Chapter 308: Whose Law

The news spread faster than anything the City Hall could have anticipated.

Since the day Lyra Court’s decision was read aloud in the middle of the square, within less than two weeks, the news that Lyra city was willing to spend solid gold redeeming people had run along the entire trading road from North to South.

Every person passing the news added a little salt and sauce to it. By the time that news crawled to the southern coastal towns, the story had morphed into: in the North, there is a city of monsters, whenever anyone leads a human life there they will pour out gold to buy back cleanly, completely not needing to know how old or young they are.

The ninth day after the trial, the first slave-transporting wagon appeared at the checkpoint.

That wagon carried eleven people, mostly Beastmen, among whom there were two children looking less than ten years old. The owner of the trip was a short, fat man wearing a suede coat, in his hand holding ready a stack of buying and selling papers carefully smoothed out. He parked the wagon exactly ten footsteps away from the barrier pole, then gleefully stepped down, waving the paper stack toward the watchtower.

"Greetings soldier boys! I heard rumors there is a place buying people here, and even paying fairly with face-value gold, is that true?"

The recruit boy guarding the post that day hearing finishing that sentence his two hands trembled, almost dropping his spear onto the ground.

Godfrey strolled stepping out from inside the watchtower. He looked at the wagon, looked at the eleven drooping human heads sticking out of the wagon box, then looked back at the document stack in the merchant’s hand.

Ultimately he only said exactly one sentence, his tone strangely calm: "Please follow me up to the Court. Up there people finally pay money, whereas I do not have money to pay you."

The merchant rejoiced visibly, agilely climbed onto the wagon, personally whipped the horse passing the barrier pole.

The matter happening after that took place exactly following the procedure clearly recorded in the City Hall’s decision. Only that that merchant completely did not read that decision carefully, or more accurately he completely did not know how to read.

Arriving at the Court, people politely invited him to sit, poured him a cup of water. A clerk staff member held his paper stack going verifying, added up the price recorded on the eleven papers, finishing adding then read the number aloud for him to hear. He nodded repeatedly, his two hands even rubbing against each other full of greed.

After that people brought out a wooden tray, on the tray was exactly that gold amount, counting every single shiny coin right in front of his face. Then people placed before his face a minute record paper and a pen.

"Please kindly sign confirming here then we will hand over the money immediately." The clerk gently said.

"I do not know letters, boy."

"Yes, it is fine. I will read the entire content aloud for you to hear in front of everyone, after that you only need to mark your fingerprint and it is done."

Thus the clerk began reading. He read very clearly, slowly. Reading that the fingerprint-marking person below confirms having bought and sold eleven humans, confirms having transported those eleven humans passing the boundaries of three territories and one Royal Family’s land without declaring to any tax station at all, confirms having received fully the redemption money amount, and confirms that a copy of this minute record paper will be sent straight up to the Archive House in the Royal Capital.

Reading to the word "Royal Capital" then the merchant snapped his head up.

"Hold on." He said, his tone already completely different from the gleefulness earlier: "What do you people send up to the Royal Capital for?"

"We send it up so up there records that these people have been legally redeemed." The clerk calmly answered: "If there is no copy sent up to the Royal Capital then their papers will have no effect when going outside Lyra land."

The merchant sat as still as a statue.

He did not know letters but he was absolutely not stupid. His whole life doing this human trafficking profession, the thing he feared the most was not highway robbers, nor the Court, but exactly the tax collection officials at the stations along the road. His whole life transporting people passing through how many boundaries, there was never a single time he was willing to declare a single word to anyone. Yet now people actually held out a piece of paper, telling him to personally mark his fingerprint onto it to confirm all those smuggling trips, then even sent it straight up to the Royal Capital.

He sat blankly for a long time, his eyes glancing at the shiny gold tray, then glancing back at the fatal minute record paper. Ultimately he gritted his teeth springing up standing: "Forget it, I am not selling dealing anything anymore. You guys quickly return the people to me."

The clerk still sat still in his place, his voice still maintaining the polite appearance as before: "Sir, whether you want to receive the money or not is your right. But those eleven people then we absolutely cannot return to you."

"Why not return?!"

"Because you just personally drove the wagon transporting them passing the barrier pole, meaning you have already transported chained people stepping across Lyra land." The clerk flipped to another ledger page, loudly continuing reading: "Based according to the clause abolishing the slavery system in the Covenant, then right at the moment they set foot onto this land, they automatically became free people already. As for you then currently you are a defendant."

The merchant stood dead frozen in the middle of the room.

The trial session took place right in that afternoon, so quickly and neatly that even the defendant himself had not yet had time to understand what the hell was happening with his life. Eleven people were unchained right on the spot. The wagon along with the draft horse pair were confiscated to compensate them for damages. The merchant received a two-year hard labor reformation sentence, and the sentence execution place was exactly the construction site building the new road connecting out to the East town.

When being escorted by soldiers walking past the gold tray still placed intact on the table, he even turned his neck back looking at it one more time full of regret.

Within exactly ten days after that, four more wagons slinked arriving seeking gold.

The second wagon, the wagon owner was smarter, dispatching people running down probing snooping around first. Hearing finishing the clause mandatorily requiring marking fingerprint and sending the minute record up to the Royal Capital, he turned the wagon’s head immediately, scramming straight without turning his head back.

The third wagon stopped right on the other side of the stone marker, exactly three footsteps away from the barrier pole, then the wagon owner stood on the other side of the marker shouting over, demanding Lyra bring gold out exchanging hand to hand right on the spot. Godfrey stood on this side of the marker, crossing his arms answering back that Lyra Court only pays money inside the Court, he wanting to receive money then please step over, while he not stepping over then forget it, here no one has the spare time standing arguing.

The wagon owner cursed noisily throughout half an hour then ultimately also had to turn his head.

The fourth wagon alone was the one leaving the longest wound.

Midnight that day, the guards heard clearly the sound of wheels clattering running on the trading road, but waiting forever did not see any wagon arriving at the gate. Early the next morning, the station’s people going patrolling along the road discovered right outside the stone marker, lying close to the cold dewy grassy roadside, there were seven human beings sitting cowering trembling. The iron chains on their feet had been cut breaking by people using chisels, cut so hurriedly in the dark night to the point someone was chiseled accidentally straight into their ankle, fresh blood flowing out clotting into dark dry clotted patches.

Their owner had mercilessly abandoned them there then turned their head fleeing in the night screen.

Among those seven people there was an eight-year-old boy, belonging to the Beastman clan. He did not know what his name was, also could not remember where he was caught from. Whatever people asked he also just sat dead silent, his two hands tightly hugging his knees, his soulless eyes glued down to the ground like a small injured beast to the point of no longer having reactions.

Milo carried him up onto the carriage transporting back to the tent camp, finishing examining then sighed saying the boy was not sick with anything at all, only that it had been too long since anyone had spoken decently with him.

That noon, Kaelen personally went down to the camp.

He without saying a word, just like that sat flat down onto the ground before the medical tent door, right beside the spot the boy was sitting cowering. He sat silently like that for nearly an hour, occasionally turning over saying a few random, gentle sentences about the sparrows perching on the fence. Only until the sun slanted its shadow into the afternoon did the boy timidly inch his body closer to him a bit.

That evening, the City Hall convened an urgent meeting.

Mr. Hollis opened the beginning of the meeting with a sentence that actually everyone was thinking in their heads but no one dared to speak straight out yet:

"Holy Son, the door we just opened is gradually turning this land into a new human trafficking market. They cannot sell to Lyra then they still just transport people here, then abandon them right outside the marker to escape the crime. If we just open our arms receiving all, before long they will consider Lyra city as a trash dumping place."

"So according to your opinion then we do not receive them anymore?" Sane cross-examined asking back.

"I do not dare to say that sentence." Hollis shook his head: "I only dare to say that we mandatorily must change the doing method."

Brian sat obediently at the table corner, flipped his notebook open, timidly contributing a sentence: "Sirs, since the day the decision was read publicly until now, actually we have not yet had to pay out a single redemption coin at all. Four wagons arriving then one wagon was punished, two wagons fearfully fled, one wagon abandoned people. Completely no one dared to sign onto the paper."

The entire meeting room sank into silence for a moment.

Kaelen sat at the head of the table position, his two hands intertwining placing on the wooden surface, ultimately raising his voice deciding:

"Then we still keep that decision intact. But we will correct one spot." He turned looking at Hollis: "From now on Lyra will still pay redemption money, but we only pay for the papers established before the day we issued the decision. Any buying and selling paper recording a date after that day then Lyra absolutely does not pay a single coin, and the person holding that paper just stepping across the marker will be detained immediately."

Hollis nodded, immediately understanding the intention: "Doing like that then whoever buys people after that day yet intends to bring them here seeking profit, not only will not get a single coin but also lose entirely both wagon and people."

"One more thing." Kaelen continued instructing: "You order people pasting notices at all rest stations along the trading road, pasting even in Crossford town, writing with really large letters, anyone not knowing letters then arrange people standing reading. The notice content only has exactly two sentences. The first sentence: anyone setting foot onto Lyra land is immediately a free person, no one has to pay money for that matter. The second sentence: anyone daring to transport chained people here will lose both wagons, lose both horses, and must personally go to prison."

Elric bowed his head taking notes rapidly, finishing noting then looked up asking: "Lord, then what about the seven people abandoned outside the marker last night how do we handle them?"

"Let them record their names into the residency ledger, granting proper papers. Whoever wants to go reclaiming then arrange placing into groups, whoever wants to stay in the city then find jobs for them." Kaelen answered: "Only that eight-year-old boy then send him into the charity house, letting Milo continue monitoring for another period of time."

The meeting dismissed when near midnight.

When everyone had completely left, Sane still sat lingering, his two legs lazily resting on the table edge, his silver-gray eyes silently looking at Kaelen currently tidying up papers.

"Do you see?" He raised his voice: "I told you already, the door you opened is not only having exclusively decent people passing through."

"I see." Kaelen answered, completely not raising his head up. He remembered the image of old man Durk standing up in the middle of the crowded square, tearfully asking that from now on I have a human certificate paper right. He again remembered the eight-year-old boy with soulless eyes sitting hugging his knees before the medical tent door, then remembered the moment he timidly inched closer to Kaelen a bit.

"So do you feel regret?"

"No." He resolutely answered: "But next time I will ask your opinion before deciding to open the door."

Sane looked at him for a moment, then chuckled softly. He stood up walking detouring behind his back, leaning down kissing lightly onto the top of his head full of doting.

"Very good. But baby, you are making it hard for yourself you know." Sane whispered, his voice carrying infinite indulgence: "You want to use human laws to teach them how to build a civilized world, but the trash bunch out there is not worthy of that patience."

Kaelen blanked out, then he raised his hand rubbing his glabella, bursting into a bitter laugh.

"It is me being too greedy. I kept thinking I could use the gentle method of humans to uproot the root of this rottenness without needing to touch Divine Energy."

What Royal Family, what Church and Merchant Guild? They daring to block his path re-establishing the world order, he only needs to sneeze once and they turn into dust. Why must waste effort speaking reasons with that rabble bunch for what?

He tilted his head back, leaning entirely onto Sane’s sturdy chest, his usually clear eyes gradually recovering the coldness and majesty of a Deity manipulating all things:

"Baby, what do you say should we go to the Royal Capital strolling a lap, teaching them to know the true ’Law’ of this world is determined by whom?"