Newcomers (3)
Back when I first came to this community, I ran into slave traders trying to snatch the half-elves. Sure, the goddess had kinda orchestrated it to get Marim to open up to me, but even without that, half-elves huddled away in the forest make prime targets. You can exploit them for free labor, and for perverts with twisted lusts, nothing beats a half-elf. Cute and pretty thanks to their elven blood, and no punishment no matter what sick shit you do to them once they're locked up.
Extremely speaking, if you fuck one to death and dump the body in the middle of the road, it's not murder—just a fine for illegal dumping.
Right now, with all the leaves fallen, visibility stretches far even in the woods. Were more slave traders onto the community's location? If so, I'd have to smash a few heads as an example.
But the ones entering the community weren't slave traders—they were half-elves. Kids who'd gone to Lenditofte to earn money.
"Huh? Why are you guys back now?"
"The inn guy... is he here...?"
The greeting half-elves had red, swollen eyes from crying.
"You were crying? What happened?"
Up close, their state was a mess. Hair torn like they'd been mauled, split lips, bloody noses, bruises everywhere. No doubt they'd gotten the shit kicked out of them just hours ago.
Another racist asshole human, probably.
"What the hell?! What happened to you all?"
Marim burst out of her hut, shocked, and rushed over. Little ones peeking from everywhere got scared at their siblings' state.
"Did someone beat you up?"
"They wouldn't pay us, so we talked back..."
Here's what went down. Despite being day laborers, the half-elves got paid monthly instead of daily. Obviously to squeeze them dry—if you don't pay daily, they have no choice but to keep working through the tears. Then you nitpick some bullshit excuse to dock their pay with threats.
Trash in short.
But half-elves had no other jobs, so they knew it was unfair but stuck it out.
Today was payday, but the bosses dragged their feet with excuses about the cold, did half-assed work, and said they'd only pay a third. Not even docking a cut—a third of the full amount.
They needed every coin to prep for winter, so yeah, the half-elves lost it. When they argued, the bosses started beating them. Onlookers enjoying the show joined in, calling them uppity mongrels.
"Damn. Come in first... eat something."
"We didn't get a single coin. They said even a third was too much since we were so cheeky..."
"Got it. Eat first. I'll get your money."
I led the half-elves into the hut and filled bowls with hearty onion soup.
"Marim. Come with me."
"To collect the pay? Just drop it."
"Why?"
"They just chased out the half-elves for demanding money. You go flip the place and get it—they'll know who sent you."
"Hm... fair point. Don't worry about that."
"What're you gonna do? Seriously, it's pointless."
"Shut up and come on."
I got Marim on the Hell Horse and tore off to Lenditofte.
Lenditofte's a small town, nothing special except the nearby Tainibik Valley. Gray, bland direct territory.
Legend says Vengeance King Blavban cleaved the Kal Mountains to make the valley. Why the hell would my great-great-whatever-grandpa hack up innocent mountains?
In town, I rode the Hell Horse straight to the spot the half-elves mentioned. People screamed and scattered from the massive steed wreathed in black flames.
"Hold it, sir! Stop!"
Patrolling guards freaked and blocked me.
"Problem?"
"What the hell are you riding? Dismount now!"
"Hell Horse summoned by black magic. Legally fine."
"Black magic?!"
Their faces hardened, hands inching to sword hilts.
"Black magic's legal unless it harms life or property. This is just transport."
"But it pollutes the area."
"Only if parked over a week."
They shut up—I was right, no counter.
So they fell back on authority. "Show ID."
"Random search? What'd I do?"
"That Hell Horse and half-elf."
I handed over my papers. They snatched them, scanned me, then read closely...
"Gasp..."
Seeing the top-tier rank, their faces went white. Hands shook, papers rattling.
"Busy. No issue? I'm going."
"Uh... sir... if I may... your name...?"
"Can't you read the seal?"
My ID's ultra-special—stamped by Verabche's king himself. Works anywhere in the kingdom, even allied or friendly nations. Hero life meant chasing demons across borders; no time for red tape when a great devil bolts over the line.
The guards looked like doomed convicts.
"No issue? Hand it back."
"Y-yes!!"
I rode past. Marim, who'd been holding her breath, whistled softly.
"Impressive. Just a scrap of paper."
"This scrap makes people cry and laugh."
"Heh... wish I had one."
"Don't?"
Marim snorted. "Duh, a half-elf with ID? That's the funny part."
"True."
Verabche excels in admin. No ID proof? No benefits. Backwater kingdoms differ—might makes right, laws be damned.
Anyway... half-elves have it rough.
The place Marim's siblings got beat was a dingy office in the commercial district. Sign said labor agency—matching day workers to sites for referral fees.
Door open, humid stink hit despite winter. Dim room: grubby guys around a table playing cards.
"What? And what's that mongrel?"
Boss-looking guy snapped.
"Here for unpaid wages."
"Unpaid...? Wrong place. We're just introducers."
"You take a cut from site daily pay before handing to workers."
"So?"
"My friends not only didn't get paid but got beaten."
Man blinked, then smirked like he remembered.
"What's your relation to those things?"
Marim looked up curiously—what would I say?
"Protector."
"What...? Protector?"
Marim's eyes widened in shock; men burst laughing.
"Protector? What bullshit is that?"
"Someone ensuring half-elves live normal lives. That's why I'm here."
"Ah, so you're collecting their pay."
"Heard you cut it to a third, then refused entirely for 'backtalk.'"
He set cards down. "Right. But with a 'protector' here, guess we pay."
Walked to safe, rummaged a coin pouch.
Too easy—Marim blinked her green eyes, stunned.
Lenditofte's administrator bolted down the street, coat half-on. He'd been slacking at city hall when reports hit of a top-grade ID holder. Guards trailed behind.
"Where'd he go?!"
"That way...!"
Up ahead: tall man and red-haired half-elf exiting a building.
"Sir! Sir!"
Administrator doubled over, hands on knees, gasping.
"Who're you?"
"City... huff... adminis... trator..."
"Hm. And?"
He just panted. A guard, also winded, glanced through the open door by chance.