The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 30: Special Law of Vikir (3)

-Vikir Special Law, Article 1, Paragraph 1-.

-The person who pulls this stake (hereinafter referred to as "the stake") shall be paid 100,000,000 gold immediately, as determined by Deputy Vikir Van Baskerville.

A law made and enforced by the young Deputy Magistrate at the age of fifteen, upon his first appointment.

No one in the legislature objected to this law being made.

No one in the legislature objected to the law being enacted, because they had no idea what it was for or what it was intended to do.

The citizens looked dumbfounded.

"What, you're going to give us 100 million?"

"You've got to be kidding me. One hundred million gold is four years' worth of rust rods for ordinary people."

"You're offering 100 million for a wooden stick?"

"What's this for, a show?"

People chattered. They all stare at Vikir with unreadable expressions.

And that included Chihuahua Baskerville and other officials from the Enforcement Division.

The chatter only increased slightly, but when no one stepped forward, Vikir spoke again.

"Anyone else?"

No one answered the question.

By this time, Vikir had picked up his quill and scribbled a few more words on the notice.

-Vikir's Special Law, Article 1, Section 2-.

-The person who pulls this stake (hereinafter referred to as the "stake") shall be paid an additional 900,000,000 gold, as determined by the Deputy Magistrate, Vikir Van Baskerville.

One hundred million gold and nine hundred million more.

"Whoever pulls this stake will be paid one billion gold in cash."

A billion gold! That's a sum of money that no ordinary man can touch until he dies.

The people began to laugh.

"This is ridiculous."

"Are you kidding me? What kind of fool would do this?"

"Hey, kid, don't play around, let's go in!"

"This is pretty funny now that I look at it, isn't it some kind of stand-up comedy?"

The people gathered in the square were stunned by the absurdity of the situation.

Some of them even openly call Vikir a clown.

But Vikir remains nonchalant.

"Is anyone here?"

He asks, and he hears a few laughing responses from around him.

The faces of the enforcement officials, including Chihuahua Baskerville, turn bright red.

"Why is the embarrassment on us!

The officials in the back are fidgeting, unable to withstand the taunts of the citizens.

Vikir nonchalantly raises his brush.

-Article 1, paragraph 3 of the Vikir Special Law-.

-To the person who pulls this stake (hereinafter referred to as "the stake"), there shall be paid an additional 9,000,000,000 gold, as determined by the Deputy Magistrate, Vikir Van Baskerville.

A total of ten billion.

At the mention of this sum, the room fell silent at once.

A deathly silence.

"Whoever pulls this stake will be paid 10 billion gold in cash."

Article 3 of the Special Law of Vikir was proclaimed.

The stares and sneering taunts are gone, and the central square is silent, as if nothing is alive.

The absence of sound, despite the huge crowds of people, gave me chills.

Chihuahua Baskerville and all the officials of the Executive Office were momentarily overwhelmed by the silence on such a massive scale.

But Vikir remained nonchalant.

"Is anyone there?"

This time, no one answered the question.

The citizens stared, unable to laugh or talk.

"What, what is this? What's going on?"

"Are you really offering 10 billion? Should we leave?"

"Are you crazy? You know what you'll get if you leave."

"Look at that knife in his waistband. I don't want to be executed for being a rich bastard."

You never know.

Why is this young deputy magistrate, who has just been appointed, doing this?

No one in the room had any idea why anyone would want to burn 10 billion dollars on a stake that anyone could easily pull out.

"Could it be that the stake is really heavy, so heavy that a normal person can't even pull it out?"

"Not likely. I've seen government employees carrying them around."

"Hey, don't go out there! They've got something else up their sleeve!"

"In times like this, it's best to stay out of it."

It's quiet in the square, with only the occasional shouting match.

"...."

Then Vikir picked up his brush again.

He was about to create Article 4 of the Special Law.

"I... let me try!"

From the crowd, a palm the size of a small film rose.

It was a girl in shabby clothes, a basket of wilted flowers in her hand.

She had a limp, and her face was pockmarked with spots that suggested malnutrition.

She raises her hand and steps forward, only to be stopped by a gracious old man.

Presumably a neighbour.

"Hey, Judy, aren't you Judy! You don't know what you're doing out here!"

"Grandpa, I'm fine, my mum's sick and I've got to do something, there's no flowers for the bullies these days...."

"You naive boy, you'll get stabbed if you step in at a time like this! You shouldn't be so ignorant of the world...."

"Hehe. If anything happens to me, please do me a favour, mum."

Judy stepped out into the square, avoiding the disapproving neighbour's grandfather.

Vikir looked down at Judy with a cold stare.

"Pull it out."

Judy clutched her hair as tightly as she could.

The citizens looked at the little girl with uneasy eyes.

Partly pitying, partly mocking, partly intrigued to see what would happen to the poor little thing in the next few seconds.

Meanwhile, Judy was breaking out in a cold sweat.

'Oh, come on, they're going to have to kill me,' she thought, 'I've been a laughing stock in public like this... and they're going to have to give me a few bucks.'

How much would it cost to be a clown in front of so many people?

'I hope I can get a basket of flowers for it.'

Then I can take a steaming bowl of meat porridge to my sick mum.

Judy stretched out her hand under Vikir's cold gaze.

Her trembling little hand gripped the stake.

And then.

...snap!

The stake was pulled out.

The stake was light enough to be pulled out with the strength of a girl who hadn't even eaten blood porridge.

"...."

Judy was baffled by the ease with which the stake was pulled out.

So was the crowd watching, and so were the officials from the Enforcement Office.

"Pulled it."

"I got it."

"Pulled it."

"He's got it."

The chatter around me grows louder.

What will happen to the girl who pulled the stake now?

That was the initial concern, the one that had the crowd gathered here on the edge of their seats.

And then.

"...."

Vikir raised his hand.

He moved his hand to his waistband. It was where the hilt of his sword dangled.

Seeing it, Judy squeezed her eyes shut.

"He's being executed.

She didn't know what the crime was, but it was probably some sort of insult to nobility, some sort of insolence, some sort of greed, some sort of vice.

In that brief moment, Judy thought of all the people she cared about. Who would take care of her mum if she left like this?

Just then.

"No!"

A near-terminal scream erupted.

A skinny woman burst through the crowd.

Her clothes were rags, her body skeletal and skinned, and she looked like she was dying, but somehow she found the strength to pull Judy into her arms and kneel before Vikir.

"My lord, please, please have mercy!"

Judy's mother. She fell at Vikir's feet with Judy and began to plead.

"The lowly dared to be arrogant, not guessing the intentions of the High. Please forgive me just once, I'm a good... child, I'm a good girl, I've survived my father's death, I've fed my sick mother, and I've been selling flowers on the streets day after day, even though I'm sick...."

The mother began to sob uncontrollably.

"Please forgive us... lowly things like us don't even dare to be pressed with the blood of your sword... please turn a blind eye just this once, please...."

The mother slashed her forehead on the ground, begging for her daughter's life.

At her cries, the crowd began to get angry.

"...ma, that's good! What did Judy do wrong!"

"There was never another girl in this market as sincere and good as Judy!"

"What did that mother and daughter do wrong!"

"Who are you to persecute Judy when you have the power!"

The atmosphere in the square turned nasty.

The crowd, which had been as quiet as death, began to boil.

The officials, including Chihuahua, shuffle their feet nervously in what looks like a riot at any moment.

...Then.

Vikir reached for Judy.

His hand passed over the hilt of his sword and clutched the leather hilt behind it.

Tsk-tsk.

Vikir thrust the heavy leather sack in front of Judy's eyes.

Judy stares, dumbfounded, at the sack and then at Vikir's face.

Then, with trembling hands, she takes the sack and hands it over.

She pulls on the straps of this incredibly heavy leather sack.

...Pow!

A blindingly bright golden glow emanates from within the sack.

Gold coins. Countless, countless, countless.

For a moment, the room falls silent again.

Judy, her mother, the countless others watching the poor mother and daughter, all fell silent in unison.

Vikir spoke.

"Ten billion gold."

The words were like some kind of oracle.

Judy and her mother were simply kneeling there, dumbfounded, in front of a sum of money they had never seen, heard, or imagined.

And it was the same for everyone watching.

"This is how the ... law works."

By this time, Vikir had declared to all the citizens filling the square.

"It will be upheld."

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