Chapter 023: The Night of Resistance
Janson and I arrived at Canchester’s main gate.
It was the site of the second checkpoint.
Clang, clang, clang.
From inside, the sound of metal being hammered rang out repeatedly.
The muddy, soaked ground was blackened, mixed with oil.
"…The first checkpoint guys issued this?"
"Uh, y-yes…"
The man sitting at a table by the gate, handling the checkpoint, alternated suspicious glances between the pass in his hand and the two of us.
Back at the first checkpoint, when we stuffed the four corpses into the makeshift tent, Janson had cleverly grabbed the pass.
"…Pay the extra fee to enter."
As Janson reached for the guard’s pouch, I told him to use the money Jewel had given me.
The guy, reluctantly accepting the extra fee, waved his hand dismissively.
Judging by his constant sidelong glances, he seemed wary of me.
"Oh."
As we officially entered Canchester, I couldn’t help but let out a short exclamation.
The interior was even more spectacular than the glimpse I’d caught from outside.
Along narrow, winding alleys, large and small forges lined up in rows.
Their open structures revealed the insides clearly, and the sounds of hammering and heating metal created a stunning harmony.
It was truly a street of forges.
In my past life, I’d never seen a place in the Kingdom so steeped in the smell of iron and sweat.
"This way."
We decided to head to the forge that was the guard’s supplier first.
I followed Janson, distractedly taking in the sights, but as we walked, I noticed some forges were empty, either closed or deserted.
As we turned a corner, Janson stopped in his tracks.
"Huh?"
As I feared, our destination was empty too.
"What’s this? This can’t be right."
I brushed past the flustered Janson to look inside.
Dust clouds rose with every step.
The furnace, devoid of warmth, was dry as a bone.
"No one’s been here for a while."
"Uncle Gaff is one of Canchester’s top smiths. There’s no way he’d close shop."
This made Henry’s whereabouts even more uncertain.
The location was somewhat isolated, and with nearby forges also empty, there wasn’t much hope of gathering information.
Grrrr.
Janson clutched his stomach, laughing awkwardly.
Even if I didn’t care, Janson was doing this to make a living, wasn’t he? Since I had the expense money from Jewel, there was no need to worry about funds.
Slurp, smack, smack.
"…"
Janson buried his face in the bowl, shoving food into his mouth like a man possessed.
No, drinking would be a better word, because the contents of the deep bowl were as watery as soup could get.
Trickle.
I scooped up the watery soup, only to let it drip back into the bowl.
Submerged in it were various vegetables, bits of meat, and, most bizarrely, grains of rice floating around.
‘…What in the world is this weird food?’
Unable to muster the courage to inspect the bowl further, I looked around.
The blacksmiths, crammed shoulder-to-shoulder, were all eagerly devouring the same stuff, practically licking their bowls clean.
"Not eating? This is really good."
"The far east of the Kingdom sure makes some strange food. What’s this called?"
"Oh, it’s a delicacy you can only get in Canchester. It’s called…"
Janson stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening. He was looking behind me.
"H-Henry…?"
"Shh."
Henry, who’d appeared stealthily, casually took the seat next to me and removed his hooded robe.
Thankfully, his face was distinguishable from Janson’s or Bill’s.
"Hey, Henry. What’s with you? What’s going on? And what’s with that getup?"
"Why are you here?"
"What… That’s the first thing you say?"
"Just answer, idiot. Why are you here?"
"I came to find you, you jerk. Ugh, I’m getting pissed. I almost died getting here…"
"Shh! Keep it down."
Since we might be seeing each other often, I slid my bowl toward Henry.
"Haven’t touched it. Eat."
"…Who’s this guy?"
Unlike Janson or Bill, he had a bold streak.
It had been a while since someone treated me like this on first meeting.
Janson answered for me.
"It’s a long story. I’ll explain on the way back. Anyway, good to see… wait, no. How did you know I was here?"
"You’re quick to ask. Finish eating and come out. We don’t have time for this."
"You saying that makes me feel ridiculous."
"…I’m not joking."
Janson flinched at Henry’s sudden seriousness.
The atmosphere grew oddly tense.
I, who’d been quietly watching their banter, stood up first, and the other two followed.
Henry put his robe back on as we left, covering his lower face with the hand securing it, his eyes darting around vigilantly.
"Hey, Henry. Is something really up? What’s wrong? Did you get caught stealing?"
"Cut the crap. This isn’t the place to talk. Let’s go inside."
"Uh, where?"
"Follow me."
As he took a step, Henry glanced at me. …Ah. Thankfully, I’m sharp enough to catch that.
"We’ll part ways here. I’ll make my way back, so go ahead, Janson."
"Bihen, you sure?"
"Of course."
I gave Henry a polite nod before turning away.
* * *
"…What’s with that guy?"
Even in the moment, Henry stared at Bihen’s retreating figure.
They seemed about the same age, but there was something distinctly different about him.
"An Imperial. They say he’s a noble."
"What? An Imperial noble, here…?"
"Some stuff happened while you were gone. You’ll be shocked when you hear."
Henry furrowed his brow.
The ugly guy was suddenly grinning smugly.
Only then did Henry snap back to reality.
"Hey, keep up. Don’t get lost like an idiot."
Henry quickened his pace, taking the lead.
Janson shook his head, adjusted his pack, and marched like a soldier.
They arrived at a secluded alley.
While Janson looked around, wondering if such a place existed, Henry suddenly leaned against the wall and slumped down.
His crouched posture seemed on the verge of tears.
"Hey, what’s wrong? Did you really screw something up?"
"Haa. Uncle Gaff was taken."
"What’s that supposed to mean? Taken by who?"
"Who else? The Roxley Family."
Henry rubbed his face and stood, propping his knees up.
Janson, clueless, just blinked.
"Roxley declared they’re collecting a war preparation tax from the smiths. Uncle Gaff opposed it and got dragged off."
"W-War preparation tax? What’s that?"
"Exactly what it sounds like. With Zephyros’s influence growing, they made up an excuse about securing Canchester’s interests to slap on the tax."
"No way… Zephyros and Roxley are secretly allied. That can’t be."
Henry scowled.
"Are you Bill? Why’re you so dense? Zephyros is just an excuse. Roxley’s just pulling this crap to raise taxes."
"…Huh."
Why go that far? Were they planning to gut the goose entirely? Janson, stroking his chin, spoke up.
"Canchester’s protection tax is already higher than elsewhere. Plus all the petty taxes. Rumor has it Roxley keeps more than what’s sent to the Conwell lord."
"That piggish fox, his greed knows no bounds and he’s so cunning, he knows the smiths can’t easily leave Canchester, so he’s got the gall to pull this. Every blacksmith worth their bellows in Conwell dreams of settling in Canchester."
Janson suddenly recalled the forge street.
Despite its rough, rugged look, it somehow felt cozy, even poetic.
The dreams and passion in every forge, big or small, must’ve shone through.
"…Anyway, why are you acting like this? It’s got nothing to do with you."
Janson tossed the words out carelessly.
Henry whipped his head around, grabbed Janson’s collar, and yanked.
"What’s that…!"
"Nothing to do with me? You’d say that even if I’m wronged?"
"Why’re you suddenly dragging me into this? Let go…"
"Uncle Gaff!"
Henry shoved Janson’s collar away.
Janson, stumbling onto his backside, looked up at Henry in shock. Henry’s eyes were wet.
"From the moment I first took on supply duties, he treated me like a father. More than that, he was the first to recognize my talent. He said I had a gift for words and business, the only one who genuinely cheered for my future."
"Henry…?"
"Last year, I turned down an offer to join Zephyros as a grunt and stayed with the guard because of him. I wouldn’t see him as often otherwise. I still don’t regret that choice one bit."
As far as Janson and Bill knew, Henry rarely opened up.
He seemed friendly on the surface, but he drew clear lines, making it hard to cross into deeper bonds.
Janson sat there, half-dazed, mouth agape. More than anything, Henry felt unfamiliar.
"You might’ve noticed on the way, but there were empty forges everywhere. All similar cases. Like Uncle Gaff, they defied the Roxley Family and got hauled off."
"So… what’re you planning to do?"
"I secretly tipped off Zephyros about this."
"What…?"
"With Roxley acting tyrannical under the war preparation tax pretext, it gives Zephyros a cause.
They’ll definitely come to help us."
"Wait, us?"
"I rallied the smiths. When they heard Zephyros would join, they united, seizing the moment."
"But Zephyros and Roxley…"
"Nobles are driven by profit and honor. They have no eternal friends or foes. Zephyros will take the gain."
Janson’s face grew paler.
Henry was starting something he couldn’t even fathom.
His legs trembled as if he might wet himself just imagining it.
"I found out you were at the diner through a tip from our side."
"Oh, I see."
"Janson, get out of here quick. Tell the captain… I’m sorry. I probably won’t be able to return to the guard after this."
"Henry…"
Henry patted Janson’s shoulder and stood.
He looked larger than life.
"Tonight, the resistance begins. I’ll save Uncle Gaff no matter what."
* * *
Sometimes I act without thinking. Like right now.
‘How am I supposed to meet Roxley?’
The excuse of being on an Easton Guard mission was meant for when checkpoint procedures were orderly, not in a mess like Canchester’s current state…
‘I’ll use Jewel’s name.’
No need to roll in the muck wearing my own clothes, right?
Plus, there’s the risk of dragging the guard into trouble.
‘Grab a few tough-looking guys, say I’m from the Gunbel Trading Company, and they’ll clear the way.’
With that decided, I walked down a random path.
Canchester had its forge street at the forefront, with residential areas behind.
It wasn’t a small village by any means.
‘This place…’
Between the forge street and the houses was an open plaza-like area.
It was quiet, with few passersby.
I stood beneath a building too short to be called a tower, its height oddly ambiguous.
Located at the center of a crossroad, it seemed to hold some symbolic meaning.
What stood out most was the top floor… Rising straight from the ground, the upper part curved outward like a duck’s beak.
Too wide for a terrace, too deliberate for a design flaw, it had vibrant stained-glass windows on either side, arranged harmoniously, making its purpose hard to guess.
‘From food to architecture, everything’s bizarre.’
Conwell is in the Kingdom’s eastern region, and Canchester, near Breadport, is its far east.
Even in my past life, I’d never set foot here, so it felt especially unfamiliar.
Step, step.
Footsteps approached from behind.
From the sound alone, there were quite a few.
"A warrior from the Gunbel Trading Company, I presume?"
A group of nearly a dozen.
Their rough demeanor screamed swordsmen, and I instantly knew they were Roxley’s men.
"How’d you know?"
"You were at the trade a few days ago, weren’t you? Our boys have sharp eyes, you see."
So that’s why the guy at the second checkpoint kept glancing at me.
The leader approached and gave a slight bow.
"Would’ve been nice to get a heads-up. I hope our boys didn’t offend you."
"Nah, no big deal."
I spoke casually.
After all, this guy looked about my age.
As expected, he grinned without complaint, clasping his hands over his stomach.
No matter how polite he acted, his rough edges showed through.
"We’ll treat you properly from now on. We might see each other often."
I just nodded.
"Let’s go. Father’s waiting."
He pointed to the building behind me.
Talk about the darkest place being under the lamp.
"Father?"
"Yes. Sir Roxley is my father. I’m the second son."
Oh, so this is the second son Roxley wanted to pair with Jewel. I let my smirk show.
"Suits you."
"Pardon?"
"Nothing."
There’s a reason people talk about destined matches.