<Chapter 30>

"Lord, please! Please stamp the death certificate! My husband died last month! How can I pay taxes?!"

"I've told you several times that the water mill in Lettington Village is broken!"

"We can’t delay this tax meeting any longer! Lord! Taxes! Taxes!"

"We need the mill to grind the grain! Please, come up with a solution. For heaven's sake, listen to us, you bastard—!"

In front of the Bechdelrace estate, the cries and pleas of citizens echoed from all sides.

To understand how they ended up at the lord’s estate, one would have to go back to what happened in the village.

Ultimately, Viretta's guesses about the so-called bandits were entirely correct.

While it was true that Medleridge had cut ties, thus ending the mercenary group’s income, this alone wouldn't turn able-bodied young men into sudden bandits.

Moslin and the “bandits” were, in fact, a security force hired by the villagers.

Here’s how it went.

Three months ago, the lord had started neglecting his duties. For some reason, he ignored his fief and became engrossed in personal matters.

This was a small village under the direct jurisdiction of the Earl of Bechdelrace, who used to send his soldiers to maintain public order.

These soldiers protected the village and collected tolls from travelers, supporting the local economy.

But three months ago, those soldiers stopped being dispatched.

In a village frequently visited by travelers and rough types, the absence of soldiers left a gap in law enforcement and tax collection. The village went on high alert.

The biggest issue was that strict laws prevented the commoners from forming a militia or collecting taxes on their own.

The villagers needed the lord’s permission to hire a mercenary group, but that authorization hadn’t come in over a month.

As a desperate measure, the villagers disguised the mercenaries as bandits to collect tolls and property taxes and to maintain order.

Since they couldn’t officially be mercenaries, they were masquerading as bandits — that was the story behind the situation.

"So the toll was a legitimate request. Now I feel a bit guilty."

"Yeah, exactly. You were supposed to pay anyway. And they charged less since they didn't have to send it to the lord."

In fact, they’d been collecting tolls at a discounted rate. Iola and Lanken, who now felt they’d wronged these unfortunate villagers, were a bit downcast.

In any case, they couldn’t simply take Moslin from people with such a story.

Viretta boldly promised to solve the village's issues as compensation for causing the commotion.

After all, they would need to obtain road permits to transport a dragon carcass if they succeeded in slaying it. They’d need to prepare for that.

It was bold of her to think about transport methods when there was no guarantee of success, but that was just who Viretta was.

With resignation, Lanken sighed as he looked at the crowd gathered in front of the Bechdelrace estate.

“So… are all these people here to see the lord?”

“It seems our dear Earl is even more neglectful than we thought.”

Judging by the crowd at the entrance, it wasn’t just that the lord wasn’t doing his job.

It was clear he was purposefully and resolutely avoiding it.

“That’s not all, is it? He’s also rejecting all visitors. He doesn’t even leave the house. I brought you here since you wanted to see him, but you’re bound to make a wasted trip.”

The coachman, who had led them here, scoffed. It wasn’t directed at Viretta’s party but rather at the lord himself.

He had warned them during the ride, but the scene was something else entirely in person.

The distance between the gate and the mansion was short enough that the crowd’s shouting could be heard inside the estate.

And yet, he hadn’t shown his face for three months. That took real commitment.

“All these people haven’t managed to sway the lord in three months... How are you going to do it, Viretta?”

“Just a heads up, I’m terrible at things like this.”

Lanken frowned, and Moslin, who hadn’t seen the scene in front of the mansion until now, made a face of disgust.

“Hmph, just watch. I, Viretta, am a master of getting to the heart of people.”

Viretta boldly stepped forward, taking a deep breath as she puffed up her chest.

With her characteristic confidence, she parted the crowd and walked up to the gate.

The crowd, who had been wailing, made way for the newcomer.

It was partly because of Viretta’s commanding stance and partly because of an unspoken rule to give newcomers a chance to voice their grievances.

Even without knowing this, Viretta gracefully acknowledged those who made way for her.

“Thank you all for your kindness. I may be a great figure, but I promise to repay your support.”

Considering the situation, no one questioned whether she was truly a “great figure.”

Clearing her throat, Viretta raised her voice, a technique that heightened the crowd’s attention.

Moslin and Iola looked at her with eager expressions, and even Lanken’s gaze held a spark of expectation.

Given that her opponent was a noble lord, Viretta, who had attended countless noble gatherings since childhood, was the perfect fit for this task.

Relishing the attention, Viretta glanced up at the large windows of the mansion. Her bright, confident smile turned serious as she opened her mouth to speak.

“The end is near.”

A heavy silence fell over the crowd.

The most difficult people to deal with in life are the ones who appear normal but are actually insane.

If someone’s obviously unhinged, you can just avoid them, but with those who seem sane, it’s not that simple.

Viretta Medleridge was the perfect example of this.

Her neat, respectable appearance and bright, pure expression didn’t match the strange words she had just tossed into the crowd like a bomb.

An uncomfortable tension spread around, but before anyone could stop her, Viretta continued with energy.

“The sky is clouded! The earth bears no crops! In these uncertain times, what must we do?!”

“……”

“What must! We! Do?!”

With no one responding, Viretta pointed at a random man in the crowd. Caught off guard, he looked around before blurting out a reply.

“Pray… I guess?”

“Exactly! Prayer! As the end approaches, your prayers have reached our Father in heaven, who has sent a messenger to deliver His will.”

“Oh, um… yes.”

“I am a humble daughter called upon by our Father. To honor the elder like I would my Father in heaven, I am here to offer advice at a special discount.”

“Wait, you’re charging for it?”

The man unwittingly drawn into Viretta’s speech asked reflexively. Viretta snorted, placing her left hand on her hip.

“Good question. If you reach out within the next hour, it’s free. The Lord is like a Father, caring for His children. He offers His expensive wisdom at no cost.”

As she finished, sighs and mutterings spread through the crowd. “What is this?”, “Is she some sort of private nun?”, and “If the Lord could fix things, it’d be done by now,” could be heard.

The introduction was bold, but the substance was lacking. Just as people were ready to resume their lamentations, Iola joined Viretta at the front.

He bowed politely to the crowd.

“I apologize for deceiving you with false words intended only to gain the lord’s attention. We should treat references to God with more caution.”

“Uh, Iola?”

“It’s inappropriate to call the primal source ‘Father,’ even though Fillian uses that term for God. For the origin of all beings would naturally be a Mother.”

“Wait, that’s what you’re focusing on?”

Iola was taking issue with something Viretta hadn’t even thought about.

Now that he mentioned it, he had once said something similar in a temple.

“When one calls themselves a child of God, it’s more fitting to think of a Mother’s role. All children fundamentally belong to the Mother. The Father is only the one permitted to claim the role.”

“That’s unacceptable. While it’s natural to value the Mother, you’re dismissing the Father’s role?”

A priest who had come to petition the lord interjected confidently.

Iola welcomed the challenge with a smile.

“I’m not dismissing fathers. I’m simply stating that a family flows from the Mother to the child. Unless we have a way to specifically identify the Father, that role is earned, not innate.”

“Innate or not, where’s the responsibility? By your logic, children are only the Mother’s responsibility, not the Father’s.”

“Precisely. Birthing, raising, and passing on inheritance are all the Mother’s roles. The child belongs to the Mother and is her responsibility.”

“That’s ridiculous. Expecting a woman to raise children alone without a husband? You’re an educated man, yet you speak so harshly.”

“You’re mistaken! In Saha, all women and children—”

Just as Iola was about to delve into the customs of his homeland, Saha, the mansion doors opened.

After nearly two months.

The main door, which hadn’t opened despite everyone’s efforts, swung wide as the lord of the land, the Earl of Bechdelrace, emerged.

He ran out faster than his attendants, pushing through the crowd trying to hold him back, and grabbed Iola by the collar.

“You! You! You wretched creature! Did Elena send you?!”

The young lord, on the verge of tears, tightened his grip around Iola’s neck.