(Julian)
I have been utterly stripped of anything that I own.
The day was not busy. Not busy at all. Everyone had done so much work the day prior that the slave master felt so nice to give each individual slave a free day. Because of this, it was incredibly lively in the camp.
"Julian, come on! Everyone's excited today. We're halting planning. Just hang out with me, glasses, Oscar, and Elyse."
Would you still play if you knew the reason? I wonder.
"Hah… sorry, Veind. I'm really not in the mood. Tired. Very tired. Can't you see these bandages?"
"… Alright."
Underneath his shirt, his body was crudely bandaged from neck to waist. He felt incredibly weak from the inhumane lashing he was subjected to. So weak, it took him a while to get out of bed. But he got out of bed.
Life will continue. Whether I'm... affected or not.
Around this time, back at home, I would be binging on the latest season of Mecha Slayers.
I'll escape. Once I escape from here, I can think about watching Mecha Slayers. There, I've found it. I can't wallow in my self-pity. I need to get my ass up and do something!
. .
Glasses, the nameless slave, sat quietly on a bench. Aimless and confused. The sun shone overhead, bright and joyful. The grass felt especially green today.
"You don't look excited, Glasses."
Julian, who had limped his way to the bench, stood in front of Glasses. Glasses lifted his head up, sighing. His head dropped into his hands.
"Why would I be?"
Julian sat down beside him, basically collapsing into the bench.
"It's a free day."
"One free day. Okay, cool. Then what? Then I work the next day. And the other. It's unnatural for a slave not be working," Glasses lifted his head back up, facing Julian.
"You cling to this title of a 'slave' so hard."
"I know what I am and I know what I'm not."
"… I'll save… you," Julian stared off into the distance.
"That's a lot of conviction in your words. But there's nothing in your eyes, Julian."
"…"
A comforting wind passed through. The two tormented souls sat quietly.
. . .
. .
.
A lavish hall.
It was an incredibly large one. Floors made out of clean white marble. There was a row of tall columns, with lines carved into them, holding up the roof. At each column, a guard stood, in heavy armor, wielding a halberd.
At the end of the hall sat a throne. Dark red cushions. On that throne sat a king.
"F-Father."
In front of that king, a young lady kneeled. Her hair was an extremely dark blue, tied into a loose bun. Her eyes, facing down, were sharp and hazel. Yet extremely docile at the moment. She wore a long, beautiful, regal dress, dark green in color with floral patterns.
"Lusha. For the past month, you have been nothing but a stain to the Jolen family. The most prestigious family in all of Venichian!"
Lusha winced as her father raised her voice, but she kept her head tilted down.
"..."
"As my eldest daughter, you do nothing but fool around. Refusing to take the academy's mana evaluation as some form of rebellion, using your fists in a sword duel. Your behavior is nowhere near ladylike."
"..."
"At this rate... will you ever get married?" his voice softened.
"Father..."
"It is no matter. As a punishment, you need to become less supercilious. Less arrogant. It is because you are of royal blood that you believe that you are better than others. That ends now."
"What..?" Lusha slowly stood up, facing her father.
"There is a mission you will be commandeering. An... assassination of the sort. You will be handed a sufficient battalion and be required to eliminate the woman named Ere Majam. She is the head slave master of several different slave camps within Venichian. Her face has not been seen, and there are rare descriptions of her face. If you would like a-"
"You can't do this to me."
"Huh?"
"I said you can't do this to me! I'm not in training to be a general, like my older brother! I'm not a prodigious mage like my younger sister! I'm nothing special, and putting me out there— do you even know which slave camp she's in?! It's a death sentence-"
Smack!
Before she had realized it, her father, the king, had gotten up and slapped her across the face. His heavy palm sent her back, tumbling onto the marble floor. The king walked forward, leaving the hall.
"Insolent brat."
Colorful light from the mosaic windows illuminated the hall.
Lusha van Jolen kneeled quietly, her hair obscuring her face, like a veil of cloth draping down. Her fist tightened into a ball, quietly.