The Great Empire of a Distant Land (4)

Riding on Saia's back, I leisurely looked around White-Tail Town.

The inn would take horses in, but it wasn't responsible for actively caring for them.

Feeding him was part of the inn's service, but brushing him with a straw brush, massaging him, and taking him out for walks and exercise were my responsibilities as Saia's owner.

A horse was both a means of transportation and a living creature.

Or, more precisely, people simply used horses as a means of transportation; horses weren't born as convenient tools.

Saia in particular was a horse raised amid a nomadic way of life, so spending time in a stable must have been stressful in itself.

That was why I rode on his back and took him for walks around town.

We couldn't take the narrow streets, but horses were allowed on the main thoroughfares, where carts and carriages also traveled.

The main sights in this town were probably the great bridges connecting the west bank to the central island and the central island to the east bank.

Looking down at the river from atop the beautiful bridge with its vermilion railings, I saw fish leaping through the water's surface.

Saia crossed the wooden bridge cautiously, as though he was frightened and unsure.

He looked so adorable that I lightly patted his neck to reassure him.

In White-Tail Town, the residential districts were on the west and east banks, while the commercial district was on the central island, where boats made water transport convenient.

However, the central island was also an area easily flooded whenever the river ran high, so its buildings were constructed on tall stilts.

The bridge was crowded with people going back and forth, and their faces showed no signs of hunger, thirst, or poverty.

This town really must have been wealthy and prosperous.

But it wasn't as though every problem disappeared simply because a town was wealthy and prosperous.

Rather, the very fact that all kinds of people gathered there meant that more problems arose, and that they became more complicated.

For example, there was the conflict between the water-transport guild and the merchants' guild over commercial interests on the central island.

By my own common sense, the two should have been bound together, so to speak—directly connected by mutual profit, and thus in no position to fight. But things were different in White-Tail Town.

The reason was that they were nothing but guilds in name: one skimmed money under the pretense of protecting sailors and cargo, while the other skimmed money under the pretense of protecting merchants and commercial districts.

In short, mafia-like groups were fighting over their interests.

Unfortunately, I had crossed the bridge right into the scene of the conflict, which had only just broken out.

Angry shouts rang out, and the town residents who sensed the danger ran across the bridge to escape.

In retrospect, I probably should have followed them.

But trying to move a horse through a crowd of fleeing people was more than a little dangerous.

Given the horse's size and weight, I could have crushed the people around me.

All I could do was remain there and calm Saia, who was startled by the people running past us.

And so, I saw it.

I didn't know which side he belonged to, but I saw the barbaric act of a man trying to kick away a child who had fallen behind while fleeing and was huddled on the ground, calling the child a nuisance.

Even if the act was meant to keep the child from being caught up in the conflict, the kick was far too heedless and seemed powerful enough to cause a serious injury.

So I reacted instinctively, drawing an arrow from my quiver, nocking it to my bow, and firing.

The arrow might have looked as though it had been loosed carelessly, without taking a stance or even aiming, but it still found its mark, sinking deep into the thug's leg just as it was about to strike the child.

At the scream that rose up, every man involved in the conflict turned to look at me.

Well, an elf on horseback was bound to stand out, so there was nothing I could do about it.

I urged Saia forward, reached down to the child still sitting on the ground, and pulled them up onto the saddle.

There was no further reason to stay here.

I didn't know whether the child had been playing alone or had become separated from their parents while fleeing, but it seemed best to take them somewhere safe.

When I turned Saia around and started back over the bridge toward where we'd come from,

"You bastard! You think you can attack us, then leave without even apologizing?"

When an abusive shout came flying at me, I drew another arrow and loosed it in that direction.

With a sharp thunk, the arrow sank into the ground between the man's legs.

Before anyone could react.

No, really, I wouldn't shoot someone just because they threw a few insults at me.

Of course, I had shot the man to stop him from kicking the child, but even so, I'd inflicted no more than the minimum injury; if anything, I thought it was a kind response.

The arrow just now had been nothing more than a threat.

It meant that if they intended to fight me, I wouldn't miss next time; I'd put an arrow through a vital spot.

They must have understood at least that much without my having to spell it out.

No one tried to stop me as I left with the child.

Of course, if the men had attacked me as a group, I would have dealt with them using spirits rather than a bow and arrows, so I wouldn't have seriously injured them. But there was no reason for me to tell them that.

They could go ahead and continue their brawl to their hearts' content after I was gone.

Even I had no intention of sticking my nose in and stopping them.

Afterward, I took the child home, returned to the inn, and ended my walk.

Somehow, I just wasn't in the mood anymore.

I heard later that the brawl on the central island had ended then and there as well.

With their fighting spirit doused, even the thugs couldn't keep fighting wholeheartedly.

In any case, it had absolutely nothing to do with me.