'What kind of humans are they, all so damn huge?'
Five adult men had appeared.
Thick beards, powerfully built bodies, and the leather garments covering them made a striking impression.
They were so thick that they looked less like simple clothes and more like armor capable of blocking blades and spears.
More eye-catching than that, however, was their sheer height—they towered well over imperial men.
'Even a fairly tall adult man would barely reach their chests.'
If only one of them had been exceptionally large, it wouldn't have been so strange.
Even in the Empire, giants of that sort could be seen on rare occasions.
But every one of these men was roughly the same height.
Figures that the Empire might see once or twice in a lifetime seemed to be nothing more than average here.
"Heh. So it really is Miss Helen."
Just as Lucian's group was taken aback, the others also seemed surprised at the sight of Helen.
The only one who didn't appear flustered was Helen herself, who was already acquainted with them.
"It's been a while. You've grown even more imposing in the meantime."
"Imposing, my foot. Spare me the flattery you don't mean. More importantly, tell me why you've come here."
"You're being rather cold. Is it really so displeasing that I, a disciple of our master, used the path?"
"If it were just you, you'd have been welcome. But from what I can see, Miss Helen, you've brought along quite a few uninvited guests."
The man with the brown beard reaching down to his chest—Gunstein—looked Lucian's group over.
Discomfort, contempt, and a peculiar sneer flickered across his eyes.
"One child, two weaklings pretending to be warriors with skewers in their hands. I don't even know why a woman's mixed in here, and that man there…"
"He's my senior disciple. We studied the guidance of the stars together under our master."
"Hmph. Then he's the only one worth anything here."
After delivering his verdict, Gunstein turned his gaze to Colin.
His attitude made it clear that only Colin was worth speaking to on equal terms.
"Hey, guide."
"G-guide?"
"Come with me. I'll take you to your master."
Called a guide, Colin stiffened in confusion, but Gunstein paid him no mind.
Since he shared a master with Helen, Gunstein seemed to have decided on his own that Colin must be a guide as well.
Before the flustered Colin could even begin to explain, Gunstein muttered to himself,
"As for the rest… we can drag them along and put them to work as laborers. The woman's husband can be chosen later."
"Please wait a moment! These people are guests of my master and me! They may be outsiders, but they came at my master's invitation—please show them proper courtesy!"
"Guests?"
Helen cried out urgently, but Gunstein only snorted and shook his head.
"I've heard nothing of the sort from the Pathfinder. There was no prophecy—so why should I treat them as guests?"
"What do you mean—!"
"If they're real guests, we can just capture them first, verify it later, and release them. If they're not, we turn them into slaves."
"Helen."
As the conversation veered in a troubling direction, Lucian looked at Helen.
Seeing the chill creeping into Lucian's eyes, Helen hurriedly bowed her head and explained.
"Those who are not warriors are not treated as equals here. On top of that, there is a rule that anyone who trespasses into another tribe's territory without permission may be captured and used as a slave."
"And just now, you said we might be able to avoid a fight?"
"I'm sorry. As I recall, he used to be someone you could reason with, but…"
Faced with the unexpected turn of events, Helen lowered her head deeply.
Whether through good luck or bad, she had stepped forward confidently and achieved nothing—an undeniably awkward outcome.
Lucian watched Helen avert her gaze, her face flushed red, then let out a sigh.
"So in the end, you won't even listen unless I prove I'm a warrior."
"…Yes."
"Figures. Starting things off by forcing us to use our strength. Well, I've already done this once up north—nothing new, I suppose."
"Hah."
Hearing their exchange, Gunstein snorted derisively.
He didn't seem to understand most of what was said, but he clearly caught the part about Lucian proving himself a warrior.
"Enough, brat. You'll get yourself killed. I've got no intention of wasting time trying to tame a rebellious slave. If you want to live, stay put."
"A dog's barking."
"What?"
"With eyes like a dog's, barking at just anyone. They say a mad dog's cured with a club—maybe if it gets beaten enough, those dog eyes of yours will improve at least a little."
"Heh… heh…"
At Lucian's torrent of abuse, Gunstein was left momentarily speechless.
If it had been a man with a proper beard saying such things to him, he might have flown into a rage.
But coming from a brat whose cheeks were still soft with down, it was more deflating than anything else.
It looked like nothing more than an ignorant child, thrashing about without knowing his place in the world.
Of course, not being angry didn't mean he intended to spare the impudent little bastard.
"That's enough. Die."
Whoosh.
Gunstein smoothly drew the axe from his back and swung it at once.
He hadn't put much strength into it, but it was more than enough to take off a child's head.
Just as Gunstein lifted his eyes to see what expression the foolish brat would wear in the face of death—
Kwaaang!
A deafening crash of metal colliding with metal shook the surroundings.
At the same time, Gunstein's body was flung up into the air.
Why am I seeing the sky all of a sudden?
The instant the strangeness registered and Gunstein blinked—
Thud!
"Kuh—!"
A wheezing sound escaped his mouth as his back slammed into the ground.
Agony surged through him, as if his entire spine had been crushed, and his whole body throbbed.
"Brother!"
"You bastards!"
Thud, smack.
Excited shouts from his subordinates rang out behind him—but only for a moment.
After a few sharp sounds of blows landing, everything fell as silent as a grave.
Trying to understand what had happened, Gunstein slapped his own cheek.
When his vision finally cleared, the first thing he saw was a dark shadow looming over him.
"Get up. If you sleep here, you'll freeze to death."
Realizing that the owner of the shadow was Lucian, Gunstein's body trembled.
With a cold smile, Lucian tossed Gunstein's axe aside.
"Go on. Pick up your weapon. We're not finished yet."
"What… what did you do?"
Lucian let out a short laugh at Gunstein's strained words as he endured the pain.
"Do you really not know? Or are you just pretending not to?"
"…."
"You should take better care of your axe. At this rate, how many more times do you think you'll be able to use it?"
Gunstein flinched and checked his axe.
Cracks ran all over the blade, to the point that it wouldn't have been strange for it to shatter at any moment.
Only then did he realize that Lucian had struck aside the axe he'd swung—with his sword.
And that his body had been sent flying because it couldn't withstand the resulting impact.
Damn it.
Gunstein barely swallowed the curse that rose to his throat.
He'd thought it was just a newborn rat that couldn't even tell right from wrong—
but it turned out to be a crouching beast, fangs bared and waiting.
He realized he'd picked the wrong fight—badly—but he couldn't back down now.
If he tucked his tail after taking a single blow, he'd never be able to call himself a warrior again.
"Fine. Then let's do this."
Gritting his teeth, Gunstein clenched his cracked axe.
He didn't know what kind of monster this man was, but Gunstein too was a warrior called a descendant of the dragon.
He intended to make it unmistakably clear that he wasn't someone to be openly dismissed.
—
Thud.
"I've lost."
Gunstein dropped to one knee before Lucian.
The resolve he'd had at the start was nowhere to be found.
On the second exchange, his axe had been completely shattered, and after that it had turned into a one-sided slaughter.
If Lucian had killed him outright the moment he lost his axe, it wouldn't even have been this humiliating.
Instead, insisting that a duel should be fair, Lucian had discarded his own sword as well—and proceeded to beat Gunstein senseless with his bare fists.
That body's so small—what kind of strength does he have…?
As Gunstein tried to lower his head, his body jerked in pain.
From the beating earlier, it felt like several of his organs had been damaged, and multiple ribs were likely broken.
If Lucian hadn't controlled his strength, Gunstein would have died long ago—either from ruptured organs or shattered bones piercing something vital.
"You are a warrior," Gunstein said at last. "I failed to recognize one of your people and committed a grave discourtesy. I ask that you forgive me."
"Your rudeness went a bit too far. So far, in fact, that even with you kneeling, I feel absolutely no urge to forgive you."
"Th-then what will you do? Are you going to kill me right here?"
"Brother!—khk!"
Behind him, his subdued subordinates cried out desperately.
Before they could say anything more, they were once again restrained by Lucian's companions.
Seeing that sight, Gunstein clenched his teeth and looked up at Lucian.
"You are clearly the victor. If you wished, you could kill me at any moment. I bear no resentment—after all, I failed to recognize a warrior. However—"
"However?"
"You are an outsider. If you were to spill the blood of a dragon's descendant before even properly entering the dragon's domain, it would surely cause many problems."
"Is that a threat?"
"How could a defeated man threaten the victor? Think of it as advice. If you release me and treat me as a warrior, I will proclaim you a great warrior and—"
"That won't be necessary."
It was Helen who cut Gunstein off mid-sentence.
Before the startled Gunstein could say anything further, her cold explanation followed.
"He is one who failed to recognize a warrior and attempted to enslave them, only to be subdued in return. Moreover, this was a one-on-one duel—so even if his head were taken here, it would not violate tradition."
"W-wait—"
"There's no need to worry about misunderstandings either. His Highness's identity will be personally vouched for by our master. So please, dispose of him as you see fit."
"Helen! What in the world are you saying?!"
Gunstein shouted in shock.
They weren't strangers—yet instead of pleading for his life, she was acting as though it didn't matter whether he lived or died.
But Helen's eyes, as she looked down at Gunstein, were colder than ice.
"You ignored my mediation, insulted my master's guests, and lost in a fair duel. Setting aside any reason to spare you, you have more than enough reasons to be killed—so what exactly is your objection?"
"N-no, that's not—"
Gunstein, who had been about to retort, was forced to shut his mouth again after barely getting a few words out.
It was true that he had ignored mediation out of his own greed—so no matter what he said, it was obvious it wouldn't carry any weight.
When there was no reply for a while, Lucian picked up the sword he had set aside nearby.
"Do you have any last words before you die?"
At the voice that held not the slightest hesitation, Gunstein squeezed his eyes shut.
No matter how he thought about it, this couldn't be how he died.
Not falling gloriously in battle against an enemy, but being killed after trying to enslave an outside warrior and failing.
At this rate, he'd be remembered for generations as 'the foolish Gunstein,' a laughingstock in cautionary tales told to children.
Damn it… there's no other way.
Letting out a deep sigh, Gunstein finally resorted to his last option.
"I failed to recognize a great warrior—this is my sin. And the only one who can cleanse that sin is you. I wish to serve you and atone for it. Please, grant me this mercy."
At the completely unexpected words, Lucian tilted his head.
From the way it sounded, it was as if Gunstein wanted to come under Lucian's command—but the timing was far too abrupt.
If he wanted to beg for his life, shouldn't he be offering compensation first?
"Helen, what does this mean?"
"Well…"
Helen glanced around with a startled expression, then gestured behind her.
It was a sign asking him to move elsewhere—this wasn't something she could explain here.
Once they had withdrawn to a spot where their conversation couldn't be overheard, Helen finally spoke.
"Anyone who subdues a warrior of another tribe gains the same status as that tribe's warrior. Instead of stripping the defeated warrior of their position, it is transferred to someone deemed worthy. It's an ancient tradition created to prevent the fury of powerful warriors—and the massacres that would follow."
"So if that guy comes under me, I'll be treated at the same level as him within his tribe?"
"Yes."
"And just how high is his status?"
At Lucian's question, Helen leaned in and whispered by his ear.
"He's the chieftain's son."
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