Troubled times called for harsh laws, but those harsh laws should not-and could not-apply only to the refugees.
In Chris's view, his own militia and laborers needed those harsh laws even more, to keep them from breaking the rules he had laid down, or even daring to try.
Chris knew perfectly well that the most morally upright people under his command were actually the Players. The compulsory schooling and higher education they had received in the society of the future made even the least moral among them shine like saints in this world.
But did the Bich Town Militia under his command have any morals?
No. A month ago, they too had been starving country bumpkins, dirt-poor peasants... Calling them country bumpkins might have been insulting, but that was the reality.
The militiamen had no personal morals whatsoever.
Only with full granaries did people learn propriety; only with adequate food and clothing did they learn honor and shame.
Before Chris arrived, the militiamen had all belonged to the lowest stratum of Bagnia's population, struggling to survive. Staying alive had already taken everything they had. They had no room for notions of etiquette, honor, or shame.
Like wild beasts, they fought desperately just to eat, drink, relieve themselves, and sleep.
That was why, after establishing the refugee camps, Chris had laid down the rules: "Rape means losing your dick. Theft and robbery mean losing a hand. Murder means paying with your life." Those words had been directed at the militia.
Chris had originally thought that, once the refugee camps were established, the militiamen guarding them would wait two or three days before testing the rules.
Instead, on the very night the female refugees moved into their camp, one reckless fool had disregarded Prince Chris's authority and tried to play with fire,