Three days had passed since Ale's return to the slums after the cruel trials at the viscount's castle. He had resumed a quieter pace of life, though the shadow of the events still loomed over him. His modest apartment had seen a few small improvements.

On his first day back, Ale had used an earth spell to grow soft moss over his mattress, easing the uncomfortable hardness of the bed. The next day, he did the same for the floor, covering the creaky planks with a thick layer of moss. Not only did it add comfort, but it also brought a refreshing coolness in the morning.

Despite these little changes, one thing weighed heavily on his mind: his necklace. It wasn't until the day after they had returned from the castle that Ale realized his necklace was gone. When they had arrived back, it was already noon, and exhausted from the accumulated fatigue, he collapsed onto his bed. Upon waking, he had searched frantically for the necklace, but it was nowhere to be found. He suspected it had been lost during the battles at the castle, and ever since, the thought of retrieving it had haunted him. Yet, despite his efforts, no clear solution had come to mind.

Even with this loss, Ale tried to stay focused on his daily tasks. Since receiving a significant sum of gold coins, his routine had improved slightly. Each morning, he woke at 6 a.m., leaving his apartment to first stop at the bakery by 6:15, and then at the grocery store by 6:30. Now, he could afford to buy white bread instead of the usual black loaf and even vary his meals.

At the makeshift market stalls of the slums, rudimentary and often set up directly on the ground, he found fresh vegetables, fruits, and occasionally meat, depending on what the hunters brought back. He even treated himself to luxuries—rillettes, jams, and even chocolate from Renan's shop.

Every morning, he met up with Chance, the old beggar he had met long before the castle events, near the fountain at the main square of the slums. Together, they shared bread and rillettes for breakfast. Ale had tried to give Chance some money to help him, but the old man had firmly refused. "I don't take anything unless it's to pay for my information," he had said.

Since his return from the viscount's castle, Ale had committed himself to fulfilling a promise he made to the families of those who had perished during the trials. They had left with 25 workers to serve at the banquet, but only 12 returned, five of them gravely injured. Of the 13 who had lost their lives, five seemed to live alone with no known family. Ale took it upon himself to give them proper burials. As for the remaining gold coins, he had donated them to the orphanage in the working-class district of Brisemer. He knew the money would be put to good use in a place where parentless children struggled to survive.

For the eight others, Ale had decided to return the gold coins he had kept, to honor the fallen. With the help of Chance and his network of beggars, he had tracked down seven families, returning what was owed to them. Only one family remained to be found.

That morning, Ale made his way to the fountain once again to meet with Chance, share their usual breakfast, and hear any updates regarding the last family. The beggars' network was still actively searching, and Ale hoped today would mark the end of this quest.

As Ale approached the fountain, he saw Chance already seated, his wrinkled face marked by fatigue, but a faint smile played on his lips. The old beggar seemed to cherish these quiet moments, like every morning, when they could share a simple piece of bread. Ale sat beside him, the light morning breeze gently brushing their faces.

After some casual conversation, the topic naturally turned to the last family Ale was still trying to track down. Chance, while thoughtfully chewing on a piece of bread, lowered his voice slightly.

“The beggars’ network is still looking, but it shouldn’t be long now, Ale,” he said, his voice calm but confident. “They’ve found a lead. The deceased woman, Elara, only had two daughters left, Liora, the youngest, who is 12, and Mirin, the oldest, who is 14. Their father, Joren, died a few years ago in a mining accident.”

He paused, swallowing his bread before continuing in a more serious tone.

"The slums know this family well. They've been struggling for years. Their downward spiral started when the youngest daughter Liora, contracted an incurable illness—something couldn't heal without magic. The only solution to save her was to get a healing potion, sold exclusively by the Church... But you know how it is with them—nothing is free, especially when it comes to life and death."

Ale felt anger rising within him, but he remained silent, letting Chance continue.

"They had to take out a loan—50 silver coins to buy that potion. A staggering amount for a family from the slums. Fortunately, the potion worked, and the girl was cured... But you know how it goes. That loan quickly ballooned into a debt of four gold coins, thanks to the interest."

Ale clenched his fists, his expression darkening.

"They were forced to pay 20 silver coins a month just to cover the interest. And you can guess what happened next... Once they couldn't keep up with the payments, the Church sent its men, backed by a few local thugs. They emptied their house, piece by piece, stripping away every valuable item, selling it off to cover the debt. They treated that family like they were nothing more than merchandise."

Chance sighed deeply, his face weighed down by the gravity of the story.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"To pay off that cursed debt, the Church offered the father dangerous work with high pay. It ended up costing him his life in the mine collapse. After his death, the entire slum rose up in anger against the Church's cruelty. To calm the situation, the Church publicly announced they were forgiving the family's debt, as an act of 'mercy.'"

Ale couldn't help but mutter bitterly, "Mercy, huh…"

"Exactement," replied Chance with a nod.

"But everyone here knows they're the real culprits. After the announcement of the mother's death at the viscount's castle, they jumped at the chance to take the two girls under the guise of charity, claiming they'd 'find them a home.' No one has seen them since. My men are still looking, but it's like they vanished."

Ale clenched his fists, feeling a quiet rage rising within him.

"The Church has something in mind. It's all about debts, and it seems like they want to use those two girls for some kind of profit," murmured Chance. "We're doing everything we can to find them."

"Thank you, Chance. Your help is invaluable," Ale replied, filled with gratitude.

Though Ale thanked Chance for the information, he couldn't shake the bad feeling gnawing at him. He knew he had to act. He had to help those two girls, no matter the cost.

"Don't worry. We'll find them," said Chance with a wink. "In the meantime, try to enjoy your day."

-----

After finishing their breakfast, Ale decided to visit the Adventurer's Guild, hoping to hear news of Flann, but he still hadn't returned. However, Ale was glad to run into his friends, Bam, Tim, and Solia. They decided to meet up at the Brisemer tavern, "The Golden Griffin," a favorite spot for adventurers to gather and share stories.

At the tavern, the atmosphere was lively and warm. They settled into their usual table near the window overlooking the street. Bam wasted no time in ordering an impressive amount of food.

"I'll have the beef stew, roast chicken, a platter of cheeses, and don't forget the fresh bread," he announced to the server, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

Solia rolled her eyes. "You really spend too much on food, Bam. You should think about upgrading your gear instead of stuffing yourself."

"But food is the fuel of an adventurer!" Bam laughed in response. "And besides, my gear's still holding up just fine."

Tim smiled and pulled out a finely crafted bow from its case. "Check this out! A bow made by dwarf artisans. It's got a slot for inserting magic stones."

Ale admired the bow. "That's a beautiful piece. What kind of stone are you thinking of using?"

"I'm considering a wind gem to increase the speed of my arrows," Tim said enthusiastically.

"Impressive," Ale admitted. "The dwarves truly are masters of their craft."

Bam let out a dramatic sigh. "What I really miss is the golden fruit of Eldor. I'm obsessed with it, but it's never in the market. I'm starting to lose hope."

Ale, with a small smirk, replied, "Don't worry, it won't be long. Judging by your reaction, I'd say those golden fruits are pretty popular. The merchants will soon be stocking up on them to sell at the market. They know it'll sell like hotcakes."

Bam, eyes sparkling with hope, straightened up. "I sure hope so! The moment they're on sale, I'm buying a whole basket."

Ale nodded, amused. "I bet you'll be the first one to clear the stalls."

The conversation flowed easily, with everyone sharing stories and plans. Ale, however, kept quiet about his recent ordeal at the viscount's castle. He preferred not to draw attention or worry his friends. Instead, he talked about life in the slums, the people he'd met, and the small, simple joys of daily life.

Suddenly, Solia adopted a mysterious expression. "Have you guys heard the rumors about the viscount's castle?"

"What rumors?" Bam asked, intrigued.

"An adventurer I know told me he was at the castle that night on a protection mission," Solia began, lowering her voice.

"Apparently, the viscount runs a secret arena. For his son's birthday, he organized a bloody spectacle. He had servants fight against prisoners—prisoners who were actually members of the 'Brigade of Dawn'—and monsters. They say there was even a class 6 Basilisk!"

Ale felt a shiver run down his spine, but he kept his expression neutral.

"The most shocking part," Solia continued, "is that the servants won. They defeated the prisoners, who were high-level adventurers, and even killed the Basilisk."

Tim shook his head, skeptical. "Honestly, that's hard to believe. A Basilisk is a monster that even class 5 adventurers hesitate to face. And you're saying the prisoners were part of the famous 'Brigade of Dawn,' made up of class 7 adventurers or higher? It's strange enough that they ended up as prisoners, but that they were defeated by untrained servants? That's ridiculous."

"Exactly," Bam agreed. "And a Basilisk... Taking one on without an elite team is pretty much suicide."

Bam turned to Ale, curious. "Hey, Ale, you didn't have anything to do with that, did you? You're pretty strong, after all."

Ale gave a modest smile. "Me? No, I had nothing to do with that. And I'm not crazy enough to take on a Basilisk."

"He's right," Tim chimed in. "Even a seasoned adventurer wouldn't take that risk."

Ale seized the opportunity to ask a question that had been bothering him. "Is the viscount's cruelty known to everyone? And the fact that he runs a clandestine arena—doesn't that shock anyone?"

Solia sighed. "Unfortunately, the viscount is notorious for his brutality. But no one can really do anything about it. There have been uprisings before, but they were crushed with terrifying violence. Everyone who dared to stand against him met a gruesome end. Since then, people are too afraid to try anything."

"And what about the guild? They don't do anything?" Ale asked, perplexed.

"Well, the guild remains neutral," Bam explained. "It's already good enough that the leaders aren't in cahoots with the viscount. Most adventurers don't want to get involved in political affairs. They'd rather focus on their missions. After all, many don't feel particularly attached to the city.

They spend most of their time outside, exploring and completing quests."

Tim added, "And even if Viscount Montclair fell, another family would just take his place. Nothing would really change. There are a few adventurers who'd like to do something, but they're too few, too disorganized. They feel powerless against such a force."

Ale thought for a moment. "I see... The situation is more complicated than I thought."

"Why are you so interested?" Solia asked, her curiosity piqued.

"I've always had an interest in justice," Ale replied with a faint smile. "

The conversation shifted toward different available missions, monsters, and local legends. But Ale remained thoughtful. The information he'd just heard confirmed what he had already observed. The viscount held a tyrannical grip over the city, and very few seemed willing to stand against him.

"Seems like things aren't as simple as they appear," he muttered to himself.

"What was that?" Bam asked.

"Nothing, just thinking about how the world works," Ale answered with a slight smile.