It took less than thirty seconds to assess the situation.
Narsha moved about with remarkable speed. The afterimage of her movement created streaks of red constellations in the slums, causing the residents in her path to fall like reeds.
Narsha, who had only ever held a dagger for self-defense, knew nothing of swordsmanship. With her busy life managing the trade route, there was no time to learn.
Yet, she had become an incredible swordsman solely due to the grace bestowed upon her by her Master. With confidence in using this power for the right cause, Narsha sheathed her sword.
Narsha checked for any remaining enemies. Concerned about the children’s psychology, she had only struck their vital points, so the unconscious victims looked like they were merely sleeping without blood.
Among the warm, fallen bodies, Narsha brought over Lara, who had tightly shut her eyes, and checked Matthew’s condition.
“Are you alright? Can you stand?”
“Uh… Though I’m not feeling great, I think I’ll be fine.”
“Your determination not to cause worry is commendable, but your injuries are severe. We need to treat you quickly.”
With one hand holding Lara’s hand, and Matthew on her back, Narsha left the slums.
“Where should we go? Is there a hospital around? Or, shall we head to the cathedral…?”
“The noble of the night gathering is close by. Arphia will heal you in an instant.”
“…Alright.”
Narsha didn’t comment on the decision to head to a tavern for treatment, demonstrating a merchant’s sense—sometimes bluff is all it takes.
Guided by the instructions, Narsha soon arrived at the Noble of the Night gathering place.
Ding~
The bell tied to the door rang.
“Grandpa, we’re here.”
“You’re late. What kept you…?”
Victor’s nerves suddenly tensed.
Matthew was covered in injuries.
Narsha carried a rapier.
A formidable aura emanated from her.
Enemy?
Victor prepared to draw his dagger by lowering his hand, shadows rippling around him.
In this tense atmosphere, Lara, oblivious to the tension, intervened with a bright smile.
“This sister saved us!”
“Saved you?”
“Some scary men were bothering Matthew, but this sister appeared and moved so fast: swish, swish, swish.”
Lara demonstrated the sword thrusts, reenacting the recent scene.
Fortunately, it didn’t seem to be what Victor had feared. He sighed and relaxed his assassin aura.
“Matthew, you ignored my words again and went to the slums. I clearly warned you not to go there since it’s dangerous.”
“But there was no choice, right? There are also kids who need help there.”
“Even so, you shouldn’t have gone alone. Lara could have been in danger too. From now on, go with Reinard; he has plenty of time.”
“Okay.”
“Arphia will be here soon, so just wait a little longer. And…”
Victor stroked his beard.
“Thank you for saving the children, but who might you be? You seem to be a distinguished person.”
“I am Narsha Briant. It was just the right time; I happened to be passing by.”
“Ah, Miss. Truly, we are deeply grateful. If it wasn’t for you, something terrible might have happened.”
“I merely did what was appropriate.”
“Not only does she look beautiful, but her heart is kind as well. My goodness, what’s come over me. Please sit down somewhere comfortable. I’ll offer you a meal. Reinard, come here and pour some water.”
Narsha took a seat in a suitable place, and soon afterward, an employee dressed as a waitress came out from the back area. Her skin was dark, and her ears were unusually long.
‘A Dark Elf?’
A tavern with a Dark Elf employee? This was extremely rare, even in large city shops, and it intrigued even Narsha, a part of nobility.
Could this one be an Elf saved by Karimi?
She considered the idea but quickly discarded it. After all, a person blessed by that lady’s salvation wouldn’t have such a soured expression, would they?
Reinard, who looked as though he was about to curse, stared at Victor.
“Why must I attend to a human? What do you take me for? I’m Reinard of Black Fog, not a tavern staff member.”
“Is it short?”
“…No.”
That day, after the battle with Arphia, Reinard had tried to leave after clearing the bodies of his so-called comrades. However, once again, he was caught.
-You’re not going.
-Why not! …Sir.
-We’re short on hands. With more kids around, the old man is having a hard time alone. You need to help. You have the option to refuse, of course—if you can escape.
What generosity.
This fleeting thought soon proved incorrect. It was all rubbish. For nearly a month, each escape attempt ended with him being caught again.
There was no way to escape.
Each time he was caught, his workload increased.
Eventually, Reinard adjusted his plan. The old man’s days were numbered. He would patiently wait for death.
Compared to the standard elf lifespan, the time was but a fleeting moment.
Thud.
Reinard placed a water glass before Narsha and left. Narsha stared blankly at his retreating back.
‘What an unusual tavern.’
She thought and left it at that.
Narsha savored the drinks and food Victor offered. Then, the bell started ringing noisily as people walked in. A strong scent of a pristine forest wafted through.
“Arphia Name, the elemental spirits keep causing trouble and no one helps them.”
“They should be disciplined. That way, they’ll listen better.”
“But the elders say we should coexist harmoniously?”
“The words of your master are more correct than theirs. Look, I won the championship as his slave, right?”
The young Elf nodded, acknowledging the truth.
“So, if I become that person’s slave, could I be like you, Arphia Name?”
“Of course. So, let’s train hard until our master returns.”
“Yes!”
Such a rare sight it was.
Though a great forest was nearby, Elves were a notoriously closed-off race, yet here they were, gathered in a human city like this. If any among them were his slaves…
Narsha’s eyes narrowed.
It wasn’t difficult to find.
There was only one who bore the look of a saved individual.
“Hmm?”
Arphia, who was taking care of the kids, noticed the gaze and turned her head. When her eyes met Narsha’s, her pupils suddenly dilated.
Arphia instantly recognized the feeling too. A sensation shared only by those who’ve experienced complete liberation.
“You…”
“To meet someone who’s received our Lord’s deep grace from a distant land, what a remarkable fate this is.”
Arphia regarded Narsha with caution. She naturally knew that Karimi had already interacted with various slaves before meeting her.
But Narsha was different.
The sense of kinship she felt as a fellow slave.
The rejection stemming from it.
Isn’t there a saying? You wanted to be happy but didn’t think it would be like this. That was exactly Arphia’s current sentiment. She aimed to teach and guide the young Elves in a ‘similar’ environment, not one surpassing hers.
Narsha was someone who shared an equal experience with Arphia. And someone who aimed to go beyond the master-slave relationship.
“Hmm. So adorable.”
The antagonistic atmosphere radiated by Arphia, while Narsha, in contrast, modestly covered her mouth and smiled.
“Since we share such a rare bond, why don’t we have a conversation? Just the thought of sharing my thoughts with someone who understands is making my heart race.”
A formidable opponent had arrived.
Arphia silently made a resolve within herself.
*
“Who is that pretty lady?”
“She seems like Karimi-sama’s slave.”
“Her too? Karimi-sama is impressive.”
All the injuries Matthew had sustained were quickly healed by Arphia’s elementals.
Including Matthew, Emili, Liri, Lara, Hani, and the elves brought by Arphia.
The children who had grown fond of each other while playing together were now crouching all around the tavern, peeking from its corners toward one spot.
There, Arphia and Narsha faced each other across a round table, giving the impression, at a glance, that they were mirroring Karimi Himself.
Even the children could see the fascinating interplay. While Reinard appeared disinterested as he cleaned the table, he was clearly eavesdropping with ears pricked up. Victor, on the other hand, ate a handful of peanuts.
The outward posture favored Narsha.
Narsha sat poised and composed, whereas Arphia, with her arms crossed, tapped her leg irregularly.
The air seemed tense, laden with the sharp edge of knifes.
After a period of probing each other, Narsha spoke first—a gesture meant as seniority to a ‘junior.’
“I’ll properly introduce myself. Narsha Briant, the only daughter of the Briant Baron family in the Traur Kingdom.”
“Arphia Lilian.”
Even as she introduced herself, Arphia subtly broadcasted, “I don’t like you.”
“You Elves always hear how beautiful you are, and it’s true. Not to mention, Arphia seems cute too.”
Arphia’s eyebrows twitched. The word “cute” did not resonate as a compliment to her.
“Ever since you began calling me ‘cute,’ how old are you… really…”
“Older than me?”
“…Older than me?”
“Older than me?”
“…”
Arphia realized too late she was about to blunder. She snapped her mouth shut just in time.
This was a fatal trap, she understood. Speaking it as a woman would mean there’s no way to back down. The moment it slips out, it’s over.
Fortunately, she avoided the worst situation, but that was all. She couldn’t find anything else to say.
“Hmm~ So cute.”
Narsha let out a teasing sound.
Though the moment was halted just before the trap, Narsha felt only slightly disappointed about missing out on a perfect victory. But, all in all, the harvest wasn’t bad.
Emotional.
Lacking in wordplay.
Narsha had already mapped out all of Arphia’s traits through a single conversation. Once the foundation was exposed, toying with her was no longer a challenge. A one-sided domination commenced.
“From the looks of it, Arphia also seems to have received the grace of our Master. Seeing you brings to mind the advice I gave Him that day.”
“Advice…?”
“Yes, our Master wanted to stay by my side, but I strongly opposed it. I pleaded for Him to bring salvation to the world, to seek a greater world and help more people.”
“What does this mean…”
“Thanks to my advice, you could shine so brightly now, couldn’t you? It proves my decision was right, and I’m truly moved.”
In short:
You were saved thanks to me.
If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even have met Karimi.
Even now, you should recognize and be thankful.
Though the interpretation was a bit biased, the general point was quite similar.
Of course, it was a fabrication.
There was never such a conversation.
Karimi was gone in the blink of an eye.
But, this is how arguments work. Information asymmetry. Lying works because the other party can’t verify the truth. The boundary between truth and falsehood blurs.
Especially effective against an emotional opponent. Proof of this was the way Arphia’s eyes wandered, unable to find any anchor, swinging wildly.
“Our Master led you on the path to liberation and left immediately afterward. Once His business with you was done, He went to rescue someone else.”
“Ugh…!”
“My advice was followed so diligently. What a supreme honor for a slave. I have no regrets, even if I die.”
Arphia had no way to refute. With every word Narsha uttered, her precious memories with Karimi were being chipped away. The significant bond becoming merely a footnote in someone else’s achievement.
Unacceptable.
“Lie! I made a thousand-year pact with that person!”
“A thousand-year…pact?”
“Yes!”
Arphia suddenly bolted down into the basement and returned with a beautifully wrapped leaf.
“Look!”
With a skeptical gaze, Narsha read the words inscribed on the leaf. Words like ‘reunion,’ ‘trust,’ and ‘pact’ caught her attention. Shivers ran through Narsha’s pupils, and her previously calm face cracked slightly.
“Did you see that? That person didn’t leave permanently, just stepped out momentarily!”
“But, with just this…”
“There’s more proof too, isn’t there?”
“Proof…?”
“Yes!”
Suddenly shedding her coat and upper garments, Arphia partially exposed her skin.
Catching the garment to prevent it from slipping, she proudly displayed the flawless imprint etched on the back.
“See? This is the proof that I am that person’s eternal slave.”
It was also an exaggeration.
The pact mark carved for elemental domination was merely a means to handle the elementals and had nothing to do with slavery.
But in Narsha’s eyes, it looked like the mark of a slave.
Since the shackle of the soul was no longer visible, Narsha had no way to prove the mark wasn’t that of a slave. Upon seeing it, she couldn’t help but feel envious.
“You don’t have anything like this, do you? You really are that person’s slave, aren’t you?”
“Hrrrgh…”
With one attack from Arphia, the situation completely reversed.
Narsha, with clenched lips, fumed silently; Arphia, on the other hand, lifted her chin proudly, her mouth curving into the shape of a victor.
Meanwhile, in a corner of the tavern.
“Hey, Master.”
“What is it?”
Reinard, who had been sitting next to Victor munching on peanuts, spoke.
“Is slavery something to boast about?”
“Don’t ask me…”
A surreal sight unfolding.
Victor’s head spun with confusion.
