An Alexandrian's Day

Bart was a native Alexandrian. Of course, they called themselves "Alexandrians." As a city-born man, he could look down on those stinking beggars from the countryside, even if he was only an ordinary dockworker.

At first, he had been deeply resistant to these newly arrived conquerors. But he quickly realized that these outsiders, with their strange accents and incomprehensible language, had not taken away the little wealth they possessed as the stories claimed they would.

Life went on exactly as it had before.

When the city's lords had fled by ship with their families some time ago, he had made quite a bit of money from it. And with so many houses recently emptied out in Alexandria, he figured it would not be long before he could own a home of his own. That was something he had never even dared dream of before.

Thinking of this, he awkwardly made the sign of the cross before the crude cross sitting on his table. "Praise the Heavenly Father. Please bless me so I can buy a house of my own. And if I can marry a wife too, that would be even better!"

That Samut next door spent all day shouting about driving the Franks out of Alexandria, but Bart thought it was hopeless. Drunken idiots who spouted nonsense were the very sort smart people always avoided in taverns.

Only fools with heads full of shit would crowd around to listen to him fart.

Just think about it. Governor Adil had been such an imposing figure, with a whole troop of pitch-black armored cavalry under him, yet he had still died at the hands of that Crusader King.

Not to mention that Crusader King was a "Miracle Worker." Dragon slaying, Slay God, colossal buildings rising from the ground overnight—making an enemy