"I'll go after them. It's bound to cause a stir, so follow along once you're done."
"Understood!"
Cindy gave a firm nod and dashed off to ask around.
A moment later, I set off after the townsfolk.
Though a fair bit of time had passed since they departed, the commotion was loud enough to carry across the distance.
Following the noise, I found the crowd gathered before another rice merchant's shop.
A few customers were present at the store—women and children among them.
Having come merely to buy rice, they shrank back in terror at the mob armed with primitive weapons like square timbers and heavy sticks.
"Customers, step back."
"Hey, this isn't something kids should be seeing. Get them out of here."
"Go check the back and see if there are any open flames."
The mob carried out their work with remarkable efficiency.
First, they evacuated the customers, a few men gently coaxing the innocent-looking children away from the scene.
Meanwhile, another man entered the shop to meticulously extinguish every open flame, from lanterns to candles.
"H-Hold on, you lot! What on earth do you think you're doing?!"
A decently dressed man, evidently the shopkeeper, hurried out from the back.
He looked half-bewildered and half-terrified by the sudden intrusion.
"We're smashing this place to pieces."
"W-What for?!"
"Because you've been running a crooked business at a time like this!"
"How could you?! Business is just—"
"All right, every fire is out!"
"The women and children are clear!"
"Muddy water's ready!"
"Good! Tear it down!"
As if to proclaim that every preparation was complete, the townsfolk brandished their weapons once more.
Just as I had witnessed at the previous shop, they smashed the storefront, scattered the rice meant for sale across the ground, and thoroughly drenched it in muddy water.
In the blink of an eye, the storefront was reduced to wreckage, and the inventory was ruined.
"Aaargh?! What have you done...?!"
The shopkeeper shrieked, trembling violently as his knees buckled beneath him.
Whether crushed by the ruin of his goods or paralyzed with fear at the sudden violence, the man slumped to the ground, his face utterly pale.
"All right, on to the next one!!"
"Oooh!!"
Having accomplished what they came for, the men raised a unified shout to rally their spirits and sprinted off toward their next destination.
Despite such destructive actions, no one had been injured so far.
It was extraordinarily intriguing how meticulously they avoided harming uninvolved bystanders.
Checking for open flames beforehand and leading the children away were deliberate measures.
Their conduct was so unusual and bizarre that curiosity outweighed any other reaction I had.
There was one other matter that piqued my interest: the question of how these people ought to be judged under the law.
This was a disaster-stricken area.
Naturally, I had initially assumed this was the sort of looting that typically accompanied such crises.
Looting was a grave offense; if one caused death or injury to the victims or bystanders in the process, the penalty could be as severe as death.
However, Imperial Law defined looting as "carrying away" money or goods.
These men had not carried away a single grain.
Therefore, it was not looting.
Nor did it qualify as theft or robbery, as both offenses were similarly defined by the act of taking and carrying away property.
What, then, had these men actually done? It could only be classified as property damage.
Since no bodily harm had come to anyone—indeed, they had gone out of their way to prevent it—that was the sole charge they could face.
As for disturbing the public peace, if someone stepped forward to testify that women and children had been led away to safety beforehand, there would be ample grounds for leniency.
Furthermore, as the men themselves claimed, they had acted out of righteous indignation because the merchants had price-gouged during a catastrophe.
This, too, was an understandable motive, and in such cases, countless witnesses would readily come forward to support it. Thus, any magistrate passing judgment would exercise leniency to avoid provoking public outrage—the fury of the masses.
There was a well-known tale regarding such matters.
Once, in a certain province, the foolish son of a wealthy landlord got drunk and forced himself upon a tenant farmer's daughter.
Unable to endure the shame, the girl hanged herself shortly after.
Upon learning this, another young tenant farmer seized the landlord's foolish son, dragged him before the girl's grave in full view of the gathered crowd, and slit his throat, offering his severed head as a sacrifice.
The surrounding villagers felt a deep sense of vindication.
However, the young man was arrested and sentenced to death.
It was an era when Imperial Law was enforced with unyielding severity: a life was repaid with a life, and any murder committed outside of immediate self-defense carried an inescapable death sentence.
Revenge carried out after the fact was exclusively a capital offense, regardless of the justification.
Though legally compelled to execute the young man, the magistrate of the time personally appeared at the execution grounds and served the prisoner his final meal with his own hands.
He prepared a lavish feast, poured the wine himself, and brought the cup to the bound young man's lips so he could drink.
It was a deliberate performance: while the magistrate was bound by duty to enforce the death sentence, he openly sympathized with, respected, and treated the man as a hero.
That performance paid off. It earned him a sterling reputation as a magistrate who was strict with the law yet possessed human compassion, successfully stifling any public unrest before it could begin.
Returning from the tangent, the more I analyzed the circumstances of this uchikowashi, the more convinced I became that maximum leniency would have to be granted within the boundaries of applicable law.
If I were to pass judgment under current statutes, the sentence would amount to roughly ten days of hard labor, accompanied by the accommodation that if the convict were injured or infirm, a blood relative could serve the labor on their behalf.
It would be about that mild.
—And yet...
"I sense something artificial here."
Unlike the tale from the past, this felt orchestrated.
Far from an act of blind vengeance driven by uncontrollable fury, their current actions reflected a deliberate intent to exploit the blind spots of the law.
I recalled the scene of the raid once more.
The perpetrators had acted without a shred of hesitation.
Despite engaging in conduct that was ordinarily unthinkable, they had moved with practiced certainty.
If this was not merely local custom...
"M-Master..."
"We're going to the magistrate's office! We'll have those bastards locked up!"
"Y-Yes, sir!"
The shopkeeper hurried off in the opposite direction, dragging his clerk along with him.
Watching their entirely natural reaction, I turned the possibilities over in my mind.
That night, back at the inn.
Amidst the warm, flickering glow of the lantern, I listened to Cindy's report.
"Similar incidents have been breaking out all across the city."
"I see. Has it always been like this here?"
"No. When I spoke to the elderly folk and the women who didn't take part in the riots, they said this was the very first time anything like this has happened."
"Just as I suspected."
"What do you mean?"
Cindy tilted her head, looking puzzled.
"First of all, the pattern itself is abnormal. You understand that much, don't you?"
"Yes. There wasn't any looting whatsoever. My father always taught me that during times of crisis, merchants must never exploit the disaster to gouge prices, because when a riot breaks out, everything is plundered and lives are often put in danger."
"A wise man."
Letting out a small sigh, I looked at Cindy with an approving nod before continuing.
"If all merchants abandoned such shortsighted greed, the state would be spared the trouble of cleaning up after them."
Realizing she had earned my praise, Cindy blushed and offered a bashful smile.
"Putting together what you've observed, it clearly looks as though they are systematically avoiding any act of looting while deliberately winning over the bystanders who aren't participating in the riots."
"Yes—wait, could someone have strictly ordered them to do that?!"
I gave a quiet, subtle nod.
Having just mentioned her own father's strict instructions, Cindy quickly caught on to what I was getting at.
"I don't have hard proof yet, but I strongly suspect it."
"So that's why you had me investigate... That's amazing!"
"With that being the case, I want to know who is pulling the strings."
"So we can arrest them as the ringleader, right?"
"I wonder about that."
"Pardon?"
Cindy blinked, taken aback.
"They're undoubtedly the ringleader, but as for what crime we could actually hold them accountable for... that's another matter."
"How do you mean?"
"If it had turned into looting, for instance, we could charge the mastermind with a severe crime."
"Yes."
"But what about this? Depending on how one frames it, one could argue that they carefully devised a method to keep the offense minimal just to let the public vent their frustration. Even if we dragged them before the magistrate, if they confessed that they 'did everything in their power to ensure there were no casualties,' their crime would be practically negligible compared to looting."
"It would be that light?"
"If I handed down the absolute lightest sentence permitted under current law, it would amount to tattooing their tongue and setting them free."
"A mere formality...?...Ah."
"Exactly. It becomes a badge of honor. It wouldn't hinder their daily life in the slightest. The people around them would view it as a medal and hail them as a hero. In fact, the magistrate would have no choice but to handle it that way. In a crisis like this, we cannot afford to provoke public outrage under any circumstances."
"To think there's a way to judge it like that... Incredible..."
Cindy marveled at the thought.
Under the law, incitement, agitation, or instigation resulting in damage above a certain threshold carried a minimum penalty of a punitive tattoo.
The location of the tattoo was not strictly codified, though by custom, it was placed on "a part of the body relevant to the deed committed."
It was almost never placed on the tongue, since such marks were primarily meant to serve as a public warning and deterrent.
However, there was nothing explicitly forbidding it.
If one adhered strictly to the letter of the law, that was the limit—or rather...
Granting a stay of execution until an imperial amnesty wiped out the sentence entirely might be the true limit.
In any case—
"We can't impose any meaningful punishment. Arresting them would only risk igniting public outrage, so it would achieve nothing."
"Then what will we do?"
"Regardless, it bothers me. All's not well just because it ends well. If there's a clever mind orchestrating this behind the scenes, I want to at least determine who they are."
"Is that so?"
"I know the law inside and out."
"Huh? Ah, yes."
"If I set my mind to it, I could put someone through absolute hell entirely within legal bounds. A merchant ought to understand that concept quite well."
"Ah..."
Cindy gasped softly, turning slightly pale.
When it came to tormenting an opponent strictly within the confines of the law, merchants were capable of similar maneuvers.
"Let's see... Say, making a verbal agreement for deferred payment, and in the meantime, delivering super-premium, highly perishable delicacies every single day that cannot possibly be returned."
I chuckled, phrasing it as a joke.
Cindy blinked for a moment before looking at me with genuine admiration.
"Incredible... Truly, if you did that... Since it's fresh food, it could never be returned, and if you delivered out-of-season luxury ingredients, the exorbitant price would be completely unassailable..."
"Precisely."
"To understand merchant practices so thoroughly... You really are amazing, Your Majesty."
"So, that's the plan. For now, we find out whether someone is behind this, and if so, what kind of person they are. We start from there."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"