Roland pushed forward.
The crowd saw him.
They parted. Automatically.
Like water splitting before a shark. A wave of fear rippled through them.
A path formed.
The murmuring stopped. The jeers died in their throats. People lowered their eyes, afraid to even look.
The square fell silent.
He was the Earl's son.
Even with zero mana, even as "the cripple," he was still a noble.
High as the heavens to these serfs.
Roland looked into the center of the circle.
A girl was kneeling there.
She was small. Trembling. Trying to fold in on herself, to disappear.
She had golden-blonde hair. Sky-blue eyes.
Her face was smeared with mud and tears.
Black streaks ran through the grime.
Her hair was a tangled, matted mess, full of straw and filth.
Her clothes were little more than thin, filthy rags, barely holding together.
But he could tell.
Beneath the grime, she was a true beauty.
The bone structure was perfect.
Roland glanced at his System map.
A pulsing white dot.
It was centered directly on this girl. Unmistakable.
'There. That's her.'
'The target.'
He confirmed it.
'Thief or not, I have to save her.'
The white dot on the map flickered, then vanished.
Target found.
'Good. I'm being exiled to the Northern Reaches tomorrow.'
'I have no time to waste. I need followers. I need... anything. A chess piece. A tool. And the System pointed me to her.'
Just then, a territory guard hurried to Roland's side.
He was breathing hard.
"My Lord," the guard said, his voice stiff. He was trying not to look Roland in the eye. Afraid.
"This is a clear-cut case. She committed theft. By the laws of the territory, the punishment is public execution!"
Roland kept his eyes on the girl. She hadn't moved.
"What did she steal?"
"A valuable medicine from the church, My Lord. Holy water."
"Was she caught in the act?"
The guard hesitated. His grip tightened. "No, My Lord. She was... reported."
"By who?"
"By... her own mother."
Roland paused.
He was stunned.
He knew the law. Reporting a thief earned a reward. Ten silver coins.
'Ten silver coins. Enough to report your own daughter?'
'To have her publicly executed? In the street? Like an animal?'
Was this a righteous act? A law-abiding citizen turning in her own kin?
Or something else?
This world was more rotten than he thought. Far more.
Roland ignored the guard. He walked directly to the girl.
He knelt on one knee. He got down to her level, in the dirt.
The crowd gasped. A collective, sharp intake of breath.
A noble. Kneeling.
For a thief. For trash.
This was unheard of. It was madness.
Roland didn't care. Their opinions were worthless.
"Why did you steal the medicine?" he asked.
The girl remained huddled. She was hugging her knees, her face buried. She flinched, expecting a blow. Her whole body was a knot of terror.
Her voice was tiny. Muffled. Broken.
"Are you here to pronounce my death sentence?"
"..."
"Kill me. Cut me up... just do whatever you want. Get it over with."
Her voice was dead. Utterly devoid of hope. She had already accepted her fate.
At that exact moment, a woman scurried up to Roland.
She pushed through the stunned guards, her eyes fixed on Roland's coin pouch.
Not on Roland. Not on the girl.
On the money.
She was wringing her hands.
Her voice trembled with a desperate, greedy eagerness.
"My Lord, what about my reward? The reward for the report?"
Roland turned. He looked at the woman.
Her eyes and brow. They were strikingly similar to the kneeling girl's.
But where the girl's eyes were sky-blue and dead, this woman's were watery, shifty, and burning with avarice.
'So. This is the mother?'
Hearing that voice, the girl's body jolted. A violent, full-body flinch. As if she'd been struck by a whip.
She didn't look up. She couldn't. She just trembled.
But her hands gripped her legs. So hard her knuckles turned white.
"You know this girl?" Roland asked the woman.
The woman replied instantly.
Too fast. Too loud, for the whole crowd.
"She's my daughter! My wicked, sinful daughter! I'm the one who found out she stole! A terrible, wicked girl! She shames our family!"
She leaned in, her eyes darting around, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whine. Her breath smelled sour.
"By the way, My Lord... is there... an extra reward for turning in your own family? For being so righteous? For upholding the law?"
Hearing this, Roland nodded.
He reached into his pouch. He pulled out twenty silver coins. Twice the reward. A small fortune for these people.
He held them out.
She snatched them. Her hand shot out like a snake.
Her eyes went wide with joy. Her breath hitched. She didn't even count them. She just felt the weight.
She bowed. No, she groveled.
She practically knocked her forehead on the ground.
"Thank you, My Lord! Thank you! You are truly generous! A blessed day! A blessed day!"
She scurried away, clutching the coins to her chest, disappearing back into the crowd before anyone could change their mind.
Roland turned back to the girl. The square was silent again, watching.
"Why did you steal?"
"..."
"It doesn't matter anymore."
"Answer me."
His voice wasn't loud. But it was a command. It cut through her despair.
A long silence.
Finally, she answered. Her voice was flat. A monotone. A dead thing.
"She... she was sick."
"Your mother?"
"Yes. She was coughing. Crying. She looked like she was in so much pain. We had no money for the church's medicine. So I... I had to steal it."
She took a ragged breath.
"But I never expected... the sickness was fake."
"...."
"She pretended to be ill. She put on the whole show. For days. Just to make me steal."
"..."
"So she could report me. And collect the reward."
Roland stared at the back of the girl's head.
Ten silver coins.
"What does she need those silver coins for?"
"To gamble."
Roland was speechless.
He stood up. The dirt fell from his knee.
He said to the girl, "Get up. You're coming with me."
The girl didn't move. She didn't even seem to hear him. She was lost.
The nearby guard, seeing this, immediately stepped forward. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword, his face pale with sweat. He was out of his depth.
"My Lord, you can't!"
"..."
"The law is clear! I saw the law speaker confirm it! Thieves must be publicly executed! On the spot! I... I have to enforce it!"
The guard was shaking. But he held his ground.
He was terrified of the noble, but he was more terrified of the law. Or what the Lord would do to him if he failed.
"So you are going to stop me?"