Northern Expedition (3)
Clink.
The iron chains rattled.
Those dull-colored links bound a life with cruel, crushing weight, stripping away every scrap of freedom. They dragged heavily after every meaningless movement, filling the air with their noise.
Clink— clink—
Follow the chains to their ends and you found the small lives they held. Tiny children huddled together, each wearing shackles far heavier than their own bodies.
Baby fat still clung to their cheeks, yet terror, despair, and raw fear were carved plain across every face. They clutched one another’s little hands and trembled in the corner— a sight that would have drawn tears from any ordinary soul—
Whish— crack!
“You brats! Separate! Get away from each other!”
Unfortunately, the whip that sliced the air possessed no heart capable of pity. That merciless hand knew only primal violence.
The man bellowed and cracked the lash again.
“Kyaaaak!”
“Uwa…!”
The whip hammered the ground and walls around the children, ripping the air with every strike. Even a glancing touch would have shredded their soft skin and snapped their fragile bones like dry twigs.
The children trembled and did exactly as he wanted. They forced their shaking legs to move, scrambling desperately apart until enough distance satisfied him. Only then did the man let out a pleased chuckle.
“Heh heh heh. That’s right— move snappy like that and everything’s fine, yeah?”
He coiled the whip back around his waist with a satisfied smile. Kids this young were easy to handle.
Just crack the whip a few times in the air and they scare themselves into obedience. Grown ones are a whole different headache.
The children sat apart, still shaking. Skin, eyes, hair— nothing matched. Yet they shared one unmistakable trait.
Animal ears and tails growing from their bodies.
The little girl had a cat’s; the boys had wolves’.
No matter how many times I see it, it’s still weird. Animal ears sprouting on people…
The man eyed them with fresh curiosity. Even a man who couldn’t read could tell these children— and the rest of the “merchandise”— were anything but ordinary.
And for a slave trader, extraordinary merchandise meant opportunity.
These would fetch a fortune from some perverted noble or vain new-money fool.
“Heh heh heh. When that day comes, Boss Cagan’ll cut me a fat share, right?”
He already swallowed at the thought of the scraps. The gold would be enormous.
He’d spent nights and days running, swinging blades, dragging escaped slaves back. His contribution to the caravan wasn’t small— a proper cut was only fair.
Imagining glittering coins made his belt feel heavy and satisfying. His eyes, greasy with greed, swept the cell.
As long as I don’t leave marks on the goods themselves, who’ll ever know?
The children crawled frantically, trying to escape his snake-like stare. One particularly pretty little girl caught his eye.
“Kyaaaak! N-no! Kyaaaaak!”
“You little bitch! Shut your mouth!”
Her rough struggle sent his hand toward the whip at his waist. In that instant a boy who had been curled in the corner lunged and sank his teeth into the man’s arm.
“Aaaargh!”
“Ugh…!”
“You— you insolent little shit!”
“Ghk!”
A brutal shove sent the boy flying into the wall. He collapsed, gasping. The girl dragged her chains across the floor, crawling on her knees toward him. The sight was almost comical.
“Therion!”
A piercing scream. So the brat’s name was Therion? Whatever.
“Heh… heh heh. You two know each other? Perfect. I’ll give the girl a nice little experience, and I’ll torment the cocky brat just short of killing him.”
He fumbled at his belt buckle and stepped closer. Even the girl’s terror-stricken face felt like spice seasoning the moment.
Resignation and dread deepened across her features—
Thud—!
“Ghk…?! Uwaaaaagh!!”
A long blade erupted from the man’s chest. Like a bamboo shoot bursting from rain-soaked earth, the steel stake rose straight and high, mercilessly crushing his heart.
“W-who… how…?”
The man trembled, spitting short questions into empty air. Searing agony filled his chest; his mind tangled like knotted thread.
“I’m the reaper come to kill you, you filthy bastard.”
Someone whispered at his ear. Then the deeply buried sword was yanked free.
The man collapsed with a sound like escaping air. The children scooted backward on their bottoms, desperate to put distance between themselves and the sprawled corpse.
The figure holding the blood-dripping sword stood against the light; his face was hard to make out.
“Who… hic! Who… are you?”
One of the braver children asked carefully. Had a knight come to save them?
Above the backlit man’s head, triangular ears stood tall— far larger and sharper than the small, cute wolf ears of the little boys. Adult wolf ears.
Seeing animal ears just like their own, the children kept their guard up yet edged closer.
“Come here, kids.”
The big man hid the bloody sword behind his back and opened his arms. The emblem of the Pantheon glinted at his throat.
“Let’s get you home.”
A former Apostle unit member with wolf ears growing from his head.
The hairy one— Rohan.
After the sudden appearance of his wolf ears, Rohan had transferred to Selina’s direct command and arrived in the North only days earlier. His secret orders:
Rescue the enslaved beastkin. Exterminate the slave traders.
“U-uwaaaaah—!!”
“Mommy, Mommyyy!!”
“Whoa, easy now.”
Only then did the children’s tension break. They threw themselves into Rohan’s arms and burst into tears. He caught them without difficulty and gently patted their backs.
Thankfully, none of them looked injured or sick.
Glad I wasn’t too late.
Rohan let out a quiet sigh of relief.
A few days later, the Northern Expedition arrived in Montegros.
After days of marching, the Northern Expedition finally reached Montegros. Iscal had just begun unpacking his bags in the quarters assigned to him when—
Bang—!
“Iscal! Let’s go eat!”
“Huh? Wait, right now?”
“Yeah, hurry up and follow me. Come on.”
Friga burst in full of energy and dragged him straight out. He hadn’t even finished unpacking, but Iscal had no choice in the matter.
He simply let himself be hauled along.
“My lady! It’s been so long!”
“Oh, Uncle. Long time no see!”
“Lady Friga! Been off hunting somewhere far? Why’s it so hard to catch a glimpse of you?”
“Stuff happened. I’ll tell you later.”
“Whew—! And who’s the gentleman beside you, milady? My, he looks like a decent sort!”
“Sh-shut up!!”
Everyone they met on the street called out greetings without formality, as if they had known her for years.
“You seem close with the common folk, my lady.”
“Well, the land up here is a real pain in the ass. You don’t survive unless everyone pulls together.”
They chatted as they walked and soon found themselves before a massive castle gate. The enormous steel doors loomed; the guards standing watch glared with sharp intensity.
Only then did Iscal realize something was wrong. His pupils began to tremble.
“Uh… my lady? I could’ve sworn you said we were going to eat—”
This was unmistakably the ducal castle, wasn’t it?
He swallowed hard. Cold sweat dampened his palms. The weather was filthy cold— so why was he sweating?
“That’s right. We’re going to eat.”
Friga grinned, corners of her mouth curling up. If her eyes seemed to gleam a little too brightly, it was probably just his imagination.
“At my house.”
“Wh-what?! The ducal residence? You said a famous restaurant!”
“It is a famous restaurant. Our private chef is incredible. He’ll make whatever you want. Come on, come on— let’s get inside.”
“W-w-w-wait a second! At least give me time to prepare myself mentally!”
Friga shoved him forward by the back. His pitiful scream echoed high through the ducal halls.
“Nah. No time for that. Dad hasn’t eaten yet either, so we’re joining him.”
“W-w-w-w-with His Grace the Duke?!”
Iscal’s eyes looked ready to pop from his skull. Eating at the ducal house was already enough to drive a man mad— sharing a table with Duke Lucian?!
Something was very, very wrong.
His back was now soaked in cold sweat. The sensation felt exactly like being dragged naked into a beast’s den. He couldn’t name the danger, yet every instinct screamed that danger was present.
“Hmm~ Hey, what do you want to eat? You like spicy stuff? Our chef makes an unbelievable spicy Grusia stew.”
Whether Iscal was panicking or not, Friga strode ahead with cheerful energy, even humming a little tune as she walked the corridor.
They crossed the hallways and arrived at the reception room. Messengers had already been sent ahead; Duke Lucian would be waiting for them.
Bang—!
Friga flung the doors open with full force.
“Dad! We’re he— …huh…”
Her vigorous greeting trailed off into something smaller. The bright welcome in her eyes filled with confusion.
Inside the reception room, besides her father Duke Lucian Nix, there were already guests.
Familiar faces— faces she had never expected to see here.
Slurp—
“Ah, my lady. You’ve arrived.”
“A pleasure to meet you, my lady. I am Purius.”
A woman calmly sipped tea and offered a greeting; a black tail swayed gently behind her.
Beside her sat an elderly man of refined bearing. His posture was as straight as steel, and the greeting he offered contained not a single flaw.
A trembling whisper escaped Friga’s lips.
“…Selina? How are you—?”
How had they arrived faster, when exactly, and why were they even here—
A mountain of questions piled up, but one thing was certain.
So this is what she meant by “see you again”?