Chapter 151
“Ruggerspell, huh. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that name.”
Ian glanced out the carriage window, surveying the surroundings. Ruggerspell—a notoriously rough slum, even by central city standards. Being reassigned there from the guard was essentially a demotion, and many couldn’t handle the brutal workload, quitting in droves. This inevitably left security gaps, which only worsened the crime and disorder in Ruggerspell, creating a vicious cycle.
A breeding ground for every kind of crime, incident, and accident. The rotten core of Bariel. A world dirtier and uglier than the lowest depths of humanity.
“I don’t think Ruggerspell was always like this,” Ian muttered.
“Is that so?” Romandro replied.
“Ah, you’re from the borderlands, so you probably don’t know. It used to be a district where merchant guilds stayed temporarily, much like Merellop. But over time, with so many unknown transient populations, illegal immigrants, drug rings, and slave traders taking root, it’s fallen into this state.”
Romandro cleared his throat, trying to maintain his dignity. Drunk vagrants kept trailing them, locking eyes with him. The coachman cracked his whip, shouting for them to move along, but the half-crazed drunks paid no mind.
“Move along! Do you know who’s in this carriage?”
“Must be someone important! Just spare a coin! The sound of this carriage’s killing my buzz!”
“You lot, get out of the way!”
Screech!
‘So this is the Ruggerspell I know… and it’s only just begun,’ Ian thought, clicking his tongue as he watched the ragged vagrants. They were so filthy and ragged they couldn’t possibly be citizens of the Empire. In a truly great nation, even alleys like this would see sunlight…
“Are we close?” Ian asked.
“Yes. The compass light is growing stronger. We haven’t moved to another district; it must be nearby.”
Romandro wiped sweat from his brow with a handkerchief and sighed. Though it was midday, the dense, dilapidated buildings cast a gloomy shadow.
As if that wasn’t enough, laundry lines with yellowed clothes swayed overhead, mixing with the stench of filth, drunken shouts, and sudden brawls. Every sense screamed danger.
“What does that Beric want, calling us here while even clashing with the guard captain?”
“Seems like this isn’t something to be solved by force. And above all, it’s likely Hasha’s decision.”
If it were Beric, he would have brought Hasha back the moment he found her. Even if there was trouble, he’d have cut a path with his sword. But since that didn’t happen, it was clear Hasha had asked for help.
“Stop here. Turn the carriage around.”
As Ian spoke with Romandro, the compass light suddenly reversed direction—they’d passed their target. The coachman peered in, troubled.
“Your Grace, the street’s too narrow to turn around. We can stop here, but to come back, we’d have to take a long detour.”
“Is that so? Fine. We’ll get out here.”
“Ian, you’re getting out?”
“Romandro, stay in the carriage if you prefer.”
With a click, the door opened, and a wave of filth hit them. At the same time, the eyes of those watching from the shadows zeroed in on them. Romandro quickly scanned left and right, weighing his options: stay with the coachman or accompany the mage.
“Ian, come on! Let’s go!”
Swish.
Ian followed the compass’s glow, twisting his body this way and that, searching for the spot where the light shone strongest and didn’t flicker.
‘This must be it.’
A nondescript, rundown building. Judging by the piles of crates stacked outside, it was likely a guild’s hideout. A yellowed, tattered flag hung by the door.
Romandro stroked his beard and sniffled.
“That’s Chelim language… Pa, Pa…”
“Pakens.”
“Ah, yes. Pakens. Wait, you speak Chelim too?”
Romandro’s eyes widened as he turned to Ian, who merely nodded but didn’t seem eager to answer, instead moving toward the door to peer inside.
“Pakens… Hasha and Beric must be here. Call someone from inside.”
“Here? Why?”
Romandro looked genuinely puzzled. The slave guild that dealt with Karenna’s bandit leader and the undead—Ian had memorized their name well. Following the compass here and finding that guild? It couldn’t be a coincidence.
Knock knock!
“Is anyone inside?”
“Eek!”
Without hesitation, Ian grabbed the door handle and knocked. After a moment, a bald man appeared, frowning groggily.
From his attire, he looked like a noble’s son, someone you wouldn’t expect to see in Ruggerspell. The man sneered, eyeing Ian up and down.
“Sorry, but it’s not market day.”
Meaning the slave market wasn’t open. Visiting on a non-market day was suspicious.
A lecherous noble, an unlicensed doctor needing test subjects, or a cold-blooded killer looking for meat to feed a pet monster—none of these were normal reasons to show up here.
“Go back.”
Ian noticed the interior was larger and deeper than expected. Men sprawled about slowly rose, watching the entrance.
“I’m looking for something.”
“I said it’s not market day! Don’t make me repeat myself!”
Ian couldn’t ask about Hasha and Beric’s identities here. While some slaves were legally sold, nearly half were kidnapped or trafficked illegally. Searching for Hasha and Beric here would only raise the slave traders’ suspicions.
Swish.
Ian pulled a gold coin from his pocket and held it out. The man’s eyes widened, about to speak, but Ian pressed the coin against his chin and whispered quietly.
“I said I’m looking for something. Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Then, with a slow smile, Ian slipped the coin into the man’s mouth. The man bit down hard to confirm it was real, then stepped aside.
“…Come in.”
“Ahem, excuse me!”
Romandro cleared his throat and stuck close behind Ian. The man led them to a room at the far end.
“Wait here. I’ll inform the guild leader.”
Knock knock.
Once the man disappeared, Romandro exhaled sharply, and Ian checked the compass.
‘This is definitely the place.’
At least seven guild members were visible, but the space was like an anthill—too many rooms to count precisely. When Ian met their gaze, some grinned lecherously. Romandro’s neck stiffened.
“Why are they smiling like that…?”
“Looks like they like you, Romandro.”
“Me?!”
Screech.
“Well, what do we have here? A visitor on a non-market day? If the guards catch wind of this, the fines will be brutal! Ha ha ha!”
The guild leader was surprisingly young, with a bold, sly look that screamed merchant. He extended a hand to Ian.
“Welcome. I’m Pakens, the guild leader.”
“I don’t need to introduce myself.”
“Of course not. Not curious either. Ha! Please, have a seat.”
Though he smiled lightly, there was no way the head of a slave guild was careless.
Ian sat and scanned the office. There was no sign anyone lived here. This was a temporary base used when they reached the capital, a place they could abandon and flee at a moment’s notice.
“So, what are you looking for? You must have a special reason to seek us out. Honestly, it’s all business here—we have everything but what you don’t want. If we don’t have it, we can quickly find it elsewhere and connect you.”
Pakens smiled, fingers steepled, urging Ian to speak. Ian glanced at the men standing firmly behind him, raising an eyebrow as if to ask if they’d keep standing there all day.
“Sorry, but there was a thief in the building yesterday.”
“A thief?”
“No damage, but someone broke in. Everyone’s on edge. The one who opened the door isn’t easily fooled, but gold has a way of charming people, doesn’t it?”
Ian was certain. That thief was Beric. He’d come inside, met Hasha, and at her request, called Ian.
Ian tapped the table with his fingertips.
“How many goods do you have?”
“About thirty in total.”
“I’d like to take a look around.”
“Sorry, we don’t show our stock to just anyone. If you tell me what you want, I’ll bring it to you.”
Ian stared at Pakens.
“Do you sell beasts?”
“Beasts? Ah, yes. We do have some.”
“I’m looking for something to play with and something suitable for sword training. Bring me your recommendations, and I’ll choose.”
“A sword for training! That’s perfect! Traditionally, training swords have thicker blades. Just wait a moment.”
Pakens and his men closed the door and left the office. But only one set of footsteps echoed afterward. The other two guards seemed to be posted outside the door. Romandro noticed this and whispered to Ian.
“Do you think Hasha and Beric are being held here?”
“Hasha might be, if the talking dog’s been discovered. But a petty thief…”
“Beric, right?”
“Most likely. Since he’s with Hasha, they’re probably hiding somewhere in this building.”
“So, what do we do now?”
Romandro shrugged. Without knowing what Hasha and Beric want to do, they couldn’t act rashly. Should they bring the guards and search the place?
“I’ll let Beric know we’re here.”
Ziiing. Ziiing.
Ian slowly released his magic. His eyes turned golden, and his hair fluttered in the low, trembling breeze. Romandro swallowed hard, glancing nervously between the door and Ian.
“You want Beric to sense it? That indifferent guy? Do you think he’ll notice?”
Bang! Crash!
Just then, a loud noise came from outside. Ian stopped channeling his magic and turned around.
“Looks like he did.”
“What was that noise?”
“Exactly.”
Pakens, about to descend to the underground prison with his men, hesitated. Since the sound came from the direction they were heading, caution was necessary.
Tap, tap, tap!
“Pakens! Pakens!”
“Keep it down! This is no time for noise!”
“No, it’s just that…”
A soldier climbing the stairs babbled incoherently. Thick smoke filled the air. Worried it might be a fire, Pakens covered his mouth with his sleeve and hurried down.
Creak.
The half-broken door swung open on its own. The torchlight in the corridor illuminated the underground prison, where a white dog and a stranger sat. The stranger’s red hair was streaked with the blood of Pakens’ men.
Illustration
“What’s going on?”
“Hello! Hey! Our master’s here, right?”
“Y-you, how did you get in here…?”
“Our master’s here, right!?”
Beric infused his sword with magic and sprang to his feet.
Hasha did the same, dashing down the opposite corridor and shouting loudly.
—Astanians! It’s time! Our savior has come! Everyone, rise up!