#64 Phantom Dauphin (8) – Playing by the Rules

When the expected impact failed to arrive, Dahlia cautiously opened her eyes.

The first thing that entered her vision was the figure of a man, intercepting the blade that had been descending upon her.

“Cease this, please. I cannot claim to understand the grievance, the frustration you must feel, but to place the burden of blame upon this young woman is unjust.”

“Unh, let go! Let go of me!?”

The old woman thrashed with almost all her strength to wrest her wrist from the man’s grip, but the only result was to make his arm waver slightly.

Changing tactics, the old woman began to rage at the man.

“Who are you! What do you know, barging in like that!! If it weren’t for this wench! If it weren’t for this wench, that cur would have been punished! Whose fault is it if not hers, for preventing it!!”

“Elder, you stated the answer yourself just moments ago; why then do you seek the answer from another?”

“What?”

At the old woman’s words, the man replied with composure.

“If we are to ask who is at fault, it is of course, as you stated, ‘that cur’, the tax official.”

A collective gasp rippled through the surrounding crowd.

The wild ravings of the hate-filled crone and the utterly serene tone of the seemingly ordinary man, asserting something as if it were a given, delivered a shock that was entirely different, even if the content was the same.

Even as people stole glances around them, the man continued serenely.

“As for who is second in line for blame, there is a bit of room for debate, I suppose. One could argue it is the lord, as the highest authority of the territory, or perhaps the commander of the guard, or even the magistrate who acquitted the tax official.”

The man explained to the old woman in a composed manner.

“It is difficult to say definitively that this guardswoman is entirely without fault, but at the very least, her culpability is lesser than those previously mentioned. Ah, of course, it cannot be denied that this young woman is a more appealing target for vengeance than the others. The others, the moment you brandished a knife, or perhaps even from the moment you splashed water on them, would have summarily executed you. This young woman did not. In that regard, you have made quite the judicious choice.”

The old woman’s wrinkled eyes fluttered.

Confronted with a truth she had desperately tried to ignore, the old woman seemed to lose strength in her legs, collapsing to the ground.

The old woman, a candle burned down to nothing, prompted shakes of heads and tuts of tongues from those nearby.

Near that old woman’s ear, the man quietly added, “Dauphin may have failed there, but he remains uncaught. From now on, those ‘truly wicked ones’ you mentioned will receive their due, one after another. Wouldn’t it be a pity to depart without witnessing it?”

The old woman’s eyes snapped open.

As if she’d rediscovered a will to live that she’d nearly relinquished, the man shrugged and rose.

Just then, guards, seemingly alerted by the commotion, arrived, shouting, “What’s all this racket?!”

At the guard’s words, the man answered them with a strangely obsequious demeanor. “Oh, good sirs, this esteemed elder was intending to lavish this young lady with gifts, but, in her haste, she stumbled.”

“Hmm.”

The guard’s gaze swept over the scattered fruit, the old woman sitting forlornly on the ground, and Dahlia, her hair plastered with tomato.

Failing to recognize Dahlia in her plain clothes, the guard questioned her. “Is that so?”

The shopkeepers nearby collectively swallowed, their throats tight with tension.

Dahlia, though usually approachable and considerate, remained a captain within the guard – a fact that hadn’t changed.

Moreover, she wasn’t just any captain, but one whose star was rapidly rising. If she revealed the truth, not only the old woman but even those around them might be needlessly implicated and suffer for it.

However, instead of disclosing her identity or denouncing the old woman’s actions, Dahlia simply nodded. “Yes. It was just an accident, so there’s no need to worry.”

“…?”

Hearing Dahlia’s voice, the guard momentarily wore a peculiar expression, but since her tone wasn’t as stern as when she was on duty, he seemed to dismiss it as his imagination.

“Well, alright then. If there’s no real trouble, that’s that.”

After the guard departed, the man addressed Dahlia, whose appearance was now quite disheveled.

“It seems you’re in need of a wash. My lodgings happen to be nearby. Would you be willing to accompany me?”

Dahlia studied the man for a moment before finally nodding.

*

In Revrook, the term ‘Upper District’ carries a dual meaning.

It signifies a district inhabited by those who are well-off, whether in social standing or affluence, hence ‘upper class.’ But it also literally refers to those who live in the ‘upper reaches’ of the river.

Revrook is a city traversed by a river and connected by bridges. The upper reaches of the river boast all manner of purification and sewage treatment facilities, functioning as intended. However, as one descends the river, the scale and upkeep of these facilities dwindle to an appalling state.

Thus, one method of distinguishing ‘districts’ in Revrook is to observe whether the buildings within them possess bathing facilities.

In the upper echelons, water was spent freely, even for bathing, so residences of a certain size invariably had such facilities. But the further down one descended, the rarer drinking water became, let alone bathing facilities in private homes, or even public bathhouses.

In that sense, the mansion where the man had brought Dahlia was a place that could be described as “the embodiment of a middle-class yearning to be recognized as upper-class.”

The overall size and splendor of the mansion were small and humble compared to the opulent structures of the upper class, but at least the bathing facilities were excessively well-equipped for the building’s size.

A showerhead that sprayed water like rain from above – frankly, even some mansions in the upper-class district didn’t have such a thing.

*Swishhh.*

As the water poured over her head, Dahlia thought,

‘…Did I follow him too readily?’

Even considering the circumstances, for a woman to go to a man’s house, especially on a first meeting, and immediately bathe… socially, it wasn’t exactly considered appropriate.

If her subordinates from Squad 8 knew, they’d make a fuss, saying she lacked caution and that all men were wolves.

But Dahlia had a clear reason for not refusing the man’s offer.

If she was indebted to someone, the least she could do was properly express her gratitude.

Besides, if his intentions were truly ulterior, she’d deal with it then and there.

She was confident she could protect herself, even barehanded.

Thump.

Having finished showering, Dahlia went to where she’d left her clothes. Beside them, she blinked at the neatly folded new clothes and the nearby hourglass.

“–I briefly considered washing your soiled clothes, but I thought that would be an overly generous, bordering-on-rude gesture, so I left them as they were. The clothes beside them were inexpensively purchased from a clothing store, so please feel free to use them without any burden. An urgent matter has arisen, and I must step out for a moment. I plan to return before the hourglass empties, so I humbly request you wait a short while.”

“…He’s being quite proper.”

Dahlia wasn’t particularly perceptive when it came to matters of the heart, but even she wasn’t so dense that she didn’t realize his ‘urgent matter’ wasn’t exactly what it seemed.

He knew that changing clothes or being seen immediately after bathing, while still damp, might be uncomfortable for a woman meeting him for the first time, so he’d thoughtfully excused himself.

Dahlia hesitated briefly between her original clothes and the new ones, but ultimately chose the new ones.

The discomfort of putting dirty clothes back on after washing was something she could endure, but disregarding such a polite and considerate gesture was more difficult for Dahlia.

The size of the clothing, estimated by eye, was slightly larger than Dahlia’s frame, but not uncomfortably so.

In fact, if they had fit perfectly, it might have felt unsettling.

After tidying herself up, she sat on a chair in the center of the mansion and waited.

Almost simultaneously with the hourglass emptying, the front door opened, and the man reappeared.

He spoke to Dahlia, looking slightly sheepish.

“Haha, I apologize. To invite a guest and then leave… it’s quite unbecoming of me.”

“You don’t have to bother with the pleasantries, you know.”

“Pleasantries? I have no idea what you mean.”

“If you say so, then I will take it as that.”

Having confirmed the man had settled across from her, Dahlia bowed her head deeply.

“I am deeply grateful for your help just now. Had you not intervened, I would have found myself in a most difficult situation.”

“Ah, no, no thanks are necessary. I merely took the liberty of interfering.”

The man waved his hand dismissively.

“I have not been in this city long, but even I can see that you and the guards of the 8th Squad strive to protect the safety and peace of the people. It simply defies reason that the price for this is censure from the very ones you protect.”

“…From his perspective, he likely had no choice. Even voicing a complaint or lament would have been a perilous act, so the pain must have festered within him.”

“That still does not justify burdening someone who is diligently working in the field with the faults of those above.”

The man’s declaration was resolute.

It was an attitude born of absolute conviction in his own words.

“The guilt for wounding that elder and driving him to his death belongs to those who committed the act. It is not yours to bear.”

Though the words were a defense of Dahlia, she found herself unable to agree.

Her expression hardened slightly.

“I appreciate your sentiment. However, it would be wise to choose your words with more care. Criticizing or denouncing the city’s nobles or officials can, in itself, be grounds for an insult charge.”

“Ho, is that what the city’s ordinances stipulate?”

“More precisely, it is the law of the Virka Kingdom.”

“I understand, I will endeavor to be mindful.”

Dahlia relaxed her shoulders a fraction, surprised by the man’s ready compliance.

But it was a premature easing.

“Then, might I pose a few questions?”

“If it is within my ability to answer, I shall.”

“What is the legal recourse within the Virka Kingdom for the crime of defiling an elder’s daughter and driving her to her death?”

“……”

A shadow flickered across Dahlia’s eyes.

“If a noble murders a loyal subject who has diligently paid their taxes, they are to be sentenced to three years of imprisonment. Or, they may pay a fine of twenty-four Virka Kingdom gold coins.”

“Then, the tax official either served three years in prison, or paid the fine?”

“…There was no evidence obtained to suggest that the tax official harmed the elder’s daughter. Therefore, the matter was ruled a simple suicide.”

“Indeed.”

The man’s reaction was understated.

His demeanor, as though he had already anticipated this, caused Dahlia to lower her gaze in shame.

“Then tell me, if evidence were to surface, would that tax official choose to pay the fine? Surely, that would be preferable to spending time in prison.”

Dahlia paused, considering, and then nodded slowly.

Even to her, it seemed exactly what a tax official would do.

“But regarding those fines, is anything given to the victim, or their surviving family? No, even if it’s not a fine, is there at least some minimal compensation for the bereaved? A token of condolence from the estate, or even just a word of apology, at the very least.”

“…I have heard that in some estates, the lord, or their appointed representative, might bestow such a beneficence, at their own discretion.”

“So, legally speaking, there’s no such provision.”

“……No.”

As if squeezing the words out, Dahlia confirmed.

The man hummed, tilting his head, before continuing.

“The tax official was the son of Count Sarnos… er, Count ‘Sir’ Sarnos, wasn’t he? And any ‘fine’ legally mandated goes to the lord governing that estate, I imagine.”

“Yes.”

“Meaning, Count Sarnos’ son killed someone, and the deceased or their family receives no compensation, while the perpetrator simply pays his father some money, and the matter is closed. Is that correct?”

“…….Yes.”

Dahlia squeezed her eyes shut, answering as if delivering a confession.

Terrified of what question might come next, yet unable to rise and leave, nor give vent to her anger, she heard the man’s voice.

“─In that case, let’s play a game.”

A game.

At the incongruous word, Dahlia lifted her head.

“Let’s just brainstorm, ramble, whatever you like, about how *you* would change the laws, if you could.”

“What is the purpose of…?”

The man, with his utterly unremarkable appearance, looked at her with eyes that held a mischievous glint, stirring a faint echo of someone from her memories, and said,

“I would decree this as the first law: ‘Any b*stard who causes tears to flow from another’s eyes shall receive no leniency, but be executed!’ “

“What the hell did you just say?”

Whatever gloom had haunted her moments ago vanished, and Dahlia’s eyes flashed with fierce intensity.