4: Exiled Lord — Chapter 4 – The Purchased Slave, Unexpectedly 4: Exiled Lord — Chapter 4 – The Purchased Slave,
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Field had considered buying more slaves, but his purse simply wouldn’t allow it.
Surviving in the Death Haze wasn’t just about fighting monsters.
Even breathing required a Mist-Dispelling Lamp, a Magic Item sold exclusively by the Church, and priced accordingly.
On top of that, feeding and housing over 200 people was no small expense.
“Well?
Did you get the loan?” Field asked, stepping forward as he watched his steward emerge from the Merchant Association.
He took one look at Cao’s face, sourer than a rat that had been dead for three days, and already knew the answer.
“I’m sorry, my lord.
Even the greediest merchants won’t extend a loan to us the moment they hear your name.” Cao spread his hands.
“The Northern Province is synonymous with hell.
Even the Royal Family’s Expeditionary Force was completely annihilated there.
No merchant is going to throw their money into that void.” “That doesn’t add up.
I only received my appointment order today.
How are the merchants already so well-informed?” Field had figured the loan was a clever play either way.
Die in the Northern Province, and he’d never have to repay it.
Survive, and repayment would be a trivial headache.
Cao rolled his eyes.
He had genuinely run out of patience for nobles marching cheerfully toward their own funerals.
If he hadn’t stumbled upon the Count’s sister sneaking around with a stable boy, he might have become a promising steward of Golden Eagle City.
The Count’s right hand, even.
Or the personal tutor to the Count’s eldest grandson.
Instead, he was being shipped off to a cursed wasteland to die.
“Because your second sister found out about your fief in advance,” the steward answered, his voice completely drained of life.
“She sent a warning to every merchant in the city.
Anything you try to purchase gets marked up ten times over.
And the merchants understood her meaning perfectly — they won’t offer you so much as a scrap of convenience.” Field wiped cold sweat from his forehead.
Good thing he hadn’t given his real name when buying the slaves.
Otherwise that purchase wouldn’t have stopped at 50 gold coins.
“Wonderful.
I really have to thank her — my dear sister.” The veins on Field’s forehead bulged.
Not a single one of them treats me like a person.
What made it even more infuriating was that the original owner of this body had lived his entire life without saving a single copper coin.
One-third of his income had been donated to the family treasury.
The other two-thirds went to the border fortresses, buying weapons to fight off Corrupted Creatures.
The absolute poorest noble in existence.
“Forget the loan.
Their loss, not mine — short-sighted fools.” Field shrugged it off.
“Now.
Let’s go buy some supplies.” He spent 180 gold coins on draft horses, farming tools, food, and books, everything needed for pioneering a new territory.
17 draft horses in total, all old and worn.
In a medieval world, horses were a critical means of production, tightly controlled by the nobility, so this was the best he could manage.
For food, he loaded the carts as full as possible.
By modern standards, it would last barely two weeks.
But slaves weren’t fed by modern standards.
One black bread loaf a day was enough to keep a slave alive.
Two loaves, mixed with tree bark and wood shavings, and they’d drop to their knees and call you father.
So the food would last 35 days.
More than enough.
“For Magic Items, we’ll pick those up at the border cities.
The corrupt officers out there will sell them at a discount.” Like feudal armies of old, soldiers’ weapons sold off, wages pocketed by ghost-roster commanders.
Some things never changed.
Field had also tried recruiting talent and mercenaries at a tavern.
The moment he mentioned Nightfall Territory, every last one of them refused without hesitation.
“That place is no different from a death sentence.” “Honestly?
Flee to another country.
Even a cockroach would have to cover its ass just to survive there.” Their warnings still rang in his head.
Field rubbed the bridge of his nose and glanced over at the beast-eared girl curled up in the hay-filled cart.
He was curious.
What exactly was so peculiar about her?
He found an inn and let everyone rest for the night.
The next morning, he called for the beast-eared girl.
“What’s your name?
Did you sleep alright?” Field looked her over, 50 silver coins’ worth of slave, and found himself quietly amused by the utterly blank look on her face.
“A…
Ashina.” Her mouth opened and closed several times before she finally managed to force the name out.
It had been a month since she’d last spoken to anyone.
She had spent that entire month waiting in silent terror for whatever fate had in store for her.
She hadn’t imagined she would ever get to speak normally again.
The maids had cleaned her thoroughly, and the change was striking.
Her matted, clumped fur had become sleek and glossy after washing.
Her long hair, white as fresh snow, cascaded down around her delicate features, giving her a quiet, refined elegance.
Exactly the kind of mature beauty Field appreciated.
But her wolf ears wouldn’t stop twitching, and her tail flicked in tight, anxious movements.
The fear was obvious.
The moment she said her name, the green dot above Ashina’s head disappeared.
In its place, a simple panel appeared.
Name: Ashina Level: Unawakened Promotion Path: Wolf Cavalry Chosen One Status: Malnourished, on the verge of collapse (Please provide nutrition!) “Holy shit!” Field couldn’t hold it in.
The green dot was an unawakened Chosen One.
He stood frozen, speechless.
Because if the map could mark one green dot, it would mark more.
It had to.
Every year on September 1st, Awakening Day, every woman of appropriate age across the nation was required to undergo inspection.
The probability of actually awakening as a Chosen One was vanishingly small.
But given what a Chosen One was worth, no amount of expenditure was considered too much.
Field started pacing, back and forth, then threw two quick punches at the air.
His ability had far more potential than he’d realized.
This trip to Nightfall Territory.
Maybe, just maybe, he could actually build something there.
Ashina watched his strange behavior and reached the obvious conclusion: he had thought of something terrible to do to her.
Her legs trembled.
She gripped the hem of her skirt, squeezed, let go, squeezed again.
She had no idea what was coming.
The truth was, after Field bought her, she had thought about fighting back.
Even if the Slave Contract tore her apart from the inside, she refused to die humiliated.
She’d rather go down with her teeth in his throat.
But then the maids had taken her by the arm, undressed her, and given her a bath, scrubbing every inch of her until she was clean.
No one had ever helped her bathe before in her entire life.
And then they’d dressed her afterward.
The fabric was soft against her skin, practically weightless.
No fleas biting.
No rough material scraping her raw.
“Maybe they’re fattening me up as an offering to some devil,” Ashina thought, her mind spinning.
“When the moment comes, I’ll strike.
I’ll make these wicked humans pay for everything.” “You don’t need to be afraid.” Field lowered his voice, keeping his tone as calm and unthreatening as he could manage.
He leaned back lazily in his chair, posture loose and relaxed.
“I’m not some maniac who hurts people for fun.
I bought all of you to help build my territory.” He paused.
“By the way, does that outfit fit properly?” It was a maid’s uniform adapted from standard servant attire.
Servant clothing in this world ran conservative, covering everything except a strip of calf and the hands, barely distinguishable from a nun’s habit.
The serious kind.
Not the kind with slits up the sides meant for someone’s entertainment.
➤ Next: Now That Things Have Come to This, Let’s Eat First