"You lying straight to my face was the best thing I could hope for. With me here to protect you, you had no reason to be afraid of village head Belam. I’m not even from this region.
"You could count on my discretion or ask me to be moved to the Ernas region if you feared retaliation from some noble. Instead, you lied, and did it with confidence.
"In my experience, it means it’s not your first time, and that’s what I’m going to write in my report. You just added obstruction of justice to your charges for aiding and abetting slavery."
"How can you say we are lying, milord?" The baker refused to drop the title, hoping it would earn him some mercy if the Commander was telling the truth.
"Have you not wondered why I came here in a DoLorean? Why did my daughter make such a pompous entrance? Why did she give you a long-winded speech that kept all of your eyes and ears on her?"
Orion’s smile turned soft, an echo of what Jirni offered her victims before dealing the deathblow.
"The problem with investigations in small villages is that rumors travel fast. Unless everyone is glued to the ground like a moron, of course." He pointed at the outskirts of Cerea, where the cultivated fields and the farmers’ houses were.
Only then did the artisans notice that the work in the fields had stopped. That farmers, farmhands, and stable boys were all talking with strangers in high uniform and pointing at the village.
Only then did the villagers remember that the orphans came from the poorest farmers’ houses, whose parents died of illness or accident without anyone to take care of them. The artisans could all afford a trip to the nearest healer, and even in case of their death, their children would not be given to Belam.
The surviving parent had all the means and skills to keep the business going until the child could help them run it.
Only farmers’ children ended up in the village head’s care, and the farmers hated the villagers for it. The farmers owed nothing to the villagers and had kept their mouths shut until that moment only because they feared retaliation.
With the Knight’s Guard there, however, there was nothing to be afraid of.
The villagers could almost hear the farmers spill out decades-old grievances. There was no statute of limitation for murder, and every child who had died of malnourishment or while working on Belam’s house counted as such.
The Kingdom had entrusted the children to the village head to protect them and paid her for her services. In the same way, the Kingdom had entrusted the villagers to keep an eye on Belam. They weren’t paid for that, but it was their civic duty.
In the eyes of the Kingdom, the artisans were as guilty as Belam of every death that had happened under her tutelage.
"Now, please, there’s only one more thing you can do to make this day perfect." Orion unsheathed his blade while keeping the recorder on. "Resist your arrest."
***
Quylla brought old and young orphans to the White Griffon and entrusted them to Vastor’s hospital ward.
"Please, Professor, take care of them like you did with me." She nodded her head since a bow would have caused her to stumble and fall. "I’ll pay for everything."
"Quylla, my girl, consider me offended." Vastor grunted in mock outrage. "How could I charge my former Assistant Professor and favorite alumnus for something like this? The Light Magic department looks after its own!"
"Thanks, Professor." She nodded again.
"Our alchemists will have to work overtime to concoct enough tonic for everyone, but that’s their problem." Vastor chuckled. "I’m confident in restoring the children to perfect health, but I don’t think I can make the adults more than a few centimeters taller."
"Wait, you can?" Quylla and the others said in amazement.
"Yes, Body Sculpting has made constant improvements thanks to our research." He pointed at himself and Quylla. "You left behind a great legacy, my girl, and I’m building on it."
"I can’t believe it!" Quylla squealed with joy. "I won’t be the ’Little One’ anymore."
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