Children of the Holy Emperor

Chapter 35

Chapter 35

The prisoner followed along obediently, as led by Aslan. He was so compliant that Aslan couldnt help but suspect he was planning an escape.

Aslan sneakily glanced at him, but the prisoners face was so impassive that it was impossible to read any emotion. Not even a trace of relief for being alive or anxiety about what was to come could be found. He had been through the infamous heresy trial; perhaps that had affected his sanity.

Hey, you should be grateful to be alive. Jerome usually doesnt spare greenhorns who come flowing in like you. Hes a man full of suspicion, you see.

The prisoner gave him a sidelong glance before responding. Well, thanks.

It seemed he was aware that Aslan had willingly taken on this burden for him.

But whats this unexpected sense of camaraderie?

At least the worst part is over, so as long as you do as told, you wont die so easily. Anyway, lets introduce ourselves. Im Aslan.

Nei

Nei?

They call me Bart.

Ah, its an alias.

*Clank clank*

The sound of metal clashing echoed loudly each time he moved. The prisoner had thick shackles on both arms, connected by a chain that wasnt very long. It seemed to greatly hinder his movements.

Were going to have to do something about this first to get anything started

Wondering if it would be alright to remove the shackles, Aslan soon shook his head. What good would it do if he escaped? Branded as a devil worshiper, the prisoner wouldnt be able to set foot anywhere on this continent.

Their destination was a blacksmith shop at the edge of the Weapon Village. It had a small furnace and a worn-out anvil. It was questionable whether it should be called a blacksmith shop, but thats what it was.

I cant remove these. The blacksmith, Max, rubbed his reddened nose as he spoke. He had crawled out from a midday drinking session. These arent the kind of shackles made to be unlocked. Theyve been welded together with heated iron.

Looking at the smooth wrists of the prisoner, the blacksmit cocked his head, Theres no scar from the shackles. Interesting.

Aslan grimaced. Expecting him to walk around the treacherous western mountain range with a shackled man? Who are they trying to kill?

How can this not be done? I need to send him to pick herbs in the mountains starting tomorrow.

Well, we could try heating it up in the furnace and hammering it Max, holding up a bottle of liquor, shrugged his shoulders.

And what, risk losing his hands?

Thats a problem. He had asked him to work, but if he lost the ability to work, it would indeed be an issue.

As Aslan pondered alternatives, Bart, the prisoner, was staring blankly at his own shackled wrists. Who wouldve thought theyd resort to this

His tone suggested it was the first time he had properly noticed the shackles, despite having worn them all along. 

His mental state really seemed unstable. The thought of having to manage him gave Aslan a headache unlike any hed felt before. 

For now, they decided to at least cut the chain connecting the shackles. Soon, Max picked up a hefty hammer from a corner of the blacksmith shop and began hammering the chain.

*Bang, bang, bang*

But the inebriated mans work was terribly clumsy. After nearly smashing the prisoners hand a few times due to the hammer slipping, Aslan took the hammer away from him.

Id better do it myself. I cant watch this nerve-racking scene any longer.

Bart, having calmly placed his hands on the anvil, watched their actions with a placid face. He was indeed a man without a sense of urgency. 

Holding the hammer and aiming at the chain, Aslan concentrated. The chain wouldnt break with just a few hits, so even though he was a novice, he planned to use Aura to end it quickly. Although he hadnt received proper training and thus wasnt officially qualified, he could channel the Aura he had accumulated into his arm and weapon for a brief moment when he concentrated. Considering he had taught himself this, it was quite a commendable talent.

He took a deep breath and, with a swing at the moment of exhalation, he hit hard.

*Screech* A sound far different from Maxs echoed in the blacksmith shop.

*Screech, ding*

After hitting it in the same manner a couple more times, one of the chain links shattered with a crackling sound.

Ho-ho. Max, who had taken a sip of his liquor in the meantime, swallowed and admired. Did you use it?

Aslan nodded. Max already knew about Aslans unique talent, as he often had to repair his weapon when Aslan accidentally broke it while clumsily flowing Aura through it.

Surprisingly, Max wasnt the only one who noticed.

I didnt expect to find an Aura user in a place like this. Bart stood up, rotated his wrist, and then turned to speak to Aslan. It was the first time he had looked directly at Aslan.

I wouldnt go as far as to say Im an Aura user, Aslan responded a little awkwardly, inadvertently thinking of Barts strangely chilly eyes.

Just hammering away, and you recognized that? Max, the blacksmith, asked as if amazed, and Aslan silently nodded his head. Remarkable. This kid pulls off these tricks once in a while, but youre the first one in this village whos realized what hes done.

Then he whispered to Aslan, What did this guy do before?

He was a former priest and a devil worshipper, now an apothecary.

The blacksmith belatedly discovered the mark on the back of Barts neck and clicked his tongue. A divine punishment, I suppose. Your life wont be easy. He patted Barts back as if to console him, shook his bottle, and disappeared into the forge.

From then on, the two wandered around the flower village. It was already too late to do anything else, and it was better to let Bart, who would be living with them from now on, get acquainted with the village structure.

It was also necessary to build some rapport with the villagers. As the village was made up of rough bandits, it was best to avoid the unfortunate incident of Bart being considered suspicious and getting stabbed while wandering around alone.

The villagers were gathered in groups, setting up drinking games or throwing daggers, and chattering. Some of them were also loudly bragging about their plans to raid the regular trade caravan soon.

Although they stared at Bart fiercely, as if to pick a fight as he passed by, they quickly lost interest and turned their heads upon seeing Aslan. This was because they were well aware that Jerome, the boss, appreciated the young boys talent.

Do you see the high cliff over there? Thats the boundary of this village.

Aslan, who had been living alone since leaving Rohan, felt a little excited, even though explaining this and that was actually tedious.

Bart turned out to be a better conversation partner than expected. Although he did not show a strong reaction to Aslans words, he had a unique atmosphere that gave the impression of listening carefully.

If you follow the trail up there, youll find abandoned fields. They say it used to be a farm just two years ago, but it was completely abandoned when Jerome and his gang settled here last year. I tried to use at least a part of it, but I couldnt dare to start a fire on the mountain alone. Oh, by the way, have you ever farmed before, Bart?

Bart shook his head.

Well. Although there were black smudges here and there, he basically had a skin that seemed as if it had never seen sunlight before, clean. His hair was also messily growing out but strangely enough, it seemed to be well maintained, with a good texture.

An air of dignity, something that couldnt be completely concealed by his shabby robe, subtly seeped out, leading Aslan to speculate whether Bart, before being judged, might have been a high-ranking clergyman.

Do you want to try farming?

Right. Above all, his tone was quite heavy. Even though he didnt look that old.

Aslan shrugged his shoulders in response. Well, more than that, Ive been thinking that I want to live off something other than thievery. The truth is, this place is also precarious because the village is growing too large, and the frequency of the raids is decreasing. At some point, a suppression force will hit here too.

But although I think so in my head, I dont actually know how to live that way. I dont know any other way to live because Ive been with the band of thieves since I was a child. Still, when I was a child, I tried to do other things, like learning how to hunt and gathering herbs, but the more I learned, the more I got involved with the band of thieves.

I see.

Also, I dont like robbing and killing. The people in the band of thieves said that it was too unfair that only we were being robbed, so we were giving back to the world. But if you think about it, the dead merchants didnt do anything wrong to us, right? So I think I feel guilty. Gustav always told me to live according to my conscience.

Ah, Gustav is a priest I used to know. He got caught up in an extermination squad and died.

Thinking of Gustav made Aslans nose tingle strangely. Aslan, rubbing the bridge of his nose, momentarily wondered why he was even sharing this story.

Meanwhile, Bart, who had been silently listening, looked a bit serious. Even if youre not familiar with something, you tend to adapt once it hits. It seems theres not much time, so how about going down the mountain now?

What? Time? Aslan cocked his head. Well, its not like I havent thought about it, but as long as Jerome is here, it will be difficult. Some of the original villagers from this flower village ran down the mountain last year. Do you know what happened to them?

They were arrested by the guards of Flanders and immediately executed.

Thats right. It is a difficult task for naive people who have only been digging the ground and living their whole lives to suddenly switch to being thieves at the command of the bandits who came from the outside. Eventually, a few who resisted led their families and secretly went down the mountain.

When Jerome heard the news of their escape, he showed no reaction. He just sneered.

Amazingly, as soon as they arrived near the village, they were arrested by the waiting guards and beheaded on the spot. The reason was that they were heinous criminals, and among them were children who were merely sucking their fingers.

They were not even given the chance to clarify their identity, let alone a moment to comment on the bandits occupying the flower village.

So, Aslan had been suspicious. He thought there might be someone in Flanderss guard who was in cahoots with Jerome. The fact that Jerome was boldly looting the upper echelon seemed plausible enough.

Now it seems like we wont be able to get away forever. But since I came here, I havent directly mingled with the looters. Jerome seems dissatisfied with that, but well, its not like hes so desperate that he needs to borrow the hands of a kid like me. Im good at hunting, you know.

Is that so.

Yes, it may be difficult to completely wash my hands, and I may someday die at the hands of the extermination squad. But while Im alive, I want to live uprightly.

Ahahaha. Im saying all sorts of things to someone Ive just met.

Aslan, feeling somewhat embarrassed, scratched his head and looked up at Bart. He was taken aback for a moment when he saw this stern-faced prisoner looking at him with a slight smile.

Although it was somewhat faint, it was definitely something that could be called a smile.

You have quite exceptional thoughts for your young age.

Subsequently, a hand lightly came up to Aslans head.

Pat, pat.

Uh

Aslan didnt know what to say. It felt like he was being treated like an ignorant kid, but it was a compliment, so it wasnt exactly unpleasant. Above all, when was the last time he was treated so purely like a child by an adult?

Aslan, for some reason, engrossed in strange feelings, let Barts hand be.

And soon afterwards, he was hit in the forehead by the iron chain hanging from the handcuffs.

Any guesses who Bart might really be?