A stinging sensation ran through Klaus's bleeding feet as he shivered from the cold. His clothes were nearly useless against the chilling wind.
His wrists in particular were the main source of agony, badly hurt by the iron shackles meant to restrain his abilities.
They sent a sharp pang of pain surging through him- every time the freezing metal touched his bleeding skin.
...It had been a few days since they began journeying to the Napoleon Empire. And as if to make matters worse,
Staring ahead of him, a long chain winded down the road, with numerous hollowed eyed people- slaves just like him- shackled to it at small intervals.
Far ahead of him, Napoleon and his most loyal trustees treaded down the cold, frosty road.
'...Well in all honesty, he had his fair share of great times. Like, cursing under his breath or...
Shifting his gaze towards Anarzel, Klaus grimaced.
'Thinking of how to get his revenge on the traitor.'
Clenching his teeth together, he exhaled sharply.
It wasn't like he could do anything about it anyway.
…At least not in his current situation.
Ahead of him, a man with broad shoulders and a bloodied back was walking cautiously, each step measured and calculated. And to be honest,
"Hah!"
A light laughter escaped his lips.
He couldn't blame the man.
...Behind him, a scholar with quite peculiar eyes, was quietly cursing under his breath. In a language that was both familiar yet... weird.
'...Isn't he afraid of being struck down by the Arcane God?!'
Klaus felt like laughing, but no laugh escaped his lips.
Shaking his head.
Step~
Step~
He continued walking.
From time to time, men of the Napoleon Army- the imperials, would pass by, throwing the slaves the usual, typical menacing look.
However he judged it. Things were looking pretty bad for him.
"Hah!"
He exhaled sharply.
'...Well on the bright side of things. It probably can't get any worse. Right?'
Somehow, he had a feeling that he would soon be proven wrong.
And that feeling,
~ Badump! Badump!
That feeling sent cold chills slithering down his spine.
He had to tightly clench his hands in order to stop the sonorous tremors running through him.
And even it it wasn't doing so well as to work out for him,
~Clench!
He still continued for reasons unknown to him.
Reasons that eluded the grasp of his understanding.
...But,
"Huff... Huff."
Breathing in the cold chilling wind, he felt a sharp surge of pain tearing through him.
He had to bite on his lower lips to stop himself from shivering… or to be more precise, stop himself from affecting the long-winding chain.
'He was still bewildered about certain things, though.'
He frowned.
…The circumstances he had found himself in were nothing like what one should… would expect from a first Arcane Trial.
Usually, freshly chosen aspirants would find themselves becoming chosen sons of heaven in their respective trials or become members of a warrior troupe with plenty of access to necessary weapons to at least try to tackle any conflict in which they were thrusted into.
But starting out as an Emperor of a falling empire from the mysticism era! To being a powerless slave, shackled and already on the verge of dying, was as far from being ideal or... "fair" as one would imagine of the spell.
After all, the Arcane Spell was as much about challenge as it's about balance. As the old men back at the family do say: It created trials, not executions.
But t-his,
'This abnormal trial of his!'
He had to stop himself from screaming his lungs out.
…At this point, he could even care less about "acting."
If this wasn't a straight-out death mission.
'Then what the hell is it supposed to be!'
The thoughts crept into his mind, each one more overwhelming than the last. And worse, he couldn't even find an iota of clue.
Something,
Anything, to which he could use as a balm to cling onto.
Something that could save him from this precarious situation.
'Aaaargh!'
Frustration.
He could feel it now.
It was slowly creeping in.
Slowly trying to overwhelm him.
I-it was slowly trying to consume him.
Step~
Step~
Missing a footing, he lost the rhythm of his steps and stumbled, pulling the chain down with his weight.
Almost immediately, a stout, short guy from somewhere behind him, screamed:
"Gremlin! Watch where you're going!"
Almost as though he'd been waiting for such a moment.
"...."
Klaus or rather, Roselle could only bite on his lower lips.
Exhaling sharply, he did his best to control himself and,
"Hah!"
Simply smiled it off.
A moment later, he was once again walking steadily, however, not before pulling onto the chain once again.
'Bastard! Let's see what you can do about it!'
Klaus grinned.
"You little shit! I'm going to kill you!"
Klaus chuckled inwardly.
'Yeah sure. Superhuman out of the runic binding chains.'
The broad-shouldered young man, in front of Klaus let out a light chuckle:
"Why bother? He would be dead by sunrise anyway."
Throwing Klaus a quick glance, he added with a shake of his head:
"...He can barely survive two more days in the frozen heart mountain range."
"...."
And to be honest, Klaus couldn't refute that.
He wasn't really in the best of state.
Especially with the restriction of his abilities and well... the inhuman sufferings he had to go through.
Thinking of the pain.
He was once again reminded of Anarzel and he had to tightly clench his teeth together, in order to stop himself from thinking about it.
Especially when considering the fact that,
There was nothing he could do about it.
'...For now, anyway.'
A cold glint flickered within his eyes, immediately followed by a sharp exhalation,
"Ah."
His usual hollow gaze slowly crept up his face.
And then,
Step~ Step~
A few seconds later, the broad shouldered guy added:
"It'll kill you and me, too. Just a bit later- I guess. I really don't know what the imperials are thinking, forcing us into this cold region."
The short slave barked out, his pent up emotions exploding in one short outburst:
"...Speak for yourself, fool! I'm planning to survive."
"As a slave."
I was quick to add.
The broad shouldered slave threw me a glance.
And then,
"Hahaha!" A light laugh escaped his lips.
"Y-You bastard!"
The short slave looked like he had eaten shit. And his expression had darkened to a rather crazy extent.
And just as it seemed as though all hell was about to break loose.
A voice suddenly joined in the conversation from somewhere behind him. This one sounded gentle and intelligent and he didn't need to look to know it was the scholar.
"The frozen heart mountain is usually much warmer this time of the year. We just had really bad luck. Also I would advise against harming the young man."
"Why is that?"
"....."
Klaus turned his head slightly, curiosity sparkling within his cold pair of eyes.
"Haven't you seen the light insignia on his forehead? He isn't like us who fell into slavery due to debts, misfortune or crimes. He was born a royal. Not long ago, the imperials destroyed the last empire of the God of Light. I suspect that this is how the young man ended up here."
The broad-shouldered man cast a look back.
"So what? Why should we be afraid of some half-forgotten God who couldn't even save his own people."
"The Empire is protected by the Dark Souls Tree. Of course, they are not afraid to destroy a few Empires. But need I remind you, that we here are not protected by anything or anyone. Don't tell me you wanna risk angering a god for some petty, childish acts."
The broad-shouldered man grunted, not willing to reply.
Their conversation was stopped by a young soldier riding a beautiful, white house. Cladded in crimson armor, armed with a spear and a longsword. He looked dignified and noble. And to Klaus's irritation, the asshole was really, pretty too.
'...Of course not as pretty as he was anyway.'
And in all sense of honesty, that was the truth.
"What's going on here?"
There was no particular menace in his voice, even somewhat resembling concern.
When everyone hesitated, the scholar answered:
"It's nothing, sir. We are all just tired and cold. Especially our young friend over here."
The soldier glanced at Klaus and he could see something within those eyes.
Something he despised.
Pity.
Mercy.
Compassion.
Call it whatever you want!
...He hated them all! Every single one of them!
He needed no one's pity.
Especially not from his slavers.
The soldier sighed and took a dark, crimson flask from his belt before extending it to Klaus:
"Bear with it a little more. We will soon stop for the night. For now, here, have it."
...He hesitated.
Indeed, he needed no one's help. But the truth couldn't be denied and that was the fact that:
...He was tasty as fuck.
He was just about to take the flask when a whip cracked in the air, and suddenly Klaus felt a mind-blowing pain slam onto him, all at once, with such powerful force that he was sent tumbling once again, inadvertently pulling onto the chain and causing the short guy far behind him to curse once again.
Step~ Step~
Anarzel stopped his horse a few steps back. The whip that sliced open his back and drew blood belonged to him.
".....!!"
Klaus gritted his teeth, throwing Anarzel a cold, chilling gaze.
Anarzel grimaced.
Gritting his teeth, he removed his gaze away from Roselle.
Piercing the young soldier with a cold gaze, he spoke up:
"What do you think you're doing?!"
The young soldier's face darkened.
"I was just giving him some water."
"...He will receive water with the rest of them once we camp!"
"But..."
"Shut your mouth! Do you even know who he's!"
"No."
"Better. Let's keep it that way. And you will do yourself good to stay away from him, you fools!"
He said, his voice directed at the slaves below.
The young soldier looked at Klaus and then with a light sigh,
He put the flask back on his belt.
"...Don't let me catch you making friends with slaves again. Or next time, it will be your back tasting my whip!"
As if to illustrate his "grand" intentions, Anarzel cracked his whip in the air and rode past them, throwing Roselle one last cold glance.
'...You won't have any chance of escaping Roselle. You won't...'
'...That. I'll and have to make sure of.'
Klaus watched him go with un-hidden malice.
"...Anarzel."
He said through gritted teeth, each letter pronounced with such dark intensity that it sent cold chills slithering down the spine of those who heard it.
'By the time I'm done with you.
'You will wish you never missed with me.'
'...That. I'll make sure of.'
Clench~
Clenching his hands even harder, he bit on his lower lips until he could taste blood.
"...Even if it's the last thing I do," he murmured, his voice carrying the chilling weight of a death kneel.