The Champion's Return

by Hyougetsu

  I guess he’s having fun sightseeing. Master nodded with a smile and said, “He participated in Vongang’s famous tourney and won the cavalry championship.”

  “That guy likes playing around way too much.”

  “When I met him he was hosting a feast for the entire city using the prize money he had won. The townspeople seemed quite enamored with him.”

  That guy makes a splash wherever he goes.

  Airia watched our reunion with a smile, but I felt like she was still secretly mad at me inside. As I glanced over at her our eyes met, and her smile turned to a troubled one. What’s she thinking about? Either way, I really should do something to earn her forgiveness.

  “Airia.”

  “Ah, yes? What is it?” Airia asked in a flustered tone.

  “I know you said you didn’t need anything, but I really do want to make up for breaking my promise.”

  “It’s fine, I’m the one who—”

  “Please, just ask for something. Think of it as giving me peace of mind.”

  Airia mulled over my words for a few seconds, then smiled “In that case, could you give me some time to think about it? You’re always so kind that I can’t come up with something right away.”

  “Alright...if you say so.”

  At least she’s willing to humor me with a request. What a relief. Airia gave me a suggestive look and asked, “By the way, can I really ask for anything?”

  “Yeah. As long as it’s something that won’t jeopardize my position as the Demon Lord’s Vice-Commander.”

  I wasn’t about to embezzle public funds for Airia’s request, but anything I could personally accomplish I’d do. If she wanted a fancy new dress from Veira, I’d order one for her. And if she wanted some of the jewels Mao had brought back from Rolmund, I could buy them off him. Or maybe she wanted to experience a high-class dinner at one of the seafront restaurants in Lotz.

  At any rate, Airia smiled happily and said, “Then I’ll let you know what selfish request I have once I think of something.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  I was actually pretty curious what kind of wish she’d come up with. Especially since she was the most modest person I knew. For some reason, though, I could smell a lie from her words. I couldn’t tell what exactly she was lying about, which made it all the more concerning. Unfortunately, I had a mountain-load of paperwork waiting for me, so I didn’t really have the time to ruminate on her intentions. Most of the documents I needed to go through were top-secret reports or proposals that needed my direct approval. While I was dying to know what Airia would come up with, right now I had more pressing concerns.

  * * * *

  At the port of Beluza, there was a shrine on one of the docks dedicated to the Island Kraken that had once ravaged the Sea of Solitude. Though it was technically a shrine, it was really more of a small box with an engraving on it that vaguely resembled an octopus. It was the shrine Veight had made for the Island Kraken after slaying it. Its existence had already passed out of most people’s memory, as the kraken subjugation had occurred some months before Eleora even set foot in Meraldia.

  However, there was one woman who seemed quite interested in this ramshackle shrine. After staring at it for a few minutes, she turned to a nearby dockhand and asked, “It was a demon who created this, correct?”

  Her unfamiliar shaman’s outfit made it obvious she was a foreigner. The dockhand, who happened to be one of the viceroy’s aides, nodded.

  “Yeah. The Demon Lord’s Vice-Commander, the Black Werewolf King Veight made it. He’s the strongest werewolf in Meraldia. He’s been in Rolmund on a mission since last autumn, but he should be coming back soon from what I heard.”

  “A werewolf, you say...”

  Had Veight seen this woman, he would have been quite surprised, since her shaman’s outfit was one he would have recognized.

  “I would very much like to meet him.”

  The woman wearing a shrine maiden’s outfit put a hand to her black hair to keep it from blowing in the wind and returned her gaze to the kanji written on the shrine. It was almost as if she could read the words “Island Kraken Shrine.”

  The Gladiator Hero

  Long before the nation of Meraldia was founded, Rolmund was a republic, not an empire. At the time the nation’s capital was Ioro Lange, and within that capital’s coliseum lived an enslaved gladiator. His name was Draulight.

  “I’m no slave. Hell, no human deserves to be a slave!”

  That was something he often repeated, like a mantra. His sword style—which was self-taught—involved throwing away his shield at the beginning of every fight and wielding his blade with two hands. He subscribed to the belief that the best defense was a good offense. Fortunately, the strength of his blows was powerful enough that his opponents were always forced on the defensive, and never had a chance to fight back.

  “KIYAAAAAAH!”

  Draulight’s battle cry sounded like the cawing of a bird. To those who didn’t know him, it sounded funny; but to those who did, it struck terror into their hearts. For they knew it to be the war cry of the ruler of the coliseum. If they tried to block Draulight’s blows with their shield, their shield would shatter. If they tried to parry them with their swords, their swords would snap. If they tried to dodge, they wouldn’t make it in time. As far as his opponents were concerned, Draulight’s battle cry was the exultant crowing of a raven, ready to devour another corpse.

  Today, like every other day, Draulight’s foe fell to the coliseum ruler’s onslaught. Blood spilled from the slain combatant’s head, dyeing the freshly fallen snow red.

  “The battle is over! Draulight is the victor!” The referee shouted, and the audience started cheering. Today’s fighter had tried to block Draulight’s sword with his shield, and Draulight had cleaved right through it. Not only that, but he’d destroyed his opponent’s helmet in the same swing as well. Draulight’s strength was clearly superhuman.

  He looked down at the corpse of his foe and silently bowed his head.

  “There it is, Draulight’s famous Death Glare!” The ignorant spectators shouted, their breath fogging in the cold. All of them mistakenly believed Draulight looked down at his fallen foes to make sure they were dead, and to kill them with his stare if they weren’t. After a few seconds, Draulight raised his head and stalked out of the arena. He didn’t grace the spectators with a wave or even a glance. But the spectators weren’t put off by his cold treatment of them. If anything, it made them more excited.

  “Don’t you love how brusque he is!?”

  “Yeah, it’s like the only thing he cares about is slaughtering his enemies!”

  “I heard he used to be a serf but then volunteered to be a gladiator. I can’t believe he’s that good even though he never had a martial arts teacher!”

  “He must be a natural with the sword or something...it’s insane, the way he swings that thing.”

  The crowd stuffed themselves full of mutton and mead and discussed the legends of Draulight while they waited for the next match to begin.

  “Welcome back. I see you survived today as well.”

  “Yeah.”

  Draulight slipped out of his helmet as he replied to the gladiator who welcomed him back. Guards had confiscated his sword before they let him into the changing room, so he was unarmed right now. Once his helmet was off, the numerous scars that covered his cheeks became visible. In fact, his entire body was riddled with them, the consequences of a purely offensive fighting style.

  Nursing the new wound he’d received today, Draulight muttered, “But my opponent wasn’t so lucky.”

  His comrades in the changing room all exchanged glances, then smiled sadly.

  “That’s just what happens when someone gets paired up against you. They all lose their nerve and start begging for mercy. If they’d just fight like men and surrender once they’re beat, the audience would be willing to spare them too.”

  “Assuming they can survive long enou
gh to surrender, that is...” Draulight shook his head unhappily. “Even if I lose, the audience always calls for my enemy to spare me. That’s why I’m still here even though I’ve lost before.”

  “Well, no duh they’d want you alive. The crowds love seeing you fight.”

  The only thing the audience was interested in was seeing an entertaining match. Nothing more. It wasn’t mercy that drove them to spare some gladiators over others, but rather how entertaining that gladiator happened to be.

  Draulight lay down on the hard-packed earth. The cold dirt was the only bed the gladiators were given.

  “How long am I going to have to keep up this moronic fighting style?” he muttered.

  Though he’d mostly been talking to himself, his friends answered, “Forever, probably? I mean we’re slaves, after all.”

  “But hey, in return for fighting here all our lives, they give us meat for every meal and make sure we don’t freeze to death in the winters. Plus if we win we get booze.”

  “The rest of your life isn’t very long when you’re a gladiator though.”

  “So what? What’s the point of living a long life when you’re a slave?”

  “You said it, man.”

  The other gladiators joked around as they lay down. They were already resigned to their fate. Strong and skilled as they were, they were still trapped in the cage that was this coliseum. But Draulight hadn’t given up yet. Quietly, he murmured, “But what if we weren’t slaves?”

  Everyone jumped to their feet. A few of the gladiators ran over to the door to make sure no one was listening. It was only after they were absolutely certain guards weren’t about to come in and beat them that they let themselves relax.

  “Dumbass, you can’t say shit like that! If they even suspect you’re gonna rebel, they’ll execute you!”

  “Hell, they might execute all of us just for being in the same room as you! I don’t wanna hang!”

  “I’m a gladiator, at least let me die fighting...”

  But Draulight wasn’t dissuaded. “Exactly! We have the power to fight. If we’re doomed to die anyway, we may as well go down fighting. But we should at least go down fighting for our freedom, instead of for the crowd.”

  “Seriously, stop saying things like that!”

  “Someone go get the booze he won for this fight! The Senate probably gave him a ton again, right? Get him drunk so he stops talking about this shit!”

  The other slaves started panicking, but Draulight remained calm.

  “I’m no slave,” he said resolutely. “I’ve always chosen my path in life.”

  “Whaddaya mean?” One of the gladiators asked, puzzled.

  Slaves had no right to choose anything. Even the weapons and armor they used were picked for them by the coliseum managers. In fact, the gladiators were given subpar equipment precisely so the fights would be bloodier and more entertaining. The people who ran the coliseum were sick and twisted. But then, so were the people who came to watch. If someone’s weapon broke, the crowd cheered, because it meant the fight would get gorier.

  Still lying on the ground, Draulight spat, “I’m sick of this. This country disgusts me.”

  “Yeah, but what can you do about it? There’s nowhere to run. Even if we tried to escape, the army would just chase after us. Escaped slaves have an even shorter lifespan than gladiators.”

  “They wouldn’t keep chasing us if we left the country entirely.”

  “You serious?”

  Given how cold Rolmund was, leaving the republic was basically a death sentence. Especially now, in the dead of winter.

  “We’d just freeze to death!”

  “Not if we ran south.”

  One of the veteran gladiators snickered at that. He was a former soldier who’d been demoted to a slave for breaking the rules.

  “There’s a huge mountain range to the south. I used to serve near those mountains back when I was a soldier. There’s no way you’re getting past them. They’re so tall they’re covered in snow year-round. The snow doesn’t melt even in summer.”

  The other gladiators shrunk back when they heard that.

  “Damn, that sounds scary...”

  “I’d rather die here where I can get meat and booze rather than freeze at the top of a mountain.”

  “Bah, a little snow won’t make a mountain impossible to scale,” Draulight harrumphed. “Besides, mountains exist to be climbed.”

  “You say some really weird stuff from time to time, you know that, Draulight?”

  The gladiators shot him curious looks, and Draulight got to his feet. “I’m escaping from this shithole. You guys coming?”

  “Hey don’t just go on deciding that on your own!”

  “Holy shit, he’s totally lost it!”

  “Didn’t you hear me, moron!? If you escape, everyone living with you’s gonna get executed!”

  Draulight smirked mischievously at them and said, “Then are you gonna report me to the guards?”

  “No, I...”

  The gladiators fell silent.

  “You’ve always been nice to us, sharing your meat and alcohol whenever you won...”

  “Plus you taught us a lot about sword fighting. Like how to use footwork and stuff.”

  “People think we’re elite fighters just ’cause we share a room with you...and honestly, that’s saved our asses more times than I can count.”

  Everyone here owed Draulight a debt. He swept his gaze over his comrades, his expression softening.

  “Then come with me. I’ll take you guys south, to freedom. Where there’s no coliseum, no shackles to bind us.”

  “Can you really do it? It sounds insane.”

  “Of course I can. I’ve been planning this for ages. Ever since I was born, actually.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Exactly what I said,” Draulight said confidently, lying back down. “Like you said, slaves don’t live long anyway. So if you’ve only got a short time to live either way, why not bet on me?”

  The gladiators exchanged glances.

  That night, long after all the coliseum’s torches had been extinguished. Draulight gathered his comrades. He explained his plan to them under the pale moonlight.

  “We have to do this fast. If we take too long, people’ll get cold feet. And if anyone reports us, it’s over.”

  “Yeah...fair,” one of the gladiators said with a nod, looking worried.

  Draulight then added, “Which is why we’re escaping tonight.”

  “H-Hang on a second!” another gladiator shouted, then hurriedly clapped a hand over his mouth.

  “Are you serious?” he muttered, more quietly.

  “You bet. I haven’t told anyone my plan, so there’s no way it could have been leaked. This is the only time I can be sure the guards haven’t been tipped off.”

  “I guess, but...”

  As the gladiators gave each other nervous looks Draulight said, “As long as we can sneak out of the coliseum, we’ll be fine. Come on, we don’t have much time.”

  “Fine.”

  The gladiators resolutely got to their feet.

  A few minutes later—

  “That was surprisingly easy,” one of the gladiators muttered as he took the keyring off the belt of a guard he’d incapacitated. Draulight took the armory key from him and nodded.

  “I figured they’d send a guard to mediate if they thought a fight had broken out between slaves. They only have a skeleton crew during the night, so as long as they open the door for us, the rest is easy.”

  Draulight turned to the other guards—who were cowering in a corner of the room—and held up the armory key.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t kill you guys. It’s not you that I have a grudge against.”

  As he said that, Draulight glanced over at a wooden plank lying in a corner of the room.

  “Alright, let’s do this. Start by freeing all the gladiators in the other rooms. We’re all escaping tonight.”

  “Aye
aye!”

  The next morning, Rolmund’s senate in Ioro Lange received a huge shock.

  “The gladiators all escaped!? Were they armed!?”

  “Y-Yes, Your Excellency.” The messenger bowed his head apologetically. “The seventy or so gladiators being held at the coliseum raided the armory and treasury, then escaped.”

  “What insolence! Send soldiers after them at once. I want them all captured, dead or alive!”

  “Unfortunately, we’re not sure which direction they’re headed...” As he trailed off, the messenger showed the senators a small plank of wood. “According to the guards’ testimony, a popular gladiator known as Draulight is the ringleader of this escape. Moreover, he carved these words into this plank before he left.”

  The senators looked over letters, but they couldn’t make heads or tails of them. Confused, one of them mused, “Perhaps this is the craftsmen’s script that we’ve heard rumors about?”

  “Ah, I’ve heard about that. Supposedly craftsmen and merchants have their own secret language they use to communicate with.”

  “Arrogant little upstarts...”

  Literacy was the privilege of the ruling class. Mere slaves were not allowed to learn how to read and write. However, that system had led the lower classes to create their own unique writing styles. Of course, the Senate had decreed that using any such writing system was an act of treason. The senators all simmered silently at Draulight’s insolence, but then one of the younger senators said, “It should be possible to decrypt a passage this long. Because he left us such a long message, there should be clues within the symbols themselves.”

  “Are you certain, Senator Schwerin?”

  “Yes.” The young senator known as Schwerin nodded. “For example, this message uses the same six-letter word quite frequently. Moreover, the second and fourth letter are identical. If we assume each of these letters represents a single sound, then this six-letter word is probably...”

  The other senators all realized it at the same time.