Chapter 200: What is Compassion?

As the carriage arrived, the crowd at the store's entrance, their eyes almost blood-red, waved their filthy hands, hurling insults and curses at the worker unloading the goods. It was clear that if not for the presence of the soldiers, they might have swarmed forward and plundered the black bread on the cart.

The store owner, a middle-aged man with a few strands of white hair, deep eye sockets, a large hooked nose, and yellow skin, appeared. Standing about 1.7 meters tall, he seemed weighed down by the burdens of life. He urged the workers to hurry, not to delay.

The appearance of the store owner incited a frenzy of curses from the crowd.

"Cavendish is a craftsman from Estalia with fine skills. He arrived in Fogler fifteen years ago to work for Count Fogler," Francois explained to Ryan. "After serving the lord for about ten years, seeing Cavendish getting older, the Count allowed him to work only three hours a day and spend the rest of the time at home."

It wasn't surprising to Ryan that knight lords valued craftsmen with exceptional skills. Instead of working them to death, it's better to let them train more apprentices, beneficial for both the lord and the craftsman.

"But Cavendish couldn't sit idle. He decided to open a shop to earn some money and spend time with his family," Francois said, his wise eyes flashing with disgust at the sight of the elderly crowding the shop. "As you know, Ryan, the living standards of serfs in this country are not great. Perhaps in our territories, serfs can ensure food and warmth, even have a chicken during festivals, but in other territories where taxes are high, their lives are much harder."

"One particularly cold winter shortly after he opened his shop, an old woman came to his door with some copper coins, wanting to buy some bread. Seeing her in dire straits, Cavendish kindly offered her ginger soup and bread for free. And that was the beginning of everything."

"Cavendish began to notice the plight of the serfs, especially the elderly who were starving without the ability to work. So, as a follower of the merciful Goddess Sallya, he decided to distribute free black bread to the impoverished elderly serfs and residents over fifty-five registered with Count Fogler."

"That's indeed a good deed," Ryan nodded, noticing many elderly leaving with bags of bread, yet their faces lacked gratitude, instead showing entitlement.

"Hmm, Ryan, listen on," Francois continued: "Naturally, the serfs were delighted. Elderly serfs started to come for bread, and as word spread, even serfs from nearby towns and those in their prime came asking for bread. Cavendish didn't mind and ended up distributing hundreds of loaves each month. He even donated gingerbread to the Temple of Sallya during holidays."

"At this point, Ryan, you might think it's a story filled with compassion and kindness, a heartwarming act by Cavendish?" Francois smiled, but his smile was cold.

Ryan looked up as many elderly left contentedly with bread, while those who didn't get any cursed wildly. Without the soldiers, they might have attacked and ransacked the shop.

"I understand now. Cavendish might have started with good intentions, but people are greedy and insatiable. He could help some, but couldn't change the status quo," Ryan realized.

"Exactly. Cavendish's efforts didn't earn gratitude; he didn't even receive fake thanks," Francois watched the store coldly.

The free bread was always limited, leaving some empty-handed, who vented their venomous frustration before leaving angrily.

"Cavendish's kindness didn't bring gratitude but scorn. Two months after starting the bread distribution, the serfs vilified him as a despicable thief, wrongly believing that he was hoarding relief food provided by the lord and Sallya, doling out a meager share to them."

"This belief gained wide support, leading many serfs to demand past bread or money instead. Cavendish, a mere craftsman, couldn't meet these growing demands. His free bread supply was limited."

"The hatred escalated. Nearly everyone insulted him, demanding the 'swallowed' relief food back. Sometimes, when free bread ran out, serfs looted the shop, claiming entitlement as a gift from the Lady. When the delivery was delayed, they even broke into the shop, damaging property and threatening Cavendish's life. Unsuccessful looters even attacked his home, throwing stones and insulting his family."

Anger flared in Ryan's eyes, his fists clenched: "It's not worth it at all. What about the local count? Isn't he intervening?"

Francois nodded: "The count was furious upon learning this. Dozens of serfs were hanged or impaled. He also sent soldiers to protect Cavendish's shop and his safety."

"But this further angered the serfs. They saw Cavendish as a complete villain, protected by soldiers. Their physical aggression ceased, but verbal abuse intensified."

"Cavendish decided not to stay silent. He continued his goodwill and revealed that he was bearing the bread's cost. Knowing the serfs wouldn't believe him, he collaborated with the Temple of Sallya and the Ladies' Convent. In front of everyone in the town center, he explained his actions, inspired by his grandfather, an honorable Estalian knight, to uphold chivalric values..."

"Ha!" Ryan scoffed: "Explaining so late, why would they believe him? Agreeing with him would mean admitting their own faults."

"True. Even with the Lake Saint and Sallya priests' support, the townspeople refused to believe Cavendish. They thought his grandfather must have committed grave sins, seeking forgiveness or attracting the Lady's attention. Regardless of Cavendish's explanations, their answer was the same: rejection."

"Meanwhile, the serfs continued eating Cavendish's free bread, cursing his stinginess and deceit, while Cavendish persisted in his generosity."

"That's the story I wanted to tell you, Ryan."

The young chosen champion fell silent for a long time. The duke watched calmly and ordered another bowl for the woman, who joyfully complied. Ryan finally spoke: "I see your point, my Duke."

"Compassion is an important knightly virtue; we must empathize with the common people, understanding their labor and taxes sustain Brittany's knighthood," Francois continued, eating stew: "But that doesn't mean we must satisfy every serf or desire. Compassion is granted by knights. We give, they cannot take."

"Ryan, we both know the country is declining, the serfdom system is crumbling. We need change, but like Cavendish's case, some things can't be rushed. We need to gradually change and make them see it as our grace, our compassion, which we can revoke anytime."

"We fight on horseback, guarding the country from orcs, vampires, Chaos, and beastmen. They toil and pay taxes; we spill blood. We owe them nothing. Knights never shirk duty, riding into battle for the people, the kingdom, glory, and the Lady."

"That is true compassion, not inciting serf rebellions. Remember, Ryan, greed is natural. We might overcome it under the Lady's guidance, but how many are like us? The majority of Brittany's knights haven't passed or even faced the Grail Quest. The gap between ideals and reality shatters most knights' dreams, bringing immense burdens and pain," Francois's deep gaze flickered with wisdom: "From your actions, I guess what you want to do. You're managing well, but be careful. Otherwise, you'll oppose the majority of knights in the kingdom."

Ryan felt warmth in his heart, understanding Francois's advice. The Duke used this story to teach him governance.

The Lady's chosen champion stood and bowed respectfully to Duke Francois of Winfort: "I've learned, my Duke. Your words enlighten me like the Lady's teachings. I'll be more cautious in governing my territory."

"Haha, I can't compare to the Lady," Francois happily patted Ryan's shoulder: "No need for formalities between us. Consider me your elder."

"Thank you, my Duke," Ryan sat down again: "You're right; greed is inherent. Beyond black bread, there's white bread, poultry, then beef. Serfs unfamiliar with the Lady's teachings rarely understand virtues. Generosity for all won't bring gratitude. Only serfs who excel deserve promotion."

"Exactly," Francois nodded: "Human expectations change with our generosity. Uneducated serfs easily misconstrue our gifts as entitlements. The process can be very short."

"It seems these villagers are stubborn, refusing to believe even with the Ladies' Convent and Sallya's Temple vouching. They don't want to, because admitting the truth means acknowledging their guilt and losing the comfort of free bread."

Ryan sighed: "So, the serfs vilify Cavendish, tarnishing his reputation and doubting his motives. That's why this situation arose. No matter what, they won't admit fault, embracing any conspiracy theory that suits their narrative."

Thinking, Ryan suddenly laughed: "Why not invite Sulia and Yule to this lesson? They need it too."

Francois laughed heartily: "Yule is too much like my younger self, focused only on horses and lances, battle and honor. Teaching him now is futile. As for Sulia... she's too young. Teaching her now does more harm than good. Only you, Ryan, are mature enough."

Just then, a figure in a black robe emerged from the crowd, slipping into an alley, drawing Ryan and Francois's attention. Ryan whispered, "That person seems suspicious, dressed too lightly yet too covered for the season."

"Could be a vampire. Let's check it out!"

___________________

(Support with power stones, comments or reviews)

If you guys enjoy this story, In support me on Patreon and get access to +200 advance Chapters

Read Ahead

Patreon.com/INNIT