Wortenia Senki (LN) - Volume 5 - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The Oppressed 

“Ooh, so she tried to test you, milord... That woman is indeed wise enough to lead a company on her own at such a young age.” Gennou narrowed his eyes upon hearing Ryoma’s account of his meeting with Simone. “And yet, to think she could look into you that thoroughly... We shouldn’t make light of her intelligence network. She would make for a problematic enemy.” 

Gennou had a positive impression of her abilities upon seeing she had looked into his master. This was proof he wasn’t serving Ryoma out of blind loyalty. A more blind follower might have taken issue with the fact she had tested Ryoma, but none of Ryoma’s companions reacted that way. 

“I don’t think we need to worry about her turning on us for the time being. She needs me for as long as she chooses to remain in Epirus,” Ryoma said. “Me, with my right to rule over the Wortenia Peninsula... Though, who’s to say when the situation might change. Stay cautious if nothing else, Gennou.” 

Ryoma didn’t think Simone would turn against him of her own volition, but it all depended on the situation. For example, one terrible possibility was her father being taken hostage. She would have no choice but to oppose him. 

“Understood, milord... But her intelligence network is quite impressive... She likely used the merchants.” 

“Looks like it. Even if her company’s in decline, they’re a long running company. They probably have connections with other large companies. They likely still exchange information via carrier pigeons every now and then.” 

“The strength of a long running company, is it... They use that information to send people out to investigate rumors.” 

“Yeah, at the same time they send their caravans out to trade... I’ll have them working in tandem with you, Gennou. From what I hear, they have some combat specialists accompanying their caravans for self-defense.” 

“Then I shall support you from the shadows with them, milord.” 

Simone’s group was better suited for mass information gathering with a large number of people. Gennou was better suited to burglary, torture, and subterfuge. The difference between them is that Simone’s group was able to gather information on a larger scale but on a superficial level, while Gennou was able to gather a lot of information regarding a pinpointed target. 

They were both adept at information gathering, but the way they went about their work was essentially opposite of each other. Both had their merits, and if they were to work together, they would form a formidable intelligence network. 

Gennou seemed relieved that his value hadn’t decreased in Ryoma’s eyes. His normally cold, unchanging expression melted into a soft smile. 

“Well, whatever happened, it all ended well, yeah? We hooked up with a powerful intelligence organization without even planning for it, and we know we can trust in the Christof Company for supplies, right, boy?” Lione asked. 

“No... The Christof Company isn’t going to start selling to us immediately.” Ryoma shook his head. 

“Huh? The hell?!” Lione exclaimed in shock. “Weren’t this talk all about us buying supplies from them? If we can’t get what we need from them, where’re we gonna get it from?!” 

Her surprise was understandable. They needed a supplier that wasn’t influenced by Count Salzberg, and that was the Christof Company. The company even agreed to cooperate with them. And yet, Ryoma had just said the company wouldn’t deal with them. There were only ten large companies in Epirus, but the other nine were all under Count Salzberg’s thumb. 

Ryoma anticipated her question, though. 

“Well, the Mystel Company, of course... Or, well, that’s what I decided with Simone... At this point, it would be bad if the Christof Company allied itself with us publicly. It’d just serve to provoke Count Salzberg, you see?” 

Those words made that realization dawn upon everyone present. Allying with the Christof Company, whom the count had seen as his opposition, would make Count Salzberg sense that he was in danger. Why would they deal with that company? He would assume Ryoma might be planning to oppose him. This wasn’t a good turn of events for Ryoma and his group. 

And so, when Ryoma and Simone discussed things after agreeing to a partnership, they decided it would be best for Ryoma to work with the Mystel Company as if nothing had happened. At least until they had some leverage against the count. 

In the meanwhile, Ryoma would leak information from Count Salzberg’s side to the Christof Company, while Simone prepared for when the count would try to pressure Ryoma in the near future. And if Count Salzberg did look down on Ryoma and thought he was a mere upstart, he would likely act in Ryoma’s favor for as long as Ryoma continued to keep his head down and beg for help. 

After all, Count Salzberg had a major weakness hanging over his head — his possession of the halite vein. 

“I see... Yeah, that would be safer...” 

“Indeed.” 

Gennou and Boltz nodded in understanding. 

“Well, that’s the kind of plan you’d hatch, boy. Especially the part where you use up the count for all he’s worth,” Lione remarked teasingly. 

Throw the enemy off his guard and finish him off with a single blow. A plan that stressed efficiency and cared little for appearances or dignity. A person who would unflinchingly do things that might be considered cowardly or unfair in this world. 

From Lione’s perspective, Ryoma was the type of person who would make for the most terrifying enemy imaginable. 

“But Master Ryoma... wouldn’t Count Salzberg know that we visited the Christof Company before we went to the Mystel Company?” Sara asked anxiously. 

“Well, from what Simone says, the Christof Company’s building always has people watching it... We can’t hide the fact I met her,” Ryoma admitted. 

“Then what will we do?” 

“I’ll be honest. Tell them I asked the Christof Company to sell me supplies, and they refused... Which is why I came back crying to Count Salzberg and asked him to introduce me to the Mystel Company.” 

And the reason he didn’t ask the count to begin with would be because Ryoma felt too reserved to bother him. He only chose the Christof Company because the place seemed less crowded, but he was declined. Upon learning of the power balance in Epirus, Ryoma would panic and ask the count for help. He didn’t intend to deal with the Christof Company in particular, and had no intention of opposing him... 

Or at least, that would be Ryoma’s story. 

Simone’s and Gennou’s descriptions of the count’s character matched with the unease Ryoma felt toward the man. The warm welcome he showed toward Ryoma a few days ago was an act. Count Salzberg was arrogant, entitled, and looked down on other people. Considering his personality, Ryoma throwing himself at his mercy would stroke his superiority complex and lower his guard. He wouldn’t assume Ryoma was only fooling him... 

“Hmmm... So you took the count’s personality into account,” Gennou remarked. 

“As impressive as ever, lad...” Boltz sighed in a mix of exasperation and admiration. 

“A good lie is one that has a bit of truth mixed in...” Ryoma said, a cold smile on his lips. “This would lull the Count into a false sense of security, and convince him to give us the help we need. We’ll be able to leech off of him until we don’t need him anymore.” 

They would fool him, which would enable them to defeat him later on... 

“Well, now we know where we’re going to find supplies... But what about the citizens?” Gennou asked with a hint of concern to his voice. 

They’d been able to settle on their future policies when it came to hiring mercenaries and gaining supplies. The only remaining question was where they’d get residents to populate the peninsula. 

“Yeah, about that... Does anyone have any good ideas?” 

Ryoma had to admit this was a headache-inducing issue. Getting people to migrate was difficult enough. Even if they were to put up notices in the nearby villages and settlements, no one would want to migrate to an undeveloped land like Wortenia. It was crawling with powerful monsters, demi-human settlements, and pirate lairs. 

If the land was at least somewhat developed, they may have been able to convince some people to come, but not when the land was essentially untouched. Even promises of favorable taxation wouldn’t be helpful here. 

And there was another major problem. Those lands were ruled over by nobles. Normally they only saw their citizens as cattle for producing taxes. But what would they do if their citizens were to migrate to another territory? Every person who left their land would mean less tax income for these nobles. 

They would complain to Queen Lupis, or choose to resort to force on their own. No matter which path they’d choose, Ryoma would be finished. Perhaps in the future he’d be more powerful, but currently he was weaker than even the youngest, most insignificant noble in the country. 

Everyone fell silent at Ryoma’s question as they tried to think of a solution. Ryoma’s travels had taught him to think creatively in ways that ignored this Earth’s logic. That would be key in solving this dilemma. 

“I have one idea... But it will be expensive,” Laura said, upon which everyone’s gazes converged on her. “But it will increase our permanent residents... And I don’t think the other nobles would be opposed to this method.” 

Those words seemed convenient... Too convenient for Ryoma’s ears. The fact money could solve this issue meant they could resolve it at their leisure and gain citizens whenever they wanted and as much as their funds would allow. 

Did such an easy method really exist? Ryoma had to eye her with doubt. 

“There are several slave merchants conducting business in this city’s back alleys. Perhaps we could acquire labor slaves from them? That would only cost us the fee of buying the slaves. A normal citizen wouldn’t have access to thaumaturgy, so we would need to teach them how to do it. In which case, perhaps it would be safer to forgo drawing people from the other nobles’ territories and simply buy slaves.” 

Everyone swiftly weighed the pros and cons of Laura’s suggestion. 

“It’s not a bad idea...” Gennou was the first to break the silence. “Purchasing slaves would avoid friction with the nobles, and would allow us to increase our population as much as our funds allow. My only problem with this suggestion is that the slaves we purchase might revolt against milord...” 

Boltz, who sat next to Gennou, tilted his head. 

“I think Gennou’s concerns are well-founded. And there’s also the question of if we can truly afford this. Weren’t we pressed for funds?” 

“I believe labor slaves, and especially ones that haven’t matured yet, wouldn’t cost that much... And they often offer discounts to clients who buy a large number of them. I believe it’s financially feasible.” 

“I see... In that case, that does sound like a good idea.” 

Buying many slaves at once would allow them to bargain on the price per head. If they were to promise to periodically purchase more slaves, the slave merchants wouldn’t be prone to refuse them. It was a plausible idea. 

“But what about them revolting?” Lione asked. “The Wortenia Peninsula really is a hellhole. Money might not be a problem here, but can we really make those slaves into residents of this land?” 

“Hmm. I wonder.” Boltz cocked his head at her question. 

A person who hadn’t lived as a slave couldn’t hope to answer that question. They knew a slave’s life was a cruel one, but even still, living in Wortenia was a dangerous prospect. It was hard to imagine them willingly choosing to live there. 

“Wouldn’t promising to free them from their status as slaves in exchange be enough?” Sara proposed. 

“Huh?” Lione turned a suspicious glance in her direction. “You’re saying we should spend money on those slaves and then free them?” 

“Yes. Laura and I were originally war slaves... But Master Ryoma freed us. We devote ourselves to him out of absolute loyalty, but if we were still slaves...” 

They wouldn’t harbor that kind of loyalty toward him. Sara left those words unsaid, but everyone realized what she meant. No slave was truly loyal to their master. They might serve out of fear of the whip, but hatred would certainly be swirling in their hearts. Enough to prompt them to try and kill their master at the first sign of weakness. 

“I see... So that’s how you two met him,” Lione whispered to herself, seemingly convinced. 

Lione and Boltz always wondered why the two of them were so loyal to Ryoma. 

Right... Slaves are considered living objects. So if anyone were to give them the right to be human again, they’d feel indebted... 

Lione understood just how hard and shameful life as a slave must have been. She was born a commoner, and commoners honestly weren’t much different from slaves. They were forced to pay taxes and fight during wartime, and on top of that, a commoner could very easily be sold off as a slave. And what waited beyond that was a cruel fate and the trampling of one’s human dignity. 

“Hmm, so freeing the slaves would solidify their fealty towards milord and wouldn’t incur the other nobles’ ire... A fine idea,” Gennou concluded. 

What mattered was that the slaves were loyal to Ryoma. Put another way, one might call it patriotism, in a way. That was something an upstart noble like Ryoma wouldn’t normally obtain. But so long as Ryoma didn’t do anything foolish enough to make them revolt, the liberated slaves wouldn’t turn against him. 

It’d be manipulating their emotions... But I don’t have much of a choice. 

And if Ryoma wouldn’t buy their freedom here, they’d remain slaves to fate. They would continue to be used by others, at least for as long as they’re not graced with a great deal of luck. Compared to that, the Malfist sisters’ idea almost seemed like a salvation of sorts. Ryoma was certainly still going to use them, but the critical difference was that they would be treated as human beings. 

“All right. If I don’t buy them, someone else will... and saving them will work in my favor. It’s a good choice. First thing tomorrow, let’s go around to the businesses that deal with slaves. Sara, Laura, you two come with me. Gennou, I want you to keep looking into Count Salzberg! Lione, you keep working on the mercenaries, and Boltz, I want you to keep gathering information on the peninsula.” 

Everyone nodded at Ryoma’s words. Ryoma loathed the slave system from the depths of his heart. It reduced people into objects, and in Ryoma’s eyes nothing was more important than a person’s will and freedom. This was part of why he loathed Queen Lupis so much. She misused her authority and social status and ignored Ryoma’s will as a result. 

Having been oppressed once, Ryoma would exact revenge using the power of equally oppressed slaves. The sound of that idea rang sweetly in his mind. 

A class system? Screw that. I’ll crush that arrogance of yours to bits! 

The will filling this room would go on to overflow, and wash over the entirety of the western continent like a tidal wave. 

“The back alleys, huh?” 

The sun had just passed its zenith and was beginning to dip into the western sky when Ryoma set foot in Epirus’s northern district. Dirty alleyways, full of the scent of filth and decay, spread out before him. He’d only slightly stepped outside the main street when he found himself on dark roads covered with shady establishments. 

“There should be a square further ahead where all the slave merchant companies are located.” 

Ryoma nodded lightly at Laura’s voice and entered the dark underbelly of the citadel city of Epirus. 

“Well met, sir noble!” A bearded man who introduced himself as the shopkeeper bowed to him cheerfully. “Is this your first visit here? We’re honored to have you. The Abdul Company is the largest supplier of slaves in Epirus. We deal in labor and sex slaves, and have a selection of war slaves as well. Our stock is vast, and we guarantee you will find a slave to your liking among our wares.” 

All around them were slaves, who looked into empty space with vacant expressions and were bound to the wall with chains. The shopkeeper’s skin was greasy and his expression was thick with greed and lust. It was as if some force of nature had taken the definition of the word “Avarice” and fashioned it into a human face. 

His body was thick both horizontally and vertically. He was only a bit shorter than Ryoma but three times his width. He was dressed in a long-sleeved robe covered with jewels. But despite that outfit, the leather whip dangling from his belt felt awfully vivid. He probably used it to whip disobedient slaves. The leather of its handle gleamed, as if to attest to how often it was used. 

“I would... like to purchase a slave,” Ryoma said through his teeth, trying his hardest to suppress his emotions. 

Had Sara and Laura not been gripping the hem of his cloak, Ryoma would likely have been overcome by the anger rumbling inside his heart and beat the merchant’s face to a bloody pulp. The shopkeeper was blissfully ignorant of Ryoma’s feelings on the matter. 

“Oooh! We greatly appreciate your patronage, sir noble.” The shopkeeper grinned as he quite blatantly rubbed his hands. “Do you seek labor slaves? Or perhaps a slave to pass the lonely nights with, hmm? We don’t have as many war slaves, but we will gladly provide for you to the best of our ability.” 

For how large and slow-witted he seemed, the merchant had a way with words. His eye for potential clients was impressive in its own right. If nothing else, he discerned Ryoma was a noble just from a look at his outfit. He wore the silk shirt and cloak he bought for his visit to Count Salzberg’s estate, but otherwise didn’t wear anything else that might identify him as a noble. 

“I need labor slaves, and a lot of them,” Ryoma told him. “That’s important. And I have a few requirements. I need boys and girls, all of them in their early to mid-teens. As many boys as there are girls. Roughly... Three hundred of them... If your business doesn’t have that many, I’d like you to call on other businesses to supply those numbers.” 

The slave merchant eyed Ryoma quizzically. His requests likely came as a surprise. 

“If I may, sir noble, they sound a bit too young for me. If you seek labor slaves, you would probably want older ones... Males, roughly in their twenties? And if you seek to make them your playthings, let me tell you that a labor slave’s body isn’t much to look at. Be they young girls or boys, the attractive ones are sold off as sex slaves. You won’t find any handsome ones among the labor slaves, yes?” He directed a probing glance at Ryoma. “And three hundred of them... Our establishment is the largest in Epirus, but that number is a bit... My apologies, sir noble, but what do you intend to use them for? If you could explain your needs I may be able to advise you accordingly.” 

Labor slaves were mostly used for agricultural work. They were essentially no different from ranch bulls or labor horses. To that end, the value of a labor slave was measured in their muscle mass. This of course made men more valuable than women, and adults in their twenties more valuable than children. Purchasing girls may have been understandable if they ran out of boys, but no one would specifically ask for female labor slaves. 

At least, that was what this shopkeeper’s long tenure as a slave merchant taught him. And no one would purchase teenage slaves who were still in their growing stages, except for eccentrics with a taste for pedophilia. 

Their muscle mass was undeveloped compared to an adult’s, and the food costs of feeding an adolescent were higher. It was like knowingly purchasing an automobile with bad fuel consumption. 

But Ryoma simply met the merchant’s apprehension with a cold voice. 

“What’s it to you?” 

The moment those words left Ryoma’s lips, the Malfist sisters shivered for a moment, as did the shopkeeper. Ryoma didn’t raise his voice or anything of the sort, and his tone was perfectly calm. But the chilling bloodlust hidden behind those words cut through the air like a blade. It was so vivid that even the shopkeeper, with his lack of experience in martial arts, could sense it. 

He’s going to kill me... 

The image of his throat being slashed open flashed in the slave merchant’s mind. This man had killed countless slaves in his career. They had either grown too old, become disobedient, or maybe lost a limb and disfigured their bodies. Most of his victims were child slaves that were useless as workers, too. 

At first, he would hold up the children he gathered at the front of the store, held in place by chains and collars. Attractive children were the first to be sold, as were children that looked older than they really were. Those had uses, after all. But there were always children that were left behind, unpurchased. And once no one bought them after a certain period of time, the slave merchants would kill them. 

Feeding them was a waste of money, after all... 

And even still, the slave merchants made good profit. They lined their wallets with gold... That was made on the backs of countless corpses. And the shopkeeper didn’t think there was anything wrong about that. 

He wasn’t killing people, after all; he was killing slaves. Objects shaped like humans. And when people saw other human beings as objects, they discard the ability to feel emotion. Mercy didn’t exist. Why would one harbor such feelings for an object? 

And Ryoma was currently glaring at the slaver the same way the slaver would look at his slaves. 

“O-Of course not! My apologies!” The shopkeeper fell to his knees and started begging for his life. “Do forgive me, sir noble! Please... Please forgive me! I beg of you...” 

He didn’t even realize the slaves were looking at him. This was no time to put on airs. He realized his only way of staying alive was by begging for mercy. The fact he was facing a noble didn’t matter. He’d do the same if he was standing in front of a commoner, no, even against a slave. Ryoma had towered over him with a clear, palpable difference in strength. 

“Master Ryoma...” Laura tugged on Ryoma’s cloak harder, looking down on the shopkeeper lying prostrate. 

In truth, the twins wanted to kill this man just as much as Ryoma did. The sight of this shop was simply that gruesome to behold. The slaves’ skins were filthy and riddled with whipping scars. They likely hadn’t bathed in months. Their hair was twisted in knots and they were dressed in what could only be called undergarments. 

No, those that did wear undergarments were the lucky ones. Some of them were displayed at the storefront naked. There was no will in their vacant eyes as they stared into the air. It was like watching despair in human form. 

The two of us were lucky... They let us stay together and at least fed us... 

Sara and Laura were once slaves, too. But they were descended from a house of high-ranking knights and were given a proper education. And perhaps most importantly, they were both beautiful women. And so, even though they were slaves, they weren’t subjected to the awful treatment the children standing chained and naked in this alleyway were. 

Azoth, the slaver who bought them, treated them as precious wares. He vulgarly cursed at them plenty of times, but he never whipped them. In that regard, Azoth was perhaps slightly better than the slave merchant groveling before their eyes. 

“Master Ryoma, right now you should...” Laura tugged on Ryoma’s cloak one more time. 

“I know, fine... I won’t lose my temper here...” Ryoma whispered, restraining his rage. 

Calm down... You can’t... You can’t do this, not now... Killing him won’t help anyone, will it...? Right... This helps no one... 

Ryoma felt his anger swell up as he walked down the alleyways, but he couldn’t afford to let it burst here. This was Count Salzberg’s territory, and all the slavers here were merchants approved by him. 

Condemning slavery as evil was easy, but who held the right to decide what was good and evil? In Ryoma’s world, the idea of human rights developed over a long period of time, eventually merging with Christianity’s doctrine to form an ideology of freedom and philanthropy. 

But those ideas only really became widespread during the second half of the twentieth century. Until then, the white race believed themselves to be chosen by God and treated people of color as subhumans. The same could be said of this Earth. 

This world lacked both the idea of human rights and the religious value systems that existed in Ryoma’s world. One could call slavery evil as much as they wanted, but no one would lend them an ear. Starting a riot on the matter here would simply result in Ryoma getting banned from doing business. 

There was nothing Ryoma could do about this at the moment. It was this understanding that allowed him to pass weeping children being struck with a whip by and do nothing. But having this slaver speak to him like he knew it all simply added too much oil to the fire burning in Ryoma’s heart. 

“That’s enough... Raise your head...” Ryoma said, bottling up those raging feelings. 

“Y-Yes! My apologies!” The shopkeeper reacted at once. 

He didn’t even bother with the pointless act of checking Ryoma’s expression. He knew full well that the next time he drew Ryoma’s ire would be the moment his life flickered out. 

“I’ll say it again... I need three hundred male and female slaves in their early to mid-teens. Can you provide that, or not?” Ryoma repeated his question. 

“O-Of course, sir noble! We will do everything in our power to satisfy your needs. I swear it on my life! We will do just as you wish!” 

This time the shopkeeper didn’t say anything unnecessary and promptly answered Ryoma’s question. 

“Fine... Next, about the money. How much would three hundred cost in total?” 

“Yes...! Well, given their age and how boys and girls cost differently...” the shopkeeper stammered. 

“How. Much.” Ryoma stressed the question, making the annoyance in his voice clear. 

“How does a hundred and fifty gold coins in total sound?!” 

Fifty silvers per head on average. It totaled up to roughly one hundred and fifty thousand Japanese yen. Apparently, a person’s life cost as much as a bike or a scooter. Perhaps he rounded the price down out of fear from Ryoma’s murderous aura, but Ryoma didn’t know how much a child’s life was worth in this world. Still, this sum was perfectly affordable for Ryoma. 

“All right... When can you gather them up?” 

“Y-Yes! We don’t have that many in this establishment, but given a week we can gather that many!” 

“Good. Where will you have them delivered?” 

“My apologies, but gathering three hundred in Epirus’s streets may be problematic... How about the city outskirts?” 

He was right. Handing over three hundred slaves in the cramped alleyways wasn’t feasible. They’d need an open space for that. 

We’d need to go to the outskirts anyway if we’re going to do thaumaturgy training... To the north there’s Wortenia, and the west is the border with Xarooda. If we’re gonna camp outside, it’d have to be to the east of the city. 

Ryoma quickly calculated the situation and turned to the shopkeeper. 

“We’ll accept them in the eastern outskirts... We’ll pay you half the sum now, and the other half upon delivery. All right?” 

Ryoma received a sack full of coins from Sara and began putting the gold coins one by one into an empty sack, counting them as he did. 

“That’s seventy five gold coins. Do confirm it.” 

“At once! Please wait.” The shopkeeper received the sack from Ryoma and ran into the store. 

He then jogged back out, after having clearly not inspected the bag’s contents. This was unbecoming behavior for a merchant, but there was no one present that would criticize him for it. 

“Then... A week from now, outside the eastern gate... Understood?” 

“Yes! Thank you kindly for your patronage!” The shopkeeper bowed at a nearly 90 degree angle. “Next week, we will have the wares you have requested delivered to the eastern gate!” 

Ignoring his attitude, Ryoma walked away from the store as quickly as he could, restraining the urge to throw up. He didn’t want to spend another second in this place. He etched into his heart that human greed can come across as a toxic, suffocating stench. 

Ryoma and the twins hurried back through the alleys until they finally returned to the sunlight of the main street. Exposed to the gentle light of the westering sun, the three of them took a deep breath. 

“Master Ryoma... Are you all right?” Laura asked, looking at Ryoma’s back with concern. 

“Yeah... I’m fine... How about you two?” 

The sisters nodded wordlessly at Ryoma’s question. Their expressions were stiff and strained, but they were regaining their composure. 

“So this is this city’s dark underbelly, eh... Shit!” 

He knew a slave system existed beforehand, but the reality of it all was far more cruel and foul than Ryoma ever imagined. 

I’ll change it... I’ll definitely change this system! Ryoma swore in his heart. 

He knew he was only saying that out of self-satisfaction. Ryoma realized this. This was this world’s reality, and the most Ryoma could save were a small handful of the many lives being used by the system of slavery... 

A week had passed since Ryoma’s agreement with the Abdul Company. Ryoma and his group moved out of the hotel they made their headquarters in during their stay in Epirus. They then set up camp on a field three kilometers away from Epirus’s main gate. 

They would need to go through some basic training before entering the Wortenia peninsula, but the only places within Epirus that would allow for it were training facilities Count Salzberg built for his army. Ryoma couldn’t afford to ask the Count to lend him those places, and so they decided to camp outside of town. 

“For now, the preparations are complete. All that’s left is the question of how many people will be left...” The sunlight shined down on them as Ryoma glared at Epirus’s walls. 

“Realistically speaking, I don’t see all three hundred of them being useful... We’d be lucky if half of them are any good.” Gennou spoke to Ryoma’s turned back. 

“Yeah, I guess...” Ryoma shrugged. 

He knew he didn’t have much of a choice, but his expression remained dark. They were about to hold a selection. A selection to pick out the strong ones, the bright ones, the ones with the strongest wills. Only those chosen children would be promised a future and freedom, even though all of them deserved to be free... 

But freedom was a privilege granted only to the strong in this Earth. All of these children were lucky in their own way. Not all of them would gain freedom, but they would all at least be given a chance. 

“Do not let it weigh upon your conscience, milord... If you didn’t buy them, most of those children would be killed,” Gennou said, but this only made Ryoma grimace. 

He knew this well enough already. But while his mind understood the justifications perfectly, his heart couldn’t come to terms with things that easily. 

I buy children with the intent of using them, while the slave merchants who sell those children... We’re the same, aren’t we...? 

That emotion bubbled up in Ryoma’s heart. But he couldn’t afford to let that stop him here. The cogs of fate were already set in motion, after all... 

“Lad! The merchants are entering our camp now!” Boltz’s voice called out to him from behind. 

“All right! I’ll be right over... Let’s go, Gennou,” Ryoma said, then made way for the camp’s square. 

His face was free of the doubts he’d harbored just moments ago. He knew well enough of how harsh and merciless reality can be, and that no amount of agonizing over that fact will change it... 

“We thank you greatly for making use of the Abdul Company,” the shopkeeper said, bowing his head as politely as he did last time they spoke. “As requested, we’ve delivered the wares. Do inspect them.” 

“Must have been a struggle to gather this many.” This was how Ryoma chose to show his good nature. 

He always knew to be grateful to those who did him right, no matter who they may be. 

“Not at all. This is work for us, after all...” The shopkeeper waved his hand dismissively, denying Ryoma’s words. “And ones of this age don’t sell well no matter what establishment you’d check. They were actually grateful to us for taking them off their hands... Fewer mouths to feed, after all.” 

Ryoma directed a cold gaze at him. He’d only given them a cursory glance, but Ryoma got the impression there were more girls than boys behind the slaver. 

“Fine, then,” Ryoma said with a strong tone. “The gender ratio is equal, like I asked, right?” 

“Yes... I’ve actually brought you three hundred and thirty five of them, but the girls outnumber the boys seven to three.” 

“Isn’t that more than what I asked?” 

“Yes...” The shopkeeper stuttered evasively, as if hesitating to answer Ryoma’s question. “Well you see, boys often get sold first as labor slaves... And so, I’ve brought more than three hundred, due to, hmm...” 

“To compensate for the lack of boys?” Ryoma asked. 

The shopkeeper wordlessly flashed him a business smile. 

“All right... Anything else?” 

“No, sir noble, the rest is all according to your request. We’ve checked to make sure they’re all healthy. None of them carry any diseases.” 

Ryoma snuck a glance at Boltz and Gennou, who answered his gaze with small nods. Most of the slaves were scarred from whippings, but all their wounds would recover given treatment. Ryoma didn’t trust the slavers much and had them look into the matter. 

“Understood. I’ll believe you... We’ll be taking them all, then. The rest was another seventy five golds, right?” 

“Yes, good sir, indeed.” 

Ryoma nodded and handed over a sack of coins he’d prepared ahead of time. 

“Thank you for your patronage.” The shopkeeper didn’t even bother checking the contents of the sack before stuffing it into his bag and bowing his head. 

Apparently, he was keen on getting away from there before he might say anything that would annoy Ryoma. He then presented Ryoma with two documents. 

“There’s one last thing, though. If you could sign this invoice right here... Yes, with this, all the slaves here now belong to you. One copy goes to you, and the other stays with me.” 

Confirming Ryoma signed his name on the document, the shopkeeper nodded and put the remaining document in the bag. 

“This concludes my business, then. We hope you deal with us again in the future.” 

Satisfied at having sold off useless slaves to someone, the shopkeeper once again bowed his head and left the camp with his employees. 

“All right, then... Lione! Start distributing their clothes. And Laura, is the food prepared?” 

It was warm at this time of the year, but the slaves would certainly get sick if they had to stand outside naked. Having seen how the slaves were treated at the storefront, Ryoma had clothes and underwear prepared for them, as well as warm meals. Ryoma thought they might at least dress them upon delivery, but apparently that wasn’t customary in this world. 

So their first order of business was getting the slaves dressed. The Crimson Lion members started distributing clothes to the slaves, who stood stock still like dolls devoid of will, collars clasped around their necks. 

“We gave them the clothes, boy, but...” Lione said with a disturbed expression. 

The children stood there with their clothes in hand. Normally, any person forced to stand around naked would put on any clothes handed to them. Maybe they’d ask if they were allowed to put them on. But these children simply stood there silently, their gazes perplexed. They didn’t try putting the clothes on. 

“Why won’t they get dressed...? Don’t tell me they don’t know how to put clothes on.” 

These children weren’t three-year-old infants. They might have been slaves, but they surely knew how to get dressed. 

“Master Ryoma... Allow me.” 

Laura walked in front of the children and began speaking with a calm, kind voice. As she did, the children’s expressions began changing. At first they were surprised, and gradually their gazes filled with suspicion. But as Laura continued speaking to them, they began putting on the clothes they were given, albeit with a hint of fear. 

The children she spoke to directly began getting dressed first, but the surrounding slaves gradually followed suit. 

“What did you tell them...?” Ryoma asked, visibly surprised. 

The enslaved children’s eyes were still leaden with gloom and despair, but Laura’s words apparently made them take interest in Ryoma and his group. It was only the slightest change in atmosphere. They were like expressionless dolls before Laura spoke to them, but afterwards their expressions seemed slightly more human. 

“It’s a simple thing, really. I just told them those clothes they were given belonged to them now.” 

“What? But isn’t that obvious?” 

Ryoma was naturally taken aback. In his mind, he’d already given those clothes to the children. But Laura shook her head in denial. 

“Slaves don’t think that way. They only consider things as their own the moment their master says so... That’s how Sara and I lived for the longest time...” 

In truth, it was probably obvious if Ryoma were to think about it. The slaves were treated as objects, and so had to constantly mind how people looked at them and suppress their wills. Before they were bought their lives were at the mercy of the slavers, and after that they were subject to their owners. 

It wasn’t that they lacked wills of their own. They were simply restraining their individuality and will, so that they didn’t make themselves seem unnecessary. Unnecessary slaves were killed and disposed of, after all. 

“Oh, I see...” Ryoma realized the situation thanks to Laura’s words. 

The children couldn’t do anything without explicit permission from Ryoma. Or rather, they were under the impression they couldn’t. And so Ryoma realized he had to tell them otherwise first. Tell them that they were human. Human beings with wills of their own. 

He would have to say that loud and clear, and remind them of their own humanity...

On that day, Melissa’s fate underwent a radical change for the second time in her life. 

Her fate first changed three years ago. She was born in a small fishing village in the Kingdom of Xarooda. Her family was poor, but the days she spent with her parents and siblings were full of happiness and peace. That life, however, would come to an abrupt end, thanks to the pirates lying in wait at the Wortenia Peninsula... 

The rumors of pirate activity in the Wortenia Peninsula had abounded for some time. Even as a child, she’d heard of how pirates were attacking trade ships sailing along the coast. Still, trade ships were loaded with expensive merchandise, and her village was a poor fishing community that had nothing that warranted plundering. 

And indeed, up until that day, their village was never attacked. Who would attack a village whose sole product was dried fish? But that question crumbled away all too easily in the face of cold, hard reality. Any thoughts of how unlikely an attack might be faded away when she saw the slaughter taking place. 

Her parents were run through by the pirates’ spears. Her siblings and friends were all scattered during the attack, and what became of them was unknown to her. The only thing Melissa, eleven years old at that time, could do was run. The pirates set her village on fire, and Melissa fled the flames and smoke, running for her life. 

She couldn’t remember what came next. She clearly remembered running out of the village, but her memory cut off there. When she came to, she was in some city she didn’t know. Apparently a man had found and sheltered her. But now she had a collar clasped around her neck. She stood in front of a store, essentially naked. 

She had no idea how this fate had befallen her, but soon enough, the fact that this was real and could not be overturned dawned upon her. A life where any word she uttered was met with a blow from a whip. Crying resulted in her getting whipped. Screaming earned her another serving of the whip. And when she begged for mercy, all she was rewarded with was more whipping. 

As one scar after another appeared on her body, Melissa learned how to conduct herself. She learned to act out the part of a doll, to silence her own emotions — all in order to survive. And as she did, she watched as slaves who couldn’t find any buyers were being disposed of. A sight that only tightened the shackles around her heart. 

She was a girl, and not one graced with physical talent or stamina. Her facial features may have been considered cute, but she was not exceptionally beautiful. If she were a bit older, she may have been sold off as a sex slave, but she was still only fourteen years old. And years of slavery had made her body thin and emaciated, as if to cruelly ensure she would not stir a man’s lust. Had Ryoma Mikoshiba not bought her that day, she would no doubt have been disposed of and killed as undesirable, defective goods. 

And yet, the whims of fate gave her a chance to live on. 

What are these clothes...? What do they want me to do with this? 

The slave merchants carried Melissa and the other slaves here, where she received a bundle of clothes and underwear from a bearded man. The other slaves held similar bundles of clothes, and looked just as confused as Melissa was. 

What are these things? Can we wear them...? 

The only things she was wearing were the same underwear she’d had on for months now and a tattered tunic torn by whipping. And that was all. She wanted to put on new clothes, of course. But that wish was beyond her reach. 

She was an object, after all. Logically, one would assume the clothes she was holding were meant for her. But at the same time, Melissa’s heart was weighed down by the belief that it wasn’t possible. 

No... I’m an object... Objects aren’t allowed to have clothes... 

Things like this had happened before. Half-eaten meat would be thrown in front of a slave, as if to say “Go on, eat it...” But that was only a nasty trick on the part of the slavers. If the slave picked up the meat and tried to eat it, a flurry of lashes awaited them. 

She’d seen it happen countless times already. A slave’s daily meal was a piece of hard bread and cold, salty soup. They wouldn’t be given meat, no matter what. She’d grown used to these eating habits. Even if a piece of meat would be thrown to the ground before her, she wouldn’t pick it up. 

The slavers knew this, which was why they dangled meat in front of their slaves as bait. To etch the understanding that they were slaves into their very flesh. All of the children in this place had seen it happen time and again. And so, not one of them moved. 

But the situation took an unexpected turn. A blond woman approached them, and said words they never imagined they would hear. 

“Aren’t you cold? Those clothes are yours now. My master, Ryoma Mikoshiba, is giving you these clothes. Feel free to put them on... My master wishes for that.” 

Melissa doubted what she’d just heard. 

They’re giving us... they’re giving slaves clothes? Really? Nice clothes like these...? 

Of course, they weren’t made of silk. These were the kinds of clothes one could buy in bulk at a tailor’s shop in town. Still, these linen clothes weren’t something a slave would be allowed to wear. These were clothes — and new ones at that — which a commoner in town might wear. These weren’t used hand-me-downs. They were far better than anything a slave might receive. 

Melissa looked around. All the other children seemed to doubt the woman’s words, but her tone was calm and soothing. It didn’t look like she was lying. 

“It’s all right... Go on, get dressed! We’ll have your meals ready in a bit!” 

Spurred by her words, one of the boys put on his clothes and looked at the woman. Confirming that she nodded at him, the other slaves began putting on their own clothes. When all the slaves had put their clothes on, a man stood in front of them. 

He had an imposing air to him, as if he was their king or something... 

On that day, their fates — the lives they had spent as slaves up until that point — would greatly change. 

Who is this man...? He’s like... a black sun... 

From servitude, to a harsher life of freedom. 

Now dressed, Melissa and the children looked slightly better. Of course, they hadn’t bathed in years and their hair was unkempt, overgrown and screwed into lumps at points. They looked no different from vagrants sitting in an alley. Their clean clothes only served to emphasize just how filthy they were. 

This is... Embarrassing... 

An emotion she’d long since forgotten lit up in Melissa’s heart. She kept her gaze fixed intently on the black-clad young man standing in front of the slaves. 

“Well... I guess we should let them eat first. Bathing this many of them is gonna be a chore and a half... But no... We can’t leave them looking like this.” 

Ryoma’s lament was relatable. There were over three hundred slaves standing in front of him with hollow gazes in their eyes. Getting them dressed and fed was one thing, but bathing them was a much more daunting challenge. There were bathhouses in the city that could support a large number of people, but they wouldn’t accommodate this many. 

For a start, given how filthy the children were, any bathhouse would turn them away no matter how much they might promise to pay. It was easy to imagine how any normal civilian would refuse to enter the same bath as them. 

But that said, they couldn’t simply rent out an entire bathhouse. Ryoma could try to use his status as a noble to forcibly do that, but Epirus was Count Salzberg’s territory. Trying to have his way in another noble’s territory wasn’t wise. 

“Let’s let them eat first. It’s fresh and warm, after all...” Laura suggested. “About their baths... I think our only idea would be to boil some water and have them bathe in it... We can’t carry so many of them into town.” 

Ryoma nodded and turned to Lione. 

“All right... Lione! You can begin.” 

There was much for them to do. 

“Aye, boy! C’mon, ya lot! Line up!” 

At Lione’s prompting, the children split into five rows and lined up. They weren’t exactly prompt or disciplined, but they did what they were told. They moved with confused, doubtful expressions on their faces. The pain of the whip was still fresh in their memories. Of course, Ryoma and his companions wouldn’t lay a hand on them even if they were disobedient, but the slaves couldn’t even fathom that possibility. 

They did as Laura said and put on their clothes, but their eyes still visibly lacked the kind of will a free person had. 

“Now be careful! It’s hot. Be careful when you eat it.” 

Melissa couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. The large, deep bowl before her eyes was filled with steaming soup and handed over to her. It was full of carrots, onions, potatoes, and meat. Those squares of meat were likely beef. 

This soup was more rich than what most commoners usually ate. Most commoners had simple onion or corn soups. They only had such a wide variety of vegetables or meat in their food during special occasions. If nothing else, to Melissa, who grew up in a poor fishing village, this soup looked like a luxury meal. 

Why... Why are they feeding us something like this...? 

Melissa couldn’t believe the warmth of the bowl she was holding. Having been a slave that remained unbought for years meant her daily meals were nothing short of terrible. She only had two meals a day, and they were both thin soup that barely had any taste to it, thanks to what little effort had been put into making it, poured into a flat bowl. And since it was made to feed many slaves, it wasn’t served hot. It was like drinking cold water. 

And the only thing they were given to eat with that soup was dry, blocky bread that was several days old. They couldn’t eat it normally without dipping it into the soup to soften it. Even when Melissa was a poor commoner, she had eaten significantly better than that. She’d had meat several times a year. That made it painfully clear just how terrible her life as a slave was. 

And that was why she couldn’t believe the reality unfolding before her eyes. The nearly forgotten memories of her life before her slavery were beginning to surface in her mind. 

It’s warm... It’s... It’s like the soup Mother used to make... 

As poor as they were, Melissa’s mother always made sure there was hot soup on the dinner table. It was a poor commoner’s meal, of course, and wasn’t all that garnished, either. It only had a few vegetables in it, and they were most likely to have meat or fish no more than once or twice a year. 

And still, to Melissa, her mother’s soup was the greatest delicacy she knew. It was always hot, and its heat seemed to soak into her heart... 

“Ah, it’s hot!” 

As Melissa peered into her bowl, one of the boys exclaimed loudly. He then dropped his bowl, spilling its contents over the ground. Judging from his mouth and hands, he apparently couldn’t help himself and tried to gulp down the soup without permission from their master. 

The surrounding children’s expressions were dyed over with shock and fear. In their eyes, eating something without explicit permission from their owner was effectively a death sentence. And even more so when the soup he spilled was as luxurious as it was... 

The boy squatted down at once, and the children surrounding him got away as fast as they could. That was their secret to survival. They knew that standing near a child that was about to be whipped meant they might get mixed up in the beating. It would be easy to look down on this act of self-defense, but it was just human nature to do so. 

So when a silver-haired lady hurried to the boy’s side, everyone prayed in their heart, believing he was about to be punished severely. Not knowing that their expectations were about to be completely overturned... 

“Are you alright? You didn’t get burned, did you?” She asked him with a kind, gentle voice. 

The boy, who had expected to be shouted at, raised a frightened gaze at the woman. 

“Are you sure you’re fine? You didn’t spill any soup on your legs, did you?” Sara asked, looking down at the bowl that lay overturned on the ground. 

There was steam rising from the rim of the bowl. It had fallen over spectacularly, all its contents spilling directly to the ground beneath it and spreading the scent of soup all over. 

“Yes... It looks like you only burned your mouth... You don’t need to rush when you eat. Be careful, all right?” 

Sara’s words made the boy stare at her with surprise. He realized she was honestly worried about his well-being. The children looking at them from afar also realized this. 

“Anyway, eat cautiously next time... Huh, wait... Huh?! Wait! No, stop!” 

His soup had already seeped into the dirt, and wasn’t edible. Sara intended to give him a fresh bowl of soup, but the boy didn’t understand that. He unflinchingly kneeled down and began picking up the vegetables and chunks of meat that lay on the ground, now filthy with dirt, and tried to shovel them into his mouth. 

Had Sara not stopped him, he would have surely eaten them, filthy as they were. 

“I didn’t mean that... Erm...” Sara was flustered by this unusual turn of events, but then pointed at Lione. “Over there! That lady with the red hair over there. She’ll give you more soup, so eat that.” 

The boy turned an anxious, doubtful look in Lione’s direction. The dark light filling his eyes told all there was to know about their past. So Sara spoke up loudly, so all the children would hear. 

“It’s all right! Do you understand? If you drop food to the ground, you don’t have to eat it. There’s enough for everyone. All right? So be careful and take your time when you eat.” 

At Sara’s prodding, the children fearfully brought the bowls to their lips. If nothing else, they realized they were allowed to eat. 

“Phew... I hope this is all right...” 

She realized Ryoma’s feelings perfectly well. He didn’t give them hot meals and new clothes out of the kindness of his heart. He did it to make them have a will of their own. To bring out their desire. A desire for food, for clothes, for a home. To understand how they were treated compared to others, and the discrepancy that showed. 

Desire inspired ambition in people, prompting them into self-improvement. Desire was the strongest motivator human beings could possibly have. By knowing desire, people could yearn for more than they had. 

But slaves lacked that, naturally enough. All they had was resignation towards a reality they didn’t believe they could change. And so long as they were resigned to never gain anything, no amount of hardship would mean anything. They had nothing to begin with, after all. 

But that could change by reminding them of a single thing — that they were human. Living beings with the will to move forward. Of course, they wouldn’t remember that immediately. Their despair wasn’t so simple that it could be resolved at once. 

That was what set them apart from the Malfist sisters. The two of them may have been war slaves, but they still had the pride of their family to fall back on. Something to support their hearts. 

That was why Ryoma gave the children six months to be educated. That was the time limit they were given. If they were to regain their human will during that period, all was well. But if they didn’t... 

What would he do with them...? 

In truth, no one knew the answer to that question yet. Not even Ryoma himself. 

Sara moved away from that thought and looked around. The children were wolfing down their soup and bread, and if one were to ignore how silent they were, it almost looked like a lively sight. Some of them were already forming a line in front of the pot, asking for seconds. If nothing else, they recalled the joy of eating a fine meal. 

It looks like a success for now, at least... 

Laura, who was standing beside the children, seemed to be thinking the same thing. She sensed her younger sister’s gaze and nodded back wordlessly. 

They gave them a taste of the carrot. Now to remind them of the stick. 

What lay in store for the children was a period of harsh training they would need to endure at the hands of Lione, Boltz and the Crimson Lion mercenaries. At first they would go through basic training to increase their stamina, but gradually they would be taught combat techniques. They would mainly be trained with spears and swords, as well as unarmed combat and how to handle horses. 

For a whole month, they would be worked to the bone. And following that, they would be taught to use thaumaturgy as they trained. And after that month, they would be sent out to experience real battle. 

Ryoma had no need for warriors that couldn’t fight. Only those children that would be able to kill other people and monsters and survive that exchange of lives would be granted freedom. Anyone who couldn’t do so would be dealt with in the same way as any escaped slave — death. 

Ryoma Mikoshiba only desired the strong. In this harsh Earth, any ideas of equality or saving the weak were only harmful to those that harbored them. He couldn’t afford to save those that couldn’t put in effort or lacked the will to live. He could help others grow stronger, but whether that truly happened depended solely on the individual. 

Would these children die as the weak or live on to be strong...? No one could say for sure. At least, not yet...