Yveta told them to put away their weapons. The situation up ahead didn't look like an assassin or a Knight Order.
Instead, in front of a stall, a young, burly man wearing chainmail had knocked down five people who looked like vagrants.
The stall's owner was an old woman who looked to be over seventy. She was extremely old, and her clothes were strange, too: a robe made of fox fur, decorated at the collar with silver-gray eagle feathers.
It was obvious that anyone wearing that robe would be very warm.
From the crowd of onlookers, Yveta learned what had happened.
Apparently, the five people dressed like vagrants had accidentally stepped on and broken the old woman's clay pot as they passed by.
The old woman had demanded compensation, but they had responded with unreasonable brutality.
The young man in cotton armor had happened to be passing by. Unable to stand by while they laid hands on an old woman, he had beaten them.
Black Wolf kicked the vagrant who had fallen into the carriage out of it. "It's already crowded enough."
"Get out."
On the street, the vagrants shouted hysterically at the young man in chainmail.
"How dare you hit us! You're finished! We're going to notify the mayor! We'll report you to the town's guild officials!"
"We won't let you get away with this! We'll report you as a dangerous criminal!"
"My name is Gasroter Nubiss," the young man said calmly. "I'm telling you my name so it'll be easier for you to report me."
"I'm also a knight currently on a journey."
The vagrants' faces changed, and their arrogance vanished. Since he had a surname, he was a noble.
And if he was a knight as well, he was someone they couldn't afford to offend.
They had only dared to bully the old woman because she was elderly and seemed confused.
"Even so... this is a town, not your nobles' territory!" one vagrant said nervously. "This is the western part of the Viscount Country, not your East March."
"I'm a knight from elsewhere. I don't know the difference between the West and the East," Gasroter Nubiss said with a sneer. "But I do know one thing: do you have burgage rights?"
"I've heard that in a town, a person needs burgage rights to receive the protection of its laws and the privileges of citizenship."
"Do you have them?"
The vagrants were too pale to answer.
Gasroter Nubiss drew his sword and took half a step forward. "Ah, so you don't have burgage rights and aren't citizens of Kali Town. Then even if I kill you here—"
"The town court will only make me pay a little money."
The vagrants' faces changed dramatically.
One of them hurriedly took off his shoe and pulled out three pennies.
Perhaps it was all the money he had.
He didn't bother to check whether it was enough. He simply tossed it on the ground and ran.
The other vagrants ran, too.
Yveta turned to Leili and the others. "What are burgage rights?"
"Master, burgage rights refer to ownership of a house and a small plot of land in a town. Only those who own such property are citizens of the town."
"Even passersby are protected by the law, though."
"That man is a noble, after all."
"If a noble kills a commoner who isn't a citizen of that town, the town court will certainly side with the noble."
Leili had always been hoping to regain his noble status, so he knew a great deal about the privileges nobles enjoyed over commoners. "In principle, secular courts try to avoid finding nobles guilty."
"Church courts are fairer, though not by much."
Yveta nodded. It seemed towns and manors had completely different economic and political structures.
Manors had only serfs, nobles, and hired laborers.
Towns, on the other hand, had concepts like citizens and guilds.
The vagrants had mentioned the West and the East. Apparently, the western and eastern parts of this Viscount Country were completely different worlds.
Yveta thought about it. It was probably similar to the difference between the North and South of the United States before the Civil War on Earth in his previous life.
The old woman at the stall looked up and smiled at Gasroter Nubiss. "Thank you, young knight."
"May the God of All Things bless you and grant you all you wish for."
"You can head east. Perhaps you'll find what you need there, though it's more likely you'll only end up disappointed."
"No one can help the child in your carriage anymore. Only a god in this world can save him."
"Stop fighting fate. Sometimes, people suffer because they try to defy fate, only to find themselves powerless. Let the child have one last happy childhood before he dies."
Gasroter froze for a moment, then looked back at his carriage, suddenly realizing how strange this was.
No one should have known about his friend's child's condition.
Perhaps the old woman was just talking nonsense.
Gasroter knew that every extra minute his friend's child spent in this town was a terrible risk to the lives of others.
They had to leave immediately.
Gasroter gave the old woman a slight nod. "I have urgent business, so I'll be on my way. Please forgive my rudeness."
He took two shillings from his pocket and tossed them toward Yveta, but when he saw the lavish ornaments on Yveta's right hand, his pupils suddenly contracted.
Clearly, he realized that Yveta was either rich or noble.
Gasroter bowed to Yveta. "Please forgive my rudeness. This is compensation. If I weren't in such a hurry, I'd certainly apologize to you properly."
Then he drove away in his carriage.
Yveta watched him disappear into the distance. "That knight is polite and has a sense of justice. He's completely changed the way I think about knights. I thought they were all like the Boar Knight Order."
"He seems capable, and he has principles of his own. It would be wonderful if he could serve me."
Leili gave a wry smile.
Black Wolf suddenly reminded Yveta, "Your Highness, just one piece of that man's chainmail could be exchanged for a small manor. The warhorse pulling his carriage is a white-forehead horse. It could buy at least half a town. You won't be able to recruit him."
"Because he's too rich. Unless he's willing to become your creditor."
Yveta rolled his eyes, speechless. Good grief, you might as well write "King of Borrowing" on my forehead.
That was sarcasm, wasn't it?
The old woman suddenly walked up to the carriage and said to Yveta, "Young man, I feel a connection with you. I want to give you a treasure."
"Consider it my thanks."
Yveta was stunned. Forget the treasure—Gasroter had just helped her. She hadn't given him anything, but she wanted to give Yveta a gift?
"You're thanking me? But you didn't give a gift to the knight just now."
The old woman shook her head. "That's not it."
"My saying 'thank you' just now was already my way of repaying him for helping me."
"But I didn't actually need his help, so I only said 'thank you.'"
"He even drew people's attention to me, which actually harmed my interests. It was only thanks to my kind nature and experience that I didn't get angry with him."
"But I'll give you the treasure because you deserve it."
"So I thank fate for bringing you to me."
Yveta felt dizzy. He suddenly realized that, at some point, the Old Witch hadn't said a word. She had only been staring intently at the old woman running the stall.
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