Aron Territory. One might think he'd be exhausted from the relentless daily marches, but he pressed on without pause. It was all because of Count Aron.

Count Aron's infamous reputation had nobles across not just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the east but the entire empire trembling in fear. Countless had fallen into ruin after carelessly crossing him. What if that Count Aron learned his territory had been stripped completely bare—even down to parts forbidden by imperial law?

Imperial law required territories to stockpile enough grain to feed their forces for a full year, along with a minimum reserve for disaster relief. This was the bare minimum legal measure to prevent reckless starvation of imperial citizens or plundering by monsters, foreign invaders, or bandits.

But Viscount Ricado had ignored it. Greed for quick riches had wrecked his territory's finances. He'd borrowed from the capital, fallen into gambling, and lost even the land itself. His reason had dulled; now, he planned to hole up in his wife's uncle's territory—Aron County—until things quieted down, then flee into exile. He had a nagging feeling that as long as Count Aron roamed the empire, his life hung by a thread.

For now, though, he felt somewhat safe. On the way to Aron Territory, he'd posted knights along key routes in case Aron pursued, and he'd taken a circuitous path. If Aron did come, he'd bolt straight to another country.

Sizzle! The meat roasted temptingly. Saliva pooled as the smoked pork leg from the territory cooked through. Slices were neatly arranged on a plate, washed down with a glass of white grape wine to melt away the day's fatigue.

"Come on, have a drink."

"Dear, are you sure this is okay?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

Viscount Ricado stared blankly, genuinely baffled by his wife's words. They'd detoured to evade any pursuit from Count Aron. What was there to worry about? It was all in her head.

"I mean, you've ruined the territory and fled, and that infamous Count Aron will just sit still?"

"Hahaha! No matter how much that bastard flaps around, you think he'll catch us? That's why we took the detour."

"They say starvation victims are piling up back home."

"Hmph! As if ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the lives of those lowly scum are worth the same as noble blood. Those peasants exist solely to serve us nobles—they should be grateful right about now."

"I-is that so?"

Lady Lian easily fell in line with Viscount Ricado's views. She might feign concern for the territory's people on the surface, but deep down, she agreed they could all drop dead for all it mattered.

Reassured by her husband's words, Lian relaxed. "Take your time eating," he told the knights, distributing special rations of smoked pork to keep their loyalty firm. It was a show of care amid hardship.

Boom! The ground shook like an earthquake.

Crackle, crackle! Birds exploded skyward as something emerged amid the fading sunset.

"My lord! Some kind of human shape..."

"What bird is that?"

Viscount Ricado couldn't fathom ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a person flying. The knights thought the same at first. But the black silhouette drew closer.

"Wh-what?"

"It's a person!"

"Haha, no way. Must be a trick of the—"

"Viscount Ricado, you goddamn bastard!"

"Gasp! Count Aron?!"

Ricado's face twisted in ghostly terror. He couldn't be here. Aron should be scouring false trails or giving up by now. Yet he'd tracked them precisely.

Splat!

"Gaaack!"

A heavy blow smashed his face, teeth scattering like hail.

"Cough! H-how...?"

"No matter where you run, you're still in my palm."

"C-Count Aron, wait—"

Clang!

"Save the lord!"

The knights drew swords and charged. Aron swung his fist casually.

Kaboom!

"Gaaaaah!"

Dozens of knights were shredded. Lightning sparked from the punch, birthing a whirlwind that sucked them in and ground them to pulp.

Splat!

"Gaaack!"

Ricado squealed like the pig he resembled. While his people starved to skin and bones, he'd fattened up like wild boar—tough, greasy hide that might resist even a fingernail.

Thud, thud, thud! Aron pulverized half the knights, then turned on Ricado. Blood sprayed; his nose crumpled, muscles tore to rags across his body.

The gods approved this time.

The gods were fired up. Nice side income. I was pissed too. Even if I lived like trash, I had limits. I'd mostly targeted the ruling class; to commoners, I'd shown mercy. It won hearts and wasn't my style to bully the weak. The gods agreed—our views aligned here.

Knights protested. "Count! Even for fellow nobles, this is too much..."

Splat! That knight's head exploded naturally.

Thud, thud, thud! Slap! Punches turned to slaps after a while. When Ricado was half-paralyzed, I lowered my bloodied hand.

"Eeeek!"

His wife trembled at the sight of me.

"What're you staring at, you bitch!"

Slap!

"Kyaaah!"

I beat the wife and kids half to pulp too.

"Filthy heretics! All the same! A lord's wife should've stopped him!"

"Ugh, I..."

"That doesn't give you the right to execute us..."

"Shut your mouth about rights, you bankrupt loser."

"Urk! Killing fellow nobles outside territorial war is—"

"Ha! You'll face judgment back in your territory, heretic!"

"Why am I a heretic—"

Crack! Knocked him out cold. Heresy charges? Easy to fabricate.

The gods loved the heresy angle. No god would want scum like that as believers.

"You trash."

"Y-yes, sir!"

The knights froze stiff. Half were already dead from a few punches. One wrong word, and heads would pop. Escape? Impossible—I'd slice them with formless sword.

Strength had perks.

"Drag this trash back to the territory. Your fate gets decided there."

"Urk! Mercy, please..."

"If you don't wanna die now, quit begging for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mercy."

"......"

Finally, silence.

Back in Blaine Territory's Ricado region. Once annexation finished, maybe rename it? Serious consideration needed.

Three days riding back. Flying would've been quick, but dragging the crippled Ricado clan slowed us.

Cheers erupted from the walls. "Wooah! The lord caught the trash!"

"Long live the lord!"

"Eeeek!"

Ricado paled; his kin too. Knights shuddered. Recent relief efforts had revived the half-dead masses somewhat. Grain spent, but couldn't starve future workers. Dead weaklings served no one.

Territory folk swarmed on rumors. Furious crowds hurled stones, curses, spit, filth. A soldier snuck a dagger—I blocked it.

"Idiot! Scum like this needs to suffer before dying!"

"S-sorry!"

"You'll pull his nails and teeth yourself!"

"Yes! Thank you for your mercy!"

Pure frenzy. I'd ordered slow death over quick execution; cheers redoubled. Punishing evil felt damn good. Gods agreed—karma poured in nonstop.

"Grk. Grrrk."

Nails, teeth yanked; the viscount's family were walking corpses.

With the crowd gathered, I began judgment.

"I'm lord of Blaine Territory, but also Vivian Church's religious leader—higher than the pope, basically. Religious trial starts now!"

"Woooaaah!"

Electric atmosphere. They'd nearly starved because of him—joy was natural. Won hearts, gods' favor, cleansed my mood. Win-win.

"Imperial law mandates minimum relief grain to prevent starvation—from holy scripture. Gods command protecting the weak; laws follow that. But you stabbed your people in the back, squeezed their blood dry, let countless faithful die. You're heretics. Your family too—for abetting. All burn!"

"Uwaaaah!"

"What're you waiting for? Burn these filth and purify the land!"

"Yes, sir!"

Soldiers perked up, gaunt but swift. Pyres rose; executioners moved.

"Gaaaaah!"

"Damn you! His Majesty won't forgive this!"

"Whatever."

If the emperor whined? Straight to death route. Gods might go wild with more karma. Not that this was about my stolen stuff. I had a shred of mercy.