Record of Wortenia War: Volume 5

by Ryota Hori

  And if Ryoma wouldn’t buy their freedom here, they’d remain slaves to fate. They would continue to be used by others, at least for as long as they’re not graced with a great deal of luck. Compared to that, the Malfist sisters’ idea almost seemed like a salvation of sorts. Ryoma was certainly still going to use them, but the critical difference was that they would be treated as human beings.

  “All right. If I don’t buy them, someone else will... and saving them will work in my favor. It’s a good choice. First thing tomorrow, let’s go around to the businesses that deal with slaves. Sara, Laura, you two come with me. Gennou, I want you to keep looking into Count Salzberg! Lione, you keep working on the mercenaries, and Boltz, I want you to keep gathering information on the peninsula.”

  Everyone nodded at Ryoma’s words. Ryoma loathed the slave system from the depths of his heart. It reduced people into objects, and in Ryoma’s eyes nothing was more important than a person’s will and freedom. This was part of why he loathed Queen Lupis so much. She misused her authority and social status and ignored Ryoma’s will as a result.

  Having been oppressed once, Ryoma would exact revenge using the power of equally oppressed slaves. The sound of that idea rang sweetly in his mind.

  A class system? Screw that. I’ll crush that arrogance of yours to bits!

  The will filling this room would go on to overflow, and wash over the entirety of the western continent like a tidal wave.

  ♱

  “The back alleys, huh?”

  The sun had just passed its zenith and was beginning to dip into the western sky when Ryoma set foot in Epirus’s northern district. Dirty alleyways, full of the scent of filth and decay, spread out before him. He’d only slightly stepped outside the main street when he found himself on dark roads covered with shady establishments.

  “There should be a square further ahead where all the slave merchant companies are located.”

  Ryoma nodded lightly at Laura’s voice and entered the dark underbelly of the citadel city of Epirus.

  “Well met, sir noble!” A bearded man who introduced himself as the shopkeeper bowed to him cheerfully. “Is this your first visit here? We’re honored to have you. The Abdul Company is the largest supplier of slaves in Epirus. We deal in labor and sex slaves, and have a selection of war slaves as well. Our stock is vast, and we guarantee you will find a slave to your liking among our wares.”

  All around them were slaves, who looked into empty space with vacant expressions and were bound to the wall with chains. The shopkeeper’s skin was greasy and his expression was thick with greed and lust. It was as if some force of nature had taken the definition of the word “Avarice” and fashioned it into a human face.

  His body was thick both horizontally and vertically. He was only a bit shorter than Ryoma but three times his width. He was dressed in a long-sleeved robe covered with jewels. But despite that outfit, the leather whip dangling from his belt felt awfully vivid. He probably used it to whip disobedient slaves. The leather of its handle gleamed, as if to attest to how often it was used.

  “I would... like to purchase a slave,” Ryoma said through his teeth, trying his hardest to suppress his emotions.

  Had Sara and Laura not been gripping the hem of his cloak, Ryoma would likely have been overcome by the anger rumbling inside his heart and beat the merchant’s face to a bloody pulp. The shopkeeper was blissfully ignorant of Ryoma’s feelings on the matter.

  “Oooh! We greatly appreciate your patronage, sir noble.” The shopkeeper grinned as he quite blatantly rubbed his hands. “Do you seek labor slaves? Or perhaps a slave to pass the lonely nights with, hmm? We don’t have as many war slaves, but we will gladly provide for you to the best of our ability.”

  For how large and slow-witted he seemed, the merchant had a way with words. His eye for potential clients was impressive in its own right. If nothing else, he discerned Ryoma was a noble just from a look at his outfit. He wore the silk shirt and cloak he bought for his visit to Count Salzberg’s estate, but otherwise didn’t wear anything else that might identify him as a noble.

  “I need labor slaves, and a lot of them,” Ryoma told him. “That’s important. And I have a few requirements. I need boys and girls, all of them in their early to mid-teens. As many boys as there are girls. Roughly... Three hundred of them... If your business doesn’t have that many, I’d like you to call on other businesses to supply those numbers.”

  The slave merchant eyed Ryoma quizzically. His requests likely came as a surprise.

  “If I may, sir noble, they sound a bit too young for me. If you seek labor slaves, you would probably want older ones... Males, roughly in their twenties? And if you seek to make them your playthings, let me tell you that a labor slave’s body isn’t much to look at. Be they young girls or boys, the attractive ones are sold off as sex slaves. You won’t find any handsome ones among the labor slaves, yes?” He directed a probing glance at Ryoma. “And three hundred of them... Our establishment is the largest in Epirus, but that number is a bit... My apologies, sir noble, but what do you intend to use them for? If you could explain your needs I may be able to advise you accordingly.”

  Labor slaves were mostly used for agricultural work. They were essentially no different from ranch bulls or labor horses. To that end, the value of a labor slave was measured in their muscle mass. This of course made men more valuable than women, and adults in their twenties more valuable than children. Purchasing girls may have been understandable if they ran out of boys, but no one would specifically ask for female labor slaves.

  At least, that was what this shopkeeper’s long tenure as a slave merchant taught him. And no one would purchase teenage slaves who were still in their growing stages, except for eccentrics with a taste for pedophilia.

  Their muscle mass was undeveloped compared to an adult’s, and the food costs of feeding an adolescent were higher. It was like knowingly purchasing an automobile with bad fuel consumption.

  But Ryoma simply met the merchant’s apprehension with a cold voice.

  “What’s it to you?”

  The moment those words left Ryoma’s lips, the Malfist sisters shivered for a moment, as did the shopkeeper. Ryoma didn’t raise his voice or anything of the sort, and his tone was perfectly calm. But the chilling bloodlust hidden behind those words cut through the air like a blade. It was so vivid that even the shopkeeper, with his lack of experience in martial arts, could sense it.

  He’s going to kill me...

  The image of his throat being slashed open flashed in the slave merchant’s mind. This man had killed countless slaves in his career. They had either grown too old, become disobedient, or maybe lost a limb and disfigured their bodies. Most of his victims were child slaves that were useless as workers, too.

  At first, he would hold up the children he gathered at the front of the store, held in place by chains and collars. Attractive children were the first to be sold, as were children that looked older than they really were. Those had uses, after all. But there were always children that were left behind, unpurchased. And once no one bought them after a certain period of time, the slave merchants would kill them.

  Feeding them was a waste of money, after all...

  And even still, the slave merchants made good profit. They lined their wallets with gold... That was made on the backs of countless corpses. And the shopkeeper didn’t think there was anything wrong about that.

  He wasn’t killing people, after all; he was killing slaves. Objects shaped like humans. And when people saw other human beings as objects, they discard the ability to feel emotion. Mercy didn’t exist. Why would one harbor such feelings for an object?

  And Ryoma was currently glaring at the slaver the same way the slaver would look at his slaves.

  “O-Of course not! My apologies!” The shopkeeper fell to his knees and started begging for his life. “Do forgive me, sir noble! Please... Please forgive me! I beg of you...”

  He didn’t even realize the slave
s were looking at him. This was no time to put on airs. He realized his only way of staying alive was by begging for mercy. The fact he was facing a noble didn’t matter. He’d do the same if he was standing in front of a commoner, no, even against a slave. Ryoma had towered over him with a clear, palpable difference in strength.

  “Master Ryoma...” Laura tugged on Ryoma’s cloak harder, looking down on the shopkeeper lying prostrate.

  In truth, the twins wanted to kill this man just as much as Ryoma did. The sight of this shop was simply that gruesome to behold. The slaves’ skins were filthy and riddled with whipping scars. They likely hadn’t bathed in months. Their hair was twisted in knots and they were dressed in what could only be called undergarments.

  No, those that did wear undergarments were the lucky ones. Some of them were displayed at the storefront naked. There was no will in their vacant eyes as they stared into the air. It was like watching despair in human form.

  The two of us were lucky... They let us stay together and at least fed us...

  Sara and Laura were once slaves, too. But they were descended from a house of high-ranking knights and were given a proper education. And perhaps most importantly, they were both beautiful women. And so, even though they were slaves, they weren’t subjected to the awful treatment the children standing chained and naked in this alleyway were.

  Azoth, the slaver who bought them, treated them as precious wares. He vulgarly cursed at them plenty of times, but he never whipped them. In that regard, Azoth was perhaps slightly better than the slave merchant groveling before their eyes.

  “Master Ryoma, right now you should...” Laura tugged on Ryoma’s cloak one more time.

  “I know, fine... I won’t lose my temper here...” Ryoma whispered, restraining his rage.

  Calm down... You can’t... You can’t do this, not now... Killing him won’t help anyone, will it...? Right... This helps no one...

  Ryoma felt his anger swell up as he walked down the alleyways, but he couldn’t afford to let it burst here. This was Count Salzberg’s territory, and all the slavers here were merchants approved by him.

  Condemning slavery as evil was easy, but who held the right to decide what was good and evil? In Ryoma’s world, the idea of human rights developed over a long period of time, eventually merging with Christianity’s doctrine to form an ideology of freedom and philanthropy.

  But those ideas only really became widespread during the second half of the twentieth century. Until then, the white race believed themselves to be chosen by God and treated people of color as subhumans. The same could be said of this Earth.

  This world lacked both the idea of human rights and the religious value systems that existed in Ryoma’s world. One could call slavery evil as much as they wanted, but no one would lend them an ear. Starting a riot on the matter here would simply result in Ryoma getting banned from doing business.

  There was nothing Ryoma could do about this at the moment. It was this understanding that allowed him to pass weeping children being struck with a whip by and do nothing. But having this slaver speak to him like he knew it all simply added too much oil to the fire burning in Ryoma’s heart.

  “That’s enough... Raise your head...” Ryoma said, bottling up those raging feelings.

  “Y-Yes! My apologies!” The shopkeeper reacted at once.

  He didn’t even bother with the pointless act of checking Ryoma’s expression. He knew full well that the next time he drew Ryoma’s ire would be the moment his life flickered out.

  “I’ll say it again... I need three hundred male and female slaves in their early to mid-teens. Can you provide that, or not?” Ryoma repeated his question.

  “O-Of course, sir noble! We will do everything in our power to satisfy your needs. I swear it on my life! We will do just as you wish!”

  This time the shopkeeper didn’t say anything unnecessary and promptly answered Ryoma’s question.

  “Fine... Next, about the money. How much would three hundred cost in total?”

  “Yes...! Well, given their age and how boys and girls cost differently...” the shopkeeper stammered.

  “How. Much.” Ryoma stressed the question, making the annoyance in his voice clear.

  “How does a hundred and fifty gold coins in total sound?!”

  Fifty silvers per head on average. It totaled up to roughly one hundred and fifty thousand Japanese yen. Apparently, a person’s life cost as much as a bike or a scooter. Perhaps he rounded the price down out of fear from Ryoma’s murderous aura, but Ryoma didn’t know how much a child’s life was worth in this world. Still, this sum was perfectly affordable for Ryoma.

  “All right... When can you gather them up?”

  “Y-Yes! We don’t have that many in this establishment, but given a week we can gather that many!”

  “Good. Where will you have them delivered?”

  “My apologies, but gathering three hundred in Epirus’s streets may be problematic... How about the city outskirts?”

  He was right. Handing over three hundred slaves in the cramped alleyways wasn’t feasible. They’d need an open space for that.

  We’d need to go to the outskirts anyway if we’re going to do thaumaturgy training... To the north there’s Wortenia, and the west is the border with Xarooda. If we’re gonna camp outside, it’d have to be to the east of the city.

  Ryoma quickly calculated the situation and turned to the shopkeeper.

  “We’ll accept them in the eastern outskirts... We’ll pay you half the sum now, and the other half upon delivery. All right?”

  Ryoma received a sack full of coins from Sara and began putting the gold coins one by one into an empty sack, counting them as he did.

  “That’s seventy five gold coins. Do confirm it.”

  “At once! Please wait.” The shopkeeper received the sack from Ryoma and ran into the store.

  He then jogged back out, after having clearly not inspected the bag’s contents. This was unbecoming behavior for a merchant, but there was no one present that would criticize him for it.

  “Then... A week from now, outside the eastern gate... Understood?”

  “Yes! Thank you kindly for your patronage!” The shopkeeper bowed at a nearly 90 degree angle. “Next week, we will have the wares you have requested delivered to the eastern gate!”

  Ignoring his attitude, Ryoma walked away from the store as quickly as he could, restraining the urge to throw up. He didn’t want to spend another second in this place. He etched into his heart that human greed can come across as a toxic, suffocating stench.

  Ryoma and the twins hurried back through the alleys until they finally returned to the sunlight of the main street. Exposed to the gentle light of the westering sun, the three of them took a deep breath.

  “Master Ryoma... Are you all right?” Laura asked, looking at Ryoma’s back with concern.

  “Yeah... I’m fine... How about you two?”

  The sisters nodded wordlessly at Ryoma’s question. Their expressions were stiff and strained, but they were regaining their composure.

  “So this is this city’s dark underbelly, eh... Shit!”

  He knew a slave system existed beforehand, but the reality of it all was far more cruel and foul than Ryoma ever imagined.

  I’ll change it... I’ll definitely change this system! Ryoma swore in his heart.

  He knew he was only saying that out of self-satisfaction. Ryoma realized this. This was this world’s reality, and the most Ryoma could save were a small handful of the many lives being used by the system of slavery...

  ♱

  A week had passed since Ryoma’s agreement with the Abdul Company. Ryoma and his group moved out of the hotel they made their headquarters in during their stay in Epirus. They then set up camp on a field three kilometers away from Epirus’s main gate.

  They would need to go through some basic training before entering the Wortenia peninsula, but the only places within Epirus that would allow for it were training facilitie
s Count Salzberg built for his army. Ryoma couldn’t afford to ask the Count to lend him those places, and so they decided to camp outside of town.

  “For now, the preparations are complete. All that’s left is the question of how many people will be left...” The sunlight shined down on them as Ryoma glared at Epirus’s walls.

  “Realistically speaking, I don’t see all three hundred of them being useful... We’d be lucky if half of them are any good.” Gennou spoke to Ryoma’s turned back.

  “Yeah, I guess...” Ryoma shrugged.

  He knew he didn’t have much of a choice, but his expression remained dark. They were about to hold a selection. A selection to pick out the strong ones, the bright ones, the ones with the strongest wills. Only those chosen children would be promised a future and freedom, even though all of them deserved to be free...

  But freedom was a privilege granted only to the strong in this Earth. All of these children were lucky in their own way. Not all of them would gain freedom, but they would all at least be given a chance.

  “Do not let it weigh upon your conscience, milord... If you didn’t buy them, most of those children would be killed,” Gennou said, but this only made Ryoma grimace.

  He knew this well enough already. But while his mind understood the justifications perfectly, his heart couldn’t come to terms with things that easily.

  I buy children with the intent of using them, while the slave merchants who sell those children... We’re the same, aren’t we...?

  That emotion bubbled up in Ryoma’s heart. But he couldn’t afford to let that stop him here. The cogs of fate were already set in motion, after all...

  “Lad! The merchants are entering our camp now!” Boltz’s voice called out to him from behind.

  “All right! I’ll be right over... Let’s go, Gennou,” Ryoma said, then made way for the camp’s square.

  His face was free of the doubts he’d harbored just moments ago. He knew well enough of how harsh and merciless reality can be, and that no amount of agonizing over that fact will change it...