Tanzan Town

After Heti finished speaking, almost everyone present instinctively swallowed.

Betty was the only exception—the little girl had not understood a thing.

Rebecca could not help thinking of the monsters that had destroyed the family's territory. Those monsters had been products of the Magic Tide. Before this, she had assumed they had wandered out of the Gondor Wasteland, crossed the Great Wall, and invaded Ansu—after all, Cecil Territory lay on Ansu's southern border, close to the Gondor Wasteland. If a Sentinel Tower had truly malfunctioned and created a breach in the Great Wall, it was not hard to imagine a few monsters escaping through it.

But now, Rebecca could not help considering an even worse possibility—what if those monsters had not come from the Gondor Wasteland, but had naturally appeared within Cecil Territory?

What if those monsters... signaled a new Magic Tide?

"Th-this... aren't we getting a little too worked up?" Amber was the first to break the silence. The half-elf girl forced a smile and pointed at the notebook in Heti's hand. "It's just a diary left behind by a Wild Mage. The records are vague and unclear, so are we really going to jump straight to the Magic Tide?"

Gawain did not argue with her. Instead, he nodded. "Mm, maybe I am just being overly nervous."

After all, he was only making a wild analysis based on the inherited memories in his head. It had certainly felt satisfying to recite the major historical events of Seven Hundred Years Ago in the first person, but after doing so, even he felt that it sounded somewhat alarmist.

"Exactly," Amber said, visibly relieved when Gawain nodded. "You've been dead for seven hundred years, so your mind is still stuck in those days— I know you went through the Magic Tide back then, so it's probably psychological trauma from that time—ow!!"

Rebecca smacked the half-elf over the head with her staff and glared at her. "Do not disrespect our ancestor!"

Gawain looked strangely at Rebecca's staff. Why hadn't this little brat thought it disrespectful when she was beating up her ancestor with the Staff of Repose not long ago...?

"Regardless of how credible this is, once we reach Saint Suniel, we must report it to His Majesty the King," Heti said as she returned the notebook to Gawain. "As for how much the King believes... that is beyond our influence."

Gawain silently put away the notebook, burying his tangled thoughts deep inside.

Then he raised his head and looked up at the enormous "sun" in the sky.

No canopy blocked the clearing in the forest, leaving the sky broad and open. The giant sun had now risen to its highest point of the day, its immense and oppressive crown of light bringing Light and Heat, as well as the power of magic, to this world.

Perhaps it was precisely that final element which gave this world natural laws so utterly different from Earth's.

Gawain's gaze traveled across the surface of the giant sun. Those faint patterns should have been storms on the surface of a gaseous giant planet. He tried to find the ominous dark-red markings among them, but found nothing in the end. Those patterns had probably truly been fleeting, and had now vanished.

Yet the urgency in Gawain's heart did not disappear. He merely pressed it down for the moment and silently planned the road ahead.

First, he needed to establish himself in this world. Though it was only a ruined old family... having a starting point was still better than transmigrating into some desolate mountain graveyard.

After passing through the dense forest, the journey became much smoother. Perhaps the law of conservation of luck really existed; the group did not encounter any more magical beasts or bizarre "natural phenomena." They successfully reached the main road and even came across a small merchant caravan halfway there. After paying a sufficient price, Gawain and the others finally escaped the plight of crossing mountains on foot and were able to ride in the caravan's wagons toward Tanzan Town.

The caravan owner was a plump northerner who had come from the prosperous heartlands of the kingdom to the southern border, trading local specialties and medicinal herbs. Apparently, he had originally intended to make one final deal in Cecil Territory, but heard midway about the terrible disaster that had struck the territory and had no choice but to turn back. At first, the fat merchant had been wary and resistant toward Gawain and the others, who carried the air of battle and slaughter about them. Yet Heti eventually persuaded the cautious caravan owner with two gold coins, even getting him to surrender his own carriage.

Gold truly was the most eloquent business negotiator. Confirmed.

On the seventh day after leaving Cecil Territory, the gates of Tanzan Town finally appeared before them.

This was Gawain's first close look at a human town in this world—though when he had first left Cecil Territory, he had climbed a mountain and glanced at the estate that was nominally his. At that time, however, the entire Cecil Territory had already been churned into ruins by rampaging Elemental Power, then blasted into an abstract painting by a blue dragon that had appeared from nowhere and sprayed it with a mouthful of saltwater. There had truly been no way to see much of the local customs. But Tanzan Town before him... honestly did not leave him with a very good impression.

It would be more accurate to say he was somewhat disappointed.

Tanzan Town was quite large—or so Rebecca said. Perhaps because it lay on the plains, with fertile land and a river nearby, it was one of the most populous towns in the Southern Region. Nearly ten thousand people lived on this triangular stretch of flat land. The White Water River flowed in from the west and split into two before Tanzan Town, rushing past the town's northern and southern sides. It irrigated the vast farmlands around the town and served as the region's vital transport route. To the east of the town stood a mine, the town's most important source of income.

Yet in a place with fertile fields, a mine, and a river that could serve as a waterway—a place that looked like prime land in every way—the things Gawain saw most after entering the town were sallow, emaciated commoners, countless low and dilapidated wooden houses, and filthy streets reeking of all manner of odors.

Since civilization in this world was still far from advanced enough for humanity to crush nature and confine all magical beasts and ferocious animals in zoos, and since conflicts often broke out in border regions, the entire town was protected by a low wall. The crumbling commoner districts were piled up inside that wall, packed together in layers like moss and festering sores. Those ruined houses possessed no aesthetic appeal whatsoever and could barely serve to keep out the wind and rain. A broad avenue did run from the city gate to the center of town, but the sight along that road was no better.

Gawain sat in the caravan's carriage and watched the streets outside. He saw poor people in short shirts walking along both sides of the road. Only a small number wore shoes; most had scraps of cloth wrapped around their feet, while some were so poor they could not even afford rags. Those walking down the middle of the street were clearly dressed far more cleanly, and all of them had shoes on their feet.

There was no interaction between them, nor even conflict. They simply walked quietly along their own paths, as though a world separated them.

Though they lived in the same town and walked on the same road, they were as distinct as people from two different worlds.

Gawain searched Cecil's memories, only to find that they offered little useful reference in this regard. Gawain Cecil had been born in the glorious Gondor Empire and raised in a wealthy region, where such scenes did not exist. Later, the Gondor Magic Tide erupted, and Cecil led the people through a bloody path toward the north. Everyone shared hardship and joy alike along the way, with no distinction between high and low. Then Ansu was founded, and the pioneers established a kingdom upon barren wilderness, starting from nothing. Even several Founding Grand Dukes and the King himself had once put down their swords to work the fields behind plows. Where would they have seen such a sight?

And then... then Gawain Cecil died in battle on the southern border. This hero, who had died young at the age of thirty-five, never lived to witness the divide between rich and poor emerge in the country he had helped create.

So he could only ask "his descendants" for guidance, asking what rules governed the road.

"Those walking along the sides are serfs and mine slaves," Heti explained. "There are also poor freefolk from the outlying areas. They are not permitted to walk on the main avenue—because they could not contribute money when the road was built. Those walking in the middle are respectable 'citizens,' as well as merchants, mercenaries, and the like from outside. These people can afford all kinds of taxes, so they are allowed to walk down the middle."

Gawain recalled the few coins the fat merchant had slipped to the guards when the caravan entered the gate—that must have been the tax for entering the town.

Then he remembered the soldier who had been buried in the forest—the serf's son.

That he had been allowed to take up a sword and die for his lord was already the result of Rebecca's mercy. But even after dying for his lord, he had not been permitted to be buried as a warrior, because he had not yet redeemed himself. He had not even redeemed his own sword.

"Ancestor, is something wrong?" Noticing the shifting expression on Gawain's face, Heti asked in confusion.

Gawain withdrew his gaze from outside the carriage and shook his head slightly. "No, nothing is wrong."

He simply instinctively recoiled from such things with the mindset of a transmigrator, but it was not yet time for him to criticize or "correct" them.

Because he still did not understand this world well enough.

After a brief moment of thought, he looked at Heti. "What do you plan to do next?"

Heti clearly already had a plan. "First, we will find the local lord. Viscount Andrew is fairly easy to talk to, and through him, we should be able to contact Knight Philip without much difficulty. If everything goes smoothly on Knight Philip's side, we can find the people who broke out that day. Then, depending on the situation, we will either settle the people here first or head directly to the royal capital. What happened in Cecil Territory cannot be explained by sending one or two messengers. Rebecca must personally meet the King and explain the situation."

Gawain did not see any problem with that. Mainly because, as an ancestor who had transmigrated here and had a seven-hundred-year generation gap with modern people, he truly could not think of any better advice. "Then let us proceed that way for now."

(The second update is here! Vote if you have votes~~)