Children Who Are Not Brats
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The hole discovered by Demon King Rozenke was a perfect hexagon. The earth around the cavity was dry and hard, with the soil appearing as if it had been compressed. All this information indicated that the object previously buried here was extraordinarily solid.
The cavity was approximately as large as a palm, and was the same size as an emblem. However, once Rozenke reached his hand inside, he discovered the hole was much deeper than he had initially thought: his index finger could reach in completely. Rather than an emblem, the cavity felt more box-like in shape.
The cavity also felt quite ancient. The precipices of the Dark Abyss’ had originally been glossy and smooth; only after many years of erosion and pressure from sludge and filth had the Dark Abyss become pitted with holes. Such changes were not possible within the span of only two years. Furthermore, the Dark Abyss connected Hell to the mortal realm, so its cliffs were even stronger than the walls of the Golden Flag Empire’s imperial palace. Removing even the thinnest layer of rock from these cliffs would take several decades, and this cavity which had once contained a “box” was pitted from erosion.
The cavity must have existed for at least several millennia.
The question was, what had it once contained?
What kind of item had been quietly brought here and embedded into the earth? What kind of item had disappeared without a trace?
Of course, there was a possibility that what had fallen here had simply been a rock, or something similar to the core of a mana-possessing magic beast. Perhaps the object had been pushed out, or crushed to dust, by the weight of the surrounding earth, and had perhaps now finally become one with the Dark Abyss, leaving only this empty space remained as proof of its existence.
These were entirely possible scenarios; however, after the Fear Lord inspected the remainder of the Dark Abyss, she approached while shaking her head, “I found no problems.” As such, Demon King Rozenke could no longer treat this empty cavity as something normal.
He pondered. Perhaps it would be best to dig out a small section of the cliff wall, extracting this inexplicable “empty cavity,” so that he could take it back and study it slowly.
As he began the extraction, he thought to himself, does this count as looting an area clean?
. . .
The Abyss Lord was currently observing a Beastman mercenary captain, whom the Golden Flag Empire had recently hired. At the same time, he was also instructing his underlings to initiate an attack on the enemy’s rear lines—although he could have personally led the attacks, tasks that underlings could do were best left for underlings to do. . . . As these thoughts flitted across his mind, he suddenly felt something like a caress upon his neck. A few minutes later, there was a sharp pain, as if a bug had stung him.
“. . . ” Clearly this was not some enemy attack, but rather. . . . fucking hell, what have they done to the Dark Abyss again!
Was there no end!
Can’t you all be conscious of the fact that I’m in the frontlines?!
The battlefield where the demons fought against the other races was located in what could be considered the northeastern region of the Snowblade Kingdom. And indeed, most of the humans on the battlefield were soldiers of the Snowblade Kingdom. However, besides them, there were also reinforcements from the Golden Flag Empire, along with beastmen, part-elf, and dwarven mercenaries, as well as mercenaries from other races.
Gnomes shuttled through the allied armies as technical staff. They were squat and ugly, with coarse and grating voices, and they possessed zero combat ability. However, these small ugly fellows were naturally gifted artisans. In terms of combat, everyone looked down upon the gnomes. Traveling bards sang poems of their greed and short-sightedness, of their lack of bravery and responsibility, and of how they would abandon their own for the sake of coin. As such, they no longer possessed their own tribe, but had instead become vassals to others. Such was their fate.
However, none could say that gnomish handiworks were poorly made. Dwarves being master smiths was common knowledge. Similarly, even children knew that gnomes were good at handcrafting and manufacturing. From tanning leather armor to repairing equipment, from drawing inscriptions to brewing potions, and from machinery to construction. . . gnomes were always the best at what they did. They were natural-born workers.
Of course, people also said that gnomes could only ever be workers because they lacked creativity.
This was a fixed mindset that everyone had. After all, across the eons of the Continent of Gods’ Blessing, wars have never ceased; as such, the races customarily defined each other from a militaristic perspective. Additionally, nearly every race looked down on all other races besides their own.
The Northern Allied Armies was a microcosm: a chaotic microcosm of the various, weaker races of the world. Naturally, the strongest races—such as the dragons and the aloof and arrogant, pure-blooded elves—were not amongst them. They disliked involving themselves in such matters; furthermore, wars rarely reached their doorsteps.
Compared to the Northern Allied Armies, which garnered much of the continent’s attention, the free cities and city states in the more southern regions of the Golden Flag Empire were practically ignored. The majority of these small cities were prospering because of the great number of merchants passing through on their way to and from the northern front. However, these cities lacked military strength. At the very least, compared to the vast Golden Flag Empire, they were unbelievably weak; as such, they were incapable of pulling any tricks.
Take Mentamar City for instance: for many years, the city had fought for the Golden Flag Empire’s emperor to lower their taxes, but. . . they had yet to succeed.
After all, Mentamar City needed the Golden Flag Empire’s protection.
Although their city lord’s position was comparable to a king, and the city itself was “independent and free” in name, the world was not some children’s fairytale. Things that existed only in theory were useless in practice.
…
The people of Mentamar City were anxious.
Rumors stated that the esteemed City Lord was unable to sleep even in the dead of night. Everyday, in private, beyond the reach of prying ears, people spoke of how “the Golden Flag Empire only taxes but never aids.” Of course, anyone who spread this rumor was unable to clearly explain the rumors; after all, how can words said “in private, beyond the reach of prying ears” be heard by someone and then spread?
Naturally, before the public, the esteemed City Lord always appeared quite relaxed. He seemed in control, and acted as if Mentamar City’s current plight was trifling.
Such behavior indeed gave the commoners a tiny bit of hope.
“Huu, have you all forgotten? Twenty years ago there was a great famine caused by three consecutive, rainless years. . . us city folk nearly starved to death! In the end, it was the City Lord who invited over a Grand Magister of the water magic system. That Magister made it rain for three days and three nights, which allowed the sprouts we planted to grow!”
Or so the people said.
Xu Jun led Mantou and held onto Lance’s hand while Jesse followed behind them. Like this, the group of four people (as before, three were not actually human) headed for the church. Mentamar City’s layout was similar to many of the cities in the Golden Flag Empire. The barracks were built near the city’s two gates while the residential district encircled the rest of the city; also located in this space were the medical clinics and herbal stores. The city’s central district contained massive auction houses, banks, as well as armaments stores which mostly sold finished goods such as equipment, runes, potions and more to those of the warrior profession.
The city lord’s manor, the city government’s hall, and the church were all located in the direct center of the city.
These buildings were separated from the bank and the commercial district by a single road, as if doing so would prevent the sound of clinking of coins from traveling to them, thus increasing the nobility of these three buildings.
In the past, the inner city’s commercial district was the rowdiest of them all. Adventurers and mercenaries would make great rackets here, discussing topics such as their latest jobs, the price of potions, and pretty girls. Now, however, not a single adventurer could be found. Only commoners could be seen, wandering about before the church and city government’s hall.
However, there was melodious music in the air.
“Like this. . . do you see them? There’s a person by that water fountain up ahead who’s playing music. That person’s a wandering bard. They usually tell stories in public areas like this to make money.” Xu Jun pointed to the bard who was playing a five-stringed instrument by the water fountain ahead. The bard wore fur clothing, with a colorful feather sticking out of his hat. The feather was flamboyantly red in shade and swayed slightly in the breeze.
“Usually bards like this tell love stories. . .” Xu Jun explained. As Xu Jun moved closer, he heard the bard’s impassioned plucking and loud singing, “Expect no god to save you, beloved brothers and sisters of mine. Let us hold each other’s hands tightly, the City Lord will lead us to victory. . . .”
Xu Jun: “. . . En, but love stories can’t compare to political correctness. . . .”
Lance was still young and did not understand love stories. As for what political correctness meant, he understood even less. Mantou had accompanied Xu Jun for a long time in traveling the world, and had an approximate understanding of what love was; however, he had no understanding of what politics were.
Jesse lightly laughed. Xu Jun scratched his head, “. . . . I wonder how much the City Lord spent on these paid reviews _(:зゝ∠)_”
The group passed by the bard and headed for the church doors. Only then did they discover the mass of commoners gathered in the church’s antechamber. Everyone who walked out of the antechamber was covering something with their hands, blocking anyone from seeing what they held. Seeing Xu Jun and his group who were dressed like adventurers, these commoners became even more cautious. They acted as if Xu Jun would suddenly commit a violent robbery.
Most likely, the church was. . . giving alms?
Heading inside, the group heard a gentle yet resounding voice declare: “Everyone here is a devout believer of God. . . and piety is the greatest path to happiness for those that believe in God. I ask that everyone follow the rules and receive your single portion of medicines. . . . You, the one named Paul over there, you’ve already received medicine two days in a row now. . . . Everyone is restricted to receiving only a single portion. . . .”
The crowd began whispering, commenting on Paul’s lack of self-awareness. A few relatively robust, young men and women began squeezing Paul out of the church.
Xu Jun and the others saw a skinny, narrow-mouthed man with monkey-like cheeks, and dark circles under his eyes. The man cursed while clutching tightly onto half a portion of medicines, “. . . Fuck, why are you even pretending. . .. everyone knows you still have stock. . . .”
In the end, Paul had still managed to get his hands on some medicine.
And this portion of medicines had most likely been prepared for someone else.
Under their current circumstances, not even the church could gather many supplies. Ordinarily, Mentamar City was prosperous and bustling; however, most of the church’s revenue needed to be given to the higher-ups. Therefore, when a true disaster struck, the bishop of the local church could only provide disaster relief. They had neither the power to reverse the tides with some world-saving forbidden spell, nor did they have the finances to buy up large quantities of food and medicines to become an impregnable, reliable storehouse.
Mentamar City’s Bishop Karlmense was an old man with silver hair and a silver beard who possessed a gentle countenance. He had been the one speaking earlier. He put on no airs while talking to the commoners, but as a consequence was unable to keep certain people in line: people such as Paul.
Accompanying him were two nuns, who were also helping to distribute the medicines; like him, the nuns were also amiable.
“Is everyone only allowed to get medicine twice?” A small young boy walked out from the crowd and pulled on Bishop Karlmense’s gown. “Mister, I’m sorry, I didn’t know. . . but my grandpa can’t hold on any longer wuwuwu. . . and he still needs medicine. . . . .”
Tears flowed out from the young boy’s deep-set eyes. He was skinny, skinny to the point that he did not even resemble a seven or eight year old child.
Behind him was an even skinnier, little girl. Perhaps it was due to malnutrition, but the girl’s hair was dry and dull with an unhealthy yellow hue. The little boy pulled on the bishop’s gown while the little girl pulled on the little boy’s hem. “Big brother. . . don’t cry, I’ll save the medicine for grandpa.”
Author has something to say:
Xu Jun, in reaction to the current scene: this child is so pitiful.
Xu Jun’s heart softens for adorable, little kids while his hands itch when facing brats.
The young sand leopard boy, Ti Na, who was once spanked by Xu Jun: “. . . Haha.”
Miyorf Tries Translating 