Chapter 1 - The Boy In Shackles

Chapter 1 – The Boy In Shackles 

That day marked precisely one hundred days since the extermination of the western continent’s cursed Imperial House of Iver. The people of that House always appeared depressed, never trusted others and were even said to be obsessed with cleanliness, which was why those of the House of Iver always wore gloves.

“They probably just hated mixing with the lowborn.”

There was no longer anything to stop the people from bad-mouthing the fallen imperial house. The people spoke as though they had been just waiting for that family to meet their ruin.

Since the House of Iver had been their enemies, the new imperial family who had taken possession of the western continent, the House of Miltan, in fact, viewed such things rather favourably. Having finally triumphed over them, they were happy for the people to drag their name through the mud as much as they liked.

Of course, such stories of imperial houses meant nothing to those far removed from the capital.

The reason the seventeen-year-old Ronée, the daughter of Count Rieda, remembered that day had nothing to do with the fall of a distant imperial house. She remembered it because of the boy that she had met on that same day.

It was sheer coincidence. For the path of Ronée de Rieda, the daughter of a nobleman, to intersect with that of a slave cart was complete chance.

The cart was passing through the Riedas’ territory on the border of the Empire. The face of a child inside was just barely visible through the barred window.

He did not seem like a child.

That was the first thought that struck Ronée when she looked at him. His hair, which was so thick with dust that it looked gray, had lost its life a long time ago; and his blue eyes were the same. Eyes that were as dark as an ocean abyss.

It might have been that non-childlike darkness which drew her to him. Or perhaps it was because she was still haunted by the death of her own little brother, who had died of illness.

“I’d like to buy that boy,” Ronée said.

Ronée, a small girl of noble birth, rested her gaze on the child. His wrists, clapped in shackles, were bloody, and she could see layers of dirt covered the bloody wounds. That was how long the child had been trapped in the cart, being hauled all over the Empire.

“Ah, finally someone wants to buy him. However, this boy… He’s defective. Is that all right?” The horseman, who recognized her nobility, cast the boy a sideways glance.

“Because of that pretty face… A lot of other young noblewomen thought to buy him, but they all gave up on him eventually.”

Why? Ronée looked at the boy. His outward appearance was almost completely obscured by dirt. Ronée eyed him once more and then dropped her gaze. Suddenly, he was staring back at her.

Sharp eyes. She did not know if it was an expression befitting a child, but he looked at her with a venomous gaze. His young face looked murderous, as though he wanted to kill her, no matter how.

Even as blood started to trickle from where he was biting down on his lip, he did not stop glaring at her viciously.

Ronée could see his pride: pride that refused to let himself be sold. She found herself murmuring to him, “Humiliation only lasts for a moment.”

The horseman was busy rambling on about the boy’s history. Ronée pretended to be listening and kept talking. “I’m against slavery.”

But he looked as if he did not believe her. She whispered again, “Compared to being locked up here, you’ll get a lot more chances to escape if you come with me.”

He glared at Ronée, this young noblewoman who thought to buy him. He wondered if she was telling the truth.

Ronée held his gaze. The boy’s expression had started to flicker. Ronée whispered again, “Humiliation only lasts for a moment.” It seemed like the boy understood the second time, and he lowered his eyes.

“Eh, what’s wrong with him?” the horseman garbled in surprise. “He’s not usually obedient, but it seems like he’s worn out! Or maybe it’s because he hasn’t eaten anything…”

The horseman had been complaining of his faults before, but now that it seemed like Ronée was truly considering buying him, he switched tacks to start going on about his good points. Ronée abruptly cut him off.

“How much?”

The boy stayed quiet, even at the mention of his price. The horseman looked at him as though it was strange, and then held up one finger. “One gold, Miss.”

It was an absurdly small amount for a person’s life. But the horseman’s face was as though he was being relieved of a burden. Without hesitation, Ronée handed over a gold piece.

Clunk!

“Better not to unlock his handcuffs yourself! He’s too much for a little lady like your good self to handle alone. No, we’d best call the knights first.”

Ronée shook her head at the horseman’s words. The boy was staring at her. It looked like he still felt some doubt. She shook her head lightly again to reject the horseman’s unwanted assistance.

The horseman tilted his head questioningly, but in the end handed her the key and turned away. He was in no place to disobey a noblewoman.

The handmaiden of the House of Rieda that had waited quietly throughout the entire exchange – she did not dare to interrupt her mistress’ conversation – quickly moved to stop Ronée.

“It’s dangerous, my Lady.”

“It’s fine.” Ronne reached out towards the boy without any fear.

Clunk.

The bloody shackles which had been restraining the boy fell to the ground. It was then that their hands brushed.

“.…!” The boy pulled his hands away from her in alarm.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Despite her words, the boy kept staring at her with wide eyes. Ronée waited with her hand held outstretched towards him, until eventually he placed his hand on hers. He peered at her closely as though he was reading her thoughts, and then relaxed his guard.

“For now, let’s go home and eat some food. We’ll be leaving soon – is that okay?”

His dirty hand was clasped in Ronée’s soft one. Suddenly, she noticed his hair. When she looked closely at it, gray with dust, she realized that it was actually golden.

Now that I think of it, I’ve heard that those of the Imperial House of Iver had golden hair

For a moment, Ronée recalled the imperial family of a neighboring country, before dismissing the thoughts from her mind. Not long ago, the imperial family had changed to the House of Miltan and every member of the previous imperial bloodline had been murdered.

However, there was no reason to relate that story to this boy. In the Miltan Empire, with the Iver family gone, silver hair was now considered the most noble.

“Let’s go.”

The boy carefully followed after Ronée.