Chapter 7
The owner of the White Owl Inn knew at once that something had gone terribly wrong.
The blond man had appeared not long after Bron and his group left.
He had been standing at the counter, cheerfully counting the extra payment Bron had given him, when the man walked in without making a sound and abruptly announced that he was looking for a woman. The innkeeper had thought the fellow mad—until he saw the bearded man standing behind him. In that instant, his mind went blank.
“You two know each other, don’t you? Let’s skip the waste of time and get straight to the point.”
The blond man had smiled pleasantly as he spoke.
What followed, however, was anything but pleasant.
And so the innkeeper now found himself tied up in this disgraceful state, trapped like a rat in a cage.
“You idiot! Because of you, we’re all going to die. Damn it! You look like a mountain bandit and you still got caught by that pale little bastard?”
The woman hurled curses at the man beside her. His face was swollen and split in several places, and blood had dried stiff in his tangled beard.
“Shut up. It’s not like I wanted to get caught. That blond-haired bastard’s a mage, damn it! I had a bad feeling from the moment we picked up that woman at the monastery. A marquis’s daughter, was she? Damn it all.”
“To hell with your feelings. Figure out how we’re getting out of here. How long has it been since the blond one left?”
No sooner had she spoken than footsteps sounded from the shabby wooden door.
“My lord, this way.”
The blond man opened the door and descended the stairs. Behind him, a black-haired man entered slowly, his gaze sweeping over the room. The scent of damp earth clung heavily to him, as though he had just come through the forest.
“Loras. What is this?”
Tristan asked in a flat voice as he looked at the battered pair bound before him.
“The coachman who brought Lady Eliana here, and the owner of this inn. There’s an apprentice monk from Helio Monastery named Bron. According to the coachman, he transported the lady to Alderon at Bron’s request.”
Loras pointed at the bearded man.
“I-I don’t know the details! Just like every other time, I was only paid to drive the carriage. I truly don’t know where they went! This woman knows more than I do! Please, let me go!”
“You mad bastard! Trying to save yourself by throwing me to the wolves? The people you’ve hauled around over the years would fill dozens of rum barrels! And now you’re pretending innocence?”
The woman screamed furiously. Tristan frowned at the noise and glanced around.
Compared to the cramped inn room, the hidden space behind the oversized wardrobe was suspiciously large. Bloodstained ropes and medicine bottles lay scattered everywhere, and there was another door leading outside.
“So you drag guests in here and smuggle them out through that door.”
“Yes, my lord. They’re given food laced with a sleeping draught and allowed to ‘stay’ in that room. Once they lose consciousness, they’re brought here, tied up, stuffed into empty rum barrels, and exchanged for real barrels when the buyer arrives. Barrels coming and going from an inn never look suspicious.”
Loras shuddered in disgust.
“That Bron bastard has been pretending to be a monk, tricking people with nowhere to go, and selling them into slavery. He’s filth.”
“There are no slave markets left in Storn.”
Tristan ran a hand through his black hair.
Not long after ascending the throne, Emperor Martin III had issued an edict banning the slave trade throughout the empire. The nobles had fiercely resisted at first, but as the emperor gradually solidified his power, one by one they abandoned the practice.
Storn, the Crowde marquisate, had outlawed slavery long ago. In fact, the story of the marquis personally rooting out the slave market was still widely known.
“That’s why I was questioning them about where they took the lady, but they won’t talk.”
Loras flicked a sharp dagger in his hand with an exasperated look.
Tristan stared at the wounded neck of the innkeeper without expression.
“My lord, please spare me. I only provided the place because they told me to. I truly know nothing!”
Tears streamed down the innkeeper’s face as he clutched desperately at Tristan’s trouser leg.
Tristan did not even blink.
“You know nothing? Loras, you’ve grown soft.”
The voice was cold enough to send a chill down the spine.
The woman looked up at him. Having swindled countless people since childhood, she recognized danger instinctively.
This man was dangerous.
Overcome by fear, she released his trouser leg and scrambled backward.
“Sigh. I hate torture. It consumes more mana than you’d think. Still… I can’t live with being called soft.”
Dark blue light flared from Loras’s hand in an instant.
“W-wait! Wait a moment!”
The innkeeper shrieked in terror at the ominous aura.
“A-a supply ship! I heard Pito talking about a supply ship!”
Yesterday, in the dining room, she had overheard Pito discussing their next destination with the marquis’s daughter. She had not caught every word, but suddenly remembered him mentioning they would be taking a ship.
“A supply ship? They’re leaving by sea? Hmm… the nearest port from here would be…”
While Loras pondered, Tristan strode toward the other door leading outside.
“Azulen Port. Loras, deal with them and join me.”
* * *
Eliana gazed at the clouds blooming thick and soft like spun sugar.
The late spring sunlight poured down warmly, while the scent of grass and unknown flowers drifted on the breeze and tickled her nose.
She closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself fully absorb it all, then slowly opened them again.
And looked down.
Beneath her stretched a black cliff.
Far below.
If she went there, would this pain disappear? This suffering? If she took just a few more steps forward, perhaps she could finally be freed from this hell.
As though entranced, Eliana walked toward the edge and stepped into empty air.
“Ah!”
She jolted awake with a gasp and slammed her head hard against the lid of the rum barrel.
Dull pain exploded through her skull, followed by an agony that felt as though her entire body were being crushed. A groan escaped her lips, yet even that vivid pain of reality could not completely dispel the lingering image of the dream.
When had that happened? She struggled to remember.
Then the barrel suddenly lurched violently, and she froze.
“Hey, lower it carefully! You there, come help!”
Bron shouted irritably as he and another man moved the barrel containing Eliana from the wagon.
She wriggled, trying to peer through the cracks. The cloth Bron had tied over her eyes must have come loose while she was being tossed around inside the barrel.
“This is really the last one? That’s a shame. We’ve made good money together. So you’re not coming here anymore?”
An older man asked regretfully as he retied the wagon’s canvas cover.
“Thank you for everything. To be safe, stay away from Alderon for a while and work only around Azulen. This cargo is worth quite a bit.”
“Is that so? Fine, if you say so. No harm in being careful. Safe travels then—looks like the ship’s arriving.”
Listening intently, Eliana realized she could hear a faint ship’s horn in the distance.
“They said we’d go to the port and board a supply ship…”
At least that part had been true.
A bitter smile crossed her face as she curled up inside the barrel.
Closing her eyes brought the dream back to her.
If she had truly thrown herself into the void back then, as she had in the dream, would that have been better?
She had spent her whole life as someone useless. And after daring to defy her father’s wishes and run away, she had ended up being sold as a slave.
Perhaps Cecilia had been right all along. Perhaps there was no reason for her to exist.
Lost in those self-loathing thoughts, Eliana suddenly noticed that everything outside had gone quiet.
The ship’s horn was closer now, yet there were no voices, no footsteps.
Holding her breath, she pressed her face against the crack in the barrel. The world outside was dim; dawn had not fully broken.
Then she saw something pale crawling across the ground.
She narrowed her eyes, focusing on its movement—
And the barrel jolted violently.
“Ghh… ugh…”
The pale shape was a man.
Collapsed on the ground, he let out a fading groan as he scraped desperately at the barrel with his hand. It looked as though he was trying to pull himself up, but his strength kept failing him, and his fingers raked against the rough wood instead.
The sound was horrifying.
Goosebumps prickled down the back of Eliana’s neck.
A moment later, a blood-soaked finger suddenly protruded through the gap in the barrel.
Eliana nearly screamed as she twisted frantically.
The barrel lost its balance and toppled over.
The impact left her dizzy for a moment. Then she felt cool air against her skin and looked up in shock.
The lid of the rum barrel rolled away across the black stone floor.
“I’m outside…”
