Tyrant's Blade (1)
The elf woman introduced herself as Tula.
Sermes Rocksfield murmured her name, nodding as he handed her an outer cloak emblazoned with the Rocksfield family crest. Tula, dressed in rags, eyed the knights escorting them with suspicion and wariness, clutching the garment tightly in a display of raw anxiety.
"Don't worry. I swear on the name of the Rocksfield family that we'll escort you safely."
Sermes had given her the cloak marked with the Rocksfield emblem to signal that she was under their protection. This elf woman is under the protection of our Rocksfield family. Harm her, and you'll face our wrath. Was it outrage over the inhuman acts committed by Valua's princess? The eldest son of the righteous Rocksfield family showered the elf woman with kindness.
"Um, excuse me..."
"Speak."
Tula finally opened her mouth. Thanks to his constant reassurances, the fearful elf woman cautiously addressed Sermes.
"I-I have a daughter... She's probably being dragged here just like me... In another carriage... Could you please save her? I beg you! I don't care what happens to me... Just save my daughter!"
Her voice was desperate. Forcing down her terror, she pleaded earnestly with Sermes. Her daughter, destined to be sold alongside her, must be enduring the same misery. Tula begged him to rescue her child.
"I swear on the honor of the Rocksfield family that I will see it done."
Sermes placed a hand over his heart, accepting her request. Swearing on the Rocksfield name meant he would stake his life on fulfilling it.
"...Thank you."
"It's only right."
With that reply to Tula, Sermes turned toward the captive mercenary captain held by his knights. He inquired about her daughter, who was surely being transported to the capital in another carriage. The escorts were likely colleagues, so they had to know the route.
"She's just an elf. A mere slave bought at auction—what reason does a Rocksfield heir have to intervene personally?"
Sermes's face twisted at the mercenary captain's words.
"Interspecies slave trading is strictly forbidden by imperial edict in all nations allied with the Holy Empire under the sacred alliance. I'm merely upholding the law."
He would judge lawbreakers, root out injustice and corruption, and uphold justice. Sermes showed firm resolve as he sought to uncover suspicions tied to the Valua royals.
"You think you'll get away with ruining the deal? Princess Katrin will surely hold a grudge!"
"That's none of your concern."
He shot back at the mercenary captain's baseless threat invoking the princess. He had sworn on the Rocksfield name. No matter what, he would return the elf mother and daughter to their homeland.
"Tell me. Where is the other elf?"
Sermes drew his sword and pointed it at the captain. The sharp blade tip pressed against his nape. Faced with Sermes's razor-edged warning that it could pierce his throat at any moment, the captain swallowed hard, eyes darting wildly.
"Brother, why bother talking? Leave it to me—I'll break every limb until he spills everything!"
Berban Rocksfield stepped forward, drawing his sword menacingly at the mercenaries. True to his hound bloodline, he was fiercely aggressive. Having followed his father through countless battlefields, he had seen it all. Nothing made a secret-keeper talk like pain. Extreme agony stripped away all pretense—a lesson learned torturing enemy spies.
"I-I'll talk!"
The captain held out, but one of his underlings finally cracked. The rear guard was four days behind, following the same route despite the distance gap, bound for the same destination. The reason the vanguard and rear guard took the identical path was simple: to pass through pre-bribed checkpoints without inspections and enter Lutemine undetected. They had no choice but to stick to the greased route.
Princess Katrin is involved after all. Bribing every checkpoint to the capital... This is no small matter.
Sermes realized the network behind Katrin's interspecies slave trade involved far more than a handful. Sickened by the corruption's scale, he grimaced. And one question lingered: Why had Katrin orchestrated such a massive slave operation? What was her endgame?
"Brother, what's our next move?"
At Gubelas Rocksfield's question, Sermes replied.
"We wait in this city. Set up an ambush and trap the rest when they arrive."
Sermes shelved his plan to head straight to Lutemine and confront Katrin, opting to await the rear guard. To apprehend the culprits swiftly and rescue the elf mother and daughter torn apart by foolish greed.
Four days away. In four days, the rear carriages would pass through the city. They would strike then. Sermes bound the soldiers who had taken bribes to overlook the slave trade, preparing thoroughly to seize the rear guard the moment they appeared.
"This could be seen as overstepping. It's tied to Princess Katrin, after all."
"I'm only punishing criminals under the law. Justice must stand firmest when the realm is in chaos. I'll bear all responsibility."
"...Understood."
The Rocksfield knights lay in wait, hidden in the city, for the rear guard to arrive. A day passed like that.
A man with two swords at his waist and a lithe woman in a hood entered the city.
* * *
Catching up to the lead carriages by conventional means was impossible. They were headed to Lutemine. Unsure of their exact route, Druin Ri chose to race straight to the presumed destination as fast as possible.
"Hic!"
Norien, slung over Druin's side like baggage, stifled a groan under the crushing pressure. She was experiencing a god's power, granted only to Another Ones. Each time Druin kicked off the ground, the scenery blurred past at impossible speeds. It was indescribable—like time fast-forwarding, landscapes whipping by in blinks as his strides accelerated.
This human's eyes...!
Dangling like a sack of rice, Norien glimpsed the eerie, interwoven stigmata glowing starkly in Druin's pitch-black pupils. She'd heard from village elders: Those blessed with divine power bore marks of their otherworldly origin on their bodies. The sigils shone vividly whenever they unleashed their strength.
"I-I'm gonna puke...!"
Norien raised a hand to cover her mouth. Her face drained pale, wracked by nausea as if her guts were churning upward.
"Damn it! Don't shit from your lower mouth—puke from the upper one!"
Druin halted briefly. Even his ability paused, giving Norien space to vomit.
Damn, without exact coords, it's like finding a needle in a desert. Should've spared one guy. That coachman at least.
He'd gotten dragged into this mess. Glancing at Norien heaving behind him, Druin scowled. Just endure it a bit. For the sake of deflowering the elf beauty. And if luck held, he might even score a mother-daughter feast. For that, he'd hold out.
"Hey."
"Y-yeah?"
Norien, rinsing her mouth with water, looked up at his call.
"You don't even know exactly where your mom is."
"T-true..."
"No way for you elves to sense each other's location? Would save us some hassle. Can't comb the whole kingdom like it's a needle hunt."
Destination: capital Lutemine. Buyer: Princess Katrin. Druin wanted to know if she snapped up every elf at auction—and why. Sexual fetish? Nah, didn't feel right. Something fishier brewing. Pure hunch, no proof... but Druin trusted his gut.
"Even I can't pick a fight with the whole kingdom. Raid the princess, and every royal dog in the land swarms us."
Only five women under his belt so far. Druin shared info Norien had no desire to hear.
"Ran full tilt with the power active all day—should be catching up by now. Might've even passed 'em. Carriages everywhere on the roads."
Small comfort: no sight of wagons swarming with dozens of mercenaries like Norien's had been. So, maybe ahead? No, couldn't assume. Roads to Valua's capital branched everywhere.
"If only we could send a signal first..."
"Signal?"
Druin reacted to Norien's murmur.
"We've learned ways to signal distant kin since childhood. Spreading mana, sending familiars spiraling overhead... We never knew when humans might snatch us."
Elves, ever vulnerable to abduction, had honed survival tricks: leaving traces, dispersing markers, enduring brutal humans.
"Still grasping at clouds, though."
Druin shrugged, unimpressed. He clicked his tongue, muttering, Guess I'll have to raid the palace for real...
"Mom's spirits will be circling near her if she's in danger. Familiars sense their summoner's peril first."
"Spirits, huh..."
Druin nodded at Norien's words, scanning widely. Still vague. But if that was their only lead, he'd take it. Reactivating his ability, he searched anew. Norien dispatched her own spirits afar, hunting traces desperately. Grasping at straws, hoping she was close.
And at journey's end, Norien spotted it first. At the fringe of her spirits' search radius, in a city, a lost wind spirit circled the air like an abandoned pup.