"You're exaggerating, really. I'm not some high-ranking noble. Village Chief, there's no need for you to be so humble. Trust me, I'm a very reasonable person."
Steven smiled. He had no intention of chasing after those men and wiping out their entire families—after all, at best, they were guilty of attempted extortion. He had plenty of time to deal with them later.
But what piqued his curiosity more was the term they had mentioned—Ægir.
Now that he had an elder of obvious higher status in front of him, it would be a waste not to use this opportunity to clear up his confusion.
"I hope so," the old village chief, Pande, replied, clearly unconvinced by Steven's words. The wariness in his eyes never faded, and after resolving the earlier matter, he immediately acted as if he had other pressing business to attend to.
"Actually, I do need something. Do you have any spare clothing? Everyday wear—both men's and women's. I can pay extra for it."
Steven glanced down at his own outfit. It was hardly in better condition than a tattered rag.
Now that he thought about it, he'd been wearing these clothes since before he transmigrated. When he arrived in Minecraft, they had turned into the classic blocky player skin. Only now, in this world, did he finally have a chance to change them.
Honestly, for a cheap market stall outfit that had only cost a few dozen bucks, it had held up admirably.
Since he planned on getting a new outfit for Gladiia, it was only natural that he wouldn't forget about himself.
The village chief followed Steven's gaze and instantly understood.
"I'll have it delivered to you shortly."
Having agreed to Steven's request, the old man was about to turn and leave—when Steven stopped him again, still holding the plate of blackened bread.
"One more thing, Village Chief. There's something I'd like to ask you about. Would you be willing to clear up my doubts?"
"Ask away."
"Earlier, those people mentioned that sheltering Ægir brings risks. Why is that?"
Steven didn't bother beating around the bush. He asked the question he was most concerned about, directly and plainly.
There was no need to play guessing games—talking straight never hurt anyone.
"As an Ægir yourself, shouldn't you already be aware of this?"
The elder turned back, scrutinizing Steven with a puzzled expression.
There were no signs of beastification on him at all. This level of pure, untainted appearance—only those peculiar Ægir possessed such characteristics.
"I'm not— Never mind. Let's just say I don't know."
Steven had initially wanted to clarify that he wasn't an Ægir at all.
But considering how much effort it would take to explain himself, he decided it was easier to just go along with it.
Not like it made a difference in getting the answer he wanted.
"Alright then," Pande said. "There's nothing too complicated about it. The Inquisition has a certain… bias against Ægirs. Many villages that have allowed Ægirs to settle have been discovered by the Inquisition. When that happens, they accuse the villagers of conspiring with the Church of the Deep—and take people away in the name of punishment."
The village chief wasn't sure why Steven didn't already know about this.
But he still answered truthfully.
However, when he mentioned the Inquisition, the hatred in his aged eyes was completely undisguised.
"The Inquisition? The Church of the Deep?"
Hearing two more unfamiliar terms, Steven's curiosity only grew.
He had the distinct feeling that the deeper he dug into this, the bigger the pit he was about to fall into.
Maybe he'd even unlock some kind of hidden achievement?
After all, with Gladiia being a plot character, it wouldn't make sense for all of this to be unrelated to the main plot.
As a transmigrator, Steven had all the time in the world to investigate these matters at his own pace—while enjoying the entertainment along the way.
"Guest… You mean to say… you don't even know about this?"
Hearing Steven mutter those two names, the village chief's expression grew even more surprised.
If Steven had only been ignorant of the previous matters, the old man might have chalked it up to the Ægir youth being inexperienced with the world. But not knowing about the Inquisition, the very embodiment of Iberia's official authority? That wasn't something that could be explained so easily.
"I'd love to hear the details."
Steven smiled and nodded.
The old man's reaction only confirmed his suspicion—these names must hold great significance.
And judging by his demeanor, the village chief was likely to answer him.
"The Inquisition is a reorganized institution derived from the former Iberian Congress. While it controls this nation's politics, it also functions like a pack of rabid dogs. They are largely responsible for why this country has fallen into its current state!"
When it came to such sensitive topics, the village chief did not attempt to lower his voice. Instead, he openly vented his resentment toward the organization.
"Ah, so they're basically the government. Cops, right? Got it."
Steven didn't mind the old man's emotional outburst. He simply extracted the key information he needed and then moved on to the next question.
"And what about the Church of the Deep?"
"…"
The old village chief, who had just been passionately berating the Inquisition, suddenly fell silent.
"According to the Inquisition, it's just a cult. Beyond that… it's difficult to say."
When the topic shifted to the Church of the Deep, the man who had been unafraid to openly curse a state institution now hesitated. He was suddenly evasive.
"I see. Well, I appreciate the explanation, Village Chief."
Since the old man was unwilling to speak further, Steven saw no point in pressing the matter.
From the start, the elder's attitude toward him had been almost too kind. Even if Steven wanted to force an answer out of him, he wasn't the type to bully an old man just for information.
"No need to thank me. These are things you had every right to know. You've also paid an appropriate price for them."
The village chief maintained his respectful demeanor.
His composed politeness made it hard to believe he was just an elder from a poor, remote coastal village.
They say troubled lands breed troubled people.
Steven had assumed most villagers here would be like the thugs from earlier—crude and greedy.
But the village chief? He was something else entirely.
"Alright then, I have just one final question. Please answer this one truthfully."
"Oh?"
"Why did you tell me all this?"
Steven leaned against the doorframe, eyes locked onto the elder's slightly clouded gaze.
"And—if you know that taking us in is a risk, then why do it at all?"
A long silence followed.
Then the village chief let out a sigh and answered with the most reasonable response.
"…Couldn't it just be for money?"
"Of course it could."
Steven grinned.
"After all, money can solve most problems, right?"
He turned and walked back into his room, seemingly satisfied with the answer.
As he listened to the sound of the old man leaving, Steven's smile grew even brighter.
Now this is getting interesting.
This is the kind of experience a world should offer.
Not just endlessly fighting blocky zombies or reskinned modded creatures.
He recalled how most villagers had [Church of the Deep Follower] floating above their heads.
Coming to this village?
Quite possibly the best decision he had made yet.
After all—mindlessly fighting and killing things was nothing compared to getting personally involved in the fun.