Capítulo 32: The War Hero's Slaves
The blonde elf smiled at my shortness, appearing so confident despite an environment that must have been utterly foreign. "Why don't we begin with an introduction. We serve the War Hero, in all his greatness. If I'm not mistaken, you are the Sun Hero's slave. Hard to believe he's into someone so… immature." I glared as she leaned forward, granting a sight of the dark crevice of her cleavage. She lazily gestured to the brunette." This here is Niece. And this, " pointing to the red haired elf, "Kirla. You may call me Rochelle."
She looked at me expectantly, frowning as I continued to stare at them. "And you are?" she finally said, a flash of irritation crossing her face.
"Xiviyah."
"The broken one, Or, perhaps, vanquished? Quite the interesting name for a hero."
"She don't look much like a hero," Kirla said, idly playing with a lock of crimson hair. "Her mana's only able to handle third-circle spells, maybe fourth, if she prays hard enough. Even the pitiful Sun Hero can command fifth-circle magic."
I unconsciously activated the Eyes of Fate, nearly leaning back as an invisible brilliance burst out from the slaves. I barely kept the shock off my face. Even the weakest of them could cast fourth-circle!
As I activated the Eyes, the smile faded from Kara's lips. The intensity of her gaze increased, with a corresponding rise in the magic Aura around her. Must be an identification spell, or something. That was odd, as most of those fell under the Fate magic umbrella, but not impossible.
"Whatever," she mumbled, letting the spell go. It dawned on me that the Fate Eyes must have some sort of interference effect that prevented her magic. If I could learn to use that independent of the Eyes…
Rochelle cleared her throat, speaking loudly to regain control of the situation. "After being so long from the others, I admit to being anxious about the outcome of the duel. Challenging a party with unknown force seems foolish, but it seems his call was worth it. Just as we'd expect from the War Hero."
I simply looked at them, under no obligation to engage with them. From the sound of things, her comment was only a petty jab at Soltair's strength. Wait, why would that include me? I clenched my jaw and fell for her bait.
"What are you talking about?"
"Didn't you know?" Kirla asked snidely, "in this world, slaves are included as an individual might. Obviously, that extends to a duel."
Rochelle smiled as my eyes widened. "I'm looking forward to facing you in combat. It's been a while since we've crushed anyone into the ground. Most in our country are too scared to accept now…"
My thoughts raced. Why hadn't I heard anything about this? Did Soltair know?
"What can a slave girl like you even do? I can't imagine why Soltair would choose someone so weak. It's not even like you could properly warm his bed. Sure, your face isn't bad, but everything else leaves a lot to be desired." I shivered as the elf shot a sweeping glance at my body, her lips curving up in a mocking smile.
"Cat got your tongue?" Kirla asked. "Honestly, would that you were one of those cat beastkin. At least then your demonic features would be considered cut."
I winced as my fingernails bit into my palms. I hated every word, but couldn't deny a thing. Her hateful words were like knives, dissecting my fears and vulnerabilities and exposing them before the world.
"Did you only come here to mock me?" I asked quietly. I didn't trust myself to speak any louder, afraid I wouldn't be able to stop the tears.
"Oh no, how could we speak like that to such a noble hero? You're destined to save the world, after all. We only wanted to see who we would be fighting." Rochelle said, innocently exaggerating every word.
"I was a little concerned with the duel tomorrow," Kirla said, "but after seeing you, I'm ready for a good night's sleep."
"Tomorrow?" I felt like a cold bucket of water was dumped on my head. "The duel's tomorrow?"
'I'd wish you good luck, but your the Fate Hero. I'm sure good luck's your specialty." Rochelle stood gracefully, leading the other two behind her as they left. The male slaves in the mess hall, which had become quite crowded during out conversation, stared at their seductive gait, but made no move to interfere.
Before they left, the blonde elf cast one look behind her. "Sleep well filthblood. Good sleep might be hard to come by when I expose you to the whole world as the charlatan you are.
After they left, hundreds of slaves turned to stare at me. I ducked under the pressure, turning my head aside. I would not cry in front of them. I wouldn't.
Eventually, things returned to normal, and it came time for food to be served. Dinner no longer held any appeal, so I slipped back to my room. I wanted so badly to see Soltair, and speak with him. To feel his encircling arms hold me tight as he whispered comforts in my ear, but I couldn't. Curfew was soon, and I wasn't allowed in his quarters without a guide.
With the door safely closed and locked, I allowed the tears to seep down my cheeks. Why had they come? What did I ever do to receive such harsh words? They recognized me immediately, but it's not like I was the only Demonkin in the room at the time. Did someone put them up to it?
The questions continued as long as my tears fell, both ceasing to flow only when I slipped into a fitful slumber. The nightmares returned, as they occasionally did, and I spent most of the night fleeing the illusory flames, filled with the faces of my friends and enemies alike.
Before I knew it, morning had come. The slave Crest shivered slightly, as it did each morning in the Slave Quarters, to awaken me at dawn. I curled up in the sheets, grateful I didn't have any assignments, like the majority of other slaves, to attend to so early. The memories of last night were fresh in my mind, and I felt like I'd barely gotten any sleep.
A loud knock at the door started me. I quickly got up to throw something over my night dress, but found I slept in my clothes from the day before.
"Xiviyah! Are you awake?"
Soltair's voice pierced the door, stilling my trembling heart immediately. I ran to the door, hand freezing before I could throw it open. What was I going to say? More importantly, what was he going to tell me? He wasn't allowed to visit the slave quarters, so his presence only confirmed something was going on. Unfortunately, the elvish slaves hadn't been lying. I took a deep breath and composed myself. It was time to face the hero.
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