The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 31: Special Laws of Vikir (4)

The story of the girl who won ten billion by moving a stick quickly spread throughout Underdog City and all of Baskerville's territory.

Rumour has it that Underdog City even provided a bodyguard to protect the girl's winnings.

'Such is the law. It will be upheld.

The short speech of the newly appointed young deputy magistrate was on the lips of countless people.

Naturally, Vikir's law, or "Vikir's Special Law," became even more famous than Baskerville's self-governance.

The gossips were saying.

"The new deputy magistrate is different, isn't he?"

"Vikir says that once he says something, he does it no matter what."

"They say the crime rate in Underdog City has dropped by half since that day."

"It used to be said that the law was far away and the fist was near, but now the law is near and the fist is far away."

Break the law and you're punished; follow the law and you're rewarded.

This simple principle impressed the citizens.

A society that stands by its principles.

The distrust of the law, which was not being followed, was washed away after that day.

The day after the special law was promulgated, illegal activities were noticeably reduced and the crime rate was halved.

The darkness that had been so deeply rooted in the underdog city had been cleared by this one performance.

* * *

Underdog City Hall.

The director of Chihuahua Baskerville was smiling and writing on a signboard.

<Imokji Shin (移木之信)>

A banner to be hung in the Governor's office from this day forward.

Vikir stared at it from Chihuahua's side, then spoke up.

"Your handwriting is very good, Chihuahua."

"Sure. I've never met anyone with better penmanship than me since I was born, and I've gotten so good at imitating other people's handwriting because the Archons always make me sign for them...."

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The Chihuahua didn't finish his sentence.

Vikir had blurted out something unexpected.

"Can't I learn to do that too?"

The Chihuahua's eyes widened at Vikir's words.

It was the first time a high-snouted member of the Baskerville clan from the main family had ever asked him to do something that wasn't a command.

Moreover, despite being a sword eater, he was interested in brushes.

"Of course I can teach you, I'd be honoured!"

"Thank you. I'll ask you whenever I have time."

The Chihuahua hums and teases the brush after hearing the praise.

Vikir watched him in wonder.

Chihuahua Baskerville.

He was an outsider, a commoner who had spent three years as an indentured servant to the Baskervilles before being given the surname of Baskerville and formally integrated into the family.

Unlike the swordsmen who become Guardian Knights and are trained in Baskerville-style swordsmanship, administrators are paid less and receive no special training.

While swordsmen are motivated to become part of the Baskerville family, as mastery of the Baskerville style of swordsmanship improves their skills by several levels, administrators like Chihuahua have little to attract them other than honour.

'As I understand it, ... he joined Baskerville with the sole intention of serving his homeland.'

Vikir had seen the Chihuahua a few times before his regression.

A man who, for all that he looked like a ganeshin, had the temper of a high priestess, and who spouted off to the rulers and deputy rulers.

And a capable administrator who was relegated to the fringes and never saw the light of day until he was old and dead.

Vikir was thinking about the Chihuahua.

"By the way, you're doing a great job, sir."

The Chihuahua finished his whistle and looked at Vikir.

"Who would have thought you could pull off such an unconventional performance, Chihuahua? I'm truly blown away, and I've been here for 20 years, just as a clerk, and I've never been so thrilled. I'm still shaking in my boots."

Vikir nodded slightly.

"The laws of Baskerville are actually pretty good. But it's not enough to put a law out there, it's important that the people believe in it and follow it."

"You're right, and you're absolutely right. But that's not what the previous Deputy Magistrates thought."

"We can't afford to be angry at the manors for their distrust of the law or their ignorance of it, so I've been thinking about how to engage them and make a strong impression on them."

In fact, this is a performance that Camus of the House of Morg would perform quite some time later.

As soon as he ascends to the position of Lord of the Manor, Camus of Morg, who will later be known as the Auspicious Weather, becomes a formidable figure of power and turns his domain into a strong law-and-order region.

The lords of the land would not pick up money that fell to the ground, and there were no quarrels among them, so much so that the crime rate dropped to almost zero.

'... However, his reign of terror did not endear him to the lords.

However, in the midst of the war against the demons, Camu's iron fist was able to increase human survival rates by leaps and bounds, and indeed, even after the Generation of Destruction, Morg's estate had the largest population of survivors left.

...That was the last thing on his mind right now.

"Now it's about going forward."

Vikir said, looking down at the map of Underdog City.

"With 10 billion in prize money, we're going to have to find a way to fill the hole, right?"

With that, Vikir picked up a pen and began drawing red X's all over the map.

As if he knew exactly where everything was, Vikir drew an X in every nook and cranny.

X X X X X X X X X...

In no time at all, the number of X's on the map rose to over a hundred.

"These are the places where illegal organisations are hiding or will hide in the future. We're going to crack down on them one by one and return the black money to the treasury."

"Uh, how do you know these places are where criminals operate?"

"I smell it."

Vikir presses his nose to his lips and smirks.

Baskerville's hounds have a keen sense of smell.

With the dazed Chihuahua behind him, Vikir continues to recite his plan.

"In military law, the highest form of procurement is from enemy territory. If we rob everything here, we'll raise a lot of tax revenue. We can use it to bolster the welfare system for the poor."

"Yeah. That's despite the crime rate being cut in half. The performance has reduced the overt crimes, but the ones that remain have become more stealthy and sophisticated."

But it doesn't matter.

Vikir knew the location of all of these illegal outfits, and the key players at the heart of them.

"It's an area we patrolled and cracked down on tirelessly before we went back.

I still have vivid memories of being a hound dog during the 'War on Crime', frantically biting rats in the back alleys.

I also knew the tricks of the trade because some of my close colleagues had been bribed.

I know how criminals think and behave, where they hide, what they do, how they operate, and how far they go.

I also knew all the channels through which underground money would flow for at least the next 25 years.

Whirring, whirring, whirring.

Beelzebub, lurking in the artery in my wrist, senses life and begins to twitch slightly.

It's hungry for blood.

Just then.

"Deputy!"

The door opens and a clerk enters, looking puzzled.

"There's a request for an interview at ...."

Both Vicky and Chihuahua turn their heads at the words.

Chihuahua asks first.

"Who's requesting an interview on official time? You've been here less than two days."

"Well, that is. The Youth Self-Governance Committee of the local government office would like to meet with you once...."

Then the Chihuahua's face stiffened.

It looked like it had finally arrived.

Vikir broke the ice.

"So, you're saying you want to see the farting bastards in the community?"

"...That's right, the youth wing of the Xiangcheng is made up of the second and third generations of the local retainers, especially the influential Sedoga."

He's asking to see Vikir among the youth of other smaller families within the Baskervilles' domain, indigenous families that have long held sway in the area.

Most of them have direct or indirect ties to the Baskervilles, often by blood, sometimes by delay, sometimes by marriage.

The Chihuahua spoke with an air of disdain in his voice that he could barely conceal, even with a tightly clenched fist.

"It's the Youth Autonomy Committee of the Mali Township Office, but it's really just a messy social club. Apparently they have something to say about the 'Vikir Special Law'."

"...hmm."

Hearing that, Vikir leaned back on the couch, chin in hand.

"When you make a law to root out absurdity, it's the most corrupt places that make the most noise.

The first backlash against Vikir's special law. Was it coming from the Autonomous Council?

Turning to his Chihuahua, who was watching him anxiously, Vikir spoke briefly.

"The dung beetles smelled it first."

Hadn't he been laying out the shit since his first day on the job, knowing that would happen?

Now it's time to get rid of the city-eating pests.