Our convoy proceeded smoothly after that major road-bump, apart from the occasional fallen tree, thin road, or stray beast, some of which didn’t even require us to stop for. This time gave me much needed time to catch up on my refinement and something else I began after my meeting with the Empress, reflections.
To put it simply, what I call reflections are the next step of me memorizing every technique in the grimoire. In fact, all of the example videos and descriptions I have already memorized. All that’s left for that is to master them. Sadly, that cannot be done in situations like the one I currently find myself in. So, during times where I don’t have enough space or time to practice, I reflect on the movements I can perform and study their effects.
I have found that this process benefits greatly from the perceived time dilation HSM gives me. With each movement, I can feel, see, and think about what is happening faster than the movement can even be completed, even simple weight redistributions.
Take the completed Isolation footwork for example. When practicing the 3rd division extension of the technique, there are instances where even the position of my tongue in my mouth or the order in which my toes touch the floor matter.
In fact, the first day I began practicing the first exercise of it all those years ago, I couldn’t eat for a day because my tongue was numb from the constant shocking the wisp administered.
Such minuscule and obscure movements seem utterly unimportant, and completely impossible to discover. If I were told even before learning it even after reincarnating, I would have thought it was simply fiction. Now I know… somewhat.
Still, at this pace, I expect that when the time comes where I finally cross over to the Master martial artist level, I will be fully capable of creating my own techniques.
I felt an unnatural movement of the cart I was atop of. I looked around, and came to the conclusion that the act of the caravan coming to a stop was what pulled me from my thoughts.
I surveyed my surroundings, finally landing on the sizeable line of carriages lined up to enter the port. Multiple separate roads converged close to three kilometers back, which slowed down our caravan’s speed significantly due to the influx of traffic. Thankfully, the client had accounted for this in his calculations, making us arrive handily within our deadline.
With the speed this line is going, it will only take about 20 minutes at the most, so I’ll just refine in the meantime.
…
And, almost sooner than I would have liked, Master roused me from my refinement.
I opened my eyes and gave Master a nod, which he returned. Our carriage was second from the front, so I leapt over silently to the one ahead of us to get a better view of the streets. The client was driving said foremost carriage, and I could hear him mumbling to himself. “-stupid fucking numbskulls… if they delay my delivery one more minute, I swear I’ll…”
Seeing as his personal monologue was entirely useless and slightly more distracting than the view was worth, I returned to the original carriage.
“I can’t see why the client is so pressed about arriving early. From what I can tell, he seems to have accounted for the traffic in the deadline?” I half asked, half thought aloud.
“His attitude is not entirely unfounded, Öthe,” Cysandoth started. “In fact, we are here today for the same reason he is. Verres de Dramur, the holiday celebrating the establishment of the trade union between all four continents begins today. I’m sure he just doesn’t want his buyer to find a better deal before he gets his money.”
“I see… but, wait,” I though for a fraction of a second, “doesn’t the actual celebration begin in two weeks? Why would this port be so busy now?” I asked.
“As you know, it is tradition to not touch your native food or drink during the celebration you refer to. But! Do you believe that the resources to allow for such a tradition are available year round? Of course, they technically are, just not in the places that need them.”
So, instead of beginning the celebrations at the start of the holiday, the merchants set up a different event in the weeks prior, shamelessly referred to as ‘The Lining of Our Pockets.’”
I looked around. Every inch of the streets, sidewalks, and even alleyways were packed to the brim with people either transporting goods, or buying them.
It turned back to Master. “Are all the ports like this at this time of year?”
He chuckled at this question. “Yes, they are. Even the small fishing villages get swamped with merchants. Fitting name, is it not?”
“Indeed it is…”
After this conversation, we both returned to surveying our surroundings. With such a large scale movement of wealth in such a small time frame, nefarious individuals were sure to come out of the woodworks. Our job didn’t end until our client reached the boat he was delivering to, after all.
.
.
.
“Gahh! Finally~ that damn geezer has to have a steel beam up his ass, or something. If he keeps this up he’ll have more white hair than the young lass! Hahahaha~” one of the more talkative mercenaries blurted out.
I scoffed at the comment, but honestly, I can’t blame him for saying that. Although I don’t know if it’s how he always is, during our trip, the client spoke only to order us around, or to complain about the speed we were traveling at. Was all he thought about money? Well… I’m one to talk. If you remove training, I think about… well… nothing, really.
Is that an issue? Probably. Right now, I don’t have the time to ponder on philosophical things.
“Master,” I whispered, “how are we going to cross the ocean now? I’d imagine the only ships here are strictly merchant based…”
“Öthe, think for a second. Once these ships have successfully transported their goods here, what must they do then?”
“Return, obviously,” I responded while rolling my eyes. “Still, even if a ship is going back to the Wolf Continent, which I’m sure many are, how are we to get a spot on their ship? Wouldn’t they be full of their normal employees and, more importantly, cargo to sell back there?”
Master nodded. “In normal times, that would be true, although then they would probably have more space for mercenaries like us. Pirates aren’t very merciful individuals, after all.
“However! Due to the atypical time we find ourselves in, the ships have different patterns. On one route, the ships will bring their cargo as normal, then, instead of returning with different cargo, they turn into transportation vehicles.”
I tilted my head. “Hmm?”
With an almost indiscernible chuckle, Master explained. “If they were to return back with more cargo, there would be no buyers for their product, as by now every store, stall, and shop has filled up on everything they need for the first week of the Verres de Dramur celebrations already, only needing a restock by then, meaning up until then, the merchant ships don’t have much to do.
“When I said earlier that we are here now because of Verres de Dramur, I was referring to the cheap, easy, and relatively comfortable transportation we can find in abundance during this time.”
Impressive. It’s good my master isn’t some gung-ho madman who simply leaves without a plan. Considering this, he probably has the rest of the trip planned out already. I’ll have to inquire about this on our ride over.
“Now! Let’s head to the port!”
“Mnn~”
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.
The ports were filled to the brim with travelers. Apart from the typical heckling and bartering of prices, a few of the larger and more impressive ships had gaudy displays of their non-negotiable prices hung up high for all to see. To be fair, said prices weren’t over the top for the apparent quality.
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
Master wasn’t really reacting to any of the prices, but I assumed he was simply looking for the best one. Since he was the one with the money, I simply let my vision wander.
This port city had a fair few back-alley dealings that I saw, but none really caught my eye. At the worst, I assumed they had been dealing in drugs, which doesn’t really concern me. Instead, what irked me more was how open slavery was in this country.
Up until a few days ago, I technically was a slave, although I don’t consider that valid. I know for a fact that these slaves being traded here aren’t eligible for any salvation like I was. Their eyes were more dead than mine, and their complexion was as bad as the little kid I was in the last reincarnation I guess I’m not so unlucky.
In fact, I believe that this body’s life was far worse before I took it over. I couldn’t help the growing scowl forming on my face just thinking about it.
To make it worse, I’m from the 21st century. This type of stuff would get people completely ostracized, at least from where I grew up. Even my… “family”... back then… yeah, even they wouldn't stoop this low, would they?
I think they at least deserve the benefit of the doubt on this one.
“*Crack!!*”
A whip sounded off to my left. To my surprise, the one being whipped didn’t react at all.
“Gah! This twerp isn’t giving us any good reactions anymore!” the slaver said to no one in particular while his face seemed a little too red and sweaty than it should and his vest buttons hanging on a few threads at best. The few other slavers nearby gave a slight chuckle, but continued on.
For some reason, this scene caught my eye, so despite my growing temper, I continued watching.
The slaver leaned near the young boy’s ear and whispered. I had to strain my hearing to discern what was being said. There was a lot of foot traffic, so we weren’t leaving fast enough for me to miss anything.
“~Hey twerp! If you keep this shit up, I’ll bring them out again! You really get on my nerves- when. you. miss. behave~” he said while cutting his slightly overgrown fingernails into the slave’s malnourished shoulder deeper and deeper with each word.
I inadvertently clicked my tongue. He literally did nothing, fatass.
“Eep~” The kid squeaked. He had a half mortified, half discussed look in his eyes, but the rest of his face didn’t seem to have the energy to wear these emotions, or he had just learned not to show them.
“You know what!” the slaver said a lot louder. “I think you deserve it!”
The kid’s eyes somehow lost even more light after hearing this.
The slaver walked back to his carriage and eventually found a murky glass jar. The kid was now positively shaking in his non-existent boots, and now sweating a lot more than he could seemingly afford to.
I assume it’s just some knife or something. Sad for the kid, but there’s not much more I can d-
…
C-
…
Centi-
…
Centipe-
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======
Cysandoth’s POV
These prices aren’t the greatest. Last time, some of these were 20% lower than they are now! “*Sigh…*” Has this port really gotten that much more pop-
“!!!”
I snapped my head back around at Öthe. Her expression was not something that easily changes. Only during the past year have I been able to get some more age-appropriate expressions to show, but now it’s something I’ve never seen before.
Her eyes were probably as wide as they could go, and her jaw was fully clenched, as shown by the flexing of her jaw muscles.
If her pupils contracted any more, they’d probably disappear, and for a moment, I thought I saw the entire eye itself blur completely.
“*Gulp~*”
The bloodlust she was emitting had not only stopped me, but the rest of the surrounding port dead in our collective tracks. It’s definitely the same bloodlust I felt from when I began the assisted refinement before. What correlation does that have with now? I followed her gaze in an attempt to answer this question.
It seemed that she was staring at an overweight slaver torturing a young slave boy, nothing uncommon.
Odd. We’ve walked past dozens of scenes just like this… what’s so different now?
Looking for clues, I was eventually drawn to the slaver’s hand. It was holding a bug called the Colies, a long, slim, dark brown bug with close to 30 legs that ran down their sides topped off by relatively long antennae. And, although it isn’t visible now, the entire bottom side of the Colies’ body has small, discussing, hair-like feelers.
I felt my breath shorten more as I attempted to move over to Öthe to comfort her, assuming she had some phobia of the things. Before I had the chance, however, she disappeared.
Next to the oblivious slaver, Öthe re-appeared silently with her knives drawn. Without pause, hesitation, or warning, the hand holding the Colies was severed, and in mid air, both the hand and Colies were bisected before even reaching the peak of their short flight.
It all happened so fast that the slaver only reacted once he saw his new stump.
The sudden pain seemed to snap him out of his obliviousness, but his tongue seemed to have gotten stuck at the back of his throat. Öthe’s gaze was entirely bloodshot now, and the bloodlust had reached a peak, putting her intentions on full display.
“*Schlick~*”
In a flash, her dagger was pushed up underneath his jaw and out the top of his nape, severing his spinal cord from his head. The body immediately went limp the second this happened, and since her blade had only spent upwards of a few milliseconds inside his body, it limply collapsed without any obstruction.
Finally, after this was done, the bloodlust let up. Such a sudden change in pressure left many jarred, but I reacted quickly. Sprinting over, I grabbed Öthe by the waist and slung her over my shoulder. She gave no resistance to this, something I had never really felt from her.
Looking down, the kid had an incredulous look on his face. Right now, I don’t know what she was thinking, doing that. Does she know this kid? Gah, I don’t know. God-damn it I’ll just take him with us too.
Slinging the kid over my shoulder gave no resistance, either because he simply couldn’t due to shock or injury, or he just did’t care. My bet is that it’s a mix of both.
With the two over my shoulders, I vanished from the scene faster than any of the guards could process my existence.
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======
Alfred’s POV
“...th…
“...the…
“...Öthe… Öthe!”
I felt a light slap on my cheek, rousing me from whatever odd state I just found myself in. My current surroundings were most likely in the underbelly of a ship, guessing by the swaying of it and the subtle sound of water crashing into the exterior. What the purpose of the room was, I didn’t know.
The room itself was not well lit, to say the least, but I could still easily make out everything in it.
I felt lethargic and sleepy, a feeling I don’t typically have. It was like all my energy was drained from my body despite knowing internally that that wasn’t the case. I turned to Master, who was sitting next to me with a worried expression plastered on his face.
“W-what?” I asked.
…
I looked down at myself. My hands were clenched so hard that my fingernails were cutting into my skin, and my body was shaking ever so slightly.
“Öthe…” he said slowly, “You’ve been sleeping for close to a day, and you have a fever.”
“A-ah, d-do I? S-strange…”
““...””
“Öthe…”
“Hmm?”
“What’s wrong?” he asked calmly.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said a little bit to callus.
“*Sigh~*”
Cysandoth stood up and walked over to the only door to the room. There were a couple people in the room other than us, and on his way over he ushered them out and closed the door behind them.
After that, he sat back down. “Öthe, I’m not stupid. I’ve been with you long enough to know that you’ve been out of it lately, even more so now… if you ever were truly in it in the first place.
“So, I want you to tell me what’s wrong. This isn’t like some battlefield, and you are not good with this stuff, you know that.”
He put his hand on my shoulder. The feeling of it confused me. I had felt something like this only a few times in my previous life, so I couldn’t really put a finger on what it meant.
“Öthe, you cannot do this on your own.”
“I-”
I looked down once again. Currently, I couldn’t really think at all. It was like something had my in a chokehold and my brain was loosing oxygen. However, instead of grappling, which I’m good at, I can’t escape this hold.
“*Drip*”
“-Ehh? What’s this?”
Strange, is the ceiling leaking? There’s water falling on my lap. Ahh! It hurts! My eyes burn!
I began clawing at my eyes furiously. Thankfully, before any actual damage could be done, Master grabbed my wrists.
“Master! It hurts! Please!
“Aghhhh!
"P-please… I don’t want to d-die…. please…
“... just… just let me die…”
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======
Cysandoth’s POV
"*Sigh*". It’s worse than I thought. Instead of some sense of justice, which would have been fine and quite easy to discuss, it was trauma. “*Sigh*”.
What am I going to do?
There’s no technique to comfort a tortured soul…wait, was it torture? Was she tortured? Fuck… that’s why.
She shows no emotion… almost. Whenever it happens, it’s immediately repressed back in. In the colosseum, she never flinches when she’s injured. She pushes herself harder than I did despite her talent without a word of complaint at anything I throw a her. Heh, even after loosing my… well, even I complained a little!
All of these things are not natural, even for an abused child. They can’t be.
But… she has no scars? Well, she didn’t, not when she first arrived. She was bruised, which made me think it was just abuse, but assuming she was tortured, how? I’m not well versed in the subject, but I know for sure that the artifacts it leaves are quite surface level. If not? I would expect it to cause a phobia of some sort.
Wait! The Colies! It has something to do with that bug… but what? Did they use those for torture? Hmm… it’s not out of the question… but it may be something entirely different. I’ll just have to leave it for later.
Damn, it would be so much easier if she just told me outright, like she usually does. Gahh! This is too complicated for me…
Right now, Öthe was curled up in a ball. She’s never looked so small, but now that I look at her, she never was that big to begin with.
"*Sigh*"
I moved closer to her, but soon noticed she had fallen asleep. I guess that’s good. Sleep might be the best thing for her now. We aren’t currently pressed for time at all, and the only thing I have to worry about now is that stowaway… well… involuntary stowaway.