Aragon:

"Hello. Sorry I didn't introduce myself immediately, but I needed to see what you did with the slave collars first."

"Why?" said the teenage girl.

"You don't know?"

"No?"

How is that possible?

"Because a slave, no matter what rank, will never destroy a collar nor leave one behind. It's always one of their initial commands."

"Ah, so when we destroyed the collars..." said Alice.

"I was greatly relieved. Of course, I already knew you weren't slaves since you don't have collars on."

"Anyway, I'm Bronsen, and this is Alice."

"Hello! I'm Aragon."

They're very unusual. Everybody within a thousand kilometres of here knows the basics of slave collars.

Ah, that's it, they are from a lot further away. Four or five thousand kilometres away clockwise, at least.

Actually, a bit more than that, but he wasn't to know that yet.

Seeing they were a bit skittish, he tried moving slowly and calmly. He nodded in the direction of the dead man.

"That must have been the high-ranking slaver," he said.

"Ah, yes, apparently he was a blue-collar," said Alice.

Why was a Blue doing out here? And why, apparently? For that matter, how did he die...

He had a closer look.

Ah, he was injured.

"Is that so? Just out of curiosity, how did you know that?"

"Oh, System-san told us," said Bronsen.

"Who?"

"Ah, you know, the entity that tells us our statuses and whatnot?" said Alice.

What? Did the Voice of the World tell them directly? What does that mean?

"You mean, the Voice of the World?" said Aragon, "That is, you have some [Inspection] ability that gives you that information? Although I've never heard of one that will give that sort of detail."

"I suppose so? I just said [Inspect], and System-san told us he was dead, and he had been a Blue-collar," said Alice.

This is strange, but let's get to the more critical thing, shall we?

Since the mother and daughter had been moved to a cleaner patch of ground, he didn't have to put up with kneeling in shit or dried urine. So, without any hesitation, he knelt before the mother. But, even with a change of clothes, they still stank. Aragon ignored this and calmly observed the mother and daughter.

At least, he started to observe them calmly, but as soon as he got a good look at the mother, he startled and gasped in surprise.

The mother, who had managed to put her arm over her daughter lying in front of her, reacted to this and looked as if she was frightened of him. They hadn't looked easy beforehand, and now, with his erratic behaviour, they looked even more worried.

Tanya? Tanya? No, impossible, impossible, she's dead years ago.

Oh shit.

His body sagged, and he had to support his weight on his hands.

No, she's not Tanya. But she is the age she would have been if she had lived. And she has a very similar skin tone—three colours: reddish, dark brown, and very light yellow. She's even got a similar pattern.

But she's not Tanya.

Oh.

He realised that the mother looked terrified of him, and the daughter also looked frightened.

Yeah, a strange man. Of course, they would be terrified.

Right now, they are immobilised from an Order Lock. Totally defenceless.

Tanya will never let me ignore their plights.

OK.

In his best and brightest and most confident voice, he started speaking.

"Hello, young lady and young girl. It looks like you are having some difficulty. So I, along with these teenagers, will help you."

Voice of the world: I make this public vow: I will look after these two until they no longer need my help.

Ding! Your vow has been accepted at 100% strength. It will be communicated to the mother and daughter, as well as Alice and Bronsen.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

One hundred percent? A hundred? I really must be feeling strongly about this. That's even stronger than my first vow.

Bronsen:

This bloke, I suppose, looks OK. Why did he react so strangely when he had a close-up look at the mother?

Ding! System-san notice.

Aragon has made a vow, strength 100%: I will look after this mother and her daughter until they no longer need my help.

What the hell is that?

"Alice, did you get that?"

"Yes. And, look, those two also got it."

This was obvious; both the mother and the girl were startled at the message and then visibly relaxed. However, the mother managed to convey the impression that she was surprised—relieved but surprised.

Aragon was looking embarrassed. He scratched his head, shrugged his shoulders, and said, "I guess I should start helping you."

By the time the sun started to dim, they had made their two patients as comfortable as possible. They were lying side by side on a thin mattress from the cart with a thin, frayed blanket over them. By now, they had succumbed to exhaustion and were sleeping. Aragon had been busy; he sorted the stuff in the cart and divided it into separate piles according to its usefulness. He dragged the dead man away by a hundred metres, then, without much fuss, stripped him down to his underwear and added the man's clothes and equipment to the piles.

Aragon, Alice, and Bronsen were now sitting a couple of metres away from their patients, watching the sun dim to a faint glow. Every night on Felixerra was moonlit unless there were clouds. But clouds were below the fifty-kilometre mark, so every night up on the Rimwall was moonlit.

Bronsen looked along the Ringworld. The ring was dark, but here and there were faint glows that could have been the concentrated light of cities, plus an occasional flickering light.

I'll have to ask him later about that, but we need a few more questions answered right now!

Just then, Alice gave a huge yawn.

"Oops, sorry, everyone, but..."

"Ah, I'm sort of tired, too," said Bronsen.

Aragon smiled at them and waved his hands.

"That's fine. How about I take the first watch and wake up Bronsen in three hours?"

Take watch? Err, well, I suppose there could be other slavers up here, and, shit, if they sneak up on us, they could enslave us before we know it!

He looked at Alice.

She also looks scared out of her wits.

"Ah, good idea, Mr Aragon. Alice, I'll wake you up for your turn, OK?"

"Yeah, definitely."

Aragon:

He had already convinced them to move the patients and their stuff towards the outside rail. So, now, he was leaning against the railing, ignoring the immensity of a spiral galaxy behind him. Instead, he looked from side to side, checking to see if anyone was approaching. He monitored the patients' condition, but they seemed to be breathing easily.

Tanya, is this good enough?

I hope so.

I speak a lot to a girl who's been dead for twelve years, don't I?

Is that all right?

But what else do I have?

As always, no answer came.

He diligently kept up his watch until it became time to wake Bronsen.

Alice:

In the morning, two slightly frazzled teenagers and one (seemingly) perfectly composed Aragon greeted the dawn.

Alice surveyed the locale.

Two immobile patients, a completely unknown man, and the potential of horrible slavers attacking us at a moment's notice.

Life has sure gotten complicated all of a sudden.

There are so many questions to ask, but the first one is undoubtedly...

"Mr Aragon, why are our patients so immobile?"

"Why? Well, obviously, it’s Order Lock. Oh, and you can call me Aragon; there is no need for any formality."

"Order Lock?" said Bronsen, avidly listening to this conversation.

"You don't know that either? It's when a slaver tells a lower-ranking slave to wait for some condition. And the condition never eventuates. Like, say, this slaver - "

Aragon casually gestured in the direction of the dead man.

"Might have said something like 'wait here until I tell you what to do next'."

"But that means that they will die!" said Alice.

"Oops, I hope they didn't hear that," she said.

They all looked at the two patients. Fortunately, they appeared to be still asleep.

"Ah, right, you don't know about that, either," said Aragon. "If a grey collar slave has no contact with a slave of a higher rank for a week, they are released from the compunction to obey any standing and absolute orders. Of course, the collar remains, and any higher ranked slave can reestablish order merely by touching their collars."

"Oh, right. So we must keep them alive and reasonably well, and they will spontaneously recover?" said Bronsen.

"That's right. Only, I suggest we move them back to the Manifestorian stairwell as fast as possible. We don’t know when the next group of slavers will come along."

Alice and Bronsen looked at each other in puzzlement.

"What's this Manifestorian thing?" said Alice.

"Uhh? Didn't you just come from there?"

"No? We've just travelled a few hundred kilometres anti-clockwise to here," said Bronsen.

"Really? You mean you were from the middle of the Crysteth monster territory?"

"Yes, we sure were. What the fuck hell are they all about?" said Bronsen.

Aragon looked from one to the other in some perplexity.

"How come you don't know anything about our world despite living in it your entire life?"

"Well, now, about that..." said Alice.

Any further discussion was squelched when the mother woke up. She groaned and tried to look in their direction before giving up.

They spent the next hour caring for their needs. And also eating some food themselves. After that, Aragon addressed them all.

"I think that we should move as soon as possible. I'll throw out everything that isn't immediately useful from the cart, and we can put you-"

He pointed at the mother and daughter.

"In it, and we can make a dash to the Manfestorian stairwell. OK?"

Alice and Bronsen couldn't see anything to disagree with. The mother and daughter weren't capable of saying anything. So Aragon continued.

"Now, teenagers, my strength ability is about twenty-five. Would you like to tell us yours?"

"Sure, why shouldn't we? Our strength, speed and combat abilities are all maxed out to a hundred."

Aragon stared at them, his expression halfway between shock and disbelief.

"You're both maxed out in all of those abilities?"

"Yeah. It's because..." said Alice.

Aragon cut in.

"You kids are just too naive to be real. You shouldn't tell just anyone what your abilities are! You hardly know me. You realise the more information about your abilities the enemies have, the more prepared they will be against you?"

Oh. I suppose so. This whole 'interacting with the Felixian society' turns out to be very messy.

"Sorry, Mr, err, I mean, sorry, Aragon. We didn't realise," said Alice.

Aragon scratched his head. Again.

"Fine, fine, we are always learning new things."

Another hour and they were on their way. Alice and Bronsen decided to carry the cart. Its construction might have been lightweight, but it was strong enough to support its weight and the weight of the two patients when used like a sedan chair. The teenagers skimmed across the ground in a gliding jog, doing their best not to jostle the occupants.

Despite the horrible situation they appeared to be in, Alice was exhilarated by her physical powers.

At least, this part is still incredible, moving while carrying such a weight at such a speed.

Will I ever get back to Earth? I'm just dying to show off my new powers!

After a while, Aragon remembered something.

"If you came from anti-clockwise, then who was it who destroyed the twenty-two slave collars up ahead? And, in the same way that you did?"

"Eh, you came across more dead slaves on your way here?" said Alice.

"Wait a minute! Twenty-two times a hundred is two thousand two hundred! That's about how many points Drayden and Cassy got!" said Bronsen.

"Hey, so it is! They must be at this Manifestorian place! Let's get there as fast as possible!" said Alice.

Aragon looked from one to the other, opened his mouth, closed his mouth and continued jogging.

He is recalling how he told us to keep our statuses secret.

She looked at Bronsen; he looked back.

OK, let's leave things as is.

They kept on moving.

By nightfall, they reached the Manifestorian stairs to find a group of people already there.