Fate: I Just Want to Die and Sit on the Throne of Heroes-Chapter 100: The Moral High Ground

Chapter 100: The Moral High Ground
The hero who saved the nation.
That was what the people of Colchis called him in later years.
Because he quelled the chaos that swallowed their homeland.
Because he placed a wise princess upon the throne as their new king.
Because he made a covenant with the reigning princess that all people would be born free.
Because he bound himself with oaths, both to men and to gods.
And when all of that was done, he left as quietly as he had arrived.
The Legends of Greek Heroes
...
“Still no news of Mr. Rowe?”
“Yes, Your Highness. We still have not found any trace of Mr. Rowe.”
“I see. It seems I truly was a bit impatient.”
In the royal palace of Colchis, Medea tilted her head slightly, purple and white skirts cascading over the king’s throne. After hearing her maid’s , a helpless expression surfaced on her beautiful face.
Some time had passed since that so called “riot.”
From that night onward, Medea had handled all affairs of state in the name of the Kingdom’s “King.” The formal coronation had yet to be held, but in practice, she already possessed the full authority of a monarch.
From her first awkward attempts to her current composure, the young girl had displayed enough ability to convince an entire nation.
As a magus, she had always been someone of keen insight and extraordinary wisdom.
Yet now, seated upon the throne she had earned, she could not feel joy.
Because Rowe had run away.
After that day, after that public “confession,” he had only left behind a single message.
“You are still young. We are not suitable.”
Then he had taken the Golden Fleece and disappeared.
He had probably already left Colchis.
“But I was serious, boohoo.” Medea puffed out her cheeks in frustration. “And I am not small at all.”
She was definitely older than that girl who followed him everywhere.
“Your Highness…”
The maid, watching her princess’s childish sulking, could not help but speak up.
“Recently, many people in the country have been hoping that you will formally take the title of King.”
“I know. That is not important.” Medea lazily waved a hand.
No, that is extremely important, is it not?
The maid’s expression remained completely blank.
She knew very well that the princess had this kind of mood every day.
Fortunately, Medea had never been struck by Cupid’s arrow. Though she genuinely liked Rowe, it was not to the point of total madness.
“Prepare the ceremony,” Medea said, lifting her head again as she pulled herself together.
“Yes.”
The maid answered at once, a little surprised.
So in the princess’s heart, the country still ranked higher than romance…
“Once I officially become King, I will be able to order them to find Mr. Rowe and bring him back, right?”
Medea’s face flushed with excitement. Determination lit her eyes. She was clearly resolved to find her hero.
The maid’s face went blank again.
She took back her previous thought.
Her princess was fully immersed in her feelings.
It is over. There is no saving this country.
Best to let everything be destroyed.
...
Of course, neither Medea nor her maid knew that Rowe had not actually left Colchis.
He and Atalanta were still wandering within its borders.
The midday sun shone down on the fields outside the city. People bent their backs toward the yellow earth, working the land.
“Sir, are you truly not going to stay?”
An elderly man stood at the edge of a narrow path between fields, bowing slightly as he spoke.
“If you remain, I will certainly petition Her Highness to enfeoff you as the lord of this whole area.”
Rowe scratched his head as he watched the old man plead.
He could not help but wonder what expression the man would make if he told him he was the one who had run away from the palace.
In the days since he had left the royal city, he had not returned there once.
Instead, he had remained out here, in the fields beyond the walls.
Under Aeetes’s former tyranny, most of the strong young men of Colchis had been arrested, forced into labor and servitude. Now that Medea had ascended and taken control, those people had been released and sent home.
But many of the fields, once tended only by the elderly, were abandoned and overgrown. Even with the young and strong returning, faced with such desolation, they were almost helpless.
This was still an age in which humanity walked alongside gods.
Humans possessed very little knowledge. When faced with hardship, all they could do was pray.
Yet the gods did not always answer.
Rowe was here to give them something different.
He taught them how to divide and organize their fields. How to clear irrigation channels. How to construct waterwheels.
Techniques that had existed in Uruk a thousand years ago looked like miracles here.
Time passed.
The work that had been chaotic at first slowly became orderly.
But the elders remained unsatisfied.
They now hoped Rowe would stay, take root, and lead them all the way to a rich harvest.
In their eyes, this man had already become a messenger of the earth itself.
They had received something, so now they wished to seize even more.
That, too, was human nature.
Rowe refused without hesitation.
“I have already taught you everything I can teach,” he said calmly. “If I stay any longer, it will not help you.”
“I see.”
The old man looked disappointed, but since Rowe had never displayed any overt miracles, only knowledge, he could still accept it.
“In that case, I wish you a smooth journey.”
One could say it was fortunate.
The benefits he had given them had not yet reached the point where they were willing to deny the price required to keep him.
Rowe smiled as he watched the old man leave.
Behind him, hidden within dense foliage, a clear voice rang out.
“It is so boring,” the speaker complained. “You could finish all of this in an instant, but instead you waste so much effort.”
“That would not be any fun.”
Rowe glanced back toward the trees.
The girl emerged, her long hair, green with a hint of yellow, still a little messy. Her beast ears twitched. Atalanta’s expression carried its familiar forced impatience as she folded her arms.
Her small frame, wrapped in green, stood tall and straight. From the dark cloth over her hips, her long legs extended like the trunks of young trees, rooted in the fields.
“Kid, do you know why I refused Medea’s proposal?”
“How would I know what you are thinking? No. What you think has nothing to do with me.”
Atalanta’s eyes flickered with panic.
Then, a beat later, realization hit her.
“Wait, who are you calling a kid?”
“After all this time, you still refuse to admit it?”
Rowe narrowed his eyes and looked down at the hand Atalanta was chewing on.
Only after she finally let go did he lazily pull something out.
The Golden Fleece.
He used the glittering pelt, acquired not long ago, to wipe the saliva from his hand.
One had to admit, this Greek treasure was unexpectedly convenient for cleaning.
“Hmph.”
Atalanta bared her teeth again.
Rowe ignored the display.
He looked out over the fields and spoke.
“Because a hero who can only stay in one place, who cannot bring happiness to people wherever he goes, has no meaning in existing.”
That was why he taught these people knowledge instead of using mystic power to conjure them a harvest.
This way, even after he left, they could still reap the fruits of their own effort.
He would not stay in one place.
He could not stay in one place.
A wandering hero was not meant to display his strength once and then rust away.
“And this way, I can stand on the moral high ground, which makes it much more satisfying when I beat and lecture those so called heroes.”
Rowe turned his gaze toward the distant sea.
On the horizon, amid the rise and fall of the waves, it was as if he could already see a ship’s sail approaching.
“I have been irritated with those people for a long time.”
Atalanta fell silent.
Somehow, she felt that the second half of his explanation was the real reason.
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