The Indomitable Martial King - Chapter 33

[ Chapter 33 ]

Siebolt was taken aback and blurted out nonsense in surprise.

“No, that can’t be done!”

Realizing his slip, he clicked his tongue in regret. The urgency of the situation had made him behave in a manner unbecoming of a merchant. Repenhardt observed Siebolt with a slightly surprised look.

‘It must be a dire situation, huh?’

He wondered if he had come to the right place at all. Was this about fleeing before even risking an investment?

Siebolt sighed deeply at his own mistake and then began to speak honestly.

“To be frank, our company is not in a good situation right now. However, with this money, we can certainly survive this period and grow. Therefore, I would prefer to recommend a different investment.”

“It’s my downfall if it fails, so you say.”

Repenhardt clicked his tongue. This man, as meticulous in his previous life, had it in his nature. Yet, seeing this side of him only increased Repenhardt’s trust.

“It’s my money, and I decide how to use it. Now, bring the contract.”

Pushing forward the gold coins, he pressed on aggressively. At this point, Siebolt could no longer refuse. Having explained all the risks and yet being accepted, there was no breach of merchant honor, and above all, the gold in front of him was too tempting. Considering the many people dependent on him within the Taoban Trading Company, refusing was also a sin.

“Understood, Lord Repenhardt. I will prepare the contract immediately.”

Siebolt called his subordinate to begin drafting the documents. Repenhardt smiled gently.

“All I want is one thing, not to preemptively invest my money elsewhere.”

“Of course.”

Once accepted, it was a merchant’s duty to follow through thoroughly. Repenhardt was satisfied, trusting in the memories of his previous life. Then, a sudden thought crossed his mind.

“Ah, and this is a bit of a separate issue…”

“Is there something you need?”

“Does the Taoban Trading Company have a branch in the Graim Kingdom? Possibly?”

Siebolt nodded. They had indeed opened a new route to the northern part of the Graim Kingdom not too long ago.

“Then, do you have a branch near the Tower of Delphia?”

“We don’t have one in Delphia, but the branch in the Lonta region does pass through Delphia. What is it for?”

“I need someone there to be looked into.”

This was an opportunity to gather information about Repenhardt in the current era. How he was doing, if there was anything unusual, especially how he had been over the last few years, he requested specific details.

“I’ll pay you separately for this effort………….”

“There’s no need. I will contact them immediately.”

Siebolt firmly waved his hand.

If it was a deal with this investor, it wasn’t a problem at all to hire someone to gather that level of information. It wasn’t confidential information of royalty or nobility, so it was fine to just ask the nearby merchants for news.

‘Good, I can also obtain the information I couldn’t get from Todd with this.’

Chortling, Repenhardt dipped his feather pen in ink.

* * *

The silver dagger danced in the air, casting delicate sword lights as it slashed, chopped, and stabbed through the air. Feeling the texture of the sword handle wrap around her hand, Siris faintly smiled.

She loved the sword. Only in the moments of wielding it could she forget the fact that she was a slave.

Siris, unlike the other elves at the auction, was not born a slave. She was born in the wastelands of the western continent, in the Dahnheim Forest, a place her tribe called the Land of Wailing.

After losing the great homeland of the elves’ forest and being chased for hundreds of years, they barely arrived in a land of refuge. In the barren wilderness, where merely surviving was an ordeal, she was born and raised.

In her childhood, now faint in her memory, the adults would always say,

“Originally, we high elves were the guardians of the forest. Under the blessing of the World Tree Elvenheim, all elves lived in eternal happiness. All animals were friends of the elves, and every tree bore fruits that endlessly provided food.”

Given their daily struggle to feed themselves in the barren land, it was a story they could hardly believe. The tales of the past elves, who lived a noble life in harmony with nature as forest fairies, seemed like a dream or fantasy.

“Though we have been driven to this plight by the despicable humans, someday Eldia will look after us and lead us back to paradise.”

Eldia, the goddess of the elves.

The belief that someday, a great emissary of the goddess would descend to save all elves was widespread among the Dahnheim tribe. Young Siris also firmly believed in it.

“We are the descendants of the great fairies. Our beloved daughter, you must never forget that dignity.”

Every adult elf was her father and her mother. She grew up in the love of numerous parents. It was a poor and hungry life, but it was still a happy one.

That was shattered when she turned twenty years old, which would be considered five in human years.

Slave hunters, having acquired information about a region where ‘wild’ elves were said to be found, mobilized a massive force to invade her homeland. Suddenly faced with the army of humans, the elves fiercely resisted. Everyone fought without sparing their lives for the future.

However, the disparity in forces was too great. Eventually, after a desperate struggle, the adults all perished, and the children were sold into slavery by the slave hunters.

In her younger days, knowing nothing and only able to cry, the shock she felt when she was dragged to the auction house and met other elves remained vaguely in her memory.

They mocked the Dahnheim clan. It was said that it was impossible for the elf race, known for being slaves, to have such a past. What the Dahnheim clan believed in was nothing but a legend born out of desperate hope. They dismissed the ‘savior legend’ that was common everywhere, rattling off similar tales one after the other.

An elderly elf woman she met in Elvenheim had consoled her, saying,

“Isn’t it fortunate that you’ve come to know the world now? You’re beautiful, so you’ll be sold to a good place. You’re young, so if you learn loyalty and politeness here from now on, you’ll become a good elf.”

And time passed. Siris too began to forget her past. The world was different from what she had heard. Elves were slaves. Everyone took it for granted. She, who had been rebellious, gradually became accustomed to Elvenheim.

Yet, Siris never fully surrendered in her heart. Even as she obeyed orders, her eyes always shone with defiance. Despite being starved and whipped countless times, that light in her eyes never changed.

Other elves mocked her. Even the fact that she was a pure-blooded High Elf was a subject of ridicule there. Among the elves, they were the most noble clan that shone brightly in pure white. However, her sun-tanned, dusky skin became a symbol of the fall of the High Elves.

The only salvation for her, an outsider even among slaves, was the sword. Recognizing Siris’s talent, a swordsmanship instructor in Elvenheim placed her in the Slayer curriculum. Thus, unlike other slaves, she was able to learn swordsmanship.

Elves in Elvenheim who were not Slayers did not learn the sword. What they learned were solely various tricks to please humans.

But in her memories, all the elders wielded swords. They were free elves who knew how to defend themselves with their swords. Everyone was brave and died fighting with pride. She still faintly remembered seeing one of the slave hunters, having suffered a severe loss, making a grieving face as they were captured.

Thus, the sword was cherished. Wielding it, she could recall the proud figures of her fathers and mothers. In a world of isolation, the sword was her only joy. Even knowing that it was an effort to become a more expensive slave, she was enchanted by swordsmanship and devoted herself to it.

50 years passed like this. The young child had grown into a mature girl. 50 years was a long time, even for an elf. Much of the past had already been forgotten. She had grown accustomed to living as a slave. The concept of living freely was now barely a memory.

However……

Though it was a story from a time so long ago that the memories were blurry…..

A small phrase, treasured in a corner of those hazy memories.

‘My beloved daughter, you must never forget your pride.’

When she swung her sword, it seemed as if she could faintly hear that voice.

“Hoo…….”

After finishing her sword dance, Siris breathed lightly. Sillan, who had been watching Siris’s dagger technique demonstration in awe, couldn’t help but exclaim.

“Wow! That’s amazing!”

Siris and Sillan were out in the inn’s garden. It was Sillan who had begged Siris to teach him some dagger techniques after getting his hands on a mithril dagger. Since performing the sword dance in the room seemed a bit risky – considering they had booked the most expensive room and were worried about damaging the furniture – they had moved to the garden.

Despite it being the middle of winter, both were only wearing light coats. However, they didn’t seem to be cold. The coats were of high quality, boasting excellent insulation, and the “Golden Rest,” where they were staying, had the garden set in the center of the U-shaped building. Being surrounded by the building on all sides blocked the wind, significantly increasing the perceived temperature.

Receiving the dagger from Siris, Sillan asked.

“How can you make such moves?”

“If you work hard, you can do it.”

Although the voice was brusque, Sillan seemed not to care at all.

“Wow, that’s exactly what Repenhardt said. Is that how all martial artists respond?”

“It’s not so much that…”

Siris grimaced with a bitter smile. Unless one is taught the basics properly, what else could be said in response to how those movements are performed?

“Uh, is this how it’s done?”

Sillan began to mimic Siris’s sword dance after taking a dagger. The sharp trajectory disappeared as the dagger flailed through the air. Then, scratching his head, his fine red hair fluttered about.

“Ah, this is harder than it looks.”

“It doesn’t happen overnight.”

Despite her cool tone, Siris was responding diligently to Sillan’s words. Was her attitude somewhat different from when dealing with Repenhardt?

Indeed, Siris had taken a liking to this small, beautiful boy priest. Being a woman, she naturally took a liking to beautiful things. Moreover, his personality was pleasant, treating her, a slave, quite kindly. It seemed he was a bit wary around her, which was a completely different reaction from the humans Siris had encountered before.

Of course, Sillan’s attitude was more akin to a poor commoner marveling and cautiously admiring a rare breed of cat, rather than treating Siris as a sentient being. But for Siris, it was pleasing nonetheless.

“Hmm, should I start with the basics? How should I do it?”

“First, you need to get comfortable with how to hold a sword.”

Siris took Sillan’s hand and corrected his posture. It was uncharacteristic for her to be holding a human man’s hand first, but she felt no wariness towards this young boy.

In terms of racial age, Siris was now over seventeen, and Sillan was nineteen, so it wasn’t quite right to say he was younger. However, Repenhardt had taught Siris that Sillan was a man but hadn’t informed her of his age. Thus, Siris was under the impression that Sillan was at most three or four years old, treating him like a cute younger brother.