The Bet (2)
Like most mages, my life didn't leave much to talk about once you took magic out of the equation. The same went for me, so the places I frequented—or used to—were pretty much set in stone. My lab, the Imperial Magic Department, the academy building, shops selling magical tools or research materials, and the occasional visits to Cain's or Clechia's homes. The brothel was the exception. If that was the one thing setting me apart from other mages, it made sense.
There were times I'd venture into nature for rare herbs, minerals, or materials, but setting those aside, all the spots I mentioned were in major cities. And every major city in the Empire had portals. That meant travel never took more than a day. We left the lab around lunchtime and arrived at the capital, where the government offices stood, without a hitch. Of course, we didn't forget the essential recognition inhibitor artifact.
Even with Terria at my side—looking like the Blue Tower Lord to everyone else's eyes—things could go horribly wrong if we got separated for any reason. Things I didn't even want to imagine. Like... rape, or rape, or... rape. Back when I could use magic, I could've rescued Terria in a flash if something like that happened. But now that I'm the one who needs rescuing, I had nothing to rely on except one-use items like potions or scrolls.
We'd made a plan for emergencies.
"So, Master? What did you say I should do if we get separated?"
We were walking down the street toward the government offices. February's chill still hung in the air. I clutched the collar of my coat tighter and asked Terria.
"I've told you a million times. Still not reassured?"
"Yeah... but I'm just worried..."
Using formal speech with him—sadly—had become somewhat routine. The streets were crowded despite the cold, especially in the capital. Calling him "Master" in front of others was no big deal anymore. Not that I actually saw him as my master. Or... did I? I wasn't sure.
I touched the choker around my neck, then traced the slave brand on my left shoulder. Even if he played master and gave ridiculous orders through it, I had no way to resist. But that didn't make him my real owner. Our relationship was more like a prison guard and inmate. The guard had absolute power, but the inmate didn't see them as a true master. Of course, Terria was unusually considerate for a guard. He'd thrown me in this prison himself, and I'd tried escaping just ten days ago, yet he hadn't said a word about it. I had unlimited freedom within the allowed bounds.
"So, if we get separated for some reason, and even if you're kidnapped, I can pinpoint your location right away. Right? Because you'll activate the slave brand."
"Yes, exactly."
But I couldn't fully trust this guard. Nobles who owned slaves—other guards with inmates—usually had power. Magic, money, connections, whatever. Terria had none of that. Ariel had no parents, and his personality meant no real networks. I'd never flattered anyone, wasn't the type, and turned down all bribes or favors, so it was inevitable. Not that I regretted it now. If anything, I wished I'd hoarded more money. Worst case, I could contact Clechia. Her family had ties to the imperial household.
"If you just got lost, no problem. But if it's kidnapping, I'll negotiate when I find them. Can't just barge in and fight like last time."
"Yeees..."
Even with Clechia's help, it'd be after the damage was done. I kept quizzing Terria to make sure he'd memorized everything. I had to confirm he knew our countermeasures. I was seriously anxious right now. I wanted to believe he'd handle anything, but relying on him felt off. Separate from trusting his skills, he could abandon me—and it wasn't impossible.
Stupidly, I'd only realized it now. I'd never noticed how many slaves, beggars, and vagrants there were on these streets. People I used to overlook now jumped out at me. My eyes kept drifting to them—their ragged clothes, grimy unwashed faces, tangled hair, exhausted expressions. It all stuck in my mind. I could end up like that. So I kept making Terria promise. It was the only way to feel safe. I wanted to erase these awful possibilities from my brain.
"Best case, we don't separate. Anyway, if negotiation fails—like with bandits—we take them down by force. Two scenarios there. First, if they know who I am, like recognizing me as the Blue Tower Lord. Second, if they don't. Right?"
"Right. Go on."
"If they know my identity, I suppress them while hiding that I can't use magic. If not, just beat them senseless."
"Mm, good. Perfect."
Asking outright, "You won't abandon me, right?" was impossible. As I said, his skills were solid—no flaws. He'd mastered potion and scroll combat perfectly, and his hand-to-hand was decent. So this anxiety wrapping around me was purely about him ditching me. I knew he'd have done it already if he wanted to, but still... No. Just because he hasn't yet doesn't mean he won't. That inductive logic wasn't ironclad. It's not like the sun rose yesterday and today, so it'll rise forever. I was a turkey. Fed every day, so it assumes it'll be fed forever—until the owner eats it one day. Not that he would abandon me, but... I'm anxious. If I was gonna be this worked up, we shouldn't have left the lab. Since the swap, I keep doing reckless things and regretting them after. Not like old Ariel. Rational, calculating every angle, always self-interested. Where'd that Ariel go...?
"What brings you here?"
"Ah, visiting the Magic Department. Where do we go?"
"Wait over there for now. I'll let you know when it's your turn."
The receptionist at the government building asked as we entered. She didn't seem thrilled to be working in this weather—not very friendly. Terria answered casually and sat in the waiting area. I stood nearby. Casually. How nice it'd be if everything went just casually. But as you know, casual is the hardest. Moderately tasty food? Tough. Moderately fun play? Tough. Moderately happy life? Even tougher. Especially in my current state.
Soon the receptionist came over and directed us to the Magic Department building. We went in. In the Empire, the palace came first in power, Magic Department second. Even above the War Ministry. Maybe that's why Magic Department folks were usually assholes like Lucas. This time was no different. The moment we entered, we witnessed a shocking scene.
"Hey, you little shit. I told you not to look at me like that! You got a problem, huh? You trashy bitch... Oh, what brings you here?"
Some low-level section chief was beating a person with an ashtray like he was swatting a rat. He didn't care if it was man or woman—putting no mercy into his swings—until he spotted us and froze. The woman sprawled on the floor had a nasty gash on her forehead, blood pouring steadily. Even if the Imperial Magic Department rarely saw visitors, this was a public space. Beating someone openly meant he was trash, and she was probably a slave.
"...We're here to see the Minister."
Terria replied, a bit flustered.
"The Minister? Magic Minister? Uh, mind telling me who you are?"
The guy—probably some support or general affairs section chief—didn't seem to know Terria was the Blue Tower Lord. Fame aside, not everyone knew his face.
"Tower Lord. Blue Tower Lord."
"Hmm...?"
Terria was taller, so the chief had to look up slightly. He clearly didn't buy that this imposing figure glaring down was the Blue Tower Lord.
"Excuse me, and who might you be?"
"Ah, I'm Section Chief of Support Division 2. But... are you really the Blue Tower Lord? We've had a lot of imposters lately..."
"Yes. Here's my ID."
Terria handed over his identification. The chief cited imposters, but he plainly looked annoyed—never expecting Ariel on an ordinary day like today. No special visitors for a week, so why today? His certainty was unshakable; even after checking the ID, he demanded more proof. The usual method was mana wave scan. But Terria had no distinct mana wave. We'd prepared for that too. He handed the chief a thumb-sized vial.
"I'm not feeling well, so use this instead."
"Blood? Got it."
The chief placed the vial on the mana analyzer. It contained blood drawn from my body. No scammer would go that far to fake an identity—pretty safe. Meanwhile, my eyes went to the woman huddled on the floor, clutching her wound and trying to stifle her sobs. Terria watched the analyzer briefly, then glanced her way too before asking the chief,
"Who's that woman over there?"
"Ah, just a slave doing odd jobs. Sorry for the mess, haha..."
The chief followed our gazes, and her face paled. She was terrified just from her owner looking at her. The attention started because I looked first, so I felt a pang of regret inside. But Terria, sensing something, asked the chief in a curious tone,
"So, Section Chief? That okay to call you? Is that slave yours?"
"Yes. But why do you ask...?"
"Do you usually beat your slaves often? What did she do wrong just now?"
It almost felt like he was talking to me. The chief looked puzzled, then spotted me beside Terria and nodded knowingly before explaining step by step.