"You don't have to thank me, Wood, let alone Phialert. That's the deal.

　I say this with as much of a matter-of-fact tone in my voice as I can muster.

　I know it's a bit cheery, but it's the least I can do for someone who has such a sorrowful expression on his face. If the expression on his face is due to the kindness of Wood's nature, it's even better.

......

　You can see that Cereal tugged on his brother's hem without saying a word. I'm not sure what to make of that.

　I'm sure you'll be able to understand why my brother and I are living in the poorhouse with him. It is not because they are heralds, nor because they are acquaintances of Largd-Anne. Nor is it because they adore me.

　It is a relationship based on a contract that I made with them.

　I offered Largd-Anne supplies and the protection of their siblings as a condition, and they offered me housing in the ghetto and a buffer to persuade others.

　It is extremely troublesome to make such a medium- to long-term contract with the residents of the poorhouse.

　They don't care about the rest as long as they get what they need. I know this nature very well from experience. So, there is no problem in exchanging information, but as in this case, the role of connecting with the heraldists is very selective.

but... It's not normal, Rougis' brother. I'm not sure what the contract is, but I don't know what it is. ...... Why would you risk your own life for it?

　In this regard, Wood and Cereal were the right people for the job.

　They had a certain amount of popularity, but they were clearly in need of protection. A rarity indeed in the ghettos, where survival on one's own is the greatest rule.

　Wood, my brother, was a brave man. He had lost his parents and had no one to rely on, but he had used his huge body to raise Cereal. He was a man with an unyielding spirit, even in the poor conditions of a favela.

　Cereal looked at his brother with admiration. You can see it in his daily behavior. Even now, it's the same.

　There was no need for protection. He shouldn't have.

　Until Wood's huge size made him the center of attention among the youth of the favelas, which led to his being spotted by the guards and left him half-dead while protecting his sister.

It's okay. I have my own way of doing things. That's the one thing I can't let anyone stand in my way.

　My fingers involuntarily search for the chewing tobacco, but I hold them back just in time. Watch out. I'm not an oppressor, and I don't want to be tortured by extreme pain again and again.

　Assaulting the denizens of the poorhouse.

　It's part of daily life in the Guard. It is not an exaggeration to say that in a ghetto, it is an extension of the scenery that the inhabitants are beaten by the guards.

　There are those who do not even keep the legal issues in mind, but only make difficulties with the residents of the ghettos to relieve their own sorrows. It is natural that such people exist.

"......

　Cereal lowered his eyes and stroked the old shofar in his hand.

　Yes, it must all be routine. But not for Wood, and not for Cereal. Then their routine changed drastically. The Guards had taken Wood's bravery and Cereal's voice. Now Wood can't even approach a fight, and Cereal's voice is the trumpet in her hand.

　How unreasonable, how equal, and yet the world goes on with its daily life.

　There is no one in the world who cares about what happened to this brother and sister. Even if their daily life is taken away by the whim of the devil and treated like a rag, the world goes on as usual, as normal. How wonderful.

　The fact that this is beneath the cathedral's preaching of the equality of souls makes me even more sick to my stomach.

"Well, it's nothing to worry about. We have housing arranged for us like this.

　Fialaert said, trying to be helpful.

　When he finally emerged from the moonless shadows, there were dark circles under his eyes. In addition, they're a little swollen. Apparently, she didn't want me to see that. I wonder if it's a woman's heart. I guess I should just pretend I didn't see it.

　As if to explain things to Wood and Cereal, Fialat continued.

I mean, Lugis can get hurt if you let him. What's the harm in worrying about it?

　This guy can say whatever he wants just because a person is lying there and can't move.

　A slight twitch in his cheeks, but he didn't say anything, hoping it would comfort Wood and Cereal.

　If you're asking me why I'm risking my life, there's no way I can answer that question. Of course he couldn't say.

　It's not too shabby that I'm still remembering how you and your siblings paid respect to me while everyone else only thanked and cheered for me during our journey to salvation. And how can I say that it was a relief?

　My eyelids are getting a little heavy. It seems that my wounded body needs rest after all. When Fialaat's conversation calmed down, I opened my mouth.

"Well. But it's going to be like this for a while. Cereal girl, please refrain from going out. I'm sure God will tell you to take it easy after all this work.

"No, not really, sir.

　His voice sounded apologetic. The voice came from the side of the door that had been left open. There was a shadow there.



　In the moonlight, the outline of the shadow is gradually revealed. The figure of Largd-Anne with a small body, carrying a large barrel on her back, and a somewhat reluctant smile on her face.

　No way, I thought, as my lips moved in an inarticulate manner.

　Her coming here can only mean one thing. I mean.

"I have word from the saint Mattia that on the night of the full moon, which is today, the first beacon will be born.

　It will bring misfortune.