The Contract's Burden
The Iron Horse Knight who arrived late looked utterly aghast. Dismay and indignation warred across his face. The man had clearly lost something to Kanne on more than one occasion before.
That woman was meant for me.
He explained, in the most roundabout way possible, that he had paid money to order the woman. The bald man beside him eagerly backed up his claim.
That's right. Today that wench was brought here for this gentleman. Hand her over.
In this world, it was nothing remarkable for a man in need of comfort to tumble with a prostitute. But when the witness was Kanne, mockery was inevitable. He was the sort of man who never bothered to swallow his urge to sneer.
Do I really need to know that you can't even get a woman into bed without paying for it?
Though the knight looked far older than Kanne, he jabbed a finger at his own forehead as if the younger man had personally insulted him.
And coincidentally, your superior had already set his sights on this woman first.
The man frowned, clearly not understanding. Kanne gently shifted the trembling Ranlam behind him, shielding her with his tall frame. A relaxed smile spread across his face as he jerked his chin at the bald man.
Come along. No matter how much that fellow paid, I'll introduce you to someone who'll offer far more.
***
The claim that time was short had been no exaggeration. By the time they reached the wide road near the northern gate of Salt Castle, the Iron Horse Knights had already finished their preparations to depart. Dozens of horses and carriages stood gathered in formation.
There, Ranlam was reunited with her brother. Beneath the bright sun, Desidero still cast deep shadows beneath his lashes, his sorrowful beauty undiminished.
And as for Duke Paeroa…
The duke remained hidden inside his unyielding helm. Today he even wore black iron armor down to his neck, giving him the air of an object rather than a man. He looked exactly as he had during the joust, when Ranlam had stared at him in a daze.
The only difference was that instead of a horse, he sat motionless on the lowered seat of a carriage's cargo bed, his iron-clad body offering no hint of thought or feeling.
Yet the brothel owner was undaunted by that oppressive presence. Boldly, he stood before Duke Paeroa holding the contract bearing Nirgi's signature and Ranlam's name. Even while surrounded by armed knights, he had walked with his chin raised the entire way. Any trace of reverence or submission toward nobility seemed to have vanished along with his hair. His courage was impressive, and his fear nonexistent.
Her brother sold his sister for twenty henny.
Desidero muttered, as if tasting the bitter story.
That's right. I already paid that bastard, and this wench hasn't even begun to work off a single coin.
He spoke with the triumphant air of a man boasting about how fresh his catch was.
Prostitutes fetch the highest prices when they're still new faces. And now I've had her snatched away before I could even taste a single drop of her sweetness. He demanded compensation at once.
If we hurry, she could have turned five times over by now. The days are long these days.
Desidero grimaced at the vulgar words. If they grated even on his ears, how much more unpleasant must they be for the woman herself? His gaze flicked toward her.
Ranlam had dropped to her knees on the dirt. When their eyes met, she clasped her hands together and begged desperately.
My lord, I'll do anything. The other day I lacked confidence in my skills and abilities, so I couldn't answer you properly, but if you give me the chance, I'll do my very best. I'll try anything. I'll make it work somehow. Medical work, or anything else you ask of me—I'll do it all. So please…
She could do anything except spread her legs for a stranger. Tears streamed down her face as she pleaded. If she had been able to reach him, she would have clung to Desidero's trouser leg.
The young man felt a surge of bewilderment. Only days ago she had been a free woman. What could possibly have happened in such a short time to reduce her to this?
He had been quietly resentful of her silence after their last meeting. The irritation that had festered for the past week suddenly felt pointless.
Desidero sighed, a long, deep breath drawn from the depths of his chest.
We'll pay those twenty henny in his stead. Consider it an act of charity.
Once again he offered kindness. He had already paid two thousand carso to settle Nirgi's debt, and now he was offering ten times that amount without hesitation.
Ranlam was overwhelmed with gratitude and relief. The honor of it nearly choked her.
The ease of his consent only whetted the brothel owner's greed. Believing he had found a new patron, a gleam flashed in his eyes. Suppressing his excitement, he cleared his throat and waved a hand.
There are contractual conditions. I can't afford to take a loss.
Contractual conditions?
The brothel owner handed over the document that served as both Ranlam's debt record and her slave contract. Desidero read through the clauses one by one. The principal was twenty henny, but the monthly interest exceeded ten percent. At this rate, the amount would never decrease—it would only grow like a snowball.
With a troubled expression, Desidero passed the paper to his brother. The duke read it line by line as well, as though accepting the silent challenge.
While they examined the contract in silence, Ranlam's spirits sank back into the mud. She had no idea what was written there. Even though they had offered to pay her debt and take her away, she feared the brothel owner would ruin everything. His audacity in haggling with nobles filled her with disgust and hatred.
Hot indignation rising, Ranlam seized the brothel owner's thick ankle.
It was only one day. If they're willing to pay right now, what loss could you possibly have suffered?
Her sharp voice cut through the air. The bald man furrowed his brow so deeply that it was impossible to tell where his forehead ended and his scalp began.
He was a man who treated women like merchandise. Whether beautiful or plain, he measured their worth the moment he saw their faces. He had never once regarded a woman as an equal human being. Whining women were especially intolerable. He had heard enough of that sound to last a lifetime and loathed it.
You and your brother owe me compensation for my time and trouble.
He kicked his captured ankle hard, as if telling her to let go. His stiff sandal did more than dislodge her—it struck her squarely under the chin. Ranlam toppled sideways. The cheek that had already suffered so much flushed red once more.
The brothel owner's violence did not end there. As if demonstrating how a slave woman should be broken, he stomped down hard on her fingers. A broken scream tore from Ranlam's throat. Kanne, watching nearby, let out a startled gasp.
Good heavens…
Kanne had been about to help Ranlam to her feet when a deep, commanding voice drew everyone's attention, impossible to ignore.
I've been bothered by something since earlier…
Duke Paeroa, who had been observing the situation with the detached air of someone who had delegated all authority to his younger brother, finally spoke.
Isn't that head a little too high?
He set the contract aside and leaned back on his arms, stretching his shoulders and collarbones as though easing stiffness within the armor. His voice grew languid with the motion.
It's glittering so much it's blinding.