Chapter 45: The Beggar Faction (2)
At the priest’s words, the gate swung open.
The black gate creaked with a screeching sound, and the beggars who had been waiting outside poured in all at once.
It was like water draining out of a sewer.
Oliver was swept into the poorhouse along with the crowd and, after being jostled a few times, managed to line up.
“Good thing. It looks like we’ll be able to get some…”
“Haven’t had bread in a while.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
The beggars in line each murmured something as they eyed the pile of bread.
But their whispers weren’t loud enough to be irritating.
Upon closer inspection, all of them were carefully watching the poorhouse staff handing out the bread and the overseeing priest.
And for good reason—the staff and priest clearly harbored disgust, discomfort, and a strange sense of superiority toward the beggars.
At a glance, it was obvious they would kick anyone out for stepping out of line.
“Hey… don’t stare too hard.”
An old beggar forcibly lowered Oliver’s head.
“Keep your head down. Just look at the ground, the ground… They don’t like it when you make eye contact or try to sneak a glance. Don’t give them any excuse to complain.”
Following instructions, Oliver lowered his gaze. Though his curiosity wasn’t satisfied.
“…Can I ask a question?”
“A question…? Make it quick.”
The old beggar spoke, glancing at the priest.
“You mentioned there’s a worldly reason they’re handing out bread earlier… What is it?”
“…You really want to know that now?”
“Yes, please.”
The sincerity in Oliver’s polite request seemed to move the beggar, who let out a grunt.
Then, as the line moved forward, he glanced at the approaching priest.
“Grunt… I’ll explain it later. Later.”
“Thank you, Boti.”
“This kid… Makes it hard to say no.”
By the time they finished talking, it was their turn in line.
Oliver, following Boti’s lead, kept his back and head bent, staring at the ground.
Even so, he occasionally stole glances at the staff distributing bread and the priest.
Was it because they were now closer? The condescending feelings of the priest and staff seemed more pronounced.
“…”
“For five people? Here you go.”
The poorhouse staff handed over ten loaves of bread, matching the number of people.
Boti packed the bread into a sack he had prepared in advance and gave his thanks.
“Thank you very much. May you be blessed. Truly, thank you.”
“…”
The priest remained silent.
But, as if used to it, Boti led the group out of the poorhouse.
“Whew… That was close. They were almost out of bread. If we had been a little late, we’d have missed it.”
“Missed it? What happens if the bread runs out?”
“What happens? You don’t get any, and you just go back empty-handed… You sure are full of questions.”
“Oh… But do they really just send you back?”
“Of course. If there’s no bread, what can they do? You’ll just have to suck on your fingers. There’s a reason I said we should go before sunrise, you know? Even beggars can’t afford to be lazy. You’ll starve to death that way.”
“Ah… I see.”
Oliver nodded in understanding.
Indeed, Kent’s beggar faction wasn’t one for laziness.
The beggars like Harmonica, Red Nose, the old man and his grandson—they always went begging at the same time every day.
As for the rest of the ordinary beggars, they would roam the back alleys, collecting trash or gathering any edible scraps of food they could find.
The only ones with any leisure were probably the club-wielding guards of the faction.
Contrary to what he had read in Joseph’s library, Kent’s beggar faction was diligent and well-behaved.
The books depicted beggars as foolish and greedy creatures, willing to betray their companions for a handful of coins.
That’s why they were convenient for black magicians to use.
But the reality Oliver encountered was different.
It was an interesting discovery, the gap between what the books said and what reality was.
“Alright, everyone stop.”
Boti suddenly halted.
He was surveying the surroundings. There were quite a few people passing by outside.
“Looks like time has passed. Let’s take a detour.”
“Huh? A detour?”
“Yeah. If we walk on the main road and get spotted, it’ll just cause us more trouble. It’s longer, but it’s safer this way.”
Although they frowned at this, no one objected.
They had seen it before—when gathering trash or food, the beggar faction members avoided crowded areas, sticking to deserted back alleys.
Apparently, if they were seen by too many people, they risked being targeted by the authorities.
“Come on, let’s move while you’re complaining. We were lucky enough to get the bread today, weren’t we? Let’s not waste any more time… Oh, and Oliver.”
“Yes?”
“You asked earlier about the worldly reason, right?”
“Ah, yes.”
“I’ll tell you, but only once, so listen carefully. I’m only telling you because you’re part of our faction.”
“Yes.”
“It’s because they want to show the world that they’re the agents of God, the saviors…”
“Saviors?”
“Yeah. Bread is precious to the starving. Those who give bread gain an audience. They can build up the image that they’re kind, helping the poor.”
“Ah… But the priest didn’t seem to look at us kindly.”
“Hah, didn’t I say it? This kid has sharp eyes.”
“Sometimes individuals have to follow the flow of the organization, even if they don’t like it. There are worse ones out there, who steal the supplies meant for the poor to line their own pockets.”
“Huh…”
Oliver let out a sound of admiration at the obvious yet new information.
Holy Knights were surprisingly pure and upright, but priests were turning out to be more hypocritical than he had expected.
Of course, Oliver hadn’t met every Holy Knight or priest, but so far, this was his impression. It was quite intriguing.
The more he learned, the more questions arose.
“And, does everyone know about this?”
“Yeah… It’s no big deal. I may have sounded like I knew a lot, but I only heard it from someone else.”
“From whom?”
“An old priest… he used to be our leader.”
“A priest?”
“Not sure if he was a real priest, but that’s what we called him… He’s dead now, but he’s the one who brought us together and taught us a lot of things. He was a good man.”
Oliver could feel the respect in Boti’s voice. The others felt the same way—it was rare to see such a level of reverence.
Someone being respected after death. When you’re dead, it’s usually over.
As if to confirm this, someone spoke up.
“Whether he was real or not, he was incredible. He could mediate disputes with other beggar factions without violence, and he even brought Kent into our group.”
“Kent?”
“Yeah, it was the priest who brought him in. Back then, Kent was a real handful. His temper was no joke.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah. He was like a walking corpse, always flying into a rage at the slightest provocation. Completely different from how he is now.”
The mention of how different Kent was piqued Oliver’s interest.
He was so different now, so pleasant. Oliver wanted to know why.
Just as he was about to ask more, Boti suddenly interrupted.
“Alright, that’s enough. Let’s not gossip about others, especially among beggars. Everyone in this world has a story. Leave it at that.”
At Boti’s words, everyone fell silent, including Oliver.
It was clearly a sensitive topic. Yet Oliver still wanted to satisfy his curiosity.
After all, when something itches, it must be scratched.
“Hey… What’s over there?”
One of the group pointed to a narrow alley up ahead.
There were several beggars gathered there.
“What’s that…?”
“That’s the Mole Faction…”
Boti murmured under his breath.
Mole.
Oliver had heard the name a few times but didn’t know much about them.
Driven by curiosity, he quickly surveyed the group.
They looked more like gangsters than beggars, with some of them even accompanied by large dogs.
The atmosphere was tense, to say the least.
They seemed closer to a gang than a group of beggars. Some of the beggars from the poorhouse were being forced to give up part of their bread to them.
Oliver silently observed them.
“…”
“What should we do, Boti? Should we turn back?”
“Hmm… No, we’ve come too far, and they’ve already seen us. If we show fear now, it’ll only make things worse. Let’s walk straight ahead.”
With that, Boti started walking forward.
It was obvious he was pretending to be tough, but it showed just how dangerous these people were.
It reminded Oliver of the time when Kent was wary of the Mole Faction members who had chased him.
“Hold it right there.”
A large man with a thick beard blocked their way.
He was wearing a battered fedora.
“You need to pay a toll to pass. You’re coming from the poorhouse, right? Hand over half.”
The sheer brazenness of the demand made Boti protest.
“I’ve lived on these streets for over 30 years, and now you’re telling me there’s a toll? What nonsense is that?”
“Hah… You’ve been a beggar for a long time, huh? And you say that like it’s something to be proud of.”
“Aren’t you a beggar too?”
“Not just any beggar. Don’t lump me in with the likes of you… Until recently, this alley didn’t have an owner, but that’s no longer the case. Now you pay a toll to pass.”
“How can an alley have an owner?”
“It does now. We, the Mole Faction, are the owners. So what’s it going to be? Will you give me half, or should I take it all after giving you a beating? Personally, I prefer the first option. My hands are itching.”
The man in the fedora cracked his knuckles, as if relishing the thought.
The way he acted reminded Boti of the Dominique Family, but despite his fear, he mustered the courage to speak.
“Hey, don’t you dare—”
“—Hold on.”
A gruff old man from the Mole Faction interrupted.
He was crouched next to several large dogs, petting them as they panted.
The old man spoke.
“Aren’t you from Kent’s faction?”
Boti quickly replied.
“That’s right… Aren’t you the old dog man?”
“Yes… Hey, Henry, let them go. They’re from Kent’s group.”
“Kent? You mean the former Quarterstaff?”
“Yeah, let them go.”
Henry, the man in the fedora, furrowed his brow and stepped closer.
“Quarterstaff Kent… From what I’ve heard, his men seem pretty weak. Especially that one.”
Henry pointed at Oliver.
His comment wasn’t far off, given Oliver’s appearance.
“The ones under him might look weak… Just let them go. We’re not ready to clash with Kent’s faction yet.”
Things seemed to be going smoothly, but Henry suddenly spoke up in annoyance.
“I’d like to let them go, but this old man’s attitude is rubbing me the wrong way.”
He looked down at Boti.
“He compared me to a common beggar.”
“Aren’t you a beggar?”
“I’m not just any beggar… I’m more like a high-income professional. My mood’s been soured, so how about I hit him once? What do you think, old man?”
At this, the other beggars watching the situation began tightening their grips on clubs and fists, surrounding the group.
“...I don’t know. Mole Faction said not to. I’m against it.”
“What if I just act on my own?”
“...Suit yourself. I’m not involved. What’s up with this dog?”
The old man scratched his dog as it whimpered.
Henry tilted his hat forward and spoke.
“Did you hear that? He said I can do whatever I want.”
The beggars surrounding them grew tense, but then, suddenly, a distinct sound echoed—tap, tap.
“Go ahead, try it. I’m curious to see what happens.”
It was Kent, approaching from the distance.