Chapter 806

【 FREE CITIZEN 】

“Damn it! Those cursed noble pigs! Every last one of them ought to be arrested by the Inquisition Knights and strung up in the streets for a good whipping!”

Old John bared his teeth as he rolled up his sleeve, glaring at the bloody lash marks across his arm with a face full of indignation.

His hair was a tangled mess, seemingly unwashed for a very long time, giving off a sour odor. His sunburned skin was covered in deep wrinkles. Had he not said so himself, no one would have believed he was not yet thirty-five years old.

Limping down the street, he cursed under his breath with every step.

Suddenly, a procession of well-equipped knights thundered down the road atop magnificent warhorses.

Startled, Old John hurriedly threw himself to the side in a panic.

These noble knights were notorious for their arrogance and complete disregard for commoners. If someone like him, a free citizen, failed to get out of their way in time, even if he were trampled to death, no one would care.

Dust billowed into the air, making him cough repeatedly until he was covered from head to toe in dirt. The whip wounds across his body seemed to split open even further, causing him to grimace in pain.

“Damn it! Damn them all!”

Still cursing, Old John struggled back to his feet.

A strange sensation beneath his foot made him lower his head. Only then did he realize that, while scrambling out of the way, he had lost one of his shoes.

“My shoe!”

Alarmed, he hurriedly searched for it.

It was the only pair of shoes he had left so he could not afford to lose them too.

By the time he found the missing shoe at the roadside, it had already been nearly crushed flat beneath countless hooves.

The knights had done it.

“Shit! Damn the whole lot of them!”

Old John’s anger flared even more.

He slipped the tattered shoe back onto his foot, several mud-caked toes sticking through the holes. Wiggling them slightly, he found that it was still barely wearable.

“It’ll have to do.”

With a weary sigh, Old John limped toward the church.

He needed to find a priest to treat his injuries. Otherwise, he would not be able to work for the next several days.

Those shameless nobles would never pay the wages they owed him. If he could not find another job soon, he might very well starve to death.

In times like these, countless refugees from the south had already met exactly that fate.

To be honest, he had begun regretting not disembarking at Zelouan with the unbelievers when he first traveled north.

According to the wandering bards at the tavern, life in the Maple Moon Free State was practically heaven. Every immigrant who settled there would be properly accommodated, and those with useful skills might even be assigned both work and housing.

It was enough to make anyone envious.

Thinking back on everything he had endured over the past year, Old John’s expression became increasingly desolate.

However, there was one important prerequisite for immigrating to Maple Moon.

That is, one had to abandon their original faith and convert to the faith of the Goddess of Life.

For Old John, who had been a devout believer of the Eternal Lord since childhood, such a condition had once been utterly unacceptable.

At least… it had been.

After a difficult journey, he finally arrived before the local Eternal Church. Looking up at the neat and magnificent building, he hesitated slightly.

Come to think of it… when was the last time I came to church?

He could not remember.

It had been so long that he no longer knew how many years had passed since he last stepped inside a church.

When he had first arrived in this small town of the northern territories, he still came once every week to pray.

Back then, he still had some savings left.

Now, however, he was nothing more than a penniless wretch, struggling every day just to survive.

The only thing he still possessed was his status as a free citizen.

Old John looked down at his ragged clothes, then at the well-dressed believers entering and leaving the church.

A trace of unease appeared on his face…

He did not know whether he should even step inside.

The church that had once felt so familiar now seemed to belong to an entirely different world, filling him with overwhelming pressure.

“What am I afraid of? I’m a devout believer of the Eternal Lord too! Back when I lived in the southern territories, I even donated silver coins to the Church!”

Old John muttered, trying to encourage himself as he suppressed the inferiority in his heart.

Taking a deep breath, he limped toward the entrance.

However, before he could enter the church, he was stopped by an attendant standing at the gate.

“Hey! Stop right there! What do you think you’re doing?”

“M-My lord… I’d like to ask one of the priests to treat the wounds on my body.”

Old John looked up nervously at the attendant, whose chest bore the emblem of the radiant sun, forcing a flattering smile onto his face.

The sun emblem was the symbol of the Eternal Church, representing the dawn, judgment, and authority.

These attendants were likely newly recruited squires of the Church. Recently, the Church had been expanding its orders of knights. Old John had even heard in the tavern that someone had received divine favor, rising from an ordinary commoner to become an exalted Silver-ranked expert, something he could only envy.

Unfortunately, becoming one of these knights required either the recommendation of a noble or exceptional talent for the extraordinary. Thus, an ordinary man like him had no chance at all.

The attendants frowned slightly as they looked at Old John’s miserable appearance.

“If you wish to enter the church, come back wearing respectable clothing. Otherwise, your mere presence would be an insult to the gods. Also, a single healing session costs five gold coins. Have you prepared the fee?”

Their expressions remained completely indifferent.

“F… five gold coins?”

Old John’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“W-Wait, my lords… Didn’t the Church’s basic healing only cost five silver coins? Since when did it become five gold coins?”

he blurted out.

Five gold coins was equal to five hundred silver coins. He could not earn that much even in an entire year.

His daily wage was only a single silver coin, and even that was often withheld by the nobles. After paying for his daily expenses, there was almost nothing left.

At the moment, he had only ten silver coins to his name, savings he had managed to scrape together with great difficulty. He had originally planned to save twenty silver coins so he could buy a new set of clothes and a new pair of shoes.

“Silver coins? Did he just say silver coins?”

The two attendants burst into laughter.

When they finally stopped laughing, they looked at Old John’s ragged clothing with undisguised contempt before saying,

“That was ages ago. Times are different now. Our world is in chaos, and people come to see the priests every single day. On top of that, the Church has to recruit more knights. How could the priests possibly keep up? These days, the priests only perform Intermediate Healing, and each casting costs five gold coins!”

“B… but Basic Healing is all I need…”

Old John said timidly.

“Are you teaching us how to do our jobs? Or are you trying to tell the priests how to do theirs? Five gold coins. Pay it if you want treatment. If not, stop blocking the entrance. Plenty of other believers are waiting to go inside.”

The attendant spoke with an impatient frown.

Old John opened his mouth, wanting to argue further.

In the end, however, he said nothing.

Clutching the few silver coins in his hand, he lowered his head, turned around, and limped away.

“What a pathetic pauper. Someone like that actually thinks he can afford treatment from the Church? Take a look at himself first!”

The attendants’ mocking laughter drifted into his ears from behind, each word piercing his heart like a steel needle.

Old John paused for a moment.

A dull ache welled up inside his chest.

Just then, an elegant carriage rolled past him and entered the church courtyard. Faintly, he heard the attendants speaking again.

“Oh! Baron Herman! What an honor to have you here. Please, come in, come in! Father has been asking about you for quite some time!”

Their voices were now filled with eager flattery.

Old John turned back and glanced at the arrogantly dressed noble, clad in luxurious garments, then at the church attendants wearing obsequious smiles.

Despite the blazing summer heat, an inexplicable chill crept through his body.

His chest felt unbearably heavy.

He had originally planned to donate another three silver coins to the Church, listen to the priest’s teachings, and confide his troubles.

Yet he had not even been allowed to step through the church doors.

“Heh… noble pigs, and their servants too. Every one of them deserves a good whipping. They all deserve to be punished by the gods.”

he muttered under his breath.

For some reason, his voice sounded unusually hoarse.

The blazing sun hung high overhead as Old John dragged his aching body toward the Black Walnut Tavern, limping with every step.

Inside, the air was filled with the suffocating stench of sweat, cheap liquor, and overpowering perfume blended together.

Old John, however, had long since grown accustomed to it.

It was the cheapest tavern in the city’s slums, frequented by drunkards, loafers, refugees, and low-ranking adventurers.

Although they were called low-ranking adventurers, they were still apprentices or trainee warriors who possessed extraordinary abilities. Occasionally, even Iron-ranked experts could be seen among them.

In the past, such lofty extraordinary individuals would never have been found in the Black Walnut Tavern.

However, ever since the world’s mana had increased dramatically, more and more people had awakened extraordinary powers. Those who had once been regarded as important figures had gradually become a common sight.

The wandering bard’s somewhat off-key music echoed through the noisy tavern, though it was nearly drowned out by the shouting of drunken patrons and adventurers.

Old John looked around and noticed that many people were playing Gomoku, while groups of adventurers had gathered to play Gwent. Numerous spectators surrounded their tables.

From time to time, cheers erupted from the crowd.

Even Old John found himself tempted to go over and see how this game, said to have originated from the Elven Forest and Maple Moon, was played.

But remembering why he had come, he ultimately restrained himself.

“A mug of premium ale.”

Old John took a seat at the counter and reluctantly pulled out a silver coin, his heart aching as he did so.

The bartender looked at him in surprise before teasing him with a grin.

“Well, Old John, struck it rich, have you? You’re actually willing to order premium ale?”

“Damn it! I wish I had! I worked at the mines for half a month, and in the end I didn’t even receive a single silver coin!”

Old John complained bitterly.

As he spoke, he grimaced and carefully rolled up his sleeve. The weather was unbearably hot, and his sweat had caused the fabric to stick tightly to his wounds.

Looking at the bloody wounds, the bartender froze for a moment.

“How did you end up injured like this?”

“Who else could it be but those damned nobles? We weren’t the ones who destroyed the mine, but they took all their anger out on us!”

Old John said bitterly.

“Destroyed?”

The bartender blinked in surprise.

As though recalling something, he leaned closer to Old John and asked curiously,

“So… the rumors are true? A dragon appeared at the gold mine and claimed all the gold, along with the newly discovered mana crystal deposit?”

“Of course it’s true! I saw it with my own eyes! That dragon… it was as big as a mountain… and terrifying!”

Old John gestured with his hands.

The movement tugged at his wounds, causing him to bare his teeth in pain once more.

“Those injuries look pretty serious. Aren’t you going to have a priest or a herbalist take a look at them?”

The bartender frowned.

A trace of gloom flashed across Old John’s face at those words. He gave a bitter chuckle and said mockingly,

“I wanted to… but I couldn’t even make it through the church doors.”

“Why not?”

“Didn’t have the money.”

Old John spread his hands helplessly.

The bartender fell silent. Looking over Old John’s tattered clothing, he let out a quiet sigh.

He had also heard that the Church’s healing fees had been rising steadily over the past few years.

“Here, your ale.”

“Thanks…”

Old John accepted the mug of ale and removed the lid.

The rich aroma drifted into his nose. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply in satisfaction, and smacked his lips.

It was the first time he had ever bought premium ale. A single mug cost a full silver coin.

By comparison, that same silver coin could have bought ten mugs of cheap ale.

Of course, despite being called premium ale, it was still worlds apart from genuine, high-quality ale.

Then again, ale had always been the drink of commoners. The nobility would never lower themselves to drink it.

They usually preferred wine, fruit wine imported from the Elven Forest, or distilled spirits.

What was it called again… Erguotou?

That was what the wandering bard had called it.

However, Old John had not ordered the ale to drink it.

To the bartender’s astonishment, he carefully poured the ale over his wounds instead.

“Hey, hey, Old John! What are you doing? Have you gone mad?! If you’re not going to drink it, give it to me! I’ve hardly ever had premium ale myself!”

“Heh, what do you know? I’m disinfecting the wounds. They’re so deep, and the weather’s so hot. If they get infected, I’ll really be in trouble.”

“Disinfecting? What kind of nonsense is that?”

“You don’t know? Alcohol can disinfect wounds. Supposedly, it kills the tiny creatures living inside them. Yeah… tiny creatures too small for us to see. Those little things are what make wounds get worse.”

“What nonsense. Who told you that?”

“The wandering bard on the street.”

“And you actually believed a wandering bard?”

“He said he came from Maple Moon and learned it from the elves.”

“The elves…?”

Hearing that, the bartender raised an eyebrow and found himself at a loss for words.

In recent years, the reputation of the elves had spread farther and farther. Everywhere across the continent, people had heard of the rise of the Elvenkind.

Not only that, the elves were said to possess countless forgotten techniques and long-lost knowledge. Rumor even claimed that some of their teachings had astonished the legendary archmages of the Mage Tower, earning their highest admiration.

With that thought in mind, the bartender quietly committed the method to memory, intending to try it himself should the opportunity arise.

“I just hope pouring ale on the wounds will help them heal by tomorrow. The mine’s gone now, so I’ll have to find another place to work.”

Old John sighed as he looked down at the deep gashes across his body.

“The mine? You’re better off staying away from that cursed place. I heard plenty of the miners ended up falling ill. Just look at you. It’s only been a year, yet you look like you’ve aged more than twenty.”

The bartender shook his head.

“I don’t have much of a choice. I don’t have any useful skills. I used to be nothing more than a farmer. After fleeing here, I already lost everything.”

Old John sighed, his voice filled with resignation.

The bartender’s expression darkened as well.

Over the past few years, the number of refugees had continued to grow. Every day, people could be seen starving to death by the roadside.

Wars were breaking out everywhere. There had been demonic invasions, beast tides, and even the weather had become strangely unpredictable. This year, the entire Fertile Plains had suffered a severe drought. The harvest had been poor, yet taxes had continued to rise.

“Maple Moon really does sound like a better place… I wonder when this miserable life will finally come to an end.”

Old John let out another sigh.

“That’s all thanks to the Church of Life. Did you know? They say the priests over there personally use divine magic to bring rain.”

The bartender shook his head.

“Bring rain with divine magic?”

Old John’s eyes widened.

“That’s right. Their patron deity is the Goddess of Life and Nature, after all. Nature, you understand? So bringing rain is nothing. I’ve even heard that some divine spells can make crops fully mature in just a single day! Ever since Maple Moon embraced the Church of Life, no one in the entire territory has gone hungry again.”

the bartender said.

“The Goddess of Life…”

Old John’s expression became complicated.

In recent years, the Goddess of Life’s name had become increasingly renowned, even more so than that of the elves.

Even the wandering bards on the streets frequently told stories of the Goddess of Life, and they always attracted large crowds.

Vanquishing evil gods, protecting Her believers, spreading new knowledge, and bestowing divine miracles.

It was precisely because of Her existence, and because of the Church of Life, that the Maple Moon Territory had recovered so quickly after the war and continued to prosper.

The contrast with the Empire could not have been more striking.

Comparison only made the difference more painful. Thinking back to what had happened outside the Eternal Church earlier that day, Old John felt increasingly miserable, increasingly heartbroken, and increasingly disappointed.

“Still, the most wonderful place must be the Elven Forest. Merchants traveling with the caravans told me that the elven cities are as magnificent as royal palaces. The people there live in prosperity, almost like paradise… though only elves and half-elves with elven blood are allowed to settle there.”

The bartender sighed with admiration.

“Elves… I’ve never actually seen one before. I did see a half-elf once, back when I lived in the southern border territories. It was at an auction house.”

Old John said.

“An auction house? That must have been many years ago.”

The bartender raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah… many years ago.”

Old John nodded.

The two continued chatting idly, simply passing the time.

After pouring the ale over his wounds, the initial stinging sensation gradually faded, and Old John slowly grew accustomed to it.

Just then, the tavern door was pushed open once again.

Two tall figures, dressed in exquisite equipment, stepped inside.

The bartender looked over and froze.

Gradually, the entire tavern fell silent.

“El… elves?”