Chapter 46
Chapter 46
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 46
Chapter Title: Aldis 1
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“Even as relief supplies, this bread is honestly terrible quality.”
It was as hard as a rock, the kind that could crack a person’s skull if you hit them with it. When Azadin sniffed the bread, it smelled like sawdust had been mixed in—a woody scent.
“Sawdust mixed in?”
“Yeah, right? That’s the Relief Knights for you. They receive plenty of donations, but what they hand out is just for show.”
As Midiam badmouthed the Relief Knights, Azadin shook his head.
“Show or not, they’re the only ones looking after the refugees right now. With so many mouths to feed, they’re in no position to worry about quality.”
But as Azadin examined the bread again, he grimaced.
“Still, I can’t eat this as is.”
Azadin broke off a piece and popped it into his mouth, only to contort his face in disgust.
“Ugh, I want to spit it out. But once it’s in my mouth, I have to swallow. It’s bread prepared by the Relief Knights for the refugees—I can’t just toss it after putting it in out of curiosity.”
“Won’t that be bad for your health?”
“It’s fine. I’m tough as nails. I can handle digesting this much.”
Azadin barely swallowed the piece in his mouth and struggled.
“Should I boil some porridge? That might help it go down.”
“Yeah.”
“But I don’t really want to eat porridge with that bread in it. Can’t you leave it out? Give it to the other refugees.”
“Picky eater. Just boil it carefully so it doesn’t mix in.”
Azadin prepared a pot, first coating it with spices and rendered lard before adding water and oats. As he cooked the porridge, children gathered around.
“Merciful elder, in the name of the Archangel of Mercy, we beg for alms.”
“We’ve gone three days without food.”
“I’m hungry.”
The refugees near the camp were blatantly sending out children to beg.
“What about what the Relief Knights give?”
“They only give to adults and tell kids to join the Relief Knights.”
“There’s lots of people but not enough food.”
The children insisted as they eyed the bubbling pot, eyes gleaming. Their gaunt faces from hunger made their claims seem true, their eyes the only lively part.
Azadin tossed the Relief Knights’ bread into the pot to bulk up the porridge, then ladled it into the bowls the children had brought.
“Eat it here before you go.”
“Huh?”
“Eat it here.”
Azadin fed the children the porridge.
“What are you doing?”
This time, it wasn’t Midiam or Ismail who objected, but Tarki, who’d been tending the camp.
“I’m a knight, and you’ve got me watching the goats, but now you’re feeding those lowly urchins? The Relief Knights are handling relief efforts anyway!”
“I brought the Relief Knights’ bread. Since I took relief supplies as a non-refugee, I have to pay interest and give it back.”
“That interest seems excessive.”
“Come on, don’t be stingy about feeding kids. These children might grow up strong someday and… huh?”
Just then, a group approached Azadin’s camp.
Stuck in their luggage was a small flag of the Korasar Peddlers’ Guild. It was his clan coming after spotting Azadin.
“What fine work you’re doing.”
The man leading the peddlers’ guild removed his hood. He was a stern-looking, gaunt middle-aged man.
“Azadin, to think you’d strut down the main road while wanted by the clan.”
“Regional Manager?”
“Call me Regional Manager Salem. They say you utterly humiliated our guild members? Beating them and saying listen to me because heralds outrank servants?”
It was Salem, the Salasuma regional manager—the very reason Azadin was heading to Salasuma—who was personally leading the caravan on the move.
And this regional manager was furious. As a high-ranking member of the Sabha family, he’d clearly received full reports of Azadin’s “rudeness” toward Korasar Peddlers’ Guild members. His eyes glared at Azadin as if to kill him, and he shouted.
“Clear the area of people.”
The servants formed a human wall to keep others out and secure the space.
“Tarki, clear the people around.”
Azadin also ordered Tarki to drive people away.
“Hey, you little brats! This elder wants roast kid, so if you come near, I’ll skewer you over the campfire! Scram!”
“Wah!”
The children fled in fright. With the area cleared in an instant, Midiam and Ismail then pulled Tarki back. This cleared the way for Azadin and Regional Manager Salem to speak privately.
The regional manager clapped, and servants brought a folding chair, set it behind him, then fetched poles and cloth to erect a canopy. The sun had set and night deepened the darkness already, but the canopy fully blocked outside views.
Not only that—the servants pulled out instruments and began playing, drowning out Azadin and Salem’s conversation. In the space they created, Azadin and Regional Manager Salem began their private talk.
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“Not unlike a noble, is it?”
Azadin sneered at the luxuries Regional Manager Salem enjoyed. The canopy, chair, and instruments were hardly standard traveler gear. They were cargo just to flaunt his hobbies and dignity—more extravagant than many nobles.
“Shut it, Azadin. I’m itching to cut you down right now. If you hadn’t hidden in a crowd, you’d be dead already.”
Salem threatened Azadin. An empty threat.
“I heard Arael betrayed you? So you’re not in a position to do that, are you? I doubt Arael betrayed alone—surely her followers did too?”
Arael was a symbol for those outside the five founding clans, with many devotees. If she’d betrayed the herald clan, plenty of zealots would follow, leaving the leadership like a bomb had hit.
“You! In league with Arael after all?”
Salem’s rage proved Azadin’s guess spot-on.
“No. Absolutely not. Nothing like that.”
Azadin touched his scar. The wound on the face Arael had made throbbed.
“Please withdraw my dismissal. I’m not on Arael’s side.”
“Arrogant brat. Why should I? I heard you and Arael don’t get along, but that could be a ploy to fool others.”
“Haha. You’re talking nonsense. What would infiltrating my clan accomplish? Everyone there looks down on me. Think they’d trust a spy like me and spill good intel? You know that’s impossible.”
“…….”
Azadin’s words were self-deprecating and sharp, but true. With the entire herald clan despising him, staging bad blood between siblings for years to plant him as a spy? From childhood? Impossible. The regional manager knew Azadin had a point, but before that, he hated him.
‘I don’t like him.’
Salasuma Regional Manager Salem valued authority and hierarchy. To him, superiors’ orders were absolute. Thus, the elders’ dismissal of Azadin was fully justified.
Azadin not on Arael’s side? Not involved in treason? What did it matter?
In the Eight Kingdoms, even dwarf or elf lands, guilt by association was standard. With a serious criminal, family got punished too. Just being Arael’s blood made Azadin guilty.
Even if he and Arael were on bad terms, many wanted him dead to vent.
Yet Azadin claimed innocence while recklessly challenging authority and hierarchy. If he’d groveled, the higher-ups would’ve handled it mercifully, but he couldn’t wait and dared assert himself as a criminal.
‘And mocking me as a fool?’
Azadin meant it out of frustration at being lumped with Arael. But to the regional manager, it felt like mockery.
“Fine, I get you’re not with Arael. But why should I petition the council to withdraw your dismissal?”
“Because it’s the right thing. A clan youth—a herald no less—facing unjust harm, and you, whose duty is to aid heralds, ignore it?”
“Hm, helping you is right? Maybe not. You could be Arael’s spy, or even if not, threatening her family restrains her.”
“Using me as bait for Arael? Impossible.”
“Even so, with elders and chieftains retracting words now, the organization’s prestige shakes. Discipline and hierarchy come first.”
“No, Arael already betrayed and left—prestige is trashed anyway. Wasn’t it you all hyping her as Harconia’s greatest genius ever? You proved your judgment sucks; dismissing an innocent now won’t restore discipline.”
“You! Daring to criticize the elders’ and chieftains’ decision?”
Salem fumed at Azadin assailing the leaders’ handling.
Truthfully, it stemmed from their worst compatibility in communication. Salem meant if elders and chieftains retracted “properly” later quietly, prestige stayed intact—so Azadin should obey meekly, not rebel openly.
But to Azadin, it sounded like “screw prestige, you die alone.” Too much left unsaid.
Conversely, Salem felt humiliated explaining in detail to a subordinate, like it demeaned him.
‘As superior, won’t I handle it right? Why’s this underling nitpicking? Insulting my dignity?’
That was Salem’s feeling toward Azadin. Clever Azadin understood what Salem meant and why, but hated him for it.
“Understood. Then publicly I won’t rebel, so lift the kill order now and promise to withdraw the dismissal within half a year at least. Write a contract…”
“Insolent fool! Words should suffice, yet you demand a contract from me?”
“With my life on the line, words aren’t enough.”
Azadin raised his voice too.