Judging by the state of things, getting into the shop seemed completely out of the question.
Even if I forced my way inside, it would only cause a pointless scene.
Taking Zoe with me, I turned on my heel and walked away.
Well, that plan had fallen through, so what should I do now?
It looked like I wouldn't be able to visit Alice's place for a while, so perhaps I ought to scout out somewhere new.
As I made my way through the bustling crowd with that in mind—
"Well, well, fancy meeting you in a place like this."
"Hm?"
Hearing a line delivered in an oddly theatrical cadence, I turned toward the voice, wondering what was going on.
Byron was standing there.
He stepped right up to me and bowed deeply.
He didn't drop to his knees because he understood that I was incognito—that I didn't want my identity exposed.
"What are you doing in a place like this yourself?"
"I happened to be concluding some business nearby."
"I see."
I didn't ask what sort of business it was.
If he wanted to talk about it, he would bring it up himself, and there were bound to be matters best kept from the ears of the Emperor.
"From the looks of it, you seem to have time to spare. May I show you somewhere?"
"Let's see... Do you know where the refugees are being gathered?"
"I do."
"Take me there."
"Right away."
Not asking why was Byron's way.
I had known him for ten years; our relationship was far past the point where something of this scale would surprise him.
Led by Byron and with Zoe in tow, I walked southward.
After passing through several main avenues, the scenery shifted dramatically, taking on a bleak, desolate air.
If what I had seen earlier was the surface—the luminous face of the capital—then this place was essentially its shadow.
A stagnant heaviness and gloomy atmosphere hung thick in the air.
Here and there along the roadside, refugees sat limp and exhausted on the bare dirt.
Seeing them, I faintly furrowed my brow.
Then, without being asked, Byron spoke up.
"It seems soup kitchens are running twice a day, primarily serving liquid meals."
"Yeah. Refugees—especially the starving—have weakened stomachs. I ordered it handled that way."
"I see. Splendid as always, Your Majesty."
"...There are quite a few children."
"Ah..."
Byron looked at me with an expression that asked, What do you mean by that?
Without answering, I continued walking, observing our surroundings.
A few of the refugees eyed us with suspicion, but the vast majority were so drained they lacked even the energy for that.
Amidst the quiet—
"Come on, come on, this is your last chance, you hear?"
A lively voice rang out—one that certainly didn't belong to a refugee.
Though energetic, the tone and nuance behind the words grated on the nerves, sparking an immediate sense of disgust.
I headed toward the source.
There, I found a man and a young girl who looked to be a refugee father and daughter, along with a middle-aged man flashing cash in front of them.
The man was dangling several silver coins.
"Ugh..."
"Think it through. That's five Rien, you know? Sell your girl to us for five Rien and lighten your load."
"B-But..."
"Having a kid around from here on out is just gonna drag you down anyway, right? Wouldn't it be a lot smarter to take these five Rien and fill your belly with something decent instead?"
"I-I understand..."
The father nodded, hanging his head in defeat.
The man smirked, shoved the five Rien into the father's hand, and moved to pull away the young girl who was clinging to him in terror.
"No! Stop! Daddy! Daddy!!"
"—Kh! N-No, I can't do it after all!"
Seeing his daughter desperately clinging to him, the father's face contorted in anguish.
He tried to thrust the five Rien he had just received back to the man—the slave trader.
His desperation was real, which was why he had buckled for a moment, but seeing his daughter crying and clinging to him made him reconsider.
I could understand both sides of the struggle, but still...
"Hey now, the deal's already done, isn't it? You can't just back out."
"However..."
"If you're really that hellbent on it, your only choice is to buy her back."
"A-All right, I'll buy—"
"I'll sell her to you for ten Rien."
"—her b... Wh-Whaaat?!"
The father let out a desperate cry that was practically a shriek.
"T-Ten Rien?! How could you...?!"
"I bought her, so she's my merchandise now. It's entirely up to me how much I sell her for, ain't it?"
"That's absurd!"
"Quit being so damn persistent. It means give it up, so don't make me spell it out."
"Ugh..."
The father looked on the verge of tears—and his daughter was already sobbing uncontrollably.
Still gripped by the slave trader, she reached out desperately toward her father, weeping as she tried to cling to him.
Needless to say, watching this left a foul taste in my mouth.
I took a step forward.
"Ten Rien, was it? I'll buy her."
"Huh?"
The slave trader shot a dubious glare in my direction.
"Who the hell are you? I'm working here, so don't get in my way."
"Your 'work' is business, isn't it? I'll pay the ten Rien. Hand the girl back."
"...I told you it's up to me how much I sell her for, didn't I? If it's to someone like you—it's a hundred."
Twitch.
I felt a vein throb in my temple.
Even so, I held my temper in check.
"Fine. A hundred it is."
Saying that, I reached into my coat—and then remembered.
I didn't have any money.
An emperor carried no coin.
Even when wandering incognito, not carrying cash was simply how an emperor operated.
It was basic etiquette, and in a sense, a kind of obligation.
That didn't mean I lacked funds, however.
In moments like this—
"Please, use this."
I had expected Zoe, whom I brought along to serve as my purse, to step forward, but Byron beat her to it.
He held out a leather pouch packed tight with silver coins.
"My apologies."
"What are you saying? There could be no greater honor. I thank the heavens for the fortune of being present here."
"I see... Here."
Taking the leather pouch, I tossed it straight to the slave trader.
Though I hadn't counted it, the pouch easily contained well over a hundred.
The slave trader looked blank for a second before catching it cleanly.
After staring at the pouch for a moment, he tossed it right back to me.
"Changed my mind. I'm not selling to you."
"..."
My temple twitched once more.
"Which slave trading outfit do you belong to?"
"The hell does that have to do with you?"
"Answer me."
"—Gh!"
When I pressed him with a piercing glare, the slave trader shrank back, visibly intimidated into taking a step back.
"Heeey, how's it looking over there?"
"What's this? You've only bought one so far?"
"What're you dragging your feet for?"
From all around us, men who appeared to be his associates came gathering in droves.
Every single one was dragging several children behind them.
Though the children all struggled, they were already bound by iron collars and chains.
"This bastard's getting in the way," the first slave trader explained to the rest.
"You look like some rich boy from a decent family, but stick your nose in too deep and you're gonna get burned."
One of the thugs tossed out a tired threat.
"Which establishment are you from? Do you even hold a license?"
When I asked, the slave traders exchanged meaningful glances.
"Guess we got no choice. Let's rough him up a bit."
"Right. Hey! Everyone, get over here!!"
When one shouted, even more slave traders swarmed in, looking around as if wondering what the fuss was about.
In the end, their numbers swelled to fifteen.
After quickly bringing each other up to speed, they all squared their shoulders, ready to rush me.
"..."
Without a word, I drew Leviathan from inside my bracelet.
Against the slave traders charging all at once, I swung the magic sword, trailing a streak of pale-blue light.
The men were used to violence, but it was merely the brawling experience of street thugs.
One by one, I cut down the attacking slave traders, turning the tables on them effortlessly.
A group of fifteen was dealt with in a mere two minutes.
"Hmph."
"M-M-Murderer!!!"
Seeing the slave traders cut down, collapsed, and bleeding, one of the watching refugees screamed.
I hadn't killed a single one—though I supposed they couldn't tell the difference.
"It's a murderer! Someone fetch the police officers!"
"Don't let him get away!"
This time, the refugees formed a circle around me.
With Leviathan gripped in my hand, fear kept them from charging in, but they kept their distance, surrounding me to block any escape.
Before long, a squad of police officers pushed through the crowd of refugees.
"Clear the way! What's the commotion here?!"
"Officer, it's him! He's the murderer!"
One of the refugees blurted out the situation to a young man who appeared to be the squad leader.
Hearing that, the lead officer marched toward me with a fierce glare—until...
"Hah?! Y-Your Majesty!"
His eyes went wide with sheer terror, as though he had just seen a ghost, and he dropped to one knee before me on the spot, bowing his head low.
"Forgive my profound disrespect, not knowing that His Imperial Majesty was present!"
"Mm."
A heavy silence lingered for several seconds following the officer's outburst.
"You stand in the presence of His Imperial Majesty the Emperor!" Zoe declared, her voice clear, carrying, and carrying a burgeoning authority.
At her words, the refugees looked at the kneeling officer and dropped to their knees in unison.
I looked down at the squad leader.
"You recognize my face?"
That was unusual for a mere police officer.
"Yes! I—that is, this one served under Lord Rice and ran errands at the Ministry of Military Affairs for a time!"
"I see."
Back when Henry was at the Ministry of Military Affairs, I had spent time there as well, so he must have caught sight of me then.
"Is he really the Emperor...?"
"The Emperor punished the villains for us?"
"How powerful..."
Normally, one would hold their tongue in the presence of the Emperor, but the rural refugees knew no better and murmured their astonishment in hushed whispers.
Paying them no mind, I gave an order to the officer.
"Arrest these men. On suspicion of operating as illegal slave merchants."
"By your will!"
Once the order was issued, the rest moved swiftly.
With practiced efficiency, the police officers bound the men I had struck down—without taking their lives—and hauled them away.
I looked around at the squalor surrounding us.
Children... are a burden, are they?
I recalled the slave trader's words from moments ago.
Considering that father had considered selling his daughter even for a fleeting second—no, considering that others truly had sold their own flesh and blood—it was clear that so long as they lived as refugees, children could indeed become a crushing burden.
If that was true for children, then infants would be nothing short of an absolute hindrance.
Even so, people were a nation's true treasure.
Babies, who held nothing but hope for the future, were all the more precious.
"Babies... infants... raising infants..."
The phrasing sounded too clinical.
In times like this—
"Zoe."
"Yes, Sire."
"Tell Don to establish an 'Ikueikan.' If the refugees find it beyond their means to raise them, have the facility take custody of the children for one year—no, make it three."
"Right away."
Ever faithful, Zoe accepted the command without a single unnecessary word.
Meanwhile, Byron, who had watched the entire scene unfold from by my side, spoke up.
"Splendid as always, Your Majesty."