Episode 30
The rain fell in a sodden drizzle, and not a soul was in sight.
The atmosphere hung heavy and oppressive, and thick fog—perhaps because of the downpour—obscured their vision. It was only natural for their displeasure to rise in the humid air.
Above all, accumulated fatigue washed over the mercenaries who had marched without proper rest. They glared at their employer, Azar, but had no choice but to follow.
“Ah! Take the slaves inside the castle.”
“…Shall I open the dungeon?”
“Are you crazy? What’ll we do if the slaves escape!”
At Azar’s words, the mercenaries led the donkeys through the castle gate. They barely managed to pull the wagons through the narrow entrance and squeeze inside.
The mercenaries looked in every corner of the castle interior, but only rats roamed the grounds instead of people.
“This… It seems like there’s nothing here?”
“What will you do?”
At the mercenary’s question, Azar agonized.
“Ugh, why is there no one here? I ordered the slave goods, so they couldn’t have just disappeared… Did we take the wrong path?!”
Azar groaned as he looked at the map.
He couldn’t help but be bewildered. This was definitely the place on the map. Yet there was no one to be found, as if it were an abandoned territory. Azar pointed at the mercenaries and shouted.
“Ugh, if we head to another territory in this downpour, the goods will die on the way. We’ll spend the day here.”
“…Here, you say?”
The mercenaries looked at the gloomy fortress.
“There’s no one here anyway… so what! Everyone, set up camp here!”
The mercenaries began unpacking. The wagons carrying the slaves were parked in a corner inside the fortress.
Azar scanned the interior of the castle, and his eyes lit up as he quickened his steps. All sorts of valuables had been left inside.
“Oh! How can this be?! To think they left behind such things!”
Finely painted pictures hung on the walls, silver dishes and candlesticks sat on the table, and the display cabinet even held handicrafts. They were things a noble might touch easily, but a commoner would never lay a hand on in their entire lives.
Azar snuck glances around as he pocketed items, and the mercenaries also secretly stole whatever they could.
Loki walked down the corridor, observing the castle interior.
It was surprisingly clean.
“…It’s clean.”
“Well, it is a castle where a lord resides.”
At Paul’s words as he walked alongside, Loki looked at the flower pot decorating the corridor. The plant in the pot was a vivid green.
“…It hasn’t withered even though it’s inside the castle?”
It was proof that people had been here until not long ago.
“Pardon?”
“No. Just talking to myself.”
Azar spoke to the mercenaries in front of the most luxurious room, presumed to be the lord’s chamber.
“This is my room! Don’t let anyone in!”
He went inside.
Seeing that, the mercenaries smacked their lips in envy.
“Tch, he’s taking the room the nobles stayed in all for himself.”
“Would that stingy merchant give us our share? You saw him earlier. He was anxious about the slaves dying in the rain. If anyone touches something valuable, he’ll throw a fit and complain to the mercenary guild. It’s obvious.”
While the mercenaries were grumbling, the mercenary captain came out and spoke.
“We’re selecting sentries.”
The mercenaries resigned themselves to sleeping on the floor inside the castle. However, they decided to set up sentries to guard the castle in shifts.
They might let it slide in an ordinary village, but it was a different story in an abandoned place with no people. Being abandoned meant there might be just as much danger lurking here.
“Two on the castle walls, two by the gate. And about two near the inner walls and one inside the castle. Also, someone said they spotted people in the village earlier, so I’m thinking of sending about three to investigate. If there are almost no people in the village, there must be a reason.”
The man who appeared to be the leader among the mercenaries took command and glanced toward where Loki stood.
Loki and Rapilta were not hired mercenaries; rather, they were ones who had paid Azar to request his help. The captain was hesitating over whether to have them stand guard.
As if noticing that, Alber stepped forward and spoke.
“We’ll stand guard too. This guy will do it.”
And he tapped Rapilta’s shoulder.
“…Sir Alber? I stood guard yesterday as well, though?”
“Youngsters should bear the hardship. Besides, who said you’d stand all day? Didn’t they say it’s a rotation?”
“…….”
Rapilta looked at Paul.
Paul shook his head.
“I’ve never stood guard before, so I’ll pass….”
“Are you using that as an excuse?!”
“What do you expect from a mage?”
Rapilta clicked his tongue.
“This is job discrimination.”
“I’ll help,” Loki offered.
Rapilta’s eyes lit up.
“Really?”
“Yes, I’m not one to sleep much anyway.”
At those words, the mercenary captain nodded.
“Then let’s decide positions by drawing lots.”
The total number of sentries was seven. Three were selected for the patrol team. Among them, Rapilta was to guard the castle gate, and Loki was to patrol inside the castle.
The mercenary captain joined the patrol team with two subordinates.
“Get as much information as possible. If there’s no one in the castle, the villagers must know the cause.”
It was strange that there were people in the village but none in the castle.
The mercenary captain went down to the village with his subordinates.
As night gradually deepened, the mercenaries unpacked to sleep inside the castle. Each lay in their travel sleeping bags, trying to get some rest after their long fatigue.
Alber and Paul seemed to have fallen into a deep sleep, no doubt due to their accumulated exhaustion.
Loki headed as far as possible from the room where Azar was, and toward where the sound of rain could be heard. When he leaned against the wall from which the rain drummed, another voice reached his ears.
“What are you going to do? Are you really going to do it?”
“Yeah! So the slave merchant is lining his pockets like that while we stay still? We just secretly take some and run! It’s just slaves, so who cares.”
“Really…? If the mercenary guild finds out, there’ll be a bounty on our heads.”
They were mercenaries who hadn’t gone to sleep yet. They conversed cautiously in low voices, then stealthily headed somewhere.
That place was near the wagons where the slaves were.
“Haah… What should I do about this?”
Loki worried earnestly.
It seemed some of the mercenaries were planning to abduct a slave and flee.
Should he pretend not to see? Or should he stop them? Even if he pretended not to see, if they were caught later, the responsibility might be pinned on him. If that happened, things would get noisy. But if he stopped them? Even that could lead to a quarrel with the mercenaries.
*Either way, it doesn’t really matter, but…*
Loki simply hated troublesome things.
***
Though unwashed, her silvery-white hair buried in the darkness was beautiful, glossy like a single strand of thread.
An elf with bronze-colored skin stared blankly at the shackles binding her limbs, hugging her own legs.
*Just endure a little longer. That’s all I need to do. I can endure this slave work as much as I need to for revenge.*
She was hungry. Her skin itched all over and hurt as if pricked by needles. Her eyelids were heavy with fatigue, and her mind was hazy as well.
But the Dark Elf, Sallot, resolved to endure this wretched slave life steadfastly.
She lightly caressed the wounded area on her right shoulder.
A slave brand carved by fire.
A mark that could not be erased once carved.
It was a symbol that defiled the grandeur and honor of an elf, a pattern signifying obedience to humans. Disgusting and detestable. Yet to the present Sallot, that mark was more necessary than anything.
*Yes… I’ll become a slave as much as I need to for revenge!*
—Truly a pitiful sight.
Along with the cracked voice, a small flame flickered before her eyes.
The flame, no larger than a palm, swirled into a small vortex before taking on a single form.
Its lower body and arms were those of a dragon, and its face human, appearing to be in its early forties. A red beard and hair, a long pair of horns, a human body but with red muscle wrapped in dragon scales—such was its appearance.
The palm-sized flame spirit stood with its arms crossed, giving Sallot a bitter smirk.
—To think the daughter of Demon King Kalibeu, who once drove the Middle Realm into fear, has become a slave to petty humans! Truly amusing.
“…Is that something a spirit who lost to those petty humans should say?”
—……
The Spirit of Flame, the owner of all fire and their king—the Great Spirit of Flame, Ifrit—remained silent for a moment at Sallot’s words.
He was a spirit bound by contract to Demon King Kalibeu, and also one who had lost in the war against humans over fifty years ago.
—Hmph, that’s because your father was weak. Besides, I couldn’t use my power properly in the Middle Realm.
Ifrit said so, but bit his lower lip.
In fact, it was the opposite.
The Demon King Hanes, who had entered into a contract with him, was not an exaggeration to call the greatest spirit magician in history. Rather, Ifrit had possessed skill that surprised even him. Yet he had lost. To humans. And to the “Twelve Heroes” at that.
Even though Hanes, who had been a Dark Elf, and Ifrit, the Great Spirit of Flame, had combined their strength, they could not kill even a single one of those weak twelve humans.
No matter how numerous they were, no matter how strong… for a spirit, a part of the world, to lose to mere humans!
Ifrit recalled old times and shrugged.
—So, you’re calling yourself a slave now to take revenge on such petty humans?
“…Yes.”
Sallot glared at Ifrit with crimson eyes stained with hatred.
“I’ll seduce the highest-ranking human and make him my puppet. Then the humans will fight each other.”
—Ha, foolish. Do you think it’s as easy as it sounds?
“It’s easy. Want to bet?”
It was then that someone’s voice was heard.
As the tent covering the cage was lifted, some men were seen.
“…It’s real. An elf!”
“And a Dark Elf at that.”
“Wow, really… It’s my first time seeing one up close like this! That slave merchant hit the jackpot? For a small-time trader to have such an elf…!”
The mercenaries looked at each other, then at Sallot.
“…Let’s take this one.”
“Really? Are you crazy!? It’s not just any slave, it’s an expensive Dark Elf! A treasure that even nobles can’t get…!”
“No! We grab it and run, sell it right away. Dark Elves are rarer and more expensive than regular elves, so if we’re going to steal, let’s take the expensive one!”
At their words, Sallot frowned, and Ifrit, standing before her, chuckled.
—You’re quite loved by humans.
“No, not at all.”
The mercenaries didn’t seem to see Ifrit right in front of them.
Since spirits didn’t show their true forms unless they used their power, Ifrit watched the mercenaries’ actions in leisure.
They seemed urgent, anxious, excited, quickly trying to pick the lock on the cage. Some kept looking around, seemingly uneasy.
“Disgusting. Truly humans. To be controlled by mere desire!”
—Hah, aren’t you one controlled by hatred yourself? Isn’t it a bit rich for you to say that?
Sallot hated Ifrit’s sarcastic tone, but she couldn’t deny it. She had already fallen. Burning with revenge called “hatred,” she had wanted revenge even to the point of making herself a slave.
“This is all because of humans. Humans made me like this.”
The mercenaries made bewildered expressions at Sallot’s words.
“What’s this elf saying by herself?”
“Seems like she’s crazy? Come to think of it, when she was being escorted, I saw her muttering to herself the whole time.”
“So that’s how that little slave merchant acquired this merchandise?”
But the mercenaries had no interest in such things. They only wanted a toy right before their eyes to satisfy their desires!
“Hurry and open it!”
“Wait a bit! It’s too sturdy. Should we just break it?”
“What if we get caught?!”
It was then.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
A voice laced with coldness rang out, strangely loud.
The mercenaries flinched in surprise and glanced at the owner of the voice.
A man stood at the entrance with a large crow mask pulled deep over his head.
“What! Weren’t you keeping watch?”
“Tch, what do we do? Take him down?”
“…Hey, wait! The opponent is a Nord. Can we take him with just us?”
The mercenaries exchanged glances. Then, as if struck by an idea, they glanced at Sallot and smiled.
“Aah, I know why that Nord is here!”
“What?”
“He wants a slave like us. Hey, Nord! If we steal this, let’s sell this slave together and split it fifty-fifty. No complaints, right?”
“…….”
As Loki maintained his silence, the mercenaries looked at each other and laughed. They took his silence as affirmation.
“Now, now, just wait! I’ll show you my lockpicking skills!”
One of the mercenaries inserted a pin into the lock and fiddled around to open it.
Sallot let out a small sigh and spoke to the mercenary.
“Stop.”
Her crimson pupils were dyed red like blood. The mercenary whose eyes met hers became hazy and unfocused.
He tilted his head, blinked his eyes, and smiled with a relaxed expression.
“…Yes.”
Her divine ability, [Charm].
It was the power of a supernatural ability that compelled the target to obey.