Off to Fetch the Slave Lady
The small stable attached to the side of our general store.
My horse, Wild Gale, had long since polished off the clump of hay Goat had tossed him that morning and was now quietly drinking his water.
But my spoils — the spotted bandit's horse I'd stabled in with him — was gone.
Naturally, she'd ridden out on the very same horse she'd ridden in on.
I saddled Gale and turned onto the road leading out of the village.
This was the exact same road we had come by yesterday.
Greenhill.
As a town, this timeless little backwater was nothing much to look at, but on the map it sat reasonably close to the heart of Helion, so with one decent horse, quite a few major cities were only a short ride away.
Erina wasn't from Helion, so she would know nothing of the local geography.
Which meant the odds of her fleeing to some unfamiliar city she'd never set foot in were low.
Erina had surely meant to return to Stonefield.
If she stretched the two silver and nine copper she'd taken as far as it would go — assuming she slept rough rather than paying for inns — it would last her about two weeks at Stonefield prices.
But that was nowhere near enough for passage to another city or country.
So her most realistic ultimate goal was to somehow make her way back to a port and stow away.
She'd try to catch an empty slave ship heading back to Abella.
"Lord Luciel."
"Good morning, sir."
When I reached the edge of the village, two guards greeted me in recognition. Not the ones who'd been on duty last night, but the day team that had rotated in a few hours ago. If they'd kept proper watch, they would have heard about the small hours of yesterday from the night shift.
"Lord Luciel. Where are you headed?"
"Um, there's something I'd like to ask..."
I asked whether any woman had slipped out of the village in the early hours yesterday.
"Ah, now that you mention it. Word is someone rode out of the village on horseback. They had a hood up, so nobody can say for certain, but they say the figure looked like a woman."
Erina's womanly figure — impossible to hide under a baggy hood even in jet-black darkness.
So everyone was doing their jobs properly after all.
"Thanks."
Now, what would make a fitting reward...
I rummaged through the pouch at my belt. A few coppers were in there, but those were my emergency fund and couldn't be touched — instead, my fingers closed around something better.
Aribo jelly, portioned out and sold in small individual packs.
"If you'd like some, have it while you're on duty."
"Oh! What's this?!"
"It's called jelly. Children usually love it, but plenty of adults ask for it too."
"Yes, I know it! My wife brought some home once and I tried a piece! So soft and chewy — it was delicious! Thank you! Every time I see you, Lord Luciel, a windfall— no, jelly— turns up even while I'm on duty!"
The guards' faces lit up the instant they saw the jelly wrapper.
Just like in my old world, there was no such thing as a free lunch here either.
Guards don't hand out this kind of information to just anyone. They told me because I was me.
Especially for someone in the merchant trade, you can't be stingy about paying the price of what you take from others. If you've received even a small favor, you must always show some measure of gratitude in return.
Of course, forcing gifts on people who adamantly refuse is a problem of its own.
"Ah, and one more thing."
"Yes?"
"During the patrol of the village outskirts yesterday, bloodstains were found on the forest road toward Stonefield. It looked like human blood. If you're headed that way, please be wary of wild animal attacks."
"Wild animals?"
"Or it could be bandits."
A jolt ran through me.
"Really? I'd better watch myself, then."
I played along with a vague nod and said my goodbyes.
While the two guards were busy squabbling over the single bag of jelly, I slipped out of the village.
I rode on along the road a while longer. It had been pitch dark when she passed, so she couldn't have ridden as fast as I was going now.
In the dead of night, the only source of light she'd taken with her was a single candle.
Not just Erina — in darkness where nothing was visible, the horse she rode wouldn't listen no matter how hard she urged it on.
All the more so with a rider it had never met before.
Whirr.
A drone sailed over my head. It had charged up enough by now, and Goat had sent it up.
I radioed Goat.
"You copy, Goat?"
[Yes, I hear you.]
"Don't fly the drone into the forest. It might clip a tree or lose signal in there. Instead, keep an eye on the forest's edge and the mouth of the road into the city."
[Which area are you searching, Boss? The Stonefield road?]
"That's right. If she ran, that's the most likely way."
[Understood. Then I'll check that side first.]
"Radio me the second you confirm anything, even something minor. Over."
Having Goat's drone up there was some comfort, at least.
I had exposed the drone to the villagers before. The whir of its spinning rotors caught everyone's attention at first, but since it only ever drifted about high in the sky, these days nobody paid it much mind except a few children.
A hick town like this was crawling with every manner of beast and bird, so one more strange-looking bird making strange noises didn't affect anyone's livelihood here.
[Boss! Boss?!]
Goat's transmission came back faster than I'd expected.
[There's something at the entrance to the forest.]
"What is it?"
[It's... a horse, I think?]
I hurried my mount toward the forest.
Just as Goat had said — when I reached the spot where the forest road began, I could hear a horse groaning in distress somewhere near the path.
I reined in at once.
Where? Over here?
[A little more to the left, by the boulder.]
The horse had collapsed beside a large rock. One of its front hooves was thrown and its ankle was bent the wrong way. It had strayed off the road and rolled at least once — its whole body was caked in mud.
And Erina?
Erina was gone.
The poor thing.
What did you ever do to deserve this?
I'm sorry, but I can't look after you right now.
I stroked the horse until it calmed, then carefully trickled water from my bucket into its mouth.
Riding a horse at night demands the utmost caution.
This wasn't a scooter or an e-bike. You must never push a horse to gallop in the dark, and since horses fear the darkness too, you need at the very least a torch for light. A horse can lose its own sense of direction, so at night a narrow trail shouldn't even enter your head.
"The rider must have taken a spill and gotten hurt, too."
Drops of blood, not yet fully dried, trailed along the road. I couldn't guess the exact hour, but at the very least, Erina had passed through here before dawn.
I hope the wound isn't deep.
The sparse stitching of blooddrops did not lead into the forest. After her encounter with the bandit yesterday, the darkness between those trees would have terrified even her.
So she had left the road and changed course for the wide-open country.
Having lost her horse, injured and limping, and choosing the long way around to the nearest city, Erina's arrival time at Stonefield had just stretched from two and a half hours to five or more.
It was the only choice she had, but what on earth was she trying to do?
Stow away for real?
The more I turned it over, the more one question gnawed at me: did she really have to go this far?
If she had complaints, she should have just said so.
She's timid, sure, but she doesn't strike me as clever enough to have planned all this.
Wait — come to think of it, if I went this way...
There it was. That path.
The trail I'd walked back and forth dozens of times, once upon a time.
The very path where that weathered old house in the middle of nowhere stood — the one with the barn door I'd first come through.
Through that door, I had taken my very first step into this world, straight out of my room.
Before I learned that my house key would fit any keyhole here and carry me back to my room, I had visited that house desperately whenever I could spare a moment, so I knew the way with my eyes closed.
Fortunately, the bloodstains ended there — the bleeding must have stopped by then. In their place, bare footprints pressed at intervals into the muddy stretches of the trail carried on.
There was a good chance Erina had chosen this path.
Maybe she's at that house?
"Goat. Can you see me?"
I waved a hand at the drone hovering high above.
[I see you.]
"Search straight along the direction I'm pointing. Erina turned onto this path."
[So she didn't go into the forest. Understood.]
In that case, she'd chosen well. That place made a fine shelter.
Especially for me, back when I was nothing but a penniless, homeless bastard, it had once served as a decent refuge.
If you could stomach the musty smell, the damp, a few cobwebs, and the occasional rat scurrying through, it was hardly an impossible place to sleep.
If Erina was holed up in there, that was all the better.
Injured as she was, if she was resting there instead of pushing herself, her wounds would heal faster too.
That said,
the place had been abandoned for a long, long time — which meant there was a chance it had visitors besides me.
Rats and spiders were the better end of the spectrum. In winter, bears had come in to hibernate.
For the record, I'm not talking about the moon bears you'd see at a zoo back home. There were creatures here far bigger than grizzlies — the size of two or three grown men lumped together.
Fortunately, it wasn't the season for them to bother coming down that far.
With summer sliding into early autumn, the worst I'd have to worry about was probably wolves.
Dangerous, since they ran in packs — but even for them, food wasn't scarce this time of year.
If Erina was staying quietly put in there, it couldn't be more perfect.
[Boss, I can't see anything from up here.]
"Nothing at the house?"
[I've only searched along the road. Should I move in closer to the house itself?]
"No. I'll check it myself."
[The drone's stopped responding. Huh? It's flying back on its own?]
"Battery's dead, that's all. Charge it when it gets back. Good work."
Whirr.
The drone flew back over my head.
From here on, I would be searching alone.
There it was. That wooden roof, blackened and rotting through.
It had been almost two years. It felt like a pilgrimage. I hadn't come here once since the day I discovered my house key fit any keyhole in this world.
If I barged in carelessly, would she run at the sight of me?
Probably, wouldn't she?
!!!
What is this?!
The moment I opened my mouth to carefully call out Erina's name, I hastily stifled my breath.
Because in the yard of the isolated house, there were almost no bare footprints that could belong to Erina — instead, other footprints were stamped all over.
Men's. At least two, if not more.
And strung out after them: Erina's belongings. The candle and matches, the box cutter, the hoodie of mine she'd been wearing — not only had it lost a button, it had been torn clean in half — and even the nightdress she'd worn underneath. Everything that had vanished from the store lay in a neat little trail.
"Mmph! Mmph! Aaagh!"
Just now — that was Erina's voice!
Someone had a hand clamped over her mouth, by the sound of it.
"Hey, why're you covering her mouth? I told you to grab her arms."
"She's too loud."
"Let her scream. There's not a soul passing by. Who cares."
Now what? Bandits again?
No. Their voices were too young for bandits.
Voices of young men barely past twenty, no matter how you counted.
How many of them, besides Erina? Two? Three?
"Somebody, please..."
"We're not gonna kill you. We just wanna play with you a little, miss. You're too pretty."
Three. Three of them.
I moved toward the sounds. As it happened, the voices were coming from the very barn with the door I'd first arrived in this world through.
My mind began, unbidden, to imagine the worst.
Without thinking, I drew the pistol tucked in my inner pocket.
Hold on — was I about to kill someone again?!
Yesterday, it had been absolutely necessary. If I hadn't killed those men, I might be the one lying dead. But now?
The bandits I'd killed yesterday were probably still buried in that pit beside the road.
Please, let no one have seen.
...
First, a different weapon. Something non-lethal.
Good thing I packed it.
I drew the three-section staff from my other hip and flicked it open, giving it a few quiet test swings.
Just in case, I also pulled out the pistol in my inner pocket and gave it a quick check, so it could fire at a moment's notice.
Even as I did, the voices kept coming.
"Holy shit. Look at the tits on this bitch."
"Down below's even better. Have you seen her pussy?!"
Their reactions were about on par with the bandits'.
Peering through the gap in the slightly open door, I saw exactly what I'd feared: the half-elf stripped of every stitch, laid out on a pile of straw, three young men crowded around her.
One small difference from yesterday's ring of bandits: these ones weren't carrying weapons. It looked like no one would need shooting dead today.
A relief.
After seeing her bare so many times now, I'd started to find the sight of her stripped naked, sex on full display, ringed by men, more familiar than the sight of her dressed.
A young lady with precious little luck with clothes, it seemed.
"Wow, she's a virgin."
"So this is what a virgin pussy looks like?"
"Look at this. Spread it open and there's a pink membrane right here. That's what they call a hymen."
"For real? First time I've ever seen one."
"Mary didn't have one."
"Well, obviously. That bitch Mary's been getting fucked by men for ages — no way something like that's still intact."
"Fair point..."
For the record, the Mary these boys mentioned was a young woman who got around Greenhill.
A girl with a mild intellectual disability, they said — no parents, nearly fifteen years living on the streets of Greenhill, selling her body for a loaf of bread and sleeping at the house of whichever man had bought her that day.
Married or not, most of the men in this town with a working set of equipment had probably been with her at some point. (Truth be told, I somehow ended up... never mind.)
And Mary wasn't the only one. Greenhill, which had no red-light district of its own, had a few more women like her.
Poverty was the excuse, but the honest truth was that spreading your legs for men beat shoveling cow shit from dawn to dusk — easier work, better pay.
Not so different from my old world in that respect. This side was just a little more blunt about it.
If I'd fallen into this world with a woman's body, odds were I'd have ended up exactly the same.
"What's this, then?"
The scrawny one asked, staring at the inverted-triangle brand stamped above Erina's sex.
"Isn't that the thing? A slave mark."
Oh? They actually knew about it? Country brats from a village without so much as a proper restaurant had picked up a thing or two somewhere, huh.
"A slave? This lady was a slave?"
"They make slaves this pretty?"
"Not your average slave. Probably a bed-warmer for the rich."
"Really? Then shouldn't we not be fucking her?"
"It's not like we're gonna own the bitch. We just stick it in a few times and hand her back. What's the harm?"
The short one looked worried, visibly uneasy — but the big one still seemed dead set on taking Erina right there, even if it cost him his life.
Their hard-ons, straining to burst through their pants, said as much.
It's not like I'm looking because I want to. It's just right there!
Unlike yesterday, with the sun up they could see every last intimate detail of her body, and their commentary ran even more detailed than the bandits'.
Time to make my entrance — timed just right, before it was too late.