I Became a 6★ Gacha Character

Logically, this journey should have gone smoothly. Setting aside the task of searching snowy plains and mountains for rainbows, we were traveling with the Margrave's supply caravan to frontline military units. The chances of anything strange happening seemed infinitesimally small.

No matter how poor medieval law enforcement might be, who'd dare rob the Margrave's supplies? Monster waves were too far away, and it was too cold and barren for human bandits.

"...What's that?"

"I'll go ask what's happening."

But as everyone knows, the world doesn't run on logic.

A restless crowd, angry shouts, fading screams and groans. The noisy commotion clearly indicated trouble, along with the metallic smell of blood wafting from beyond.

The retired adventurer trio proved why they'd survived this long by quickly catching on, while the rest of our party noticed through senses sharpened by reaching high rank. Only the supply caravan workers remained confused, milling about as the road was blocked.

We'd barely passed one village when the road was blocked at the second.

"I should go with you."

When Han Se-ah rushed forward with her camera floating, everyone climbed down from the carriages and hurried ahead. We hadn't even traveled half a day from the Margrave's mansion before encountering what seemed like a riot - naturally our curiosity was piqued.

Sure enough, we found several bloodied people sprawled in the street, just as we'd sensed. They appeared to have been tied up in the marketplace and beaten, with stones thrown at them too.

Though they seemed relatively "fine" compared to the bloodied stones on the ground, that "fine" just meant no broken bones or shattered limbs. They appeared to be near the upper end of mid-rank - why were they being mobbed by villagers?

"Please, knights! Cut down these evil bastards!"

"W-w-why are you doing this?!"

As I pondered this, people came running toward us.

Their clubs were bloodied, and they were sweating enough to drip despite the cold - clearly the main perpetrators of the beating.

They rushed over upon seeing Olek and Alisa in armor, but when Olek drew his sword they dropped to the ground in terror. At least they retained enough sense to beg for mercy the moment a knight drew steel.

"Explain what's happening here!"

"W-we're sorry!"

"Don't apologize, explain the situation!"

Perhaps Olek felt ashamed this was happening in his father's territory in front of distinguished guests like our hero party.

When Olek shouted with veins bulging in his neck, the crowd fell prostrate in fear. The mob that had been cursing at the people writhing like worms in the marketplace all bowed their heads deeply.

But this wasn't the response we wanted.

The road was already blocked by the public beating in the marketplace - having the entire crowd rush over and kowtow only made it worse.

"Th-these bastards are criminals! They're, they're bandits!"

"Bandits?"

Seemingly frustrated by this, when Olek's gleaming sword hummed with mana, one man threw his club into a snowbank and hastily proclaimed their innocence, looking ready to soil himself as he groveled.

Apparently the men beaten in the marketplace belonged to that impossible profession - northern highway bandits.

What nonsense was this, in the harsh northern frontier where whole villages could freeze to death in isolation when snowed in? But someone slightly cleverer crawled on his belly to Olek's feet and began explaining further.

"More precisely, they were planning to become bandits!"

"Planning, you say? Explain in detail."

Olek's voice softened as he realized this wasn't just savage behavior by ignorant peasants, but successful crime prevention by model citizens. Encouraged by the calmer voice and sheathed sword, the man raised just his head and began rambling.

Essentially, the beaten men were mercenaries who'd come north from the west. True to medieval fantasy, mercenaries often temporarily switched professions to banditry when unwatched. Coming north must have addled their brains.

Rather than face monsters in this cold, barren land, they planned to rob a supply wagon in some dark place and head back south to warmth.

"Oh, is that true?"

"Y-yes, how could I lie about this? A serving girl overheard these idiots plotting in secret at the tavern."

But these ignorant mercenaries had made one massive mistake in knowing one thing but not another. There was an unwritten rule among imperials, especially northerners, about supply convoys moving without heavy escorts.

"Hmph, not even fifty years have passed since that tragedy in House Bretagne."

"Truly wicked creatures."

All because of my past.

※

Roland, Roland Bretagne. Son of Margrave Bretagne and boy genius knight.

My knowledge of my past, known only through the Goddess's information rather than experience and memory, was more limited than expected. Or rather, perhaps I had underestimated myself.

"We have witnesses and the situation is clear. Moreover, their mercenary badges show they're not northerners."

"What shall we do, Captain?"

"Alisa, behead them and mount their heads on poles. Tell the village elder not to take them down until they rot in spring."

Even Alisa, who usually called him "Olezhenka" in honeyed tones, straightened up and addressed Olek as "Captain" after assessing the situation. Even the supply caravan workers who'd been grumbling about the blocked road were now furtively eyeing fallen stones.

The only ones who didn't fully grasp the situation were us country bumpkins from the Kingdom, from even further south than the Empire's south.

"Hey Olek, what's going on here?"

"Ah, Hero. Being from the Kingdom, you might not understand this situation."

When Alisa drew her sword and strode forward with an unusually stern expression, the groaning turned to desperate begging. But her blade swept down without hesitation, spattering red blood across the marketplace, and the kneeling crowd cheered each time a head rolled.

This seemed excessive for merely discussing robbing supplies while drunk at a tavern, not actually committing the crime.

But the following explanation made it clear why even mentioning such things was forbidden in the north.

"Previously, a deeply shameful and tragic incident occurred in the north. A devastating tragedy that befell House Bretagne."

Olek continued the story of my past while fingering his scabbard.

I'd thought it was just one Margrave's territory being breached and causing trouble for the surroundings, but it was far more than that.

Being a Margrave meant reaching at least 5★, so Margrave Bretagne being breached meant a 5★ lord and hundreds of 4★ and higher knights were completely annihilated.

This went beyond one Margrave's family being destroyed and people scattering to survive - a massive monster wave that could devour even high-rank knight orders had breached Bretagne territory and advanced south.

House Bretagne, destroyed. Over ten Viscounties and baronies in the monster wave's southward path were swept away, with deaths numbering in the tens of thousands. Sons who became soldiers to defend their country died, merchants who set out to trade for winter supplies died, and entire pioneering villages that thought a Margrave's territory couldn't be breached became monster food. A catastrophic event.

"That's why the villagers take matters into their own hands if anyone even dares mention such things."

"...Is this like discussing how to hijack planes as a joke in front of Americans after 9/11?"

-lol That comparison actually helps me get it

-Northerners are kind and timid, in our country people would've grabbed shotguns right away :(

-Lucky they still had their lives lol If this is true they should've been beaten to death in the tavern

-I get it but just clean up and get the carriages moving already lololololololol

-But would even these idiots talk so openly about it? Isn't this an event flag?

Even Irene's eyes, which had been filled with pity during Olek's explanation, turned sharp - it seemed no one would pray for these bandits' souls.

Viewers too were saying they deserved death, suggesting torture, and other harsh comments. But what caught my eye most was one quickly vanishing line.

...Why would such incompetent fools appear just as we were heading further north with the supply caravan?