Capitalist Slave Contracts
I squared off against the shaman Grandma Helga had sent this time. I never expected her to unleash a true form spell that turned her into a muscle-bound beast. But once I tested her out, damn, she was full of spirit.
"You're... so unfair."
"What's that?"
"Ulfrik, you're a Berserkr, so basic combat doesn't even apply."
"Then you become a Berserkr too."
"Urk!"
She even had some competitive fire in her? Now I'd gotten a good read on this shaman called Harcon's skills and inner drive. She seemed solid enough to slot straight into my raiding party.
"But no matter where you go, initiation rites are mandatory!!"
"As expected of a Drengr!!"
"Even if you're sent by the Grand Shaman herself, no special treatment!"
"That's exactly right! Enlist right here, right now!!"
In the end, to showcase top-tier combat prowess, you've got to do it with warriors who are on the same wavelength! Harcon seemed to get that too, and she agreed. Just like that, she became a new ass in our tribe.
Was it the novelty of a shaman—not a warrior—becoming an ass? The assistant instructors and all the senior Vikings were hyped for Harcon to screw up big time.
We all geared up to drill some spirit into the shaman. But she was so sharp and mistake-free, it was ridiculous. And what's with that look?!
"Warrior, sir, I heard you seriously injured your back this time. I've got a potion I just made—"
"I'll take it."
"Or maybe you need this one?"
Had she really grown up getting thrashed under Grandma Helga, who could bulk up to three meters of muscle? Harcon was insanely perceptive, and always jumping in to help first. She racked up max affinity stacks with every Viking in no time.
Eventually, we all acknowledged her as an SSS-grade rookie.
"I-Instructor Ulfrik, this is so moving."
"If only our asses had even half of what that shaman's got..."
"Ahh... that's the legendary rookie you only meet if three generations stack up good karma—"
The assistants were over the moon seeing such a shining star of a rookie. We started running drills and pumping spirit with Harcon right alongside us.
While Ulfrik and the Vikings were honing their Marine spirit with Harcon, up in the frozen far north, some slaves were being transported.
Clunk!! Rattle!!
"Mm... seeing those trees means we're almost there, right?"
"Faster than expected."
"With the Thing just wrapping up, there were way fewer roadside bandits."
These were Bearclaw Tribe members sent by Ragna to buy up halfling slaves. As they stretched after the grueling journey, the slaves crammed in the wagons were shivering in terror.
"Hic... "
"What now..."
"I-it's all over."
Halflings. Fairies with short, pointy ears like elves but dwarf-sized. They huddled in iron cages, awaiting death.
But one refused to give up hope.
"Kids! Snap out of it!!"
"L-Liri sis..."
"But..."
"Even captured by brutal monsters, if we keep our spirits up, we can survive!"
The sole woman among the slaves, big-sis figure to the halflings. Liri, with her light-green hair, rallied her little brothers. But unlike their southern homeland, this place was brutally cold. And they'd seen too much blood and slaughter from bandit raids along the way.
Even as Liri kept cheering them on, the halflings' flame of hope was flickering out.
Then the slave wagons suddenly halted. Another bandit attack? But no—a bizarre song echoed around them.
As Nords!!! Ha!!!
Standing on this land!! Ha!!!
So much to conquer!!
Was this the infamous savage Nord belly-song? Liri thought it sounded utterly mad.
But then the slave drivers started acting polite. Liri and the halflings couldn't figure out what was happening. Then they saw it: musclebound giants dashing down the snowy road in nothing but underwear.
'Th-this freezing weather and they're training like that?!'
Liri reeled from the massive culture shock. But the shocks didn't end there.
"Ulfrik-sir!! You're back!"
"We didn't think we'd be the late ones."
"Hahaha! Who cares? You're all back safe and sound—that's what counts!"
The leader of these weirdos was the chieftain's eldest son. The halflings' minds shattered at the thought of heading to a tribe full of lunatics like these.
And as they neared the tribal grounds—
'B-bodies!!! Bodies everywhere!!'
Corpses from the previous raid—Red Skull Tribe remnants not fully cleared—littered the area like natural debris. The clueless halflings started dry-heaving. Even Liri felt her resolve cracking.
Thus, the halflings arrived at the Bearclaw Tribe, screaming their heads off the whole way.
The buyers naturally knew all about their slaves. Thanks to that, the Bearclaw Tribe learned Liri was the halflings' big sis and leader figure. They dragged her straight to the longhouse where the Jarl held court.
Ragna, lounging on his high seat, eyed the halfling he'd not seen in ages with keen interest.
"That's 29 years old?"
"Or maybe over 40 and the sellers lied."
"Mm... they've traded with us plenty, so let's trust 'em for now."
Liri looked ridiculously youthful for late 20s, drawing curious stares from everyone. To her, though, it felt like terrifying warriors with brutish faces and builds were glaring coldly.
'Y-you're all so scary I might cry!!'
Showing weakness here would be the end!! Liri gritted her teeth to hold out.
But a bigger ordeal arrived: Ulfrik, steaming head to toe, burst in.
Hiss!!
"Dad, I was in the middle of cold-water friction with the warriors after morning PT..."
"Got a reason for calling you, boy. Take a look over there."
"Huh?"
Liri felt Liri felt like prey under a starving bear's killing gaze. And the father-son chat that followed turned her face ashen.
"Ah, so that's a halfling, huh?"
"We shelled out good coin, so she should handle it fine."
"They're for a specific need. Perfect timing—got something to tell Thumspin anyway."
What need could they have for halflings?
'N-no way... for that kind of stuff?!'
Rumors said Empire nobles had a weird fetish for halflings—treating them like dolls, dressing them up, all sorts of creepy play. If advanced civilization was like that, what about these ultra-barbaric lands? Liri envisioned horrors.
These Nords valued honor, though, so swallowing tears, she cried out.
"Do whatever to me, but please spare my little brothers—!!"
"Oho."
"Oho."
"Oho."
Did her earnest plea stir the Vikings' honor? Even fiercer stares converged, and Liri finally broke down sobbing.
Then came thunderbolt news.
"Dad, mind if I talk to the halfling alone?"
"Go ahead."
"Eek?!"
Now Liri was alone with the room's biggest psycho. She tried scrambling to a corner, but Ulfrik grinned at her trembling form.
Step.
"Five days on, two off."
"Huh?"
Step step step!
"One accrued vacation day every 20 days, annual performance bonuses, full injury treatment coverage!! Room and board provided!!"
"!!!"
"Plenty more perks too!"
Right now, the halfling slaves were the Bearclaw Tribe's pricey assets and technicians. Ulfrik knew exactly how to milk max efficiency from them.
"Sign here!! Now!!!"
"Gulp!"
Thus began Ulfrik's nefarious plot to turn the halflings into the tribe's livestock.
How's that!! Pure capitalist contract! This world doesn't even have labor agreements this advanced!
But this little squirt's full of suspicion.
"Is... is this for real?"
"You calling me a lying coward?"
"Eek?! N-nooo!!"
She's a slave anyway—she has to sign by force. But what's with that super-depressed look?
"What'd you expect from me anyway?"
"Th-that's...!!!"
"Tch, you figured us for honorless kanpeu-lovers who'd just grind slaves to dust."
Honestly, halflings don't know our system, so fair enough. And to livestock-ify them, motivation's key—so I gave a quick rundown.
"First off, you're now a thrall in Nord slave caste. Got it?"
"Y-yes!!"
"Unlike other places, slaves here can buy back their freedom."
"For real?!"
Leysingi. Freed slave, the tier between thrall and freeman in Viking society. Thralls become leysingi by buying freedom. Even then, they owe full loyalty to their owner, and grandkids become freemen after two generations—but we can tweak that at our discretion.
"So, halfling—ready to work for you and your kin's freedom?"
Hope ignited in the kid's eyes at the offer.
"I-I'll do it!!! But free my brothers first, not me!!"
"Family love, eh? Fine!"
Operation: Cook the halfling leader—success. Now the halflings would turn into company livestock for the Bearclaw Tribe, delivering insane work efficiency.
Told the family, and Dad and Mom were thrilled. But our baby bro didn't get it.
"Big bro Ulfrik, wouldn't more pay be better?"
"Tsk tsk tsk, Thumspin... you need more lessons from Dad and Mom."
Too much pay and they might hit freed-slave status too quick. But capitalism has a simple trick to win lowbies' hearts on the cheap.
"Give 'em the bare minimum pay, but lavish the perks."
"Oho."
Obvious three-day scam to anyone looking. But hearts are sneaky things. Baby bro grasped capitalism's core and had his big epiphany.
Soon after injecting him with capitalism—
"L-like this?!"
"Perfect!!"
The halflings started churning out the Marine Corps symbol: red tank tops and shorts.