Chapter 69
Gadeland, a port town and one of Rudek's two major cities.
It would be no exaggeration to call this port town the gateway not only to Rudek but to the entire Northern Continent, and all sorts of people pass through it every day.
Whenever people gather, merchants swarm and the place becomes lively. Wherever there is bustle, villains are drawn to the commotion as well.
The scoundrels who naturally gathered together there formed what became commonly known as the "Backstreet." It was originally called Neizer Street, but almost no one used that name anymore.
The city's residents, of course, stayed away from the Backstreet. Even tourists rarely ventured into it; few were eccentric enough to step into the place despite its unmistakable air of squalor.
The Knights kept a close watch on the area, giving it a forbidding atmosphere. Even so, people seeking stolen goods or illegal wares—or those deceived by sweet words—continued to visit in secret, and every day, people who had learned a painful lesson in the Backstreet came running to the Knights.
In one corner of the Backstreet, many people were drinking and gambling in a strangely damp building where the sea breeze seeped in, even in the daytime.
They were playing a game called card matching. The basic rule was to match cards bearing the same design. Matched cards were worth a set number of points, and certain combinations could increase the score.
If your total exceeded the points gathered by the dealer, you won. If it fell short, you lost. It was simple but easy to understand, making it one of the thugs' staple gambling games.
"Damn it! You're cheating, aren't you?"
A man on a losing streak threw the cards in his hand at the dealer.
"...Sir, that's a problem."
The dealer spoke in a low, calm voice, accustomed to such incidents.
"Shut up! I know you're cheating! I ain't paying a damn thing!"
Though the customer continued to complain despite his fear, the dealer called out, "Hey," to the man leaning against the wall in back.
"Yeah."
The man answered briefly and grabbed the customer's shoulder.
"That hurts! Let go!"
As the customer raged, the man applied even more force.
"It hurts!! My arm's gonna come off! Stop! I said stop! Aaaagh! Please stop!"
At last, when the customer's screams turned into desperate pleas, the dealer decided that was enough and spoke up.
"Pay up, or lose your arm... Your choice."
"I'll pay!! I'll pay!!"
Seeing the customer plead as tears streamed down his face, the dealer finally told the man to ease off.
After easing his grip and finishing the job, the man returned to the wall where he had been standing, folded his arms, and leaned against it again.
―― How boring. ――
Young Thor di Solrugia watched the gambling resume with a bored gaze, devoid of emotion.
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The reason Thor had come to the Backstreet was simple and commonplace.
His great-grandfather had originally come from the Southern Continent with his family, hoping to make a name for himself, but failed spectacularly and died disheartened in northern Rudek.
The family he left behind lived a meager existence in a poor village in northern Rudek, but Thor could not bear it. Hoping to turn his life around in one stroke, he left his parents in the village and came to Gadeland.
However, the young Thor was duped by a swindler, lost all his money, and was saddled with debt. When he tried to confront the man who had deceived him, the swindler was nowhere to be found.
Unable to accept what had happened, Thor entered the Backstreet penniless and searched everywhere for the swindler. Along the way, he got into several disputes and beat his opponents senseless. The people there took a liking to his fighting ability and hired him as an enforcer.
"This wasn't supposed to happen."
After the gambling den closed and his work was done, Thor let out a deep sigh.
But he had debts to repay, and once someone had fallen into the Backstreet, finding an ordinary job in the city was difficult.
Apparently, the navy was recruiting, but Thor faced one major problem if he wanted to join.
He couldn't swim. And he got seasick almost immediately.
Even Thor had never imagined he was this helpless against the sea until he boarded a ship.
He came from a small mountain village, where the deepest water he knew was a knee-deep stream or a small pond. His inability to swim had never caused him any trouble, but being so vulnerable to the ship's motion was a major miscalculation.
But he couldn't bear the thought of being deceived, ending up penniless, and shamefully slinking home. Besides, he didn't even have the money to return. And the navy, where he'd live aboard a ship year-round, was out of the question. Bound by his petty pride, Thor was completely stuck.
"...Well, I suppose it can't be helped now."
At last, Thor made up his mind.
He had no choice but to rise to the top in the Backstreet.
So Thor began thinking about the quickest way to do that.
Should I take down one of the Backstreet's big-time villains? No, dealing with the aftermath sounds troublesome. It would lead to a long feud. I could beat up everyone who came at me, but that would be far too inefficient.
Or should I gather my own followers and rise to the top? That would take time, and I don't have anyone close to me. I have no way to draw people together. I need a reason to make them want to follow me.
He was so lost in thought that he absentmindedly walked right past his den. He shook his head and was about to turn back when he felt someone's gaze. When he turned around, he found a soldier from the Knights on patrol.
The soldier was glaring at him, so Thor glared back—and then it hit him.
That's it. What if I beat up one of the Knights' big shots? Then maybe the people of the Backstreet would respect me. Yeah, not bad. Maybe I should try it.
It never occurred to Thor that if he laid a hand on the Knights, they would hound him until he died.
Whether because of his youth or not, it was an extremely rash and foolish choice. Thor himself, however, was utterly serious; convinced he had come up with a good idea, he strode off in high spirits.