Picking Up a Slave (1)
“Hey, 4885. That's you, isn't it?”
The situation was on the edge of a knife.
There's no getting out of this one.
There was no room left to retreat. I slowly turned my head.
“……!”
And the moment our eyes met—
“Just as I thought, 4885! It is you!”
The guard flashed a smile as bright as noonday sun, drawing a set of chains from his belt.
“Haha! You dirty dog. Did you think I wouldn't find you just because you ran? Get down. Now, you little bastard.”
Audacity
“Still haven't figured out who's who?”
I clicked my tongue and answered with lazy confidence.
“You lunatic! ‘Figured out’? Did rolling around in that carriage rattle your brain? If you don't want a beating that'll kill you, get down!”
“I really can't listen to another word of this. I say, guard! Does this noble gentleman truly look like a prisoner to you? If so, your eyes must be crooked indeed!”
Brozo stepped squarely in front of the carriage, blocking the guard from climbing in, and I seized the moment to add my own words.
“Let me ask you one thing. Why do you believe I'm that man?”
“Because—because you look identical, of course!”
“And you're certain of that?”
“…Certain?”
“I'm asking whether you are truly certain that I look identical to the prisoner you speak of.”
“C-certain, yes!”
I let out a single sigh and crossed my arms.
“Then wouldn't some part of his body have to be bound?”
“H-he must have been unbound somehow!”
“As I understand it, criminals these days are restrained with Mana Sealing Chains. Are you suggesting I removed those of my own free will?”
“……Someone must have helped him.”
“A powerless merchant? Or the mercenary standing behind him?”
“W-well, that's…!”
Cold sweat began to bead on the man's forehead. Having waited for exactly this, I spoke with icy disdain, my expression haughty.
“So, with no evidence whatsoever—trusting nothing but your single-celled memory—you searched the carriage I was riding in. Am I correct?”
“N-no, that's not it, it's definitely him, but…”
Wavering now, the guard muttered and tilted his head, visibly confused. I pressed him without giving him a moment to breathe.
“What is your name?”
“B-Bin…, sir.”
He'd begun to sweat bullets, because his speech suddenly turned respectful.
“Kneel.”
“Wh-what?”
“I said kneel—before I decide to strike that blockhead neck of yours.”
“But… it was definitely him, sir.”
The man froze, hesitation written across his panicked face.
“His Lordship told you to kneel, you bastard.”
One of the mercenaries watching from behind slammed the man down by his shoulders.
“Kgh—!”
Crack.
His knees hit the floor, forced down against his will.
I spoke with practiced indifference.
“Insulting a noble is a capital offense. By strict principle, the law of the royal capital demands I execute you here and now. But even an uncivilized wretch like you must have contributed something to this kingdom, so I shall overlook it—this once.”
Even as I said it, I surprised myself.
Had I always been this good with words?
And flowing with such effortless nobility, at that?
“P-please, just let it slide this once! I believe our friend here simply isn't feeling himself today!”
A voice called out from a blind spot outside the carriage—likely one of the guard's comrades.
“Remove this man from my sight. I can't stand the sight of him.”
“Y-yes, my lord! Right away!”
And so the man was dragged away by his fellow guard, limp as a rag.
Holy crap… I survived.
Watching him go, I exhaled a breath of relief inside. Apparently I had a talent for acting—I'd never known.
If things had gone even slightly differently, I might have suffered the disaster of being captured after coming all this way.
“Truly, every sort of thing happens to you, doesn't it? You must have been inconvenienced—are you quite all right?”
“I'm fine. More importantly, let's get moving.”
Before those bastards come back.
“Understood. We depart at once.”
The carriage set off once more toward its destination.
Neigh—!
The carriage rolled to a stop, and at last I left the forest behind and arrived at my destination: the city of Riverius.
“It was a humble carriage, but it was an honor to serve you!”
Brozo bowed deeply at the waist.
“If fate allows, we shall meet again.”
I gave him a suitably casual reply.
“Yes, I'll be on my way then.”
“Three months from now.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You'd do well to stock up on iron.”
Loath to part like this, I had decided to leave him one small gift.
“What do you…?”
“Until we meet again.”
“……”
I turned away sharply, leaving him standing there lost in a daze.
That kid's going to be bowing toward my direction four times a day before long.
Three months from now, an event would send the price of iron skyrocketing dozens of times over. If he'd listened to me, he'd have made an absolute fortune.
Well, the choice was Brozo's to make.
Consider the debt for the ride paid in full.
“Th-thank you—! I've also prepared a small gift for you, Lord Gerard!”
“……”
At the word gift, I briefly considered turning back—but I didn't.
It would've been beneath my dignity, wouldn't it?
“I slipped it in beforehand, knowing you wouldn't accept it! Then, I wish you a pleasant journey!”
Brozo's voice faded behind me. He'd said he'd put something inside, and I was sorely tempted to sneak a peek into my coat—but I barely resisted.
He might still be watching, after all.
If I'm playing the noble, I might as well play it to the end.
Only after walking a good long while did I glance back once, then rummage through my pocket. Something was in there—I fished it out and found a money pouch. Checking the contents, I counted five gold coins.
This bastard….
“If you're going to give, give ten.”
For a merchant, he was surprisingly stingy.
I could confidently claim to know nearly everything there was to know about the game Death Knight.
But that had only ever been true of graphics on a monitor screen. What do I mean by that?
Finally found it….
Simply this: a handful of pixels and a real, living city are two entirely different things.
A distance that should have taken three minutes to walk took upwards of thirty. Even standing in places I recognized, the details were different enough that I began to doubt whether I was actually where I thought I was.
Creeeak.
I flung open the door of a tavern built from weathered old timber, and in the same instant a noxious stench of tobacco and booze stabbed at my nose.
Stings, doesn't it.
And on top of that came the crowd's shameless, lingering stares.
Playing it cool, I sauntered toward the man who appeared to be the establishment's owner.
“One beer.”
“Not from around here, are you.”
The barkeep set a frothy mug down in front of me with a solid thunk.
“Dressed like a noble, and yet no escort knight in tow. What business brings you to a place like this?”
“None of your concern.”
“You'd best be careful, friend. This city has more lowlifes than you'd imagine. Someone like you—wandering alone at night—is a target just waiting to be plucked.”
“Appreciate the advice.”
It was a common enough occurrence in the original game, too. Wander without party members, or wear low-level armor, and you became fair game for bandits and street gangs. Your only options were to kill them or run for your life.
I'd rather pass on all that.
My defense stat was absurdly high, sure, but that was all it was. Being an elephant in hide does a fat lot of good when your strength is that of a kitten.
Well—probably not for much longer.
Which was precisely why I'd come to this place.
“I'm looking for someone.”
“This isn't a person-finding service. It's a bar.”
I pulled a single gold coin from my coat and set it on the table. The man's eyebrow arched at once.
“The slave merchant Bilbeckman. Don't tell me you don't know him.”
“And why would you be looking for a slave merchant?”
“Is there any other reason to look for one?”
“Follow me.”
The man glanced around the room once, then beckoned. I followed him out through the tavern's back door, and the noisy bustle of the street fell silent in an instant.
We'd walked some way down the alley when the man crouched and swept a layer of dirt off the ground. What appeared beneath was a door—an underground entrance.
“Go down, keep going straight, and turn right at the corner.”
With that, he was gone in a flash.
Would've taken me forever to find this on my own, huh?
Money really does talk. If not for Brozo, I'd probably have suffered quite a bit just locating this place.
I lifted the underground door open and descended the stairs without hesitation.
It's pitch black down here.
You'd think they'd keep a few torches stocked—one misstep and tumbling headlong down the stairs was only a matter of time. Fortunately, once I reached the bottom, torches had been set along the underground passage.
He said turn right, I believe.
Rounding the corner, I came upon iron bars—the kind you'd use to cage wild beasts. And standing firmly beside them was a single man.
Him, I take it.
Bilbeckman, the slave merchant. In the game, he'd been a piece of trash who captured demi-humans and sold them as slaves.
“Well, it's been an age since we had a customer! Welcome, welcome!”
The man shot up from his seat.
“Perhaps you're looking for a particular piece of merchandise?”
I drew close and spoke.
“I'm looking for a girl. A beastkin.”
“Ah, so that's the Lordship's taste, is it? You've come to the right place. I've got a few absolutely exquisite specimens on hand.”
Saying so, the man yanked back a cloth covering—and there, behind bars fit for caging beasts, sat the people imprisoned within.
“Take your pick of whichever catches your eye.”
“I shall.”
Arms crossed, I swept my gaze across the slaves' faces. From children not yet fully grown all the way to adults—a decent range of ages, thankfully.
But the one I was looking for wasn't among them.
Not her.
Not her either.
Not her, either.
“Is this all of them?”
At my sigh, the man flinched.
“Haha… my apologies, but this is the entirety of our current stock. Do none of them please you?”
“No beastkin with gray hair?”
“Gray hair, you say. There is one, but…”
Bilbeckman's expression darkened in an instant.
“…Her training isn't finished yet, so she can't be sold as merchandise.”
“Training?”
“Yes, my lord. Any merchandise worth its price is, after all, a toy that moves exactly as its master wishes. That process is what we call training—but she resisted far too fiercely, which makes her rather difficult to sell.”
“Take me to her.”
“You'll regret it. She has no value as a product.”
“I don't care.”
“Quite the unusual taste you have, my lord. Very well—follow me.”
The man chuckled, regarding me with a look of understanding.
“Shall I prepare a whip for you as well?”
“Silence.”
“Yes, my lord.”
And so, following the man, I descended into the deeper levels of the underground.