Annan Didn't Let Mr. Fast Off the Hook

The Dawn Tavern and the Library brought in at least four silver coins a week between them.

Before winter, Annan would have enough saved for the aptitude test.

It was still a little slow, but Annan had started with almost nothing. He could use the time to fill the serious gaps in his knowledge. He just didn't know how Tasia was doing.

While Annan was still dreaming of a brighter future, the second weekend arrived.

"Remember to come back early."

With Aunt Susan's reminder in his ears, Annan took his water flask, packed several pounds of black bread stuffed with dried meat, and set off for the Haunted Gold Mine.

Dozens of minutes later, Annan reached the low hill. It wasn't break time yet, so there were few miners in the camp.

Annan sat beneath a tree and continued copying and revising Law Breaks the Sky in his notebook with a charcoal pencil.

Tasia came out of the mine. Today was their agreed day off.

She spotted him sitting in the shade, patches of sunlight scattered around him. The light fell on his pale skin, setting off his black hair. As Tasia drew closer, he looked up. Sunlight caught his lashes, and his dark eyes were clear and bright.

At the sight of Tasia's sturdy frame, visibly thinner now, and the whip marks old and new across her body, Annan frowned but said nothing.

"I brought this for you."

Annan raised the bundle. Tasia's rough feet trod through the grass, her chains clanking. As she approached, he caught the smell of sweat and a faint stench of rot.

Annan moved her ankle shackles aside, crouched in the growing stench, and unwrapped the cloth around her wound.

Stringy discharge clung to the cloth and gave off a powerful stink. The swollen, rotting wound was a bloody mess. Flies gathered around it.

"Didn't you clean the wound like I told you?"

The ankle that had been merely chafed a few days ago was now badly ulcerated.

"I sweat."

Tasia was only a slave. She had nowhere suitable to recover.

"It'll get worse if we leave it any longer." Annan waved away the flies around her wound and had her move into the sunlight.

This world had resurrection magic. Healing fatal injuries and stubborn illnesses couldn't be that difficult, let alone an infection. But Pinglin Town had no priest, and Annan was no longer ignorant of this world. He knew about the prejudice and discrimination between races.

The way Soluman Copperbeard was ignored at the tavern said enough. No priest or doctor would want to treat a Minotaur, even if she was half human.

Annan didn't want Tasia to lose a leg, or even her life, because her wound hadn't been treated in time.

"Can you escape? I'll find a way to get you treated."

If he could avoid paying to buy her freedom, so much the better...

"I'm not like you..." Tasia closed her mouth, then corrected herself. "...Not like those people who break their contracts."

"Even a slave contract?"

Annan already knew the answer as he asked.

Such principles were admirable. They were also foolish.

He could only use the clean water in his flask to wash Tasia's wound carefully. Once he could barely smell the rot, he had her sit with her ulcerated ankle in the sun.

Tasia sat on the grass and quietly ate the food Annan had brought.

Annan crouched by her feet, waving his notebook to drive away the bothersome flies.

"I'll find a way to save up the money as soon as I get back."

The aptitude test would have to wait.

After sitting with Tasia in the forest clearing for a while, Annan opened Law Breaks the Sky to show her. He asked about the Ghost and the Kobolds at the mine, then bandaged her wound at the foreman's urging, said goodbye, and returned to Pinglin Town.

Annan's need for money became urgent again.

He dug the pajamas he had meant to save and sell later in Breeze City out of his wardrobe, then dragged Martin into town.

There were no pawnshops in town. Annan and Martin visited several tailor shops and clothing stores. Everyone praised the pajamas' fabric and feel, but the highest offer was eight silver coins, even when Annan pointed to the modern stitching and cloth and claimed they were the work of a master.

Eight silver coins was hardly a small sum. It was about a month's income for Aunt Susan's family, and Martin kept shooting Annan frantic looks.

But it was still far short of what Annan needed—

Borrow from Mr. Victor, or ask for an advance?

"Your pay comes from the work you've done." Annan didn't have to ask to know what that rigid old man would say.

The same went for Mr. Fast. If he could have helped, he would have given Annan the Gold Narl for the aptitude test already.

Annan sold the pajamas. While he was still wondering how to turn Law Breaks the Sky into money, a commotion rose from farther down the street. A circus traveling with a merchant caravan was performing on Pinglin Town's busiest street.

Still thinking about selling Law Breaks the Sky, Annan let Martin lead him into the edge of the crowd.

The caravan opened its wagons and began hawking goods to the townspeople gathering around. Annan had just begun wondering whether he could have made more by selling the pajamas to them when he noticed their guards. Their leather armor was stained with dried blood.

These guards were powerful professionals—not the ordinary professionals who served as the town guards.

They were not to be trifled with.

The caravan began its customary performance. An actor playing a mage held a burning "staff" and scattered powder that flared on contact with the flames, driving back actors playing his enemies. The townspeople gasped and whispered, "Is that magic?" and "Is he a mage?"

Annan smelled the stink of burning oil and phosphorus powder, but his attention was on the guards surrounding the caravan, armed with greatswords or bows.

They looked far fiercer than Mr. Fast, who spent his days lounging against the counter.

A sudden chorus of screams from the women drew Annan's attention back to the makeshift stage. A burly, bare-chested man had stepped onto it, setting them shrieking. He was playing a warrior, and handfuls of copper coins immediately flew his way. Annan watched, his eyes lighting up.

Beside him, Martin quietly covered his backside.

Then Annan spotted a familiar, sturdy figure among the women.

"Aunt Susan?"

Annan squeezed toward them in surprise. "Aunt Susan!"

Aunt Susan and her friends soon noticed him. "He's adorable—" Then Annan was like a young deer being toyed with by a pride of lionesses.

As for Martin, he was shut out like a lone hyena.

Annan didn't ask why Aunt Susan was there. He simply asked her to bring her friends to the tavern that night.

Then he hurried back to the tavern and found Mr. Fast. "Mr. Fast, would you like the tavern to do better business?"

"What scheme has our future mage come up with now?"

"No need. I've already got everything ready."

Annan looked Mr. Fast over. His strong, tall frame and chiseled, resolute face outdid the actor's in every way. Most important of all, he was a genuine elite warrior.

"Now we just need a few finishing touches..."

That evening, Aunt Susan and more than a dozen of her friends arrived at the tavern.

Then Mr. Fast appeared in the hall wearing knee-high boots, his shirt half unbuttoned and a longsword in his hand. The women's screams seemed to shake the wine in their cups.

As the women crowded around him, Mr. Fast couldn't help wondering why he had agreed to go through this for a few dozen copper coins.