The tension in the square was thick enough to suffocate. Not a single breath passed without weight.
Altair stood silently as the mayor declared his judgment, watching the man's cold gaze sweep across the trembling group of children. As expected, he was taking this seriously. Of course he is... Altair sighed inwardly. He's bound by the law.
He understood the mayor's mindset—punishing the children was awful, but the law was the law. Countless criminals had been judged before, regardless of age or circumstance. Making an exception now could set a dangerous precedent. Worse, it could be exploited—someone with darker motives might easily push children into crime, knowing they'd be spared.
Still… This felt wrong.
Altair glanced at the boy, Alvis, already having made his decision. He had enough points saved up—he could use a potion from the system later. Healing was possible. He'd just sacrifice some progress.
It's worth it.
But then, the mayor exhaled slowly, his stern expression softening.
"...But it's true that desperation drove you to this," he said, his voice low but clear across the hushed square. "And you are all still young."
A murmur rippled through the crowd, startled by the shift.
His gaze locked onto Emett—the older boy who had orchestrated the theft.
"I will make an exception this time. However… you, Emett, will not be pardoned so easily. I cannot decide your fate. You must be taken to the capital. They will judge you there."
Gasps spread across the crowd—some relieved, others uncertain.
The mayor turned his attention back to the children. "As for the rest of you… you will still be punished. Instead of a hundred, each of you will receive twenty lashes. Let this be a lesson."
Altair blinked. Wait. He actually let them go…?
The children flinched at the sentence. Twenty lashes were lighter—but for their small frames, it could still leave permanent scars. Tears welled in their eyes, silent sobs shaking their shoulders.
Then a man stepped forward. He fell to his knees before the mayor, hands trembling. "Please, my lord... let me take my son's punishment instead. He's only a child."
His son, barely Alvis's age, clung to his clothes, wide-eyed and terrified.
The mayor's face darkened as he considered the plea. And he wasn't alone.
More parents stepped forward—kneeling, crying, pleading to take their children's pain.
The punishment was already reduced. And yet they're still clamoring to take their place? Aren't they afraid the mayor will change his mind?
Altair watched them in silence, but as he saw their pleading expression and the childrens trembling form, he felt a strange tug pulling at his chest.
If it had been me… would my parents have done the same?
The thought struck deeper than expected. He could almost see the image—his mother stepping forward, his father shielding him with quiet resolve.
A faint breath escaped his lips. Is this… what it means to be a parent?
For the first time, the word held weight in his heart.
His gaze shifted to Alvis. Then... should I also step forward for him?
After a long silence, the mayor rubbed his temple, weariness overtaking authority.
"...Very well," he said. "I will allow the punishment to be transferred. But in return—it will be increased to forty lashes."
Some parents hesitated. Others didn't. They stepped forward with shaking hands and steady hearts. One by one, they offered themselves up.
Only one child remained unclaimed.
Alvis.
He stood stiffly, fists clenched at his sides. He didn't move. He didn't cry.
The mayor's gaze locked on him. "Where are your parents, boy?"
Alvis's lips trembled. He tried to speak—but no words came.
Then—
"I am his father."
Altair's voice cut through the crowd.
Alvis's eyes widened in disbelief.
Altair walked forward calmly, meeting the mayor's gaze without a trace of fear.
The mayor narrowed his eyes for a long moment. Finally, he gave a nod. "Then you will take his punishment."
His gaze swept over the kneeling parents one last time.
"See to it you watch over your children more carefully. The punishment proceeds now."
He turned and walked away, leaving the rest to the soldiers.
Alvis stared at Altair, lips parted, stunned. He looked like he wanted to protest—but Altair simply placed a finger over the boy's mouth.
"Not now," he whispered.
Alvis lowered his head. "Sir… you…"
"Shh." Altair's voice was gentle but firm. "I'll take your punishment. It's fine. We'll talk later."
Before stepping away, Altair handed Verda to Alvis. The little girl immediately wrapped her arms around her brother.
"Brother!" she squealed, clinging to him. "I knew you'd come back!"
Alvis held her, silent, his hands trembling. Guilt stained every inch of his face.
Verda turned toward Altair, eyes wide and brimming with trust. "Uncle, where are you going?"
Altair managed a strained smile. "I'll be gone for a little while. Stay here and wait for me, alright?"
She nodded eagerly. "Okay! I'll wait for Uncle!"
—
The punishment ground was grim.
Bloodstains marred the dirt—old and dark—a reminder of what discipline meant in this town. Altair knelt with the other parents, his body tense.
Forty lashes. I've had worse, he told himself.
He'd lived in the wild, hunted by beasts, scarred by storms. His pain tolerance was higher than most.
Still… this would hurt.
Whips cracked behind him.
The first lash sliced across his back like a blade of fire.
He didn't scream.
The second blow. Then the third. Each one tore through him, pain blooming like wild thorns beneath his skin.
All around him, the other volunteers groaned, cried out, collapsed. Flesh split. Blood dripped. The square echoed with agony.
Altair clenched his jaw, holding every sound in. His body twitched, but he didn't fall.
He was thinking of what he was going to do next…
He had helped the children—but he wasn't some martyr. He had done it with purpose. He could've let Alvis take the punishment and cared for him afterward. But this… this would gain their sympathy and guilt.
It will be much easier to gain their trust.
By the time the final strike landed, his vision blurred from the pain.
Still, he didn't fall.
He limped away, breath ragged, blood soaking through his shirt. One foot dragged behind him.
Under a thin cloth in the corner of the street, Verda and Alvis sat huddled together. The girl curled against her brother, while Alvis held her close, shielding her small form from the world.
When Verda spotted him, she gasped.
"Uncle!"
She ran to him, arms open. Altair barely had time to brace before she clung to his leg, her warmth a balm to the pain.
"You're back!" she beamed.
Altair gave her a weak smile, resting a hand on her head. "Told you I'd be back, didn't I?"
She nodded happily.
Alvis followed slowly, eyes heavy with emotion. He stood there, uncertain, gaze locked on Altair's bloodied figure.
Finally, he spoke.
"…Thank you."
Altair chuckled—though it sent a sharp ache through his ribs.
"It's nothing," he said lightly.
"...A-Are you okay?"
Altair nodded and gestured to him. "Let's get away from here first."
Alvis shyly nodded and followed him, holding Verda's left hand, while Altair was holding her right hand..
Altair breathed in slowly, his body screaming for rest.
The things he have to do to gain their trust…