Chapter 40

Dovarin stood on the cargo bed of the covered wagon, reflecting on his situation.

The obsidian kingdom where he was born and raised had been suppressed by the human army that called itself an empire, despite their fierce resistance. The blood relatives who were captured alive were all made into slaves, and they would either be sold like himself or forced to dig in the mines until they died.

Even if he wanted to return to save his blood relatives, he didn’t even know where he was.

Moreover, he wasn’t even certain about his own fate for tomorrow.

Dovarin looked down at his feet.

The iron ball attached to the ankle shackles that had been on his legs for months was gone. With this, he could possibly escape if he found an opportunity.

However, even if he did escape, he would only die in the wilderness without a destination. If he repeatedly stole or robbed to get food, it would only attract more attention from humans, and he would eventually be hunted down.

And if he were caught, the end of a runaway slave would be a terrible death as an example. If he had been repeatedly stealing or robbing, the enraged humans would play with his body like a toy before giving him the most humiliating death.

Dovarin was a warrior.

He was not afraid to die in battle, but he feared dying in vain.

It was unclear whether it was fortunate or not, but the human who bought him seemed to treat him and the others relatively decently. Compared to the humans who had treated them as slaves, there was a world of difference.

At the very least, they didn’t seem to have any immediate plans for them.

If that was the case, it would be wise to remain obedient for a while and make plans to escape during that time, Dovarin thought.

While looking at the scenery outside through the gap in the cover, Dovarin pretended to be talking to himself and said,

"Does anyone know where we are?"

There was no response from the dwarves who had become slaves. It seemed that no one knew.

Dovarin’s words were in Dwarvish, so the daughter of Zoan should have thought it was just him talking to himself or calling out to his companions. However, perhaps she was particularly suspicious, as she looked at Dovarin with a wary expression.

However, an unexpected answer came.

"This is the southern part of the Solbiant Plain."

Dovarin was surprised by the words of the blue horse.

He had never even dreamed that a human child who looked down on dwarves would understand Dwarvish.

"Soma, did you hear what this one said?"

"Huh? Yeah, he asked if anyone knew where we were."

The blue horse answered with a puzzled look, wondering why Shemul, who had much better hearing than himself, hadn’t heard it.

Shemul thought seriously for a moment, then said to the dwarves with a contemptuous tone,

"I had heard that dwarven warriors were all bold and brave, but it seems that was a lie. Whispering secretly among yourselves like timid girls. Soma, it seems we mistakenly bought a fat elf."

In this world, dwarves and elves were mortal enemies.

For dwarves, being called an elf was the greatest insult. Even though they had been reduced to slaves, no dwarf could hear such an insult without feeling anger.

However, they didn’t foolishly attack in a fit of rage. The six dwarves, including Dovarin, shifted slightly.

Shemul smiled faintly.

"It seems you all understand the common language of the continent. That’s a relief."

Dovarin almost clicked his tongue in annoyance at those words.

It turned out that the Zoan girl had insulted them in the common language to see if they would react.

Dovarin and the others were frustrated at falling for her trick, but when Shemul straightened up and bowed deeply, they were taken aback.

"Forgive my heartless words, children of the earth."

The sudden apology made the dwarves look at each other in confusion.

"I know it was rude, but I needed to know if you understood the language for the safety of my lord."

Dovarin was impressed by Shemul’s excellent warrior’s conduct.

He thought that speaking carelessly might worsen his position, but the warrior’s pride wouldn’t allow him to remain silent after such a display.

"Raise your head, beast. For the sake of your lord, you are willing to soil yourself. I am impressed, not critical."

However, he had a question.

"Who is the lord you protect?"

The moment he asked, a joyful aura overflowed from Shemul’s entire body.

It seemed she had been dying to say it, and Dovarin was intrigued by the importance of the person.

"The one sitting there, Kizaki Soma, is my 'Lord Below the Navel.'"

The blue horse, who had been watching the exchange between Shemul and the dwarves, seemed embarrassed by Shemul’s adoring gaze and quickly turned to the front, raising her voice.

"Shemul, is that the forest?"

"Huh? Yes, that’s it."

When asked by the blue horse, Shemul leaned forward on the driver’s seat and looked at the forest they were heading towards, then answered.

The dwarves behind her seemed surprised, but she didn’t seem to notice and sat down facing the front of the wagon.

This made the dwarves let out a disgruntled growl.

Dovarin and the others understood that Shemul’s gesture of turning her back on them, leaving herself vulnerable, was a sign of sincerity.

They were slaves bought with money by the blue horse. Shemul, who was trusted by the blue horse, was like a slave overseer, a position that should have been hated. They had never expected such warrior’s conduct from a Zoan girl they thought of as an overseer.

This left the dwarves unsure whether to hate her as an overseer or respect her as a warrior, causing them to feel frustrated and uncertain.

Gradually, Dovarin found it silly to remain meek and sat cross-legged with his arms folded, letting out a heavy sigh. The other dwarves followed suit.

Shemul turned around over her shoulder. Despite the dwarves’ defiant attitude, which would normally warrant a whipping, Shemul only smiled and turned back to the front.

It was as expected, but her conduct as a warrior was so admirable that Dovarin found it incomprehensible.

What puzzled him was that the person this great female warrior was willing to mock others to protect was apparently the human child sitting on the driver’s seat.

From Dovarin’s perspective, the blue horse didn’t have the build of a fighter, which was obvious even through her clothes. A person trained in handling swords or spears would move and look differently, but the blue horse showed none of that. Yet, the fact that Shemul showed such devoted loyalty to the blue horse was a mystery.

While Dovarin was pondering this, the covered wagon arrived at the forest they were heading for. They had left the city after noon, but the sun was already tilting west. It was a rule among travelers to finish setting up camp before the sun completely set.

Dovarin, who had been casually looking at the forest, sensed the presence of many people hiding in it.

"Turn back! There might be bandits!"

Before Dovarin’s words were even finished, multiple figures emerged from the forest.

"Zoan?!"

The ones who emerged and surrounded the covered wagon were all strong Zoan warriors.

Among them, Dovarin’s attention was drawn to two Zoans who seemed to be the leaders: a black-haired Zoan with a scar on his face and a red-haired Zoan with one eye. Both were not only physically imposing but also moved and looked around in a way that marked them as top-notch warriors.

Even Dovarin, who considered himself a top warrior, didn’t think he could defeat these two in hand-to-hand combat.

"Boy, give me a weapon! I’m not ready to die yet!"

The Zoans, who were probably there to make the humans pay for their foolishness of traveling the plain in just one covered wagon, would be a great relief if they only tore the humans to shreds. However, there was no guarantee that they would spare the dwarves just because they were dwarves.

While Dovarin was making a life-or-death decision, the blue horse, who had risen from the driver’s seat, raised a hand.

"Both of you, I’ve kept you waiting."

Dovarin was taken aback by what she said.

The black-haired Zoan, Garam, shook his head slightly to indicate that it was fine, then said calmly,

"I’m relieved you’re safe, Soma and The Noble Fang. How was the city?"

"Garam, I brought some unexpected guests, but things went well."

At these words, Garam and Zog peered into the covered wagon over the blue horse’s head.

"Wow, dwarves are rare. It’s been since the time I had my mountain knife forged."

"Really? There are dwarves around here?"

Zog’s words piqued the blue horse’s interest.

"I’m glad you asked, Lord Soma. As you can see, my body is large and strong. I wasn’t satisfied with ordinary mountain knives, so I went to the dwarves in the mountains to the east of the plain to get my own.

"At that time, I was just a kid, twelve years old. First, I had to hunt a mountain of furs as payment for the mountain knife..."

"Raging Claw, we don’t need your boasting."

Shemul ruthlessly interrupted Zog, who was about to tell a heroic tale.

"Soma, in the past, we traded with the dwarves in the eastern mountains. Our mountain knives were masterpieces made by the dwarves, and warriors who were not satisfied with just inheriting them from their ancestors would carry a mountain of furs to visit them. However, they have since been chased away by humans and disappeared."

While the blue horse nodded in understanding, Zog, whose heroic tale had been interrupted, frowned.

Despite the amicable exchange between the blue horse and the Zoans, the dwarves, including Dovarin, could only look on in astonishment.

"The Noble Fang and Raging Claw, what are you doing, leaving the guests in the covered wagon?"

Garam, who sighed heavily and scolded the two, lightly tapped his chest towards the stunned dwarves.

"Relax, children of the earth. If Soma invited you, we will treat you as important guests."

◆◇◆◇◆

Surrounded by a blazing campfire, the blue horse explained her plan to the main Zoan warriors, including Garam and Zog, and the dwarves.

"Interesting. If that works, we can take the city with minimal casualties."

First, Garam, who had been listening with his arms crossed, showed his approval of the blue horse’s plan. Zog found it interesting but also pointed out a problem.

"It’s an interesting idea, but what about weapons? Even if we outnumber them, we can’t fight bare-handed."

"We took weapons from the soldiers when we captured the fort. We’ll use those."

Zog’s concern was within the blue horse’s expectations, so she answered without hesitation.

"Understood. I’ll send someone to Banuka at the fort to bring weapons quickly."

Garam called one of his swift-footed comrades and sent him as a messenger to the fort.

"With that, the remaining issue is..."

At Garam’s words, everyone’s gaze turned to Dovarin and the dwarves.

Dovarin, who had been listening as if it were none of his business, couldn’t ignore it and raised his head with a displeased look, but only snorted and turned away.

"Strange fellows. We are slaves bought by this human boy. Just give us orders."

Zog, annoyed by Dovarin’s attitude, started to rise, but the blue horse held him back with a gesture and clearly said to Dovarin,

"We don’t want slaves. We want people who will cooperate of their own will."

"Ask slaves for their will? You’re making me laugh. What will you do if they refuse?"

At Dovarin’s words, a hostile atmosphere spread from the surrounding Zoans. However, Dovarin, seemingly oblivious to this, looked at the blue horse provocatively.

The blue horse scratched her cheek, looking troubled.

"I won’t do anything."

"Nothing?!"

"I’ll keep you confined until the matter is resolved, but after that, you can do as you please."

"Release slaves bought for a large sum of money?"

The blue horse had never heard of such a thing. Slaves bought for eight hundred silver coins were to be released unconditionally.

"Yes. I believe that making people slaves is wrong."

Not only Dovarin but all the dwarves were surprised.

It was a heretical idea in this world.

It was common for the victorious race to take everything from the conquered, regardless of the species.

Dovarin’s thoughts contradicted the blue horse’s, but they were shattered by her next words.

"Taking away someone’s freedom and treating them like trash. You must have experienced how ugly that is."

The blue horse was right.

Since becoming prisoners of war, Dovarin and his companions had only seen the ugly side of humans.

No matter how refined a noble lady or how courteous a general, there were no exceptions. The twisted lips of disgust and the eyes filled with a sense of superiority mixed with pity when they looked at the dwarves. The more polished they appeared, the more they exuded a rotten stench of ugliness.

"I don’t want to be someone I find ugly. That’s why I reject slavery."

What seemed heretical at first was, in fact, a very common-sense idea.

However, the reality was that such common sense was impossible to achieve or even speak of.

The former Dovarin would have mocked such a dreamer for not seeing reality. But the Dovarin who had been reduced to a slave and endured countless hardships found the blue horse’s words incredibly beautiful and invaluable.

"Let me ask one more thing, boy. Why did you choose me?"

There were still many dwarves at the auction. He could have bought more dwarves at a more reasonable price instead of paying a high price for Dovarin. Dovarin wanted to know the reason.

"When the slave trader whipped your chest, you clenched your right hand."

The blue horse’s answer was beyond Dovarin’s understanding.

"What do you mean?"

The blue horse picked up a pebble from the ground and threw it to Dovarin. Without understanding its meaning, Dovarin caught it in his right hand.

After confirming this, the blue horse smiled.

"At that moment, you made a fist with your dominant hand. You were trying to punch the slave trader but restrained yourself, right?"

Dovarin only growled in response.

But it was because the blue horse was right.

"I was taught that a slave is someone who has given up on fighting and lost to their own fear."

The blue horse glanced sideways at Shemul beside her.

Shemul pretended not to notice but her ears were wagging happily.

The blue horse smiled and continued,

"But you were trying to fight. You restrained yourself not because you had given up, but because you judged that you should endure until the time to fight came. That’s why you are not a slave, but a warrior."

The blue horse looked Dovarin straight in the eye.

"Warrior Dovarin. Please lend me your strength."

The moment he heard those words, a warm feeling welled up in Dovarin’s chest.

"Warrior... What a good word."

Since becoming a prisoner of war, the words Dovarin had been called were derogatory terms like "earthworm."

Along with these derogatory terms, he had been subjected to all kinds of insults, whipped, and spat on.

"You became a slave because you lost. You lost because you were weak. Earthworms are weaker than humans. Weak ones have no value. You are worthless. Trash. Act like trash and lick the ground. Don’t defy the humans. I don’t like your face. I don’t like your nose. I don’t like your eyes. I don’t like your beard. I don’t like anything. That’s a defiant attitude, I’ll give you a whipping. Are you happy to get a whipping? If you’re happy, show a happier face. What, you insolent earthworm!"

This was a process to make slaves obedient. It negated the personality and values of those who had become slaves, suppressed them with violence, and thoroughly crushed any resistance.

The harsh words of the slave overseers had chipped away at Dovarin’s heart.

He had even thought that it would be easier to give up all his self-respect and pride and fall into the mindset of a slave.

But he had consoled himself by dreaming of beating up the slave overseers, enduring the breaking of his self-respect and the shattering of his pride.

Dovarin’s eyes welled up, but he closed his eyelids and looked up at the sky to hold back the tears.

After a moment, he opened his eyes and looked at the blue horse.

"Do you understand what it means to call me a warrior and ask for my strength?"

The blue horse nodded firmly.

"In that case, I have three requests."

"Requests?"

Dovarin held up three fingers.

"First, food. Feed me until I’m full."

"Of course. As they say in my homeland, 'A hungry man cannot fight.'"

At the blue horse’s response, Dovarin folded his first finger.

"Second, alcohol. I haven’t had a drink for months. I don’t care about the type or quality, just give me enough to bathe in."

"Understood. I’ll do my best to meet your request, no matter how much you drink."

Dovarin folded his second finger and, with a dark smile, made