To Geral's and the two girls' surprise, Anabella came with a carriage to their meeting. At their inquiring looks, she shrugged:
"I'm not going to walk to the Silver Town, not to talk about carrying all these things that have no place in my ring!"
Several bags with clothes and materials were spread inside the wagon. Noviel shrugged and bound her horse behind the carriage. She unstrapped her bags and moved them inside the carriage.
There was a caravan going to leave soon for Gordogswar, and Anabella left the carriage in Noviel's care while she and Geral went to negotiate their inclusion into the train. It would be for only one day, but that would offer protection for that part of the journey. It would cost them four silver, but Anabella deemed it worth it.
Geral also decided to bind his horse to the carriage. He went to sit on the bench near Anabella while Awa and Noviel went inside the carriage.
He seemed to have few bags with items; probably his spacial tool had more room, or he was used to travelling light.
An hour later, the caravan advanced slowly on the meandering road, and they were starting to adapt to the slow flow. The conversation had died out, and Geral let his thoughts wander. What should he do?
He sighed. He was alone now, looking for a team. His former team had decided to settle into the empire. They had bought their own farms and rented slaves for menial work. Slaves. This had been one step too much for Geral. As soon as they were accepted as citizens, they would be able to buy their own slaves.
These are only NPCs; they do not feel, they do not have a soul. Only they were different; they were players!
However, the more time passed by, the more confusing everything was. Especially now since he was alone between NPCs, and the memory of the other world slowly faded.
Reluctantly he had left the group. And to think that they had played together for almost a year!
Was he isekaied into this world? Were all players isekaied here? He almost asked himself why did they call themselves players!
As the carriage advanced slowly, he risked a glance to his left again. Anabella was sitting beside him, deep in her thoughts. She was such a beautiful elf! He sighed. He always had a bit of a problem concerning women. They have been fifteen in their group. Not fifteen women, fifteen in total. Fifteen, that was an odd number, and that was because of him.
He did not know how to talk to women. Why do you need to know how to speak with women? Well, men neither, actually, but he was not into men. Questions like: do you want to come to my place, did not yield the expected answer, or in the rare cases when they did, he did not like the result.
Mephisto's world, where everything is possible! Then why was he still alone? His friends have told him to take a slave or even several. He could rent one to his taste and later buy what he wanted!
He shook his head in horror: this was not what he envisaged to do here.
Anabella turned and raised her brows.
“Is there something?”
He turned and looked into her elven eyes and swallowed.
“No. I mean... it was just a thought...”
“A thought?”
He shrugged.
"A bad thought."
Anabella smiled and opened her mouth to talk.
His eyes lit looking at her. She had a strange aura to her, she was at the same time attractive, but he also felt repulsion. Her pale skin looked too smooth, too perfect. If she were a player, he would be interested to know more, maybe invite her to his room... No, maybe that was the wrong way to start a conversation; maybe invite her for a drink?
But an NPC? What could an NPC want? And yet?
It was at that very moment that the caravan was attacked. It was a well-organised raid where most of the caravan's guards had been plants, disguised raiders. The fight ended mere seconds after it started.
Geral stood up, instinctively deflecting an arrow with his gauntlet. He took the sword in one hand and the shield in the other and looked around: there were no pockets of resistance, just people trying to fight against being shackled.
“Slavers!” - he muttered in a low voice. Anabella's eyes lit with alarm. He heard hasty movements inside the carriage.
The caravan leader and two of his men were lying dead with their throats cut; they did not even have the time to pull their weapons.
He gasped. What should he do? He looked to the right towards the forest just to see further slavers coming out of it. They were cornered. Die or be made a slave, that was the question. A riding raider pointed his sword at him.
“Descend your high throne and come here with your hands up if you still want to live!”
He looked at the slaver, and a sliver of hope lighted Geral's eyes: these were imperial slavers, an imperial raid. He was on good terms with the empire. Maybe he could use his imperial allowance to get free, but what about the girls? He hesitated. These were only NPCs.
“Don't try anything!” - another slaver screamed at Anabella, pointing his crossbow at her.
A couple more came from the sides with a kind of magical lasso in their hands.
“I have an imperial allowance!” - said Geral sheathing his sword and trying to show confidence. There was no chance to fight an escape; they were outnumbered and outclassed.
The slavers near him hesitated.
All around, the merchants were being robbed, and people were put in chains. The situation was resolved in less than a minute; they were the only ones not yet chained or dead.
Geral's breathing accelerated. What could he do for the NPC girls? Seeing the slavers hesitate, he was almost sure his allowance would let him walk free. But the girls? They would be chained. Could he hope to free them? He bit his lip; he did not have the money to pay for one slave, not for three, if they would even accept talking about selling them.
Anabella glanced towards him, trying to understand his plan, but he had none. Was there any chance to escape? Noviel was silently cursing inside the carriage, preparing her bow. Geral heard her and knew what she was going to do: that stupid NPC would try an escape and would die or even cause them all to die.
“Noviel, desist!” - said Geral - “Put your bow down; we do not shoot against the empire!”
The slaver near him harrumphed but nodded.
“That was wise!”
Geral took a deep breath, thinking feverishly. Why was this problem bothering him? What could he do? Nothing! His allowance was for him and his family. His close family. Could he say they were his wives? No, the empire allowed for only one wife or husband; more could be only slaves. You could have as many slave wives as you could buy, but he was not a citizen. This would mean he could save one of the NPC girls. Which one? Noviel? Anabella? Awa, the most fragile of them?
But the other two would be broken once made a slave. He had seen what a slave of the empire meant. Those NPCs were broken in so many ways. As humans would be.
There was a bit of commotion around. More slavers came this way, looking at him and the pale half-elf at his side. Inside the carriage, Noviel cursed, putting her bow down.
“Geral, you idiot!” - whispered Noviel as slavers jumped inside the carriage.
He sighed. At least she will live. Live to what? Maybe she could be freed later, but once broken...
“What happens here? Why are they not in chains?”
A taller slaver, probably the leader, came. He was accompanied by two grim-looking warriors. Noviel watched them worried.
“Cutuza, this one pretends to have an imperial allowance!”
Cutuza was the term for chief or commander in the empire. The leader of the raid.
He turned towards Geral and pointed at Anabela.
“And the girl?”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Geral raised his head and spoke fast. Instinctively.
“She's my wife!”
He breathed hard after saying that. He had made his choice; the two others would be taken away. Anabella watched him, surprised. This was his plan?
The cutuza turned his head to the side and spat a thick phlegm.
“Let me see your allowance!”
Awa and Noviel were being dragged out of the carriage. About ten slavers were now around them. Geral pulled something from his inventory box and put it in the chef's hand. It was a silver eagle circled by a ring with an inscription. His heart pained when he saw the two girls.
“My girls! Don't harm them!" - protested Geral, then screamed at Awa, who was struggling hard - "Awa, NO!"
He feared she was going to spell something.
“A silver allowance!” - the cutuza nodded, surprised - “let me see the girls!”
Awa and Noviel were forced to kneel in front of him, their hands bent at their back. Gerald hoped Awa would not blow him one of her fire glances.
The cutuza took Noviel's cheek in his hand.
“Ahm, beautiful girl. What do you mean they are your girls? Your allowance does not allow for slave possession, Geral Shatterbock!?”
Geral looked at the two kneeing teenage girls and cursed the moment he had chosen this name. Laughter came from the slavers. A shiver passed through his spine at the thought of what will happen to them. But what could he do? Only NPCs, isn't it?
"NPCs? Whom am I trying to fool?"
“They are my wife's daughters, and so my daughters!”
He was breathing hard as he said that. Why did he say that? He felt responsible for them, but this is not how this game ran. The cutuza raised a brow and turned towards Anabella, then grinned:
“Oh, true, a half-elf! I thought she would be too young to have grown-up children. I see.”
The cutuza spat again and turned to him:
“Do you swear by your allowance that they are your family?”
“I swear!” - said Geral
“Very well!”
The cutuza sighed, handing him back the silver allowance. A couple of slavers muttered but did not dare say anything aloud once the cutuza had spoken.
“Where were you going?” - asked the cutuza after making a couple of steps as if remembering something.
“To the Silver Town.” - answered Geral
The cutuza grinned:
“That fits well!” - he nodded - “We are going there too, so you'll not make a detour. Take your place in our caravan. We get moving.”
He turned away.
Geral exchanged a look with Anabella: 'so you'll not make a detour' clarified that the cutuza was not planning to let them go free. At least until Silver Town. He made a sign to the shocked girls to climb back in the carriage. The new caravan took a sharp curve to the left, heading towards the republic's side of the border. Probably the republic was now at war with the empire, and raider troops were all over the place. Even here over the border in the kingdom.
The carriages started rolling, whips motivating some people to keep in line. Murderous glances were thrown at them. Geral swallowed and tried to keep his head high.
After a couple of minutes, Anabella called Noviel to take the reins and pulled Geral inside the carriage. Once inside, she made him sit and suddenly put a knife at his neck.
“What is your plan, slaver?” - whispered Anabella in his ear - “or should I call you husband?”
The knife cut into his skin. Sweat ran down his brow.
“What else could I have done?” - whispered Geral back
“Help us escape? Traitor!” - whispered Awa in his back - “Let's kill him and try to run!”
“You don't need to kill me if you try to run; I won't do anything to stop you.” - whispered Geral trying not to move as the carriage was shaking and the knife was digging into his skin - “But even if I try to help you, we have no chance to escape. There are simply too many slavers.”
Anabella sighed.
“He is right. What was your plan? You know this will not work?”
“I... I just wanted to postpone... maybe we'll have a chance later!”
“How did you get that imperial allowance, slaver?” - asked Awa from behind him.
“I was questing with a group inside the empire." - he shrugged - "You can go to the border and ask for an allowance.”
“Yes, but those are bronze allowances, not silver!” - countered Anabella
“True!” - nodded Geral looking worried at the knife -“ but after several successful quests, you can get the silver allowance.”
“Silver allowance is to allow you to settle inside the empire. You thought you could take us like this to the empire? As your wives and slaves?”
He shook his head.
"Ow!" - he muttered as the knife cut further into his skin.
“My friends settled. We were a bigger group, and I processed my allowance along with theirs, but I didn't want to remain there.” - Geral sighed and shrugged - “I abhorred having slaves. You can be gentle with them, but they are still slaves. My friends have farms and work them with rented slaves. I didn't want to settle and become a citizen of the empire; that's why I left.”
“Your friends settled?” - wondered Awa - “How could they...”
“All of them. All fourteen. In the Cadassian plains” - he shrugged and looked Anabella in the eyes - “I thought that maybe we could escape in the evening; they need to stop for the night before reaching Silver Town.”
She removed the knife from his neck and healed him. She shook her head.
“It will not work. The chief knows that you lied. We are being closely watched. He either expects you to try an escape, or he waits for a truth stone, or probably in Silver Town, there is somebody who can tell a truth spell. He is just playing with you. In either case, we are done, and he made you lose even your allowance as he made you swear on it.”
She sighed, then raised her head again to look into his eyes.
“Why did you choose me?”
“Choose you?” - asked Geral, confused.
“Chose me as your wife?”
“Oh... Ahm... You were sitting near me... and you were the first one he asked about... and... ahm...”
Anabella rolled her eyes and then covered her face with her hands. She breathed deep, then raised her head again.
“We still have a chance. Take off your shirt.”
“Take off my shirt?”
She nodded. Awa watched her, questioning, but Anabella grasped her hand.
“Stay here; we need you!”
She turned to Geral.
“Do you want to marry me?”
He nodded.
“Does this work?”
“Say it!”
“I do”
“Say all!” - she let out an exasperated sigh.
“I want to marry you!”
She shook her head and whispered:
“I, Geral Dunderhead, want to marry you, Anabella Darkwing.”
He whispered back:
“I, Geral Shatterbock, want to marry you, Anabella Darkwing. Is this your name?”
Anabella turned to Awa.
“You heard him, yes? Now go take Noviel's place and send her here.”
As soon as Noviel was inside, she made him repeat.
“And this works?” - wondered Geral again.
“It's not yet finished,” - said Anabella - “You can leave us!” - she said to Noviel, who hurried back outside. She pulled the curtain back behind her.
Anabella started to carve runes on Geral's breast.
“What do you do?” - whispered Geral wincing as the knife cut into his skin
She put two fingers on his lips.
“Shht. I'm making it real. Undress completely!”
He hesitated, but when he saw her nodding, he did just that. She pushed him on his back. Moments later, she was carving runes on her naked body. Black ichor seeped from her wounds.
Her body was so perfect! He wondered how dark her blood was, but it was relatively dark inside the carriage. He wanted to ask her:
“What...?”
She put two fingers again on his lips.
“Shhht.”
He felt her naked, cold body over his. A shudder passed his spine.
“Are you...”
“Your blood is mine, and my blood is yours,” - she whispered, sliding slowly over him, and then her lips kissed his lips - “your breath is mine, and my breath is yours.”
Her breath smelled like juniper.
She smiled and added - “I am your wife now, and you are my husband!” - as he started to shake involuntarily.
He felt confused, tricked and even afraid. This was some kind of ritual, but are they married now??
She covered herself with a blanket and let herself lie beside him.
“A wood elf ritual. As they live in tiny communities in the woods, they also have simpler rituals for getting married...”
“But you are not... or...?”
“I was a wood elf before."
So she is an undead? She ignored his shocked face and continued:
"The ritual works; as you see, your wounds are already closing, as do mine. We are married by the wood elves' ritual. We have two witnesses and have completed it. Now husband, dress on and send the girls to me; they must become my daughters.”
“But you won't kill them!?”
She watched him, surprised and sighed.
“No, of course not. Not more than I killed you.”
What did she mean? What did she do... did she make him an undead? He put a hand on his chest. Does he still have a pulse?
She rolled her eyes.