By Zephyria ======
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Three months ago.
A certain village on the western coast of the Stohl continent.
“Hey, you brat, Silver!”
Late at night, Black Weasel shouted hoarsely as he kicked open the door to the inn room. The door flew off its hinges and crashed down. A thick scent of alcohol flooded into the room.
“I’ve finally scored a lead. We have to leave.”
The inn room was as dark as if it had been drenched in tar. The outlines of the furniture were only vaguely visible, like a canvas where only rough lines had been sketched in charcoal. Black Weasel glanced around and headed toward the window.
“Dammit, not even a candle lit… Did this slave brat run away? Hey, Silver! Did you run away?!”
“Over here.”
Only then did a voice drift from the darkness. Black Weasel pulled back the window curtains. In the night sky, a crescent moon wore a sinister smile. The darkness staining the room faded slightly. Two worn-out beds. Two worn-out chairs. One worn-out table.
Silver was sitting in a chair with his legs propped up on the table, peeling an apple with a dagger. Black Weasel began pulling chests out from under the bed one by one.
“I told you to get ready to leave. This job isn’t some ordinary gig. It’s an escort mission for a Prince—a Prince!”
At those words, Silver let out a scoff.
“A Prince?”
“Yeah, a Prince! Well… he’s probably the King’s eighteenth or thirty-second illegitimate child, but a Prince nonetheless.”
“Just some common Prince. It’d be different if it were a Princess.”
“Shut it. Since when does a slave talk back to his master? If you don’t want your head split by my axe, get ready to leave. The destination is morgan.”
“There again?”
Silver’s shoulders twitched. He immediately slammed the dagger into the table and stood up abruptly.
“It takes at least a month to get there from here. It’s October. In one month, it’ll be fucking freezing winter.”
“Exactly. You want to reach morgan before winter hits too, don’t you? If we leave today and run our asses off, we’ll arrive within a month.”
“I quit!”
“I already took the advance. If you want to suffer even a little less, just pack your things, you stubborn brat.”
“Ugh…!”
Silver, who had been messing with his hair with both hands, finally sat down in front of the chests. Black Weasel had pulled out two chests in total from under the bed. When the first chest opened, various weapons packed tightly under the stiff wooden lid were revealed. Axes, daggers, iron hammers, iron hooks, and sickles.
Black Weasel flicked an oiled cloth toward Silver.
“Polish them until they shine! A well-sharpened tool cuts a throat clean!”
“Shit. They cut just fine without polishing.”
Silver grumbled as he wiped the axe with the cloth. Black Weasel clattered open the second chest. Packed gold coins scattered a dazzling light in all directions.
“Oh—have you been well, my love?”
Black Weasel kissed the gold coins and glanced at Silver.
“Money is a wonderful thing, Silver. How well have we lived in this inn all this time? It’s all thanks to these little guys.”
“What’s the occasion? Planning to pay the overdue lodging fees?”
“I have to settle the bill. The liquor here tasted good.”
Black Weasel gestured with his chin toward a corner of the room. Barrels of liquor smelling of honey were stacked in layers. Silver picked up a sickle and looked it over.
“Pay them generously. From what I see, this place is a ghost town.”
“It’s a village swarming with petty thieves, so of course there are no guests. We were attacked by some thugs just three days after we stayed here. If it weren’t for me, your head would’ve been gone, Silver.”
Black Weasel bragged, mimicking a throat-slit with the edge of his hand. Silver, who was wiping the sickle, frowned.
“But why did those thugs attack us? Looking at us, aren’t we just beggars?”
“They must’ve been desperate enough to rob even beggars. Did you forget? The innkeeper begged us to at least leave them alive. He said they were honest local youths who sail to the far North Sea in the dead of winter to pirate and feed their families.”
“But wasn’t it midsummer back then?”
“Anyway. Ready?”
“Yeah. Done.”
Silver closed the chest. Black Weasel stood up abruptly and shouted.
“Let’s move—! Ah, just one more drink before we go.”
The next day. Deep in the night.
A giant man and a boy stumbled down to the first floor of the inn. On the giant’s waist were several daggers, a whip, and axes. The boy was dressed in a black robe, carrying a large chest in each hand. Even to the blurry eyes of an old man with cataracts, they looked like thieves and a lackey who had just finished stripping a house bare.
The innkeeper, who had been nodding off at the counter table next to the entrance, jerked his head up. His face turned pale the moment he saw the giant and the boy.
Since early August, those two guests staying on the second floor had been the innkeeper’s headache. In the middle of a day when the sun was ripe, the giant and the boy had suddenly burst into the inn’s pub like wild boars invading a farm garden. Within the time it took for the sun to dip just a hand’s breadth, every drinking customer had fled the pub. That evening, the guest staying in the inn’s best room was involuntarily checked out, and the room naturally went to the giant and the boy. That was already two months ago.
“Innkeeper, why aren’t you sleeping? Did your wife kick you out because you’re bad at your nighttime duties?”
The giant approached with a smirk, stepping heavily. A strong scent of alcohol wafted with every word he spoke. The innkeeper swallowed silently.
“Hey! When someone asks a question, you answer!”
The giant slammed the table with a massive fist. The innkeeper pressed his back tightly against the wall.
“Yes, yes! Gu-guests, wh-wh-what brings you here at this hour? Pe-pe-perhaps, fi-fi-finally, you’re leaving?”
“Yep.”
“Ah, thank you! Safe travels! I won’t charge you for the lodging, food, or liquor from your stay!”
“Forget it. I’m a guy who hates free things.”
What the giant pulled out was not money, but an axe.
“Give me a cart and a month’s worth of food. Oh, seven barrels of liquor and three boxes of apples too. As a price for us leaving this place, this is modest enough, right?”
* * *
At the same time, on the Atania continent. In the small kingdom of Levenon, the capital city of Rosipol.
On a slightly hot October afternoon, the outdoor practice field in front of the main building of Meyer Public School was noisy with the chatter of students. The instructor signaled from the center of the circular field.
“Quiet! Wolf! Your turn.”
Wolf stood up and trudged toward the center of the field. He was half-naked, wearing only trousers, with leather straps wound tightly around his hands. The sensation of the sand beneath his bare feet was as coarse as a carpenter’s hand.
The opponent walking from the opposite side was Roy, who was the second largest in the class after Wolf. Wolf and Roy stood facing each other with the instructor between them.
The instructor spoke.
“Basic stance.”
For boys, the complexity of a basic boxing stance is comparable to a fortress blueprint.
“First, bend your knees slightly. Spread your feet shoulder-width apart, with the left foot slightly forward. Keep the left hand level with your eyes. Place the right hand in front of your right cheek. Elbows tucked into your sides.”
All the students sitting around the field had expressions as if they were chewing on moldy barley bread. Every male in Levenon, excluding slaves, is required to undergo combat training starting from age seventeen. However, this was a school for commoner boys. Unlike baking, shoe repair, or sewing, combat training was a waste of time not worth the effort to learn.
“Wolf, look your opponent in the eye! Are you afraid of getting hit, you man? You’re not living up to your size…”
The instructor frowned as he scanned Wolf. Even though he was only seventeen, Wolf’s height approached that of an average adult male.
“He has a body that looks like he’d gain muscle even while sleeping, yet he has no spirit. With those physical conditions, he could just take punches head-on and knock the opponent down… Wake up! A guy who can’t box can’t handle polearms either!”
“Instructor, Wolf is good at baking bread, though! Since last year, he’s been helping the boarding house Uncle in the kitchen.”
The students burst into laughter at someone’s retort. The instructor dropped his head and let out a deep sigh.
“Fine. I’ll count, then enter the attack. You win if you hit the opponent until they surrender or become incapacitated. Five, four, three, two… one!”
As soon as the words ended, Wolf fell flat on his backside.
“I surrender! I surrender!”
“Puhahaha!”
The students doubled over in laughter. The instructor now seemed to have given up.
“Wolf, Roy, get out. Next person, come forward.”
Wolf brushed off his backside and left the practice field. Roy, following behind, grumbled softly.
“I can’t believe we have to do this every week until graduation. Ugh, how tedious.”
“We just have to pretend. If we’re unlucky enough to break a finger, we’ll just waste time we could spend learning a trade.”
Wolf also spoke in a low voice. The students whispered discontentedly.
“They’ll just leave everything to the mercenaries anyway if a war breaks out.”
“I’m telling you, I envy my house’s slave the most in the world. He doesn’t get combat training, and he rolls around in bed with my sister every day.”
Wolf plopped down anywhere. From the main building behind them, the voice of a history teacher was drifting out.
“The
2 – Hell Execution Order