Wortenia Senki (LN) - Volume 13 - Chapter Ep

Epilogue

The human spirit has a limited tolerance. Even the strongest, most resilient person is still but a man; he can only take so much before he snaps. The problem is that people aren’t necessarily aware of how long their tolerance can last. Unfortunately, unlike in video games, there’s no status screen that displays this information.

It’s similar to a cup filled to the brim with water. The slightest disturbance might make it overflow. Overfilling the glass by accident or bumping into someone along the way is all it would take to spill the contents.

In much the same way, emotions can exceed the heart’s capacity with surprising ease. All it takes is the wrong timing for one to lose their temper. Worse yet, anger and indignation can spread to others too, like a contagion.

The smoldering fires of malice were spreading throughout Rhoadseria, and they would soon blaze again in the citadel city of Epirus...all because of one man’s words.

It happened in a small inconspicuous tavern located near Epirus’s walls. The area wasn’t dilapidated enough to be called a slum, but it certainly wasn’t an affluent part of the city. It was more a neighborhood where the poor lived. The tavern was where these people went to dream, offering them a respite from their impoverished lives. But as of late, it had become a crucible of hatred and displeasure—ever since countless refugees appeared outside the city gates.

“Ugh. It hurts.”

“Those shitheads.”

Hateful whispers and mumbles filled the bar. Normally, the only sounds were the monologues of men seeking to drown their daily fatigue with alcohol and the cheering of drunks. Today, however, the tavern’s jovial liveliness had been replaced with hateful vilification.

Men lay stretched out in the establishment, their eyes glinting dangerously. A dozen or so women were busily running about among them.

“I’m sorry, Anna, but could you find something that could work as a bandage? Oh, and fetch some hot water too. We’re short on hands. Go around the neighborhood, bring people here, and boil that water. Oh, and call the doctor. Hurry!”

A young woman named Anna ran out of the tavern. A middle-aged woman kneeled on the floor and tore one of the men’s shirts into strips as she called out to another girl. She wasn’t as skilled as a doctor, but being the proprietress of this tavern, she was used to treating injuries.

The moment she saw him, she dropped the shirt. Something viscous dripped and splattered everywhere. His stomach had been torn open, and blood was gushing out of it with each beat of his heart.

“It’s a severed artery...” the woman said. “It’ll hurt a little, but try to put up with it.”

The woman pressed on the man’s wound as hard as she could. She had to stop the bleeding, even if it meant cutting off the flow entirely. But if this were enough to stop the blood flow, she wouldn’t need a doctor.

He’s hardly reacting...

The man’s reactions were feeble. His consciousness was muddled, and his eyes were unfocused. The woman could only watch, knowing that his life was draining out.

“Ma’am, how is he?” a woman asked, her hands clasped in front of her chest. She was visibly shaking, and her features were twisted with guilt, perhaps because she knew that she was the cause of the commotion. Tears flowed down her pale face.

“Listen, you have to stay strong. Crying and complaining won’t help. If you want to save this one, get moving!” the proprietress shouted at the woman as she struggled to stop the man’s bleeding.

The man had lived in this area since he was a child, and he was now a regular at the tavern. Everyone there saw one another as family, and they all were doing everything they could to save this man’s life. But his injury was beyond first aid or amateur treatment.

Oh, no... His body’s getting colder. Only an elven nostrum could help him now.

His pulse was growing weaker, and the bleeding became less profuse. He was on death’s door.

“Brother!”

The door suddenly slammed open, and a young man hurried into the tavern. All eyes were fixed on him. His features were similar to the man lying on the floor.

“Where’s my brother?!” he demanded, looking around the room with an angry glare.

“Alan... I’m so sorry...” the woman said as she sobbed even harder.

“Janice...” the young man uttered. As soon as he saw the expression on her face, he realized what had happened.

It was just a few days ago that Janice, Alan’s lover, had started helping deliver food and supplies to the refugees. Count Salzberg wasn’t by any means tolerant of the commoners, but even he had to act when the war dragged on for so long. He had to appear in control in front of the ten houses of the north. Of course, the fact that Baron Mikoshiba’s army had stopped pressuring them as much must have been a factor. Count Salzberg couldn’t reasonably provide adequate care for everyone, but he could at least arrange for food to be distributed twice a day and for each person to get a bedroll.

The city required people to handle said distribution, and Janice accepted the job in exchange for a small wage. Those around her had tried to stop her, but she’d refused to quit. Janice was always kind to everyone. Alan loved her for that. Sadly, it ended up dooming them.

Alan stood frozen in place, his fists clenched at his side. He ground his teeth so hard he could taste iron in his mouth.

This is terrible. I knew this might happen one day. I should have put my foot down and stopped her from taking that job.

Everyone had tried to stop Janice, and for good reason. The city’s people felt estranged from the refugees, and they were unhappy with their amount of rationed food and water. There were countless other reasons, but the biggest concern was Epirus’s public safety.

People were flocking to the city from all over Rhoadseria, and not even a great citadel city like Epirus could accommodate everyone. Most of the refugees had escaped with only the clothes on their back. They didn’t have money to stay at an inn or rent out a new home. They had no shelter from the rain and had to sleep on the wayside.

The refugees were all concentrated in the slums, and the knights didn’t watch over those areas. It was only a matter of time before conflict broke out. They were all anxious about the future, ravaged by endless hunger and thirst—angered at a society that refused to help. Those negative emotions warped the people, who were but modest farmers, into something inhuman.

Alan honestly didn’t know what had triggered the first quarrel. Not even the proprietress of the inn, where intelligence and information traveled freely, knew. No one had really tried to figure it out either.

But Alan did know that the residents of the slums started seeing the refugees as a common enemy as they argued about who would use the well. At first, it had been just words between two women who’d come to collect water. Before long, it had flared into full-blown enmity that resulted in a large altercation and several dozen injured. The brawl only ended when the knights arrived to break it up.

To an outsider, the whole affair would have seemed pointless. They weren’t children, and it all could have been avoided if someone had stepped back and conceded. But that one clash stirred up a hatred that soon turned to malice. That malice was enough to drown out everyone’s common sense. And when people forgot that the other side was their fellow man, things could only go in one direction.

It happened just a short while ago. A young refugee had called out to Janice, who was on her way back from work. Maybe all he wanted was to thank her, or maybe he had some other intentions. There was no way of knowing now.

Unfortunately for the refugee, he had called out to her just as she was walking through an abandoned alley. A group of young men from the slums who’d branded themselves as the local militia happened to see him. Janice was adored for her beauty, so the men were even more defensive.

At first, they had just warned the refugee. However, the refugee had answered in kind, and soon enough the situation escalated. Townsfolk and refugees gathered around, and the situation devolved into a riot. But it was still just a quarrel. If things had stopped there, it would have resulted in just a few bruises.

Instead of throwing their fist, someone picked up a stone on the roadside. Then blades were drawn. It peaked when Alan’s brother got caught up in the riot and someone slashed his stomach.

“It’s me, brother. Can you hear me?!”

Alan gripped his brother’s hands, but his brother’s fingers gradually went limp. Alan then shook his shoulder and yelled into his ears.

“It’s me, it’s Alan! Wake up!”

As Alan called out in vain, his brother’s faint breathing slowed to a stop. Alan merely sobbed, his shoulders trembling. No one could say anything as he squatted there in grief.

“I can’t take any more of this!” one of the men howled. “Let’s just kill them! Those vermin go around like they own the place, always saying that their governors do this, their governors do that! Why do we have to put up with this?!”

It was the howl of every citizen living in Epirus. And his anger started a chain reaction that spread throughout the city.

The battle that ensued signaled that the war was entering its final stages.