Slave and Master

Reed's answer left Raphal visibly bewildered.

"Hmm. Are you truly certain about Shaka?"

"Yes."

"Well, now… to choose Shaka over Nadja."

Reed remained resolute. What he needed by his side was an escort to raise a shield against danger, not a maid to sweep the floor and handle domestic chores. Beastkin or not, someone as slender and delicate as Nadja hardly inspired confidence in a fight.

More than that, Reed's naturally suspicious nature smelled something foul in Raphal's proposal.

There's no such thing as a free meal in this world. What hidden defect does that woman have?

Reed had only two gold coins to his name, and merchants were a breed who would never willingly take a loss. If Nadja were truly as exceptional as Raphal claimed, she would never be sold at such a clearance price.

Money never lied. It was always people who did.

"Hah. Will you truly not regret this? Stumbling upon a high-tier slave like Nadja is a stroke of luck that rarely comes knocking twice." Raphal pressed him repeatedly, radiating an unmistakable eagerness to pawn Nadja off by any means necessary.

Yet the harder he pushed, the firmer Reed's conviction grew.

"I appreciate the concern, but my mind is made up."

"Hnngh… very well, then. Shaka! Come over here."

Smacking his lips in sour disappointment, Raphal called the lizardman forward. Shaka strode over with long, deliberate steps. Clad in a loose shirt and leather shorts over bare feet, the lizardman cut a remarkably imposing figure. Seen up close, the dense, corded muscle layered across his frame was strikingly evident.

He had the physique of a thoroughly conditioned warrior. Yet his vacant gaze and the tongue that darted out at random intervals lent him an undeniably dim-witted air.

"Greet him, Shaka. He's your new master."

"Greetings. Me, Shaka."

"I'm Reed. Pleased to work with you."

"Understood, Reed. Feed belly full, me follow you."

"You insolent brute! Didn't I drill it into your head to address him as Master?!"

As Raphal bellowed in outrage, Shaka merely blinked his dull, unbothered eyes. Reed offered a faint, wry smile.

"It's fine. I'm far more comfortable being called by my name anyway."

"Whew. My apologies, sir. He's frightfully thick in the head… but so long as you keep his belly full, he carries out whatever orders he's given without a single complaint. Well then, Shaka! This gentleman has purchased you, meaning your debt is officially cleared."

"Understood."

"A debt?" Reed asked, glancing between them.

"Somehow he caught wind of my business and showed up at my doorstep, saying his tribe was starving," Raphal explained. "So I purchased a wagonload of grain on his behalf and dispatched it to them."

"Ah, I see."

A warrior who had walked into bondage purely to feed his starving kin. Reed found himself liking the lizardman warrior already. Of course, building genuine trust would still take time.

With trembling fingers, Reed reached into his coat and produced two gleaming gold coins.

It felt like only yesterday that he had jumped for joy after earning such an astronomical sum. Whenever the thought crossed his mind, he had taken them out, buffed them until they shone like mirrors, and stared at their warm luster with a goofy grin plastered across his face.

Every happy memory associated with that fortune flashed through his mind, and his fingers clamped shut, refusing to open. But Raphal, with seasoned dexterity, smoothly pried Reed's fist apart and snatched the gold away in the blink of an eye.

"Ah…"

A hollow sigh slipped past Reed's lips. It felt as though a gaping hole had been punched straight through his chest. Given how ecstatic their meeting had been, the parting stung all the more bitterly. Yet beneath the pang of loss, a strange sense of relief washed over him.

At least he no longer had to toss and turn at night, terrified that someone might sneak in and steal his hoard.

This really is a worthwhile investment… right?

There was no point in crying over spent coin. All he could do now was hope that the return matched the price.

Raphal handed over a deed certifying Reed's full ownership of Shaka. Bearing Raphal's wax seal, the document also stipulated that the merchant would do everything within his power to ensure the slave did not flee.

"It says here that you guarantee he won't run away. How exactly do you enforce that? Do you place some kind of magical restraining device on him?"

"Hahaha! How could I possibly afford such expensive artifacts on mere slaves? No, I simply know the location of Shaka's tribe."

"And?"

"Should Shaka desert or bring harm to the esteemed mage, his tribe will pay the price in his stead. You may rest easy on that account."

"……"

Raphal uttered the chilling threat with a pleasant, breezy smile.

Only then did Reed fully grasp the reality: the genial old man standing before him was not some kindly grandfather, but a cold-blooded slaver who bought and sold living people for profit.

He isn't bluffing.

If a slave betrayed a buyer, Raphal would make their family and relatives bleed for it. Because the slaves knew this, they stayed faithful to their contracts, and clients traded with Raphal without fear of betrayal.

Though Raphal's ruthless methods sent a shiver down Reed's spine, they brought an odd measure of comfort as well. At the very least, the likelihood of Shaka driving a knife into his back was slim to none.

This is how Raphal survives in the Western Demon ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Realm.

Forge trust through terror. Realizing he had just pocketed another grim lesson in frontier survival, Reed managed a bittersweet smile. Raphal, too, restored his customer-friendly demeanor and beamed warmly.

"Well then! I certainly hope this marks the beginning of a long and prosperous relationship!"

"Yes. Thank you."

As the two concluded their business, Shaka, who had been staring blankly into space, tracked a fly buzzing nearby with his unblinking eyes. His tongue shot forward in an instantaneous blur, snatching the insect out of midair and gulping it down whole.

…It was, without exaggeration, blindingly fast.

Once Reed and Shaka departed, an absolute stillness settled over the room.

Raphal clamped his mouth shut, cautiously shifting his gaze sideways. The blushing, flower-like innocence that had adorned Nadja's face only moments before was gone without a trace. She now rested her chin on one hand, her expression vacant and hollow.

Even a plaster mask would have conveyed more human emotion than the dead chill upon her features.

"What a shame. I was looking forward to keeping a mage as my personal hound this time. To think he walked away when a prize like me was offered for a measly two gold coins. Why did he turn it down? Does the brat have sharp instincts?"

At her icy murmuring, Raphal dropped to both knees and pressed his forehead against the floorboards. The composure he had displayed earlier vanished entirely, replaced by raw terror that beaded cold sweat across his pale skin.

"Forgive me! I should have guided him more persuasively. Please, punish your worthless servant!"

Prostrated like a wretched dog before its sovereign, Raphal trembled. Nadja did not spare him so much as a glance, sinking deeper into the cushions of her chair.

"How irritating. Now it looks as if I lost to that dim-witted lizard."

"S-Shall I have the lizard disposed of right now? And then, under the guise of an apology, summon the mage back here—"

"Ha! And what if pulling such a blatant stunt draws unwanted eyes? You know how touchy the knights have been lately, yet you dare spew such drivel?"

"F-Forgive my insolence!"

Nadja tapped her index finger against the wooden armrest, muttering under her breath.

"Those meddlesome pests make it impossible to maneuver freely. I need more power after all. Which means… sacrifices. If I offer living tributes, far greater power will be mine."

She drifted into silent contemplation. In the gathering gloom, the candles guttered and died, plunging the chamber into suffocating dark. Yet Raphal remained pinned to the cold floor, not daring to rise.

His master had not given him leave to move.

Reed brought Shaka back to his living quarters. The room was undeniably cramped for two grown individuals, but with his purse thoroughly drained, Reed could hardly afford separate lodging.

Besides, hiring a bodyguard only to lodge him elsewhere defeated the entire purpose.

Once I scrape together more money, getting a larger place comes first. And if I save even more, I can buy a plot of land.

Then he could build a house with his own two hands.

Building a home on his very own soil! While Reed basked in the sweet daydream, Shaka stood nearby with an oblivious expression, his tongue occasionally flicking out.

Perching on the edge of the bed, Reed addressed him.

"Alright, Shaka. You seem to understand the Imperial tongue fairly well. That right?"

"Your words. Raphal. Taught me."

Basic communication seemed entirely feasible.

"Your duties going forward are simple. Stick close to me and keep me safe. Given the nature of my craft, I'll be traveling frequently, often far outside city walls. We'll run into our fair share of hazards, and when that happens, you fight alongside me."

From laying residential foundations to erecting bridges and raising fortress bastions in remote frontiers, the demand for stonemasons was endless. An itinerant existence was practically a prerequisite of the trade.

Indeed, shedding the title of Apprentice in the Stonemasons' Union to attain the rank of Journeyman required completing an extended journey through distant lands.

It was a trial meant to temper young, unpolished artisans with real-world experience.

Naturally, the road was fraught with peril—especially out here in the Western Demon Realm.

For that very reason, Reed had no intention of mistreating Shaka. It ran counter to his principles anyway, but mistreating the bodyguard expected to shield his life in a crisis was sheer idiocy.

"Whenever we face combat, a share of whatever spoils we claim will go to you. You can save that coin to send back to your tribe, or use it to buy out your slave deed altogether."

It was a generous yet perfectly rational offer. Motivation always followed tangible rewards, and dangling such terms would ensure Shaka fought with genuine devotion.

Yet Shaka merely tilted his scaled head, as though uncertain whether he had grasped the concept, before speaking in his raspy voice.

"Me follow Reed. It promise. Promise must keep."

"Is that so? Do lizardmen have a code about honoring vows, or something like that?"

Shaka looked at him with genuine curiosity.

"Reed hair brown. Human hair, all brown?"

"…Well, no."

"Same thing. My people, all different. Tribe is tribe. Shaka is Shaka. One who keeps promise is me."

"……"

The quiet wisdom behind the reply struck Reed dumb. Even within human society, where petty discrimination flared over mere skin tones, people harbored sweeping generalizations about other races.

Wolf beastkin were savage and volatile.

Lizardmen were thickheaded brutes.

Such notions were treated not as prejudice, but as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠common sense. Yet Shaka's blunt words carried a clarity of insight that transcended such ignorance.

Is he actually smarter than I thought?

As Reed stared in surprise, Shaka's eyes drifted back into their habitual dull stupor. He snapped his tongue out toward a crawling insect on the wooden wall, swallowed it down, and turned his blank stare back to Reed.

The display was so hopelessly dopey that Reed couldn't begin to fathom which side of him was the truth.

"…Well, bringing you along was definitely the right call. At least we won't have pests crawling around. That beastkin Nadja looked like she couldn't squish a bug to save her life."

"Nadja?"

For the first time, the vacant lizardman reacted with sudden gravity.

"Nadja. Smells."

"Smells? That's rather rude."

"Dangerous smell. Do not go near."

A dangerous smell? All Reed had detected from her was a faint, pleasant perfume, but perhaps lizardmen possessed different sensory faculties.

I didn't sense anything particularly hazardous, though.

Reed opened his mouth to press further, but Shaka had already reverted to his usual unreadable daze. Faced with the lizardman's mercurial demeanor, Reed merely shrugged.

What did it matter, anyway? It wasn't as though he would ever cross paths with her again.

Reed brushed the lingering doubt from his mind.

Shaka's weapons of choice were a stout wooden spear and a brightly painted round shield. As the lizardman strode behind ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Reed with gear in hand, pedestrians instinctively parted to clear a wide path.

Reed caught the distinct glimmer of wariness and dread in their eyes.

While many shrank back from Shaka, quite a few directed glances of eager curiosity toward Reed himself.

All this fuss just because I picked up a single guard?

Contrary to Reed's assumption, their reactions were not entirely about Shaka.

"Who is that? Some wealthy young master?"

"Ah, I know him! That's the mage who raised a mountain from the earth when fighting off the Fishmen!"

"What? Are you out of your mind?"

"Better watch your step around him. Rumor has it a bunch of back-alley thugs tried jumping him, and they ended up beaten half to death with shattered bones."

Mages were bound to draw attention wherever they walked.

Surviving a desperate clash against the Fishmen. Slaying a Crystal Kobold. Thoroughly thrashing a crew of muggers. Word of Reed's exploits had steadily rippled throughout Morasil.

It wasn't a bad development. In this harsh frontier, commanding respect and a healthy dose of fear was vastly safer than being looked down upon as an easy mark.

Proof that I'm doing things right.

Carrying a swelling sense of pride, Reed pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the Stonemasons' Union early that morning.

"Good morning, everyone."

"Oh, Reed! You're here?"

"Morning, lad!"

The masons, universally shirtless as was their custom, offered boisterous greetings. They flinched briefly upon sighting Shaka looming behind him, but accepted Reed's brief explanation without batting an eye.

"Well, stands to reason. A mage is a precious asset."

"Honestly, walking around alone until now was the strange part."

Guiding Shaka along, Reed took a seat beside Loty, who was hunched in a quiet corner. Loty shrank back slightly, visibly unnerved by the towering lizardman.

"So… you hired an escort. But why a lizardman of all things?"

"Is there an issue with that?"

"N-No, forget it. More importantly, Meister Anton is going to be occupied for a while."

"Pardon? Really?"

"A critical commission came in, so he doesn't have the leeway to teach us right now. The Meister told me to pass along his apologies."

"No, there's no need for him to apologize…"

Though he spoke graciously, Reed clicked his tongue in quiet regret. He had been eager to soak up as much wisdom as possible from Meister Anton.

"Then what are we supposed to do?"

"Who knows? We'll probably get assigned to minor tasks alongside another journeyman. We just have to sit tight for now."

With that, Loty unfolded a broadsheet densely packed with tiny print. Reed blinked, staring at him in bewilderment.

"…What's that?"

"Hm? A newspaper."

"A newspaper? Wait, Loty… you know how to read?"

A passing craftsman chuckled heartily at the question.

"He may not look like much, but Loty's the son of a fairly well-off merchant family. Of course he knows how to read!"

"WHAAAT?!"

"What's with that face?! Why are you so shocked?! Is it really that mind-blowing that I can read?!"

To Reed, it was downright revolutionary. In all the time he had worked alongside Loty, not once had he sensed the faintest aura of an educated intellectual about the man.

Saying as much aloud would be terribly rude, of course, and bound to bruise Loty's pride—though Reed's sheer disbelief had already bruised it plenty. Reed smoothed his expression into an awkward smile.

"Being able to read is truly impressive. More than that, I didn't know they had newspapers out here in the frontier."

"Yeah. They only started showing up in the Demon Realm recently."

Thanks to the invention of movable printing presses and advancements in papermaking techniques, Imperial culture was evolving at breakneck speed.

Where books had once been exclusive luxuries reserved for high nobility, the burgeoning middle class could now obtain volumes with relative ease if they set their minds to it.

Riding that transformative wave, newspaper culture had expanded rapidly.

"It all kicked off when the Pioneers Guild began circulating an informational bulletin called the Western Pioneer Regular Guide. It was packed with frontier survival advice, bizarre incidents, and useful regional updates, and the thing became an absolute hit."

Following that success, rival publishing houses sprouted like mushrooms after rain, fiercely competing for readership. Even using cheap pulp paper, newspapers were by no means cheap.

However, because the Stonemasons' Union maintained subscriptions to several periodicals, guild members could pass the copies around free of charge.

"If you want to maintain a baseline level of culture, you'd do well to read the Western Pioneer Regular Guide and Weekly Morasil. Otherwise, you won't even be able to follow conversations with decent folk."

It was remarkably sensible advice, especially coming from Loty. There was just one small snag.

"The thing is… I don't know how to read."

"What? Wait, aren't you a mage?"

"I am."

"Aren't mages supposed to be ridiculously smart and all that…?"

Popular depictions of mages were varied and colorful: mysterious sages, sagacious advisors, or treacherous schemers who spun silver tongues to bewitch the gullible.

Yet no matter the stereotype, universal consensus held that mages were brilliant intellectuals.

Small wonder Loty looked as though his reality had shattered.

A mage who couldn't even read? How was that even possible?

Flushing crimson with acute embarrassment, Reed felt his deep-seated inferiority complex regarding his lack of formal education rearing its head.

"Well… life was rather hectic, so…"

"Uh, right. Too busy mastering spells, I take it?"

"Y-Yeah, something like that."

Seeing Reed squirm, Loty casually shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, we've got time to kill anyway. How about I teach you?"

"Wait, really?"

"You saved my life back there, didn't you? A man pays his debts."

Reed had been agonizing over how to find a tutor to teach him letters as quickly as possible. He had briefly considered asking Smith, but doing so would effectively expose that he wasn't an orthodox, academy-trained mage, forcing him to abandon the idea.

With Loty, however, there was no such danger.

We're brothers under the same roof.

They belonged to the same guild, and while Loty had a penchant for running his mouth, he wasn't the sort of scoundrel to carelessly peddle Reed's private secrets.

Overwhelmed with gratitude, Reed grabbed Loty's hand with both of his and shook it fervently.

"Senior…! You're surprisingly wonderful, aren't you?"

"Could you leave out the 'surprisingly' part? Good grief."

Loty spread the broadsheet across the wooden bench so Reed could get a clear view. Watching the paper settle, Reed's chest swelled with an intoxicating flutter of anticipation.

Actual studying!

In his past life, circumstances had never afforded Reed the luxury of real education. Exhausting days spent on punishing construction sites meant that even when he dragged himself to school, fatigue dragged his eyelids down into unconsciousness.

Even that meager schooling had ended the moment he finished middle school; he had never experienced proper academic study.

His second life, born into the squalor of the city slums, went without saying.

Because of that deprivation, the prospect of learning something academic filled him with immense excitement.

It isn't that I lacked the brains, I just lacked the opportunity! Who knows, maybe I'm a natural genius at book learning! What if I master it so fast that senior gets completely flabbergasted?

While Reed swam in his grand daydreams, Loty waved a hand back and forth before his glazed eyes.

"Hey. You listening?"

"Yes! All ears!"

"Since it's day one, let's start by getting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠your eyes used to the letters. I'll read the text aloud, and you focus on matching the sounds to the shapes on the page. Got it?"

"Yes, Senior!"

Slightly unnerved by Reed's burning, almost fanatical zeal, Loty cleared his throat and pointed his finger at the leading column of the front page.

"Alright, here goes: 'May boundless glory be upon His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor, rightful ruler of the Empire.'"

"May… bound… less… glo… ry… be… up… on… His… Im… pe… ri… al…"

"'Recently, the activities of Demon Worshippers have grown increasingly rampant. Accordingly, the Morasil Governor's Palace has declared an intensive crackdown period…'"

"Re… cent… ly… de… mon…"

Reed's initial, vigorous chants gradually dissolved into a sluggish mumble. Slowly, his heavy eyelids drooped shut.

Suddenly jolting awake, Reed snapped his spine straight as a ramrod.

"Gasp! Ah, forgive me, Senior! My eyes must have slipped shut for just a second."

Loty stared at him with an expression of pure, unadulterated disbelief, before slowly turning his head toward the guild hall window.

"…A second?"

Beyond the glass, the crimson sun was already dipping beneath the western horizon.