SHV 08

Episode 8

Abandoned City (2)

“Ee-hehehing!”

The horses pulling the carriage stopped in panic at the sound of gunshots and only screamed in fear.

Orléans quickly lowered his posture and shot me a resentful look.

“See! What did I tell you?”

He seemed to be more timid than I expected.

Bang!

Another gunshot shook the surroundings.

If we stayed here, we’d only become an easy target, so we had to get out of this place somehow. I opened the driver’s window. But there was no sign of the coachman. It seemed he had panicked at the gunfire and abandoned his post, hiding somewhere.

Bang!

At the next gunshot, Orléans shrank even further.

“Brother, what should we do?”

“Stay flat on the floor.”

“Huh? Until when?”

“For now, just stay like that.”

Leaving the frightened Orléans behind, I focused on the timing between shots.

Firearms in this era were muzzle-loaded weapons that required gunpowder and bullets to be loaded directly into the barrel. Even a skilled shooter could only fire three to four shots per minute.

So the interval between gunshots could roughly tell me how many people were firing.

Bang!

The shots continued within a span of less than 15 seconds. That meant at least two shooters. However, only one bullet had pierced into the carriage compartment, so they didn’t seem to be well-trained.

“Brother, how long do we have to stay like this?”

“Until they come to us.”

“What? No! That’s way too dangerous.”

“If you go outside now, you might get shot. That’s even more dangerous.”

There’s no guarantee you’ll be hit, but if you’re unlucky, you could be.

“Brother, is it really safe in here?”

Orléans kept asking, unable to shake off his fear.

At that moment, I heard quick footsteps approaching. I raised a finger to my lips, signaling him to be quiet, and focused on the sounds outside.

“A fancy carriage. They must have money.”

“Check the surroundings. I’ll check inside.”

Only two voices.

So my guess was right. However, one of them sounded quite young.

“They’re coming toward us. Brother, b-brother, what do we do?”

Orléans whispered so quietly it was barely louder than his breathing.

I silently signaled him to calm down and lowered all the carriage window covers.

“Hold the left door shut. Don’t let it open.”

“The left?”

“Lean against the wall and hold it.”

If they rushed in from both sides at once, it would be troublesome. It was better to control at least one entrance.

While Orléans braced the door with his whole body, I looked around for anything usable as a weapon. If I had known I’d need swordsmanship skills, I would have brought a sword. But there was nothing suitable. I’d have to prepare something simple next time.

Thud!

As if announcing their arrival, one of the bandits kicked the carriage.

“Wow! This carriage is really solid. Whoever owns this must be rich. Hey? I know you’re alive in there—why don’t you just come out? If you come out quietly, I’ll spare your life.”

The young-voiced bandit swaggered around the carriage. The outer walls were thick and sturdy, so their guns couldn’t penetrate it. That was why they were trying to scare us with words instead.

“Tch. Still not coming out?”

Frustrated at not getting a response, he began striking the carriage again. But only Orléans was terrified. If we stayed silent, they would eventually open the door and drag us out. I pressed myself beside the door, ready to kick the attacker in the upper body.

With a rattling sound, the door latch turned. Then, with a harsh creaking of hinges, the door swung open violently.

“Alright! Just die—”

The moment he tried to aim his gun inside, I kicked the barrel with all my strength.

“Argh!”

Not expecting an attack from inside, he dropped his gun and fell backward. I immediately leapt out of the carriage.

“You bastard!”

The man who fell scrambled like a frog to grab his gun again. But he was too late. Just before his hand reached it, my foot got there first.

I stepped on the barrel and kicked his torso hard. A dull impact echoed, and he collapsed unconscious.

“Julien!”

Another bandit shouted at me.

“You damn bastard! What did you do to Julien!”

Enraged, he aimed his gun at me. I quickly grabbed the unconscious Julien and used him as a shield.

“Coward!”

Since when was attacking an unarmed carriage not cowardly?

“Let him go!”

“Why should I?”

“Because that’s cowardly!”

“And attacking a defenseless carriage for robbery isn’t cowardly?”

“That’s survival!”

“So is this.”

“You—! Fine! Just give us everything and we’ll leave peacefully!”

I let out a hollow laugh at his ridiculous logic.

Bang!

A sudden gunshot rang out.

“Drop the gun!”

Orléans, who had somehow come out of the carriage, was holding a discarded weapon and fired at the bandit. Of course, the bullet didn’t even come close.

“If you’re going to shoot, at least aim properly.”

I scolded him while he reloaded.

“I used to practice a lot, but… it’s been too long since I last shot.”

Orléans replied awkwardly.

“Uh… I’ll leave if you give us money…”

The bandit, now thoroughly flustered, stammered.

Orléans, having finished reloading, aimed again.

“Drop your gun!”

“I-I’ll drop it! Just give me money!”

“Shut up and surrender!”

For once, Orléans was actually useful.

The bandit slowly lowered his gun and walked toward us with both hands raised. I kept a firm grip on Julien.

“You’re in trouble… please let my brother go.”

The man knelt in front of us and begged. Only now, up close, did I see he was just a teenager who had barely gone through puberty.

“What are you doing this for?”

I asked, expecting the usual answer—survival. But maybe there was something else. I still needed to understand everything happening in Tilong.

“We don’t have money to pay taxes. If we don’t, my little sister will be sold off.”

“This kid?”

I pointed to Julien in my grip.

“Yes.”

“Is there a tax collector gang here too?”

“No. It’s for the church.”

At the word “church,” my brow furrowed.

In Tilong, “the church” meant only one place—the Tilong Cathedral. Normally, churches collected donations or tithes, not taxes.

“Isn’t that just a tithe?”

Orléans asked.

“No. We pay tithes, donations, AND taxes.”

Orléans blinked and looked at me.

“Did the king sell tax collection rights to the cathedral?”

If it was Henry Tilios XVII, he was capable of something like that. Restoring Tilong would take enormous money and time, and the current royal finances made it impossible. So maybe they sold tax collection rights just to survive.

The state had abandoned its people.

Grrr…

The boy’s stomach growled loudly. And so did Julien’s.

“Wake up and go kneel next to your brother.”

I let Julien go.

“Brother? What brother?”

The boy frowned.

Realizing something was off, I removed Julien’s hat.

A girl with tightly shut eyes appeared.

“You were doing this with such a young sister… What’s your name?”

“Marco. Marco White. My sister is Julien White.”

Marco spoke, and I looked at the two of them sitting there. Their thin, starved bodies, previously hidden, now became obvious.

“How many days have you gone without food?”

Marco bit her lip stubbornly and refused to answer.

But Julien quietly held up three fingers.

Three days of starvation.

Not because they wanted to steal—but because they were trying to pay taxes.

My head throbbed.

“Orléans, bring out the food from the carriage.”

“Eh? You’re giving them food?”

I glanced at him coldly.

“…Yes, I’ll bring it right away.”

Orléans hurried off.

“Where are your parents?”

“They’re dead.”

Marco’s answer wasn’t surprising.

“Where did you get the gun?”

“From our father.”

“He was in the military.”

The siblings answered quickly, almost relieved at the thought of food.

Orléans returned with a basket.

“Eat as much as you want.”

At my permission, the White siblings rushed to the basket and devoured the food.

“Confiscate the guns.”

I took their weapons away.

“No! What are we supposed to do without them?”

“If you take our guns, we can’t survive!”

They protested, but kept eating with both hands.

“After you eat, take us to the church.”

“If we take you there, will you return our guns?”

“We’ll see.”

“What kind of answer is that?”

“If you don’t like it, then leave.”

“Give us back the guns!”

“I already said they’re confiscated.”

“If you want them back, behave. If you keep talking back like this, you won’t get them.”

Marco gritted her teeth but stayed silent.

“Hey, mister.”

Julien called me.

“What?”

“If we take you to the church, will you give us food again?”

Her appearance, voice, and behavior were all that of a child. And yet she fired a gun without hesitation.

“Yes.”

She immediately looked at her brother with pleading eyes.

“Alright.”

Marco sighed and gave in.

“If we take you there, you must give us food… and the guns too.”

“I keep my promises. Eat up and get in the carriage. Since there’s no driver, Orléans will drive.”

Orléans looked between the carriage and the siblings with a troubled expression.

“You can’t make kids drive a carriage. Marco will sit beside me.”

“Yes… that makes sense. But did the Tilong Cathedral really buy tax collection rights?”

“That’s what I’m wondering too. I heard they hate the state. Especially the royal family.”

The Tilong Cathedral had strongly rejected the doctrine of royal-divine unity introduced under Tilios XV. The clergy openly opposed the royal family.

And yet they were collecting taxes.

If they bought tax rights from the crown, then they were aligned with royalists.

Was Nucky wrong? If so, we were messing with royalist territory…

I don’t know.

We’d have to see what kind of force the cathedral had first.