Chapter 18
Chapter 18
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: Young Elf
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He pleaded desperately, but unfortunately, I didn't speak a lick of Elvish. Instead of answering him, I shifted my gaze to the female elf who was glaring daggers at me with venomous eyes.
"How old are you?"
"Anj?"
It sounded like a rough echo of my question. This elf girl looked incredibly young. Even being generous, she was maybe late teens? I was barely twenty-five myself, but the battlefield was no place for a girl like that. And if she got sold off as a slave, she'd be in for something a hundred times worse, no doubt.
"I'm twenty-five."
They say body language is the universal tongue. I pointed at myself, then raised both hands and folded down my fingers one by one to show my age. The elf girl caught on quick. She spread her palm and started folding her fingers.
"One... two....... seventeen?"
Guess I'd better lay out a mat or something. Anyway, after hashing it out with gestures for a while, it came out that this elf girl was from a high-ranking family, even among elves. That explained why the others had been so desperate to save her.
Elves were infamous for their sky-high warrior pride, barbarians or not. They threw themselves at my feet, slamming their foreheads into the dirt with faces full of anguish. They'd gladly become slaves—just please let this girl go.
"You lot messed up by bringing someone so precious into a war. Accept your fate."
Of course, odds were this naive elf girl had dragged them into the fight, but that wasn't my problem.
"Bro! Why'd you take so long? Brandy rations just hit, and it's total chaos!"
The tent was a disaster zone. Soldiers and mercenaries were already pounding booze down their gullets like there was no tomorrow. Cutter shoved a wooden cup my way.
"Saved some brandy just for you, bro!"
The cup brimmed with crystal-clear brandy. High-end stuff, and handing it out to mercs and grunts alike? The haul from Sarisa Count's camp must've been loaded.
"Whoa... check out the size on that guy..."
"That the war hero?"
"Prisoners are already calling him the mad bear."
The soldiers, throats burning from booze, started murmuring as they spotted me. Rumors flew—half-ogre blood, or some bandit chief who'd butchered dozens of posse members single-handed and bolted. Total bullshit.
Too much hassle to debunk drunken tall tales one by one. I just plopped down and slammed back the brandy Cutter handed me.
"Kuh..."
Brandy packs a punch. Stronger than soju, sure, but that refined sweetness cutting through the burn? I downed it in one gulp and smacked my lips at the sticky aftertaste clinging to my tongue.
"Hey! War hero! Built like you can handle your drink! Up for a contest?"
A soldier plunked down in front of me, eyes sly as he pitched it. Why bother? Prize was what, a few bottles...
"Big stakes this round. You in? Winner takes ten percent of the pot."
"I'm in."
Drinking contests had entry fees. One crown, to weed out the posers. Only the real heavyweights bothered.
Truth be told, I wasn't worried. Past life, I held my liquor fine—but this body? Cheat-level. I'd tested it once: ten straight beer mugs of straight rum, no chaser. Just a pleasant buzz.
For reference, rum starts at forty proof. What I drank was stronger. Even those Russian vodka-chuggers would drop before matching that. Twenty bottles straight? Dead or passed out.
"Whoa! War hero!"
"Our mad bear!"
The soldiers erupted in cheers as I stepped up, hoisting their mugs.
"I bet on you!"
Amid the shouts, I settled at the table to prep for the showdown. And...
"Guh..."
Thud!
The last guy clinging to consciousness face-planted on the table. Started light with brandy mugs full to the brim, ended on straight rum. How much did I knock back? Ten brandies, five rums?
"Monster..."
"Bear? Nah, that's an ogre."
"Even an ogre'd drop from that much undiluted rum."
The onlookers cheering us on had quit drinking at some point, jaws on the floor. One guy swore watching me swig made him wanna hurl and handed back his mug. I was the king of drinkers.
"Anyone else wanna step up?"
"......"
I drained the rum I'd been holding and asked, but no takers.
"C-congrats. Y-you... not even buzzed?"
"Takes more than this."
The party raged on even after the contest wrapped. Rations were basic army grub, but we doled 'em out free-for-all instead of skimpy allotments. Dozens of tasty twists on the menu.
Simple soldiers found bliss in that alone—got sloshed, grinning ear to ear. Most passed out cold, but a nagging unease hit me. I paced by the prisoner pens.
"Ha..."
Source of the itch? That elf girl I'd nabbed. Seventeen. Back home, she'd be wrapping up high school. Elves live forever, too. She was a kid, straight up.
This world treated teens harsher—fourteen, fifteen, adults already. I got that.
But thinking what came after slavery? Stomach turned. Obvious horrors ahead. If she were openly grown, no second thoughts.
If I'd stayed on Earth, married... I'd have a kid her age. If it was my daughter—or her friend's—facing the block? What would I do?
"Krahh—hack! Guh? Ngh..."
Even the prison guards snored off their drunks. Decision time: free the elf girl. The rest? Warriors. They could rot.
Creeeak—
Door swung open to a rank stench and sprawled prisoners. Scratches on the wooden bars showed escape attempts—failed.
"Free me! I'll pay gold!"
"Please! Family's waiting at home!"
I tuned 'em out. Room for one, max. Guards were wasted, but hauling multiples? Suspicious.
Ignoring the pleas, I reached the end. Elves knelt before the girl, tears streaming. She patted their shoulders like it was fine. I called softly to the elves.
"Hey..."
"Sjsms...!"
"Shh! Quiet. Here to spring you."
"Anjfkrh?"
They looked baffled, but I silently flashed the pilfered key.
"Dnflfmf vnfdjwnrpTeksmsrjsrk?"
"No clue what you're saying, but only she's walking out. Rest of you? Tough luck."
Language barrier was killing me. Unlocked the door, pointed at her—one finger. Just you.
The gesture landed. She shook her head at the others.
"Ghswk rkf tnsms djqtek. Rhakqwlaks."
"DkrkTl! Rktudigkqslek!"
"Shh!"
Guards'd hear. Other prisoners too. But the yellers had gone quiet, slumped hopeless at my resolve.
Bonus: elves' cage was separate. VIP treatment? Worked for me.
"Decide quick. Clock's ticking."
"Aldksgkek.. Rhr rngkfj dhrpTek."
"Rjrwjd aktlqty dkrkTl. Ehfdkrktutj.. qksemtl.."
They hugged her one by one, then eyed me.
"DkrkTlfmf wkf qnxkrgksek. Rmflrh.. rhakqek."
Grinning like they'd forgotten slavery awaited. No idea what they said.
Girl stepped out. I locked up, flung my cloak wide—prepped to smuggle her unseen.
"In here."
My bulk dwarfed her by half again. Tucked her against my chest, cloaked over. Hoisted so no feet dangled. Looked like a beer gut, tops. Wouldn't raise brows.
"Eut.. dlfjs cldyrdl.."
She mumbled from inside. Ignored it, strode out casual as could be.
"Keurgh—phew.."
Slipped the key back on the snoring guard's belt like nothing. Camp strolled into view.
"Ngh.. kugh.."
Booze had ravaged the place—pure wreckage. Soldiers crawled like they'd taken punches from the bottle. Even the upright ones wobbled and dropped, eyes shut.
Sentries begging for a taste? Forget it. Tell 'em I'd cover watch? They'd hand over posts without a blink, truckload of takers.
But life never rolls perfect. Heading camp's edge, a voice from behind sent goosebumps racing.
"Hey, mercenary."