Without any grand tale, Archduke Greenwood closed the carriage door after the brief meeting. This eliminated any chance of their conversation being overheard from outside.
The money spent on the carriage alone exceeded the value of an average mansion for good reason. Words spoken inside would never leak out.
Neigh…! The horses moved slowly.
In the carriage that didn’t shake at all, the archduke looked at his shadow-like secretary.
Anastasia. The illegitimate child born from a night’s dalliance. As always, she sat demurely beside him with her legs together. Just like her mother had.
“What do you think, Anastasia? Was there anything to watch out for?”
“I’m sorry, Your Grace. I couldn’t tell. My blessing was insufficient. I judge he carries a relic containing another god’s blessing or power. Though unlikely, there’s a possibility Garland prince’s guardian knight is a swordmaster. Those who reach master level gain resistance to divine blessings.”
“Understood. Whatever trick he pulled, if you can’t see it… he must still serve Elon. How amusing. Or should I say bold? Pretending to serve Hokhma falsely and entering as a guest in what could be called enemy territory…”
“Shall I leak information to the king?”
“No. Don’t. Garland… More than that brat, what about the one behind him? His presence didn’t seem ordinary. You said there’s a chance he’s a swordmaster?”
“It’s likely my mistake. As Your Grace knows, my blessing pierces a person’s essence, but more often it fails. It was just in case.”
“In case… Hmm, in case…”
Ged flicked his fingers and nodded. A sign of deep thought.
In the short meeting with the prince, he had only probed, but naturally obtained no information about the tiger beastman Surabar.
But the champion’s information wasn’t important.
Whether the brat’s champion was strong or weak, Ged didn’t care. Vymart had already done more than enough.
What happens to a gladiator with no more opponents? Naturally, he eyes the master’s seat, demands his rights, and rises up.
It was a set course. In fact, he hoped Surabar would tear Vymart’s throat. Literally.
Everyone has a proper moment to exit. Vymart had lived too long.
“Not bad. The information gained isn’t scant. A good day.”
Archduke Greenwood placed a hand on his beloved aide’s shoulder. Anastasia flinched at the unannounced touch but feigned calm as always.
The carriage moved slowly, very slowly, circling the same spot instead of heading straight to the mansion.
***
“More.”
Grr…! Snorting, Surabar spat out the single word as if tossing an empty bowl, looking as if angry.
But the beastman women had learned over the past few days that it wasn’t true anger—it simply meant the current meal was insufficient.
The emaciated women with no energy had to work just as hard and eat to provide Surabar’s “sufficient meal.”
Ironically, those who had barely survived were now growing healthier thanks to the unfamiliar slave gladiator Surabar. Flesh was starting to fill their bony frames.
“Wait, just a moment! The kitchen is busy…!”
“I don’t mind. Take your time.”
“Y-Yes…!”
Now Surabar no longer wore movement-restricting chains.
The King of Bers had specially ordered limited freedom within the quarters.
It was fake freedom—he couldn’t leave the quarters alone—but still, something?
Compared to the “senior” gladiators still living with clanking chains on their ankles, it was far better.
“You waited long? It’s done.”
“Hm, plenty. You eat too.”
“Hehe… Thank you, Surabar.”
Surabar had seen the beastman women’s “barely surviving” state and forced a choice: replace the women responsible for his meals or care for their health so they could feed him properly.
There was reason even in demanding larger portions.
To seat the women at his table and force them to eat.
On the first day, he had to pressure them to shove food into their mouths. Now? Much improved. They willingly sat around Surabar and ate heartily—a pleasing sight.
Though the sun hadn’t set, Surabar and the tail-bearer girls who had become his were already on their third meal. Watching this, Billy could only bite his innocent fingers and keep silent.
“Aigoo… He’s devouring it all. How much money is that!”
He couldn’t tell anyone, only suffering inwardly.
Until now, Billy had lived almost like a king in the quarters, but no longer.
Surabar saw Billy skimming off the allotted food supplies and immediately told Prince Garland, nearly costing Billy his head.
The merciful Prince Garland said he’d overlook it “this once,” but Surabar’s terrifying glare made it clear there would be no “next.”
Even with severe gambling addiction, Billy had no choice but to obey Surabar or Prince Garland’s orders immediately.
“Billy”
“Y-Yes! Surabar sir!”
“What are you doing? Don’t you see the empty bowls? Move.”
“A-Alright!”
Grrr… Billy, escaping the species-discriminatory worldview of humans vs. tail-bearers, moved frantically with the crisis sense that failure to act immediately might get him eaten alive.
Originally, preparing gladiators’ meals was the tail-bearer girls’ job… but since Surabar arrived, Billy’s comfortable, cozy life shattered.
Until now, the king paid little attention to slave management, leaving it entirely to him to skim front and steal back… Now it was a dreamy, rainbow-colored past.
“Damn! Damn!”
Shaking heavy iron plates, stir-frying rice, vegetables, and meat at once, only curses came out.
Curses he couldn’t voice, only swallowing inwardly… The tail-bearer girls seemed to mock him. The continuous diligent life was driving Billy mad.
“Done. Leave the rest to Billy. Come here.”
“Yes.”
“Alright.”
Kyaa— Bright, cheerful laughter that would have been unthinkable just a week ago filled the quarters.
Billy sweated profusely stir-frying fried rice while washing dishes, cleaning up, and prepping ingredients for the next meal—utterly busy.
He had no time to spend the money received from Archduke Greenwood.
Whether Billy handled four people’s worth alone in the kitchen or not, Surabar and the women spent leisurely time. As if to be seen and heard.
“So, what happened?”
“Nothing much. I don’t remember the name… Dog-headed monsters are nothing. With this (Surabar lifted the hammer with one hand)… BAM! You know?”
“Amazing.”
“Wow!”
“Damn it!”
The rolling stone displaces the embedded one. Billy was nearly in tears.
Surabar had claimed all the tail-bearer women in the quarters so Billy or other slave gladiators couldn’t touch them.
His stamina matched his strength; at night, they all gathered in Surabar’s room to sleep.
Living in the quarters even at dawn, Billy wanted to burst his eardrums at the tail-bearers’ moans he couldn’t help hearing. He had neither ability nor courage, but the impulse repeated every night.
Even now, the women acting cute before Surabar, rubbing skin and giggling kyaa—Billy found it utterly repulsive.
“Boring. I’ll step out.”
“Y-Yes?! Surabar sir! But leaving the quarters—”
“Didn’t they say it’s fine as long as I don’t cross the king’s surrounding fence? Was I the only one who heard?”
“…No. I’ll clean the kitchen in advance, so do as you please.”
“Surabar sir, we’ll come too.”
“Fine.”
Billy swallowed tears watching Surabar and the tail-bearer women he once treated as playthings leave the quarters without interference or surveillance, tails linked.
Onions. It’s the onions stinging…
***
“Much better now. Disgusting bastard.”
Outside the quarters, Surabar cursed Billy, who was probably chopping onions inside.
He came to the Kingdom of Bers to rescue Jasmine, but that didn’t make Surabar cold-blooded enough to ignore oppressed kin.
The moment he smelled the thick stench in the slave gladiators’ quarters (though in truth a prison), Surabar knew what had happened. Everything.
Killing the manager named Billy would be absurdly easy. But he still lived, and other slave gladiators hadn’t escaped, for a reason.
The manager’s ability to handle kin’s health and living might be poor, but the soldiers strictly guarding outside to prevent escape were armed and trained above average.
Moreover, mages waited behind the soldiers. Gladiators with ankle chains had no conditions to flee.
“No matter how strong, I can’t face forces thoroughly prepared for capture… Unless I’m a swordmaster.”
Surabar clenched and unclenched his fists, checking his condition.
As Paramir taught, he yearned to become a swordmaster and efforted in many ways, but the situation was unfavorable.
…No, wasn’t it said that unfavorable situations could help reach a long-blocked realm?
Failing to escape the current state and spinning wheels meant something unresolved.
Conditions and methods to become a swordmaster differ per person… but as days passed, Surabar only grew anxious.
What was needed now was himself as an immediate swordmaster, not one in the distant future.
He had long established invisible hierarchy with Billy or other slave gladiators in the quarters, but ascending to swordmaster realm remained uncertain.
“Hehe, Surabar sir.”
Whatever made them so happy, the beastman women living like slaves wouldn’t leave Surabar’s side due to his subtle kindness and care.
Even now. Only four women savored unprecedented peace and happiness of protection under Surabar’s shadow.
Surabar didn’t particularly want it, but for the anxious women, he slept gathered in one room at night.
The women, who had never received good treatment from Billy or kin, acted like girls in first love at Surabar’s gentle, unprecedented care.
If they could live like this forever, it wouldn’t be bad for them… but Surabar didn’t forget his purpose here.
Jasmine. He came to a distant foreign land with no connections to rescue her. Even volunteering as a slave.
Surabar slowly circled the limited area of about fifty meters diameter centered on the quarters building with the women, surveying surroundings.
When the champion of the prince from Mosul exited the building, waiting soldiers tensed, increasing numbers to form a circle watching Surabar.
Despite no intent to force exit…
In the end, just soldiers acting on orders.
For contingencies, Surabar tried grasping an escape route without Paramir or Garland’s help, but confirmed it was nearly impossible.
Soldiers or knights weren’t the problem. As said, without dealing with mages, escape from here or worst-case forceful rescue of Jasmine was unusable.
Surabar imagined swordmaster realm added to his innate strength. But it didn’t become reality.
“They said a swordmaster can cut a mage’s magic with a sword. For a warrior like me whose whole body is a weapon, no need for weapons—treat the whole body like sword or hammer to smash and cut everything… But how? How the hell do I become a swordmaster? If I just become a swordmaster…”
It wouldn’t even be work to erase this pathetic country with Paramir.
“Surabar sir?”
“…Enough. Let’s go in. Too many watching eyes, uncomfortable.”
“Yeees, okay.”
A beastman woman held Surabar’s hand. Holding hands like this felt like holding Jasmine’s.
Entering the room, Surabar pondered and pondered again. Physical training was already at its limit. All that remained was ascending the realm.
“Wait, Jasmine. I’ll rescue you soon.”