"Oh, I can't believe how much you've grown! Back then, you were just a little thing, and now look at you, tall as a tree!" Tom chuckled warmly as he motioned to his companions to head toward the city, effortlessly hopping onto the carriage. His tone was light, but his eyes glinted with curiosity. "So, why have we suddenly come to this place?"
"The academy sent us here for training," Enola responded, looking around with a mixture of excitement and uncertainty.
Tom's eyes widened briefly in understanding. "Ah, the academy, huh? Well, that makes sense. Since they're your classmates, we must treat them well, of course."
"Thank you, Uncle," Enola said, smiling gratefully. Her expression was mirrored by the rest of his companions, their relief evident. After all, they were just students, and yet here they were, being offered shelter and food in such an unfamiliar place, far from the comforts of home.
The others echoed their thanks, but among them, Oliver's smile was more strained than the others. He tried to blend in with the jovial atmosphere, but his mind was racing. He had predicted many outcomes, but this? He hadn't expected that the senior sent by the principal would be involved with the notorious Black Crow syndicate. It made the situation even more dangerous.
Laughter felt like a chore right now.
His eyes subtly flickered around the area. He couldn't ignore the opportunity. Since the leader of the Black Crows was present, this could provide them with invaluable information, if they played their cards right. But it wouldn't be easy. Far from it.
"It's almost noon. Why don't we stop for a meal?" Tom suggested, his smile as wide as ever.
Chris shifted uncomfortably. "We didn't bring much money with us. Are you sure that's alright?" His voice was hesitant, betraying his concern about imposing on their host.
Tom waved it off with a laugh. "Nonsense! I said I'd take care of you all, and I meant it. Besides, what's a little money?" He called over one of the senior students. "Tell the chef to prepare a feast! We'll need extra food today, especially meat. Make it quick!"
The senior student blinked in surprise. "More food? Right away!" He nodded and hurried off, his steps quick and efficient.
Before long, the group found themselves riding through an area bordered by high, white walls. As they approached, sprawling buildings loomed; houses, watchtowers, warehouses. It had the air of a fortress rather than a welcoming city. The sight of it made some of them uneasy.
"Everyone, hop down here. Someone will show you where to eat shortly," Tom said with his usual bright demeanor, hopping off the carriage and disappearing into the distance. As he left, Enola's smile faded, a flicker of unease crossing his face. Yet, seeing the excited chatter of his classmates around him, he held his tongue, unwilling to dampen their spirits.
Meanwhile, Oliver's mind was racing. Quietly, he summoned a small bird formed of pure magical energy and sent it into the air, scouting the surroundings. His brow furrowed as he observed the layout. Tall, smooth walls surrounded them on all sides. The place felt more like a prison than a home, and every exit was heavily guarded. Even climbing out of here would be no easy task.
Knocking on one of the walls, he discovered something strange. It wasn't just ordinary stone. These walls were made from a special mineral; strong, resilient, and capable of absorbing magical energy. Escaping would be nearly impossible if things went south.
Carefully, he slipped his hand into his pack, retrieving two small smoke bombs, holding them ready just in case.
"Niece, come here for a moment. I need to talk to you," Tom's voice rang out again, breaking through the tension. He waved for Enola to come closer.
Chris nudged him with a grin. "Go on, don't keep your uncle waiting."
"Huh? Oh, right…" Enola, lost in thought, blinked and hurried toward hsr uncle, clearly distracted.
Oliver didn't pay much attention to their conversation. He was too focused on calculating potential escape routes, reviewing every guard's position through his magical bird's eyes. His suspicion grew. Patrolling figures moved constantly, their armor and gear revealing their identity as adventurers; hardened, watchful, and ready for action. The number of people here wasn't normal. Why were they being so cautious?
His stomach tightened as he realized the uncomfortable truth: many of these guards weren't here to protect them. They were here to keep an eye on him.
Meanwhile, Enola hesitated as she approached her uncle. Her uncle's demeanor seemed lighter, but there was an underlying tension.
"Uncle, what's the matter?" She asked, though it was clear she wasn't particularly eager for this conversation.
Tom sighed deeply, his expression softening with something almost like regret. "I know you don't approve of my... dealings. The slave trade, I mean," he said, his voice quiet and weary. "You probably hate me for it."
Enola clenched her fists, unsure how to respond.
"But listen," Tom continued, his tone growing more insistent, "if I don't do this, many people; innocent people, will die." His voice carried a weight that Enola had never heard before, making the young man pause.
Enola's stomach churned with conflict. She wanted to argue, to condemn the very idea of trading lives for profit. But her uncle's words made her stop short. Was there more to this than she understood?
"What do you mean by that?" Enola's brow furrowed, her mind racing. How could her uncle possibly justify his actions?
Tom leaned back, his expression calm, almost resigned. "I won't drag this out. You're here now, and whether you choose to ignore everything or involve yourself, you deserve to know the truth. Asking around will only confuse you more."
"The truth?" Enola's frown deepened. "What are you talking about?"
Tom's voice remained steady, devoid of any emotion. "I know you despise what I do. I'm not blind to that. But my original intentions: what I did, was for humanity's sake."
"Even if that's true," Enola said coldly, "I have no intention of helping you."
Tom's eyes flickered, but his expression didn't change. "I knew that from the moment you refused my financial support. I never expected your help."
Enola's gaze hardened. "Then what are you getting at?"
"I just want you to be cautious," Tom said softly, a note of warning creeping into his voice. "No matter what happens, remember what I've told you. Whether you seek to punish me or protect me, it doesn't matter."
Enola's jaw clenched. "I want to see you punished by human laws," she stated firmly, her voice filled with conviction.
Tom smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You're free to do as you wish. But you only see the surface; you think I'm driven by greed. You know about my shady dealings, but you have no idea about the real reason behind them."
"Reason?" Enola scoffed, narrowing her eyes. "Isn't it just your greed?"
"No," Tom shook his head slowly. "Why do you think the people in this land are starving?"
Enola tensed. "What do you mean?"
"Because there is no food," Tom explained. "Anything grown here withers and dies. It's not just the fruit trees; nothing grows here, not even the most basic crops."
Enola's skepticism turned into alarm as Tom's words sank in. Her uncle's gaze drifted upwards, as though he were lost in memories of the past.
"The first time I came here," Tom continued, "I couldn't understand why the people weren't farming. The royal family, as a reward for opening the borders, promised a year's worth of food, including seeds for planting. But when I arrived, everything was dead. The hills were covered in shriveled, lifeless crops, even though the land around it was lush and green. It was as if the earth here had been cursed."
He kicked the dry ground, sending up a cloud of dust. "That's when I began to understand what was happening. And it led me to do what I do now. Do you know who's responsible for this?"
Enola remained silent, but a sinking feeling began to grow in his chest. She had her suspicions, but she still couldn't piece it all together.
"The elves," Tom said, his voice hardening. "They drained the earth's vitality, making it impossible for anything to grow."
"Elves?" Enola's voice was filled with disbelief. "Why would they do that?"
Tom met his gaze, his eyes sharp. "They have their reasons, but the important thing for you to understand is that they are not the benevolent race you think they are. Don't be fooled by their stories, their diplomacy. On the surface, they seem unified, but that's just an illusion. They've long harbored malice toward humanity."
Enola's heart raced as she tried to process this revelation. "And what are you saying I should do with this information?"
"I'm saying," Tom replied slowly, "that no matter what happens in the future, don't trust the elves completely. They may act like our allies, but they are still an alien race. If push comes to shove, they won't hesitate to turn on us."
Enola took a deep breath, her mind in turmoil. "I'll think about it." Her voice was measured, offering no commitment.
As she turned to walk away, Tom watched him, his expression unreadable. There was no need for him to say more.
For Tom, the truth had long since blurred. Once, he had entered the trade to help people, to save lives. But the allure of wealth, of power, had seduced him along the way. He no longer captured just elves, he expanded his operations to other races, chasing the ever-increasing demand for slaves. Yet even in the midst of his growing empire, he could never forget the look of that frail man he once tried to save. His death, his scream; it still haunted him. The cruelty of the elves had scarred him in ways he couldn't put into words.
His hatred for them festered, growing deeper with each passing day.
But whether anyone else understood or cared, he no longer knew. Perhaps the dead understood, buried beneath the dust of this land, victims of a cycle they could never escape.
In the end, would anyone care about the truth?