Barely five minutes passed between the Convicts being brought into the castle and being led back out.
The sweet, refreshing taste of honey tea still lingered in their mouths. Before its warmth had even faded, they had to face the wind and snow outside.
"..."
With the wind howling around them, they felt uneasy, questioning what had just happened.
Had they angered the lord?
Was he dissatisfied with them?
Were they... going to be driven off the island?
People were complicated creatures. If Kroya had immediately accepted their submission and loyalty, they probably would have harbored doubts as well.
Now that they had been "kicked out," they were fretting over their prospects again.
After enjoying a warm room and soothing honey tea, returning to this weather made the contrast all the sharper, deepening their unease.
They walked over ground that had been swept completely clean, yet failed to notice anything unusual about it. For a while, they were lost in a daze.
One of the boys who played a clown in the circus thought for a long time, then gritted his teeth.
He glanced at Jamie, the apprentice leading the way, moved closer to Ottar, and whispered:
"Boss, how about we run?"
"That young master hasn't locked us up, anyway. As long as we find somewhere to hide, nobody will discover us."
His words did hold a certain appeal.
Compared to serving under someone, freedom was naturally what these Convicts with a little strength of their own desired most.
The others immediately looked up at his words, their eyes shining.
They waited for Ottar to make a decision.
Why are you so naive?
Ottar couldn't help sighing inwardly. He glanced at the boy and patted his shoulder.
The man said gravely, "You're oversimplifying things. Without this mage's protection, the Mage