Adalin's Doubts Didn't Last Long
Adalin's suspicions didn't linger for long.
Gurgle.
A loud rumble echoed from somewhere nearby. The six of them knew exactly what that boisterous sound meant.
Liberatus immediately turned to Kyle. "Kyle. Jerky."
"On it."
Kyle swiftly pulled out some provisions and handed them to Liberatus, who took a bite to show there were no tricks, then passed it straight to Adalin.
Her face flushing deep red, Adalin accepted the jerky and began nibbling at it tentatively.
"Th-thank you."
Of course, a single piece of food couldn't erase all doubt. But the circumstances surrounding Adalin made it possible.
She had nearly exhausted her supplies, surviving on the barest scraps. The gnawing hunger she had been suppressing was reaching its limit. Her stomach was practically glued to her spine.
In that state... handing over precious rations was enough to dispel her suspicions on its own. Even more so, the gesture of biting into it first to avoid needless mistrust played its part.
As Adalin slowly savored the jerky, Liberatus watched her and asked, "Then, while you eat, could you share your story?"
"My story? It won't be anything special."
Adalin glanced at him curiously, still chewing.
"How you survived in Byenta like this... Anything, even the small details."
"It's not really something to hide..."
Adalin nodded slightly, swallowed her bite, and began her tale.
Should I start with the basics about myself? What do you want to hear first? I already said my name... Adalin Cielm.
Oh. The slave brand. Yeah, my so-called comrades... those damn bastards stabbed me in the back.
What kind of betrayal? You hear it all the time among mercenaries when things get slow.
Mercenaries? Ah. Guess I should start there.
I was a mercenary. Didn't have the slave brand back then either.
Sure, erosion beasts have been a mess lately, but a few years ago, it wasn't this bad, right? Work dried up for mercenaries... The half-decent ones could scrape by, but the rest starved.
That's when even mercenaries started backstabbing their own for a meal. Didn't think it'd happen to me.
Anyway, those "comrades" knocked me out and sold me to a Byenta slave trader.
What, no rough treatment? Oh, I got plenty. Can't you see the brand? Pure agony.
Ah, not that? Surprisingly, no. They planned to sell me as merchandise, so the ex-comrades delivered me in top condition.
Even after the slave traders, no real abuse. Buyers in Byenta with enough coin don't want used goods. Especially not for sex slaves.
But I'd rather die than that, so I went berserk, resisting like mad. Hurt one of their customers in the process.
That customer was some psycho pervert who suddenly wanted me as a fighting slave. Next thing I know, I'm in the arena.
And get this—I was way better than they expected. Not knight-level, but top gladiator slave.
Treatment improved, no more slave grinding. Good up to there.
But my nature rebelled eventually. I craved freedom, wandering wild. No money, short on food? Fine, as long as I was free.
Searched for escape every day, but they wouldn't let their cash cow go. Tried running a few times, no luck. Gave up.
Right then... why not just die spectacularly in the arena? That's when the erosion rift opened.
Dunno exactly, but about a month ago? Total chaos.
No defenses? What defenses? Lawless thugs and mercenaries—no structure. Everyone bolted to save their skins.
I got left behind. Escape seemed impossible anyway. My "masters" all got eaten by erosion beasts.
I'm decent in a fight, so I beheaded a few trying to kill me and scrambled for safety. Panicking survivors drew the beasts' attention, letting me find this basement.
Luckily a food store—decent rations and water. But it's gone now, hence this mess. Filthy, unwashed.
Then you guys showed up.
By the time Adalin finished, she had wolfed down her fifth piece of jerky.
Liberatus and his five disciples listened with a touch of pity in their eyes, but they quickly averted their gazes, knowing it would be rude to pity someone for what they saw as trivial.
Adalin seemed pleased by this, her expression softening as she spoke again. "Anyway, that's how it went. Just a dime-a-dozen tale you hear anywhere."
"Doesn't sound that common..." Liberatus murmured.
Adalin glanced at him and asked, "So, what now for me?"
"You'll travel with us."
"Just like that?"
"They're on knight errantry anyway. Saving someone along the way is a bonus."
"For real? So I'm saved?"
"Yeah."
Liberatus smiled, and Adalin sighed in relief.
The six knights and one ex-mercenary promptly left Byenta. As they departed, Adalin wore an especially happy smile. She was finally escaping the city she despised most—the one she had longed to flee.
Istradim fussed over Adalin the whole way. No one knew why, but it seemed her way of showing goodwill.
"Adalin. Here, eat this."
"Huh? Oh. Thanks."
"How old are you, Adalin?"
"Age? Around twenty-three, I guess?"
"You're older than us then. We're all twenty. Drop the formalities."
"Got it. So, what's your name?"
Adalin switched to casual speech effortlessly.
"Istradim. Istradim Seta."
"Sounds kinda old-fashioned."
The two chatted amiably. Kyle and the other four disciples gawked—they'd never seen Istradim so friendly from the start.
"First time seeing her warm up to someone instantly," Kyle muttered. Orpina, Parrel, and Hidea nodded in agreement.
"Must've foreseen something?"
Three years with Istradim had convinced them of her visions. Too many examples.
"She'll handle it. Hey, Parrel. Why do you keep glancing over there?"
Hidea grumbled, and Parrel responded awkwardly. "Huh? Oh?"
"Jealous 'cause Istradim's interested?"
"N-no. Just curious..."
Parrel, devoid of his vengeful gladiator glare, fidgeted under Hidea's gaze.
Three years together. People grow close through training and proximity—especially at that age, with attractive partners. It'd be weirder if no feelings stirred.
Kyle and Orpina were already lovers, but Hidea and Parrel were rocky. Parrel was clueless about romance.
Hidea found him frustrating, pushing aggressively, but he was denser than expected. She grew anxious as progress stalled, snapping at any glance elsewhere.
Parrel was just intrigued by Istradim's behavior.
While they whispered, Istradim asked Adalin about her future. "If you reach safety, what'll you do?"
"Dunno. Mercenary work again? All I know is killing."
"...No thought of becoming a knight?"
"Knight? Me? A brute like this?"
"I was a street urchin. Master took me in."
"...Really?"
"Yes."
"Still, not for me."
"Why?"
"Too many rules. I like wandering free. Not tied down."
"We're not that strict. Training's voluntary."
"Hm... But do I even have the skill?"
"Easy to check."
Liberatus interjected. "...Pardon?"
"If you're qualified, would you consider knighthood?"
He recalled Istradim's words: their final comrade. The knight to rout the erosion beasts.
Her prophecies never missed. He had to recruit Adalin.
"B-but rules and all...?"
"Imperial Knights don't restrict freedom much under my influence."
"...Really?"
"Yes. Plenty of free time. Wander with my permission—if you have the skill."
"Hm..."
Adalin pondered, intrigued.
"Think it over seriously. As a mercenary, you know the weak's plight best. In the Imperial Knights, no more suffering. More freedom overall."
"...That's tempting."
As Adalin bit, Liberatus smiled faintly.