Road, dirt road. The dust has been reduced to almost nothing. The rain has stopped; the ground is still damp. The forest has ended—there is nothing around anymore, only a vast plain.
A dirt road is trodden upon by a carriage. In front of that same carriage goes a coach. A small caravan advancing across that flat rise in the middle of the plain. The sun shines after the storm, marking the route the caravan follows. The whole world stretches out on both sides. A beautiful landscape covered in freshness and radiant green grass, newly moistened. Pure air could be felt—a breeze that cleans the lungs, purifying the soul of whoever was fortunate enough to breathe it.
A constant sound—distinct and repetitive. The wheels turned and turned around their axis, making both carriages move forward and forward through that sight to behold. Horses pulling, being whipped from time to time so as not to lose speed. Sitting for a long time, crossing that lively plain, witnessing something beautiful. That is what the fortunate ones with rights saw. That is what those human beings, owners of other beings just as human as themselves, saw.
There they passed, far away, far away. From outside, from beyond. From the plain, from the plain. Great—gigantic—enormous—colossal. A wall rose in the distance from that view.
A wall—that was the wall, that was the destination.
"..."
[Don: Mhm...]
"..."
Helmet looked through the window at that capital where his noble estate was located. He stared through that window, thinking about all the pending plans and what he had yet to accomplish. Instructions must be given on how to proceed at this moment; the destination is already visible on the horizon.
"..."
Helmet opened the window behind him.
[Don: Hey, I want you to follow everything just as I told you.]
[Driver: Ah... Y-yes sir, leave it to me.]
[Don: ...]
He closed the window.
[Don: Petra, take out the money, we need to pay the toll.]
[Petra: Hmp... E-eh... Y-yes, master...]
[Don: ...]
Helmet looked ahead of him. Petra, a domestic maid who usually accompanies him on all his trips. She is his favorite servant; he considers her the most beautiful, which is why he wants to set an example of the quality he possesses. Besides that, she provides him support in various matters during these journeys.
[Don: ...]
Helmet looked to his left, where the window he kept gazing through stood—always contemplating the view to pass the time. He was quite simple in these matters; he enjoyed beautiful and peaceful landscapes.
His left hand swirled in circles, mixing and oxygenating the wine in his glass. Sweet wine, very well fermented—expensive, with a fine taste—divine and delicious, just right to enjoy what is called life. This feeling is so gratifying and glorious.
[Petra: Here, my lord. There is the amount for the toll.]
[Don: Ah... Eh? A-ah, yes, perfect... hand it to me, dear.]
[Petra: ...]
Petra placed a couple of silver coins into Helmet's outstretched hand. After that, he knocked twice on the window and opened it.
[Don: Here, take the coins for the toll.]
[Driver: A-ah... Of course, sir, I gladly accept them.]
[Don: Before anything else... I want you to stop at the outer market. Petra has to take care of an order.]
[Driver: Of course, sir, as you wish.]
[Don: ...]
He closed the window.
[Don: Petra, remember to get the firewood from Zerviciano. We'll place it in the back, together with the slaves.]
[Petra: Of course, sir, as you wish.]
[Don: Ramirez can help you, he has the better build. Some of the slaves are useful too—take two or three out so they can help you carry it. They're small bundles, it shouldn't take long.]
[Petra: Yes, my master.]
[Don: ...]
After all that talk, Helmet looked once more to his side. He averted his gaze, stopping himself from worrying about trivial matters, and let out a sigh through his mouth. He took a sip from his silver goblet inlaid with rubies, swirling the wine again and holding the cup over his lap. He savored that sweet yet strong taste of red wine, which clung richly to his refined palate. That aroma, that flavor, that careful crafting characteristic of such wine—that is why this brand was the best.
Such a landscape was worthy of admiration by any living being.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
[Petra: You, you, and you. Get down.]
[Slaves: ...]
In the back, in the carriage's cargo area, Petra stood together with the slaves. They were pointed out—the red-haired dog girl, the gray-haired cat girl, and the brown-haired cat girl. The trio stood up almost at the same time and began walking toward the exit of the cargo space. Petra then stepped up into the scene, inside the filthy cubicle. She placed shackles and chains on each of them, handed one by one by the driver. They were chains that connected from the neck, wrists, and down to the ankles. The three girls finally stepped down from the carriage, accompanied by Petra behind them.
Lior merely watched and did not move.
"..."
The three girls got down from the carriage and quickly looked around. A small market loomed before them. Stalls selling food—others vegetables, fruits, meats, and all sorts of things in general. Vendors shouting to draw attention, people buying and carrying goods from one place to another. Different carriages passed here and there, transporting merchandise or carrying passengers aboard.
The ground was nothing but dirt, and the stalls were made purely of wood. That stood out, since everything about the place was quite common and ordinary. It did not differ much from how they remembered an ordinary market.
Except that...
A structure—an architectural form that covered the entire area. Imposing, incredible, astonishing, intimidating, gigantic, abysmal, colossal. The wall that surrounded all of Solsacrum.
"..."
The slaves simply lowered their gaze and limited themselves to following orders.
[Petra: Good. Follow me.]
Petra, accompanied by the driver, walked toward a nearby stall. Both were followed by the chained slaves. They walked along the street, being careful with the carriages coming and going.
"..."
[???: Ah... Petra, you've returned.]
[Petra: Good morning, Mr. Zerviciano.]
[Zerviciano: Hoho... there's no need for so much formality. You've come back, I suppose it's for the order, isn't that right?]
They crossed the street and arrived at a stall. At that stall stood a man with a white beard and brown hair, slightly faded and streaked with gray. He had an imposing aura and a sturdy build. With a kind-looking face, he smiled at Petra, who stood beside the driver. The man was Don Zerviciano, an old and honorable woodcutter of the area. He wore simple clothing—a dull green leather jacket over a stained, slightly sweat-soaked pastel shirt. Light brown trousers and two black gloves on both hands. All of that was visible at first glance.
Behind him there was a wooden shed, with a thick blanket covering the entrance. The stall was simple; it only had a sign written in Imperium and a yellowish cloth over the counter. Between the two, there was a wide space separating it from the neighboring shed, with a special spot containing a tree stump for splitting wood. The axe was still embedded there.
"They could steal it..."
The axe remained stuck there without protection.
[Zerviciano: How has Lord Helmet been? It seems he's in his carriage, right? You must have had quite an exhausting journey.]
The man turned around, as he had been resting his hands on the stall's counter. He approached the entrance of the shed while asking the question.
[Petra: Master Helmet has been well. The journey was exhausting, but overall everything went correctly.]
[Zerviciano: Is that so!? That's good to hear!]
His voice could be heard from afar, as Mr. Zerviciano had already entered the shed. Rigid sounds echoed from inside—the man was gathering the firewood.
Then he came out with both arms full of split logs, each bundle of firewood tied tightly together with a cord.
[Zerviciano: Well, that's good to hear, to be honest. The lord always buys from me, so I like to look after my customers. Send him my regards later.]
[Petra: Of course, sir, as you wish.]
Zerviciano placed the bundles of firewood on the stall's table, the one covered with the yellowish cloth.
[Zerviciano: Look, here you have the bundles. It's the best firewood I have. Yesterday my sons brought it before it rained, so I managed to store it. It's dry wood and of the finest quality.]
[Petra: ...]
[Zerviciano: You can take it. Remember, it was paid for the other day. I'll go get what's left, so take advantage of the time.]
He said that as he walked away from the stall once more. Petra stayed there, watching as he moved off again. She turned around and addressed the slaves.
[Petra: Take it to the carriage. Ask the others for help to lift and stack the bundles. They must go in the back, near the driver's seat.]
[Slaves: ...]
[Petra: ...]
Petra looked at the slaves' downcast faces and kept staring at them.
[Petra: Come on now... do—]
[Driver: Come on, it's an order. Hurry up and do the damn job!]
There was a second of hesitation—she hadn't even realized it was hesitation. The driver shouted and ordered the slaves to do the dirty work.
The slaves were startled at once and rushed to grab the bundles. They ran past the maid and the driver. The red-haired girl, frightened by the shout, stumbled as she reacted; she also struck a stone that tore part of the skin on her knee. She got up quickly and kept running. The girls reached the counter to grab the bundles of wood. They took only a few, since each bundle represented considerable weight for their sad, thin bodies to lift.
They turned around and, with all the weight in their arms, walked slowly but steadily toward the carriage. They went carefully, watching that no cart, carriage, or wagon would run them over as they crossed the street. They reached the other side, while Petra and the driver observed from behind—the maid with her usual posture, and the driver with both hands on his hips. They watched and assessed—qualities and usefulness, basic things a slave must have—although most likely all those slaves were meant for domestic work.
And so it was, amid the waste of time, that the driver cast a glance at the counter, at the stall's table. Releasing his stance, he turned around and went to grab several more bundles. He took a number of them in his arms and headed toward the carriage, from which the slaves were now returning once again. Petra limited herself to watching, since she knew that if she dirtied herself, her master would reprimand her.
[Zerviciano: A-ah... Uff... There.]
Out of nowhere, a deep sigh and heavy breathing were heard from one side. It was Don Zerviciano, who had returned with the remaining firewood. Petra looked to her other side and fixed her gaze on the man.
[Zerviciano: Uff... My back... I'm not made for this anymore. Age is catching up with me, eh?]
[Petra: ...]
[Zerviciano: A-hah... Hey, little Petra.]
[Petra: Uhm? What is it, sir?]
[Zerviciano: Those women, they're new slaves, right? It's been a while since Lord Helmet bought new ones.]
[Petra: ...]
[Zerviciano: Though they seem a bit thin for this kind of work. It would make sense if they were maids. I suppose that was the purpose of the purchase, right?]
[Petra: ...]
Mr. Zerviciano rested his right arm on the side of the counter, holding his head as he did so. His legs crossed, and his gaze fell upon the girls who were approaching.
Petra opened her eyes wide and lowered her gaze along with that reaction. She looked at her hands, which were placed over her abdomen, and swallowed the saliva that had gathered. Her face could not be clearly seen; her body trembled completely, and it was then that she closed her eyes. She took a soft breath and lifted her gaze back to Mr. Zerviciano. Her eyes wanted to say something—but they were dimmed by some inner restraint of her own.
Zerviciano saw all of this, but he simply chose not to pay attention. He remained in the same position as previously mentioned.
The trio of slaves arrived and carefully picked up the bundles. The man attentively observed each of their facial expressions, then looked away. The girls turned around and continued with their work, followed by the coachman, who did the same—grabbing several bundles and heading back to the carriage. The man kept watching the slaves carry out their tasks.
[Zerviciano: ...]
[Petra: Mhm...]
[Zerviciano: ...]
[Petra: I cannot say anything, Mr. Zerviciano. This is a matter exclusive to Helmet.]
[Zerviciano: ...]
The man stared at her, and Petra narrowed her eyes slightly. Zerviciano remained thoughtful for a moment, his eyes also half-closed.
Don Helmet had always been a very cautious man in these matters; it was only logical that he would once again hide his motives. He did not appear much in public, and whenever he did, it was for trivial matters—so seeing him and knowing he was inside that carriage was rather strange. Helmet was a man deeply concerned with his image. After all, his family was the emperor's right hand; he had to maintain proper appearances.
Nothing prevented others from judging him as odd or extreme, yet no one said anything out of fear of his power. He provided many goods to his country and was considered a very noble man by others. He was the most important aristocrat of this decade, and his enterprises provided thousands of families around the world with the means to survive.
[Zervicino: ...]
Besides, he has bought from me—I am quite fortunate it is me. Perhaps because of this interaction, I will have the luck of him continuing to purchase even more from me.
[Zerviciano: Well, Petra, that would be all, correct?]
[Petra: A-ah... Yes, sir. Thank you very much for your service.]
Petra quickly came back to her senses. Her gaze, which had begun to drift into nothingness, stopped paling and turned toward Zerviciano's voice.
Meanwhile, as they held that strange conversation, the slaves went back and forth, carrying the firewood to the carriage.
"..."
Arranging and stacking, Lior was at the back, near the partition between the coachman's seat and the cage. He was placing the firewood that the other girls passed to him, since he and the rabbit girl were receiving the bundles to stack them at the rear. Lylia handed them over, and he trembled as he grabbed them—his arms were so weak that at one point he nearly collapsed to the ground.
Fortunately, that did not happen. He simply forced himself to work quickly and carefully. It was back and forth—grab, turn around, place, adjust, return, and grab another. It was like a gym workout.
Lior swayed constantly from exhaustion, his body unaccustomed to such effort. He felt quite dizzy, and before long he was drenched in sweat. He was extremely tired, yet he had to keep stacking those bundles of firewood.
Until, at one moment, the wood stopped reaching Lior's hands.
"..."
[Lylia: Ahem... I think that was the last one... Haru! Isn't there any more!?]
[Haru: No! They're all gone!]
The blue-haired cat girl, whose name was Haru, shouted from the other end of the cage. She was standing at the door receiving the bundles from the other girls. The three slaves outside had remained waiting by the entrance. Haru merely announced what had happened—that the work was finished.
[Lylia: Alright.]
[Rabbit Girl: Good... I suppose now we have to settle in.]
[Lylia: Mia, fix that pile. It's about to fall.]
[Mia: Oh? Ah! Sorry...]
Lior looked away from Lylia and focused on the rabbit girl.
Mia—the rabbit girl. Her hair was black, and her eyes were brown. She was very thin, almost as thin as Lior, and did not have a particularly remarkable physique. Her hair was of medium length, neither long nor short, forming a rounded shape around her head. Her skin tone was a pale coffee color, and she had a lock of hair covering her left eye. Her ears stood out because of her race; they were the same color as her hair, except for a small white spot at the tip of her long right ear. Fine whiskers rested between her lips and nose, typical of her rabbit lineage. Her voice was weak and fragile.
Despite her timid and easily frightened personality—usually shown during activities at the mansion—she had never grown very close to Lior, and they had rarely shared duties as maids of House Eidoriku.
[Haru: Yes... you have to be careful with that, Mia...]
[Lior: ...]
And beside them—
The blue-haired cat girl arrived.
Haru—that was her name. She was not very different from the other girls in appearance, except that her body was moderately developed compared to Lylia's. Her cat ears were normal, with a slightly whiter shade to them. Her eyes were a darker blue than Lior's. Her tail was the same color as her hair, with a white patch at its tip.
[Lylia: Well... we have to listen to the instructions. Let's see...]
[Coachman: Hey! Save the gathering for later and settle down. We're about to enter capitol territory.]
[Slaves: ...]
[Coachman: Get in.]
The coachman, who stood by the door, called out to the slaves. Then he stepped aside to let the other girls climb in and gave a rough tug to the gray-haired girl's arm. She reacted quickly, followed by the others, who climbed into the cage one after another.
The rest of the slaves merely exchanged glances and positioned themselves inside the compartment. As before, they sat down and arranged themselves as best they could—except for the last ones to enter. The place where they had leaned before was now occupied by the stacked firewood. So they looked to the side and ended up sitting next to Lylia and Lior.
The coachman checked everything inside—making sure both the wood and the slaves were properly arranged. The dog girl's leg was still bleeding; it would have to be treated at the mansion, since there was no remedy or healer available here. Finally, he grabbed the door, stuck his head out briefly, and then shut it. He locked it with a padlock, leaving the girls confined once more.
Curiously, the slaves who had just entered still had their chains on. It seemed they had forgotten to remove them.
"..."
There she was—Petra climbed back into the carriage. She sat in front of Helmet, who was gazing out the window, unconcerned. She simply looked at her hands and rubbed them carefully. Head lowered, eyes on the floor, she neither reacted nor spoke. She merely waited for Helmet to give the order.
[Don: ...]
Suddenly, two knocks sounded against the small window between the coachman and the cabin. Helmet opened the hatch and looked at the coachman, who was still holding the reins.
[Don: It is time. Depart.]
[Coachman: Huh? A-ah... Y-yes, sir.]
He closed the window.
[Don: Ah... my God...]
[Petra: ...]
[Don: Petra, pour me more wine.]
[Petra: Y-yes, sir.]
With a quick glance, Helmet gave Petra a direct order. She flinched slightly and took the wine bottle resting at her side. Carefully, she poured for her master, who extended his hand and gently steadied the goblet upright. She filled it, then set the bottle back on the side rest.
She looked again at her lord. He was holding his head with one hand, his elbow propped against the window frame, staring outside as the houses passed by. He took a sip from his goblet and did not stop gazing outward.
[Don: Petra... I love you... You know that, don't you?]
[Petra: A-ah...]
[Don: I want you to come to my room tonight. Do you hear me?]
[Petra: ...]
Petra's eyes widened, and her mouth parted in surprise. Her hands began to tremble as she tried to swallow. She lowered her head to hide the flicker in her gaze and shut her eyes.
Helmet did not stop looking outside.
Petra lifted her gaze again, resisting the urge to bite her lip. She looked directly at Helmet's face, and her expression faltered for only a second.
[Petra: Of course... my lord...]
She answered in a muted voice, yet clear enough to be heard.
Helmet merely smiled and turned his gaze back to the maid before him. He looked her up and down, then took another sip. Once more, he shifted his attention to the scenery near the wall.
They were about to enter the capital.
The journey had come to an end...
"..."