MTO C36

Chapter 36

Did not Saint Pablo also walk among the poor and lowly? So long as Michel did not overstep, Kaidan thought, there would be no danger. With himself at the man’s side, watching closely, nothing foolish could slip by.

But when both Saint and Duke spoke to him in turn, Thomas’s face turned gray as clay.

“M-my back… I strained it a little…”

So that was why he had taken only a meager portion.

Kaidan clicked his tongue, realizing he had provided no accommodation for the infirm. Provisions should have been arranged so such men might carry them easily. But it was his first relief festival; some lack of preparation was inevitable.

“I will send the ducal physician down to the village in a few days.”

“P‑pardon?”

“Today the soldiers will carry the rest of the supplies to your home. Take another look—see if there is nothing more you require.”

Thomas only blinked in stupefaction, as though unable to comprehend his lord’s words.

“Wonderful!” Michel cut in brightly. “Oh, and—you’ll want a blessing as well, won’t you?”

Without waiting for consent, Michel placed his hand upon Thomas’s brow. The offhand manner, as if a blessing were cheese to accompany wine, rankled Kaidan.

But Thomas trembled with awe. Only then did he seem to realize the magnitude of grace he had received.

“Truly… thank you!”

He hurried back to the line, steps springy with joy. Around them, peasants muttered nervously.

“What just happened?”

“Did he say the Duke’s physician would treat him?”

“And did the Saint not bless him just now? Is such blessing not kept for nobles only?”

“Saint!”

One woman ventured forth, clutching a bundle. When she lowered the wrappings, a tiny infant’s face peeked out, cheeks flushed red by the bitter wind.

“Will you bless my daughter as well?”

Michel gasped softly at the sight, eyes widening threefold, nostrils flaring with sharp breath like a startled child himself.

Kaidan watched warily. If he so much as twitched wrongly toward the babe, he was ready to strike him down instantly. Yet Michel only spoke in calm, low tones.

“What is her name?”

“Emma.”

“Hello, Emma. Peek‑a‑boo!”

He hid his face with his hands, then dropped them with a ridiculous expression. No dignity, no sanctity at all. Yet the infant giggled, shrieking with innocent delight.

“Brother, lend me the handkerchief you used earlier.”

Michel stretched out a hand to Kaidan without even looking at him, waggling fingers impatiently in command. The shamelessness grated. Still, curiosity made Kaidan hand it over.

Michel scrubbed each finger thoroughly before setting his palm ever so gently upon the baby’s brow.

“May God’s blessing be with Emma—forever.”

The playful touch left the baby giggling again, arms stretching toward him. The mother flustered, clutching child tighter.

“Emma, no!”

“It’s fine,” Michel insisted, scooping the child into his arms. And the infant, far from crying, reached for his face and poked it in fascination. Michel looked down as though his very soul were melting apart.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” he demanded suddenly, glancing at Kaidan.

Before thinking, Kaidan nodded. For a fleeting instant, with the babe in his arms and sunlight on his smile, Michel did not look unbearable.

I must be out of my mind.

Kaidan tore his gaze away, silently cursing himself. The mother shivered as his stern eyes brushed her.

“Where is your husband?” he asked.

Her face darkened.

“He… returned to God a few months ago. In summer. A storm came, and he went out to guard the crops. He caught a terrible fever. We could not afford to let the fields fail—the rent had to be paid.”

Mid‑speech her face blanched white in horror.

“I—oh, forgive me, my lord Duke. I didn’t mean—”

“After his passing, how did you manage the tax? Surely caring for a child left you little strength to work.”

He cut her off. Now he saw how threadbare she looked.

“The villagers took turns watching Emma. Sometimes, I brought her on my back to the fields. This winter has been easier… taxes were lighter.”

The apology sounded more like fear. Words meant as praise for the new Duke. Kaidan felt no joy in them.

He fell into silence, brooding. The longer it lasted, the paler she grew.

Finally he spoke.

“Until your child walks and speaks, you are exempt from taxes.”

“…What?”

“This winter, focus on raising her. We will lend what money you lack; Eglence coffers will cover it. Later, when the child is of working age, you will repay the debt and any suspended taxes. There will be no interest. Do you accept that?”

Kaidan silently resolved to draft policy for all households raising infants. Taxes had been lowered overall—but some still lived crushed. If parents could not afford to raise children, the land’s future would wither.

Each peasant was wealth: seed for the future. Nobles across lands vied with one another in policy to root settlers. To ignore children was shortsighted. Even if such policy looked like charity now, it was the shrewdest investment for decades to come.

His father had never seen half so far.

The woman’s eyes brimmed with tears.

“Th-thank you… I will never forget this grace, my lord. Thank you!”

“And you must take a blessing as well!” Michel chimed, pressing a hand to her brow, murmuring words of comfort until she, too, withdrew in gratitude.

When they were alone again, Michel slanted half‑closed eyes at Kaidan, sly and unreadable. The Duke raised a brow.

“Something to say?”

“…What? No… only that you really are a good man.”

Kaidan froze.

Never in his life had he heard such words applied to him. The Profligate of the North. The Mad Dog of the Battlefield. The War‑God Starved for Blood. He had borne many names, most curses heavier than blades. But never—never—had anyone called him good.

Not a good knight. Not even a good duke. But good as a man.

It had always seemed the world forgot he was human at all. People fled his eyes as though cursed. And, truth be told, he too had doubted his own humanity from the day he lost what hearts should feel.

Yet Michel spoke with an odd certainty, as if he had believed this for a long time already.

Lies. Always lies. How slickly he flatters.

Kaidan reminded himself coldly. Just another swindler’s trick.

“See to your duties.”

“Yes. Now then—the next in line for a blessing!”

“Wait—”

But Michel bounded away, beaming, calling peasants eagerly toward him. Kaidan reached out, but did not dare seize him by the neck before the people.

So the inevitable occurred.

“Saint, please me too!”

“Saint, my wife has been blind—pray for her sight!”

“My brother drowned last winter! He was a righteous man—did he reach heaven safely?”

Hands surged from all sides. Those who had before kept their distance now flooded forward, desperate for even a touch. Michel vanished among them.

Kaidan cursed and plunged through. The “saint” was pulled this way and that, too soft‑hearted to resist. Terror lined his face; this, he had not anticipated.

Kaidan thrust through the mob and wrenched him free, shielding him with his own body.

“Everyone will be heard—but you will keep the line.”

At his bark, knights rushed to surround them, reforming order.

Only once the crowd quieted did Kaidan dare glance at Michel again, still held within his arms.

“Are you unharmed?”

“Y-yes…”

“If you wish, a place to rest can be arranged.”

“No, I’m fine. Just… startled.”

His cheeks were flushed, cloak fluttering as if to cool himself. He stepped back, but Kaidan stayed firm at his side.

“From here on… you move nowhere alone.”

“…Yes. Understood.”

Seeing Michel’s shoulders slump, Kaidan let out a tight sigh. Truly—he was someone one could not look away from, even for a moment.