Chapter 5
Chapter 5
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Wolf Girl, Roca
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Everything will turn out fine.
Because He stands behind me.
Because the Lord watches over my back.
Looking back, I've lived a remarkably easy life.
'Even after leaving the village with Yurinel, I've never once been short on money.'
Never abundant, but never lacking either.
Whenever money needed to be spent, money would come in. When a large sum was suddenly required, an opportunity to earn a big payout would arise—like a major quest opening up, or encountering a monster that dropped expensive byproducts.
'Whether that's the Lord's will or not, I can't say.'
Whether the gods were watching over me, or it was merely a string of coincidences.
I never knew, and I never asked the Lord.
I knew He wouldn't answer even if I did.
Human lives are for humans to live, and gods merely lend a hand from time to time.
I wasn't worried about having one more guest in the house because I still had money left over—and because I knew He wouldn't let this child go hungry.
“What's your name?”
Ears the color of lapis lazuli poked sharply up from atop her head.
The child gave no answer. She simply shrank back into the corner.
I started to reach out a hand, then held back. The child wasn't ready yet. Forcing a conversation could only wound her further.
'A child who lived as a slave.'
Slaves aren't people. They're nothing more than tools shaped like humans.
People arrive empty-handed and leave empty-handed, but slaves must remain empty-handed even in life. They own nothing. Not even themselves.
'Only by treating them as people can you restore them to being people.'
The way to calm those mistreated as less than human is to treat them as people.
I had no intention of using the child as a slave. Someday, I would remove that collar restraining her power. My Lord wishes humanity to possess freedom and will.
The One I serve does not bless humans alone.
All living things can receive His blessing. That was one reason I was expelled from Yurinel's party. Unlike the holy power of the Three Main Gods, mine had no effect on demons.
It worked well against the curses they cast, wicked black magic, and soul-rending grand spells.
But it was powerless against the demons themselves. Because my god does not hate them.
And yet I follow Him because
I know He is, at the very least, no evil god.
Of course, it's absurd from the start for a mere human like me to divide Him into good and evil with my paltry morals.
In any case, the child needed time.
Time to treat as a person someone who, never treated as one, sees herself as beneath people—and thereby restore her to personhood.
“Do you like cream stew?”
Until the child was ready and opened the door to me of her own accord.
I would simply watch over her. Just as my god watched over me.
*****
A child born with the potential of the sun.
A child born bearing the magic of the moon.
The tribe's future leader, superior to all others.
I was once a flower expected to bloom in splendor.
“You will lead our Blue Wolf tribe.”
Father would always say that while stroking my head,
and my siblings would gaze at me with jealous eyes.
But even the most brilliantly risen full moon eventually wanes to a dark new moon.
Before I could unfurl a single petal, the good days ended. A human army attacked the village. The villagers fought bravely, but they were no match for the humans.
Mages who set the entire forest ablaze.
Cavalry charging in on horseback.
Soldiers who charged on and on, no matter how many were slain. Archers loosing arrows from beyond the reach of our teeth.
They were desperate to kill us.
-Kill them. Kill them. This time, drive these beasts from the mountains for good.
-So they can never prey on us again.
-So they can never eye our ranch cattle and sheep again.
-Fight and triumph. Kill them all. Drive out humanity's enemies!
Father, facing that hatred and resentment, merely smiled in sorrow.
As always, he stroked my head and said,
“It was bound to come someday. It's the burden I must bear.”
“Father. Why are they trying to kill us like this?”
“Because we killed them and stole their property, my child.”
Once, these plains and mountains had no owners. Bison roamed the plains, boars wandered the hills. They became our prey. But when humans advanced into these lands, everything changed. They burned the mountains to make farmland and drove the beasts to other peaks.
Those that could be tamed, they domesticated and penned in ranches.
The beasts grew ever scarcer, and we were forced to starve. As the tribe's chieftain, Father made a painful decision: raid the humans' ranches to hunt their cattle, sheep, and pigs.
Those who lost their property took up spears and swords in rage to defend the ranches.
The next raid brought casualties. Our side bled, and so did theirs.
That trickle of blood became a river that swallowed us all. The humans organized an army and hired mercenaries. They spent fortunes to summon mages and assault the tribe.
“The children and women flee. We'll buy them time.”
“Chieftain... we can't allow that. We'll hold this place. You must flee as well.”
“Nonsense. This calamity stems from my decision. This war stems from my choice. Remember this: a wolf never flees from the consequences of its decisions.”
Father died. I don't know how.
I fled without even confirming the manner of his death.
It was a futile struggle. That day, the human band pursued us fleeing ones and caught up.
They hurled iron nets to bind us, thrust spears, and swung axes. They meant to slaughter us all. But someone intervened, and the children survived.
“It's too great a loss. We should sell these beasts as slaves to make up for it, no?”
“But we can't spare the big ones. I lost family to those bastards!”
“The young ones are blameless. Let's at least sell them. We need to buy new cattle and sheep, replace the dead herding dogs, and pay the mercenaries too.”
Mother died. My aunts died, every one. My grown sisters died too.
They beat them with clubs and kicked them until they died. We children, who at first raged and screamed, later only begged and begged. Pleaded not to be killed.
But it was mere beastly howling to them.
Kicks were all that came our way.
To them, we were nothing but beasts. They penned us in a stable and sold us to a slaver.
Until we were sold off, they beat us whenever they grew bored. Some children were struck with hot pokers.
Being whipped across the back with horse-lashes was routine. In truth, the slaver handled us mercifully by comparison.
Even if it was mere mercy to package the merchandise,
mercy was still mercy.
Even having lost our freedom, collared at the neck, shackled at the feet, and confined to a dark cell,
I was still happy. Because the beatings had stopped.
They gave us roughly roasted mutton from sheep so old it reeked of decay, but
even that was a delight. Better than those who tossed us raw carcasses of diseased livestock to tear into. Better than starving so fiercely we chewed on maggot-crawling eyeballs.
I had already become a beast.
A beast that rejoiced at not being beaten.
A beast that felt gratitude for food served on time.
It was no longer a wolf, but no different from a single well-trained farm animal.
“How much for that child?”
“Mr. Rubelt? Here for slaves? That's unusual. For you, cheaper than list price. Just ten gold coins.”
“I wondered why so cheap—it's a beastkin. Beastkin make poor slaves, don't they?”
“Well, whatever happened to her, she came in utterly broken and obeys every word meekly. Raise her like a house guard dog.”
“Hmm...”
Having someone appraise me felt strangely off.
A middle-aged man with a mustache. Did I hope he'd buy me? I did.
I wanted to hear I was exceptional. Even that would help salvage my shattered pride.
Absurd as it sounds, it was true. Anyone would do. I craved praise.
“This is a gift for my benefactor—if she causes trouble, that's a problem for me...”
“Add five gold, and I can embed shock-control magic in the collar.”
“From you saying that, I see she isn't selling well.”
“Well, beastkin have that strong 'beast' image. Not the best sellers. Still, she's fairly pretty, isn't she? If she were human, I'd have priced her three times higher and sold her already.”
The slaver grew chummy.
“Care to see the human slaves instead?”
“No. My benefactor's a priest—he wouldn't like a human gifted as a slave. If this one's good at housework and chores, I'll take her.”
“She's already well-trained. No chance she isn't. Right?”
I nodded over and over, and then I was sold.
He led me to a modest house with a large vegetable garden attached. There, I saw him for the first time. The man who would become my master. The first human to treat me with warmth.
“Do you like cream stew?”
I expected orders to cook, launder, and handle housework, but instead, he even did mine.
The first human to look upon me as a 'person'.
* * *