Deadmeat Saga

Chapter 93 – What is the best revenge?

After giving the sister a small blessing to accelerate the awakening of her talent and bloodline, Gerhart turned to look at the boy, Anthemius, with curiosity.

"Now I am curious. Where did you find these two prodigies?" Gerhart asked.

"In Shantytown, master. The sister was terminally ill and was about to die if we didn't treat her in time. They have no other relatives." To-Meri replied.

"Hm. So, tell me about yourself, boy. What is your name?" Gerhart asked while lowering himself to the diminutive youth's statute.

"Anthemius, master." The boy replied.

"Anthemius, can you tell me what happened?" Gerhart kindly asked.

"Yes..." Anthemius's eyes darkened as he recalled the sibling's horrible experience.

They were a landholding family of freemen living in the countryside, but out of the blue, a D-rank monster suddenly and violently attacked them, killing most of their family. If it weren't for his sister's quick thinking in hiding them under the smelly straw, they would also die. As the sole surviving male, the land and house logically belonged to him, but who knew that a mere three days later, while he and his sister were grieving and trying to gather their shattered life together, his uncle suddenly drove them from their home?

His uncle used his connections and a bribe to change the ownership of the land under his cousin's name, forcing the siblings away to seek a new lease on life in the city. Even worse, they got robbed on the way by escaped slaves-turned-bandits led by a blue-haired catkin with a missing eye and tail, but his sister luckily escaped being raped because the bandits were only interested in their valuables. On the bright side, they at least left them a way out, leaving a few Silver Coins and just enough supplies to get into the city.

When they arrived in the city, he and his sister tried to find work. He worked as a delivery boy, and his sister did grueling and demeaning housework. But as if fate wanted to screw them over, merely two weeks later, his sister had this weird disease out of nowhere. Her employers immediately found out and drove them out of their homes, fearing it might be contagious. When they came to the temples, they demanded a thousand Silver Coins to heal her! Since it was even beyond her selling price as a slave, they were forced to Shantytown to spend two nights.

The thugs in the Shantytown almost raped his sister in front of his eyes, but when they saw her quickly necrosing flesh, they only stole their clothes and valuables before leaving. If it was in winter time, they might have frozen to death. As fate would have it, a kindly drifter pointed them to an abandoned shack, where they found two roughshod and dirty sacks as clothes and a bloody dagger, likely someone's discarded murder weapon, as a self-defense tool.

However, his sister's state was quickly deteriorating as pus started to leak from the infected areas. They had to beg for some scraps, but the few morsels they received were hardly enough for the pair as they began to starve. And then, last night, his sister collapsed. The rest is history.

To-Meri had an ashamed look after hearing the first part of the story. Meanwhile, Gerhart, Hope, and Qold had funny looks as they silently looked at her.

"Awkward..." To-Meri fiddled with her fingers.

"The bandit was her... How fate plays tricks." Gerhart's lips twitched.

But he quickly let go as he noticed Anthemius was tearing up, recalling a horrible time.

"Anthemius, it is no shame to be in the gutters and lose yourself to despair. But it is admirable to survive as long as you did. Be proud of yourself." Gerhart sympathetically smiled and patted the boy's shoulder.

"I- Thank you, master!" Anthemius deeply connected with those words, his eyes watering, but he held himself back from crying.

"There is no shame for a man to cry, Anthemius. Cry your heart out." Gerhart gently said.

"Uuu... Boohoohoo..." The boy burst like a dam, tears freely falling from his eyes.

It took the scrawny boy ten minutes until he calmed down, his eyes red and puffy while holding a cup of juice they got from the inn bar.

"Anthemius, do you want the strength to protect your sister?" Gerhart suddenly asked.

"Yes, of course! I do!" Anthemius readily nodded.

"I can give you this power. But my god is demanding. You would have to submit to him to receive his gift. Do you agree?" Gerhart asked.

"Yes! Of course! Your god helped me while the other gods turned their backs, so how could I not serve him?!" Anthemius readily agreed.

He was no ungrateful fool and knew who he owed a debt to. Even if Gerhart suddenly revealed he was a devil worshipper, Anthemius might not turn him away.

"Good. Then accept the gift." Gerhart smiled and placed a hand on Anthemius's head.

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Close to sunset-

Four sizeable warhorses arrived at a village, and on them were six riders.

"Is this the place?" Gerhart asked the boy riding with him.

"Yes, master." Anthemius stared at the village with hatred, gritting his teeth.

He still vividly remembered the humiliation of being driven away from his home, his birthright.

"And what would you like to do? Kill them? As you are now, you can kill them for revenge, and no one can stop you." Gerhart said to the lad.

What their uncle did was short of a death sentence for the two siblings, perhaps worse. At least a death sentence ended after having your head chopped off. He deprived them of their livelihoods and homes, exposing them to unwarranted dangers. It was an evil and self-centered act full of corruption.

And yet, Gerhart understood the uncle's point of view. After all, his brother and most of his family died, leaving a young and inexperienced juvenile to run it. Perhaps they would lose everything due to this? So why not switch the ownership to one of his grown children, who could properly manage the farm and not sell it?

Of course, that didn't mean he was justified or doing it out of benevolence, but Gerhart understood the base motivation.

As for why the baron didn't involve himself? Perhaps he didn't even know about this in the first place!

"..." Upon hearing Gerhart's question, Anthemius turned silent.

He had received power from his new master. It was enough to slaughter everyone in the village, including the corrupt village chief who took a bribe or baron's equally corrupt steward. They were the ones who drove them to the pits of hell, and yet he was unsure about what to do.

"Brother, let's not bother with them. Our paths won't cross anymore. I only feel disappointment and pity for them." A gentle voice sounded from a malnourished young woman.

She was Flora, Anthemius's elder sister. She also hated her relatives and had as much strength as him but was more level-headed than her younger brother. With power came broader horizons, and she started understanding just how pitiful the lives of her relatives were.

"I feel disappointed but feel no pity." Anthemius frowned.

"Let me ask you, Anthemius. What do you think is the best revenge in the world?" Gerhart suddenly asked.

"I don't know, master." Anthemius frowned.

"That is correct. There is no best revenge, but there is a good one. It is to live a more comfortable life than your target of revenge." Gerhart profoundly said.

"I... Don't understand." Anthemius frowned.

"Look at them. What do you see?" Gerhart asked, pointing at the thatched houses, smoke from cooking trailing from the roofs.

"Village houses, master," Anthemius replied.

"Indeed. Village houses. And who inhabits them?" Gerhart continued asking.

"Villagers, master," Anthemius answered.

"How is the life of a villager, Anthemius? Is it a good life?" Gerhart suddenly asked.

"I... Don't know? I think it is better than dying in the gutters." Anthemius frowned.

"You are not wrong to assume they live better than gutter-folk or even most slum folk." Gerhart didn't deny it. "But are you a gutter-folk now?"

"... No. I am your servant, master." Anthemius replied, and a hint of understanding surfaced in his eyes.

"Correct. You are now my servant. Is being my servant better than being a poor villager who needs to toil the land, break his back from dawn to dusk to survive, eat bland food, wear uncomfortable clothes, sleep on flee-ridden and uncomfortable beddings, smell manure every day, weather droughts, famines, and disease, or survive monster attacks, bandits, or even rivaling warlords raiding one another? To every day worry about that possibility of suffering fate's cruel hand, enduring all that suffering to one day die a cruel death just as your family did, only hoping to live long enough to pass their land to their children before dying?" Gerhart said.

"..." Anthemius remained silent for some more time, contemplating those words.

"I am not against you taking revenge, Anthemius. I am no innocent man, but I never acted purely for revenge. When I take revenge, it would only be when I could benefit from it. Would it make you feel better to slaughter your kin, no matter how shitty they are, in cold blood? To deprive them of their petty lives, their suffering, just to bear that burden of killing them in your heart for the rest of your life? For a momentary pleasure you might never enjoy?" Gerhart continued asking.

Anthemius clenched his fists tightly, a look of deep unwillingness in his eyes before he sighed.

"Hah... No." Anthemius shook his head.

After hearing Gerhart's words, he started understanding. Perhaps, if his family were filthy-rich merchants living a life of luxury, debaucherously enjoying the gains from having backstabbed him, and he needed the money, killing them would be lucrative enough. But what was the point in ending the misery of some peasants? Is there even a point?

"That's a good boy." Gerhart patted Anthemius's shoulder. "With that said, there is a way to vent a bit."

"Vent? Does that mean beat them up? Show off?" Anthemius guessed.

"No, of course not. That is what hotheaded third rates do." Gerhart shook his head.

"Then what?" Anthemius frowned.

"Of course, it is to make their life even more of a living hell at the minimum cost!" Gerhart explained.

"How am I going to do that?" Anthemius asked, intrigued.

"Think, Anthemius. What is the most simple solution to trivial matters for a powerhouse?" Gerhart asked, not immediately answering.

Anthemius frowned and looked at the village before his gaze locked on the village chief's house and then the baron's manor. A hint of understanding flashed in his eyes.

"The baron?" Anthemius asked.

Gerhart smiled.

They then made a short visit to the baron's manor. Upon showing his guild card, the baron was very welcoming(Mostly out of fear). As Gerhart expected, the baron left the matter to his steward to handle, not involving himself due to being busy hunting the nearby monsters to prevent future monster attacks. The steward, likely realizing this, used the opportunity to make a quick buck, forging some documentation and transferring the boy's property, including livestock, 30 acres of land, and buildings and equipment, amounting to just about 20 thousand Silver Coins, to the uncle for a hefty bribe.

Usually, the baron would not care about such trivialities. He didn't care who paid the taxes, just that the taxes would come. But now? He was furious! An A-rank expert (The card is still not updated) came knocking on his door, demanding an explanation. Even if the expert didn't do anything to him, that was a slap to his face! It is okay if you do illicit things behind my back, but don't get me involved, dammit!

"Would you like me to cane them to death?" The baron asked with seething anger, wanting to appease the expert.

"Ask the boy. He was the one who went through injustice." Gerhart turned to Anthemius, who was still in disbelief.

"Lad, I apologize for what you went through. According to the rules, you may take back double the worth of your stolen property from the felon. If they can't pay, you may even sell them to slavery. What would you like to do?" The baron carefully asked.

Anthemius knew his uncle was about as wealthy as his father. In other words, Anthemius could make his uncle and his family penniless overnight. From a slightly well-off freeman, he would be a wealthy freeman, one of the richest in the village. Meanwhile, he could make his uncle's family broke-ass homeless peasants.

If he didn't gain power and his master's new servant, that would be an attractive option. But now, he didn't need that land. He had a better idea.

"You can have the land. In exchange, I want you to do something for me." Anthemius narrowed his eyes.

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Anthemius rode back to Gerhart's manor, feeling satisfied in his heart.

The corrupt steward and village chief received public caning to death while denounced as fraudsters. Meanwhile, his uncle and cousin lost their lands and devolved into serfs. Being a freeman farmer was hard enough, but being a serf bound to the land was a living hell. At least freemen had freedom and some quality of life.

"Now I understand what the best revenge is. It is the one I am most satisfied with." Anthemius thought, feeling peaceful in his heart.