Lament of the Slave

Chapter 83: Troublemaker

Just pump the moss on my head with mana. No, it couldn't have been that easy. It revived it, and surprisingly quickly. Still, I approached it with caution. The over-watering was terrible for the flowers, so I decided to treat mana the same way. Not too much, not too little. It took patience with the flowers, but the results of good care were always heart-warming.

Like the almost glistening moss on my head right now.

It lifted my spirits, soothed the pain, didn't last long, though. The moment Deckard and I emerged from the labyrinth, the uneasiness, forgotten by the beating I took, and the worry of a gift adorning the crown of my head, returned along with thoughts of dread. My mind was flooded with images, most of them revolving around a table I was strapped to, unable to move while the Imperial Chief Healer cut into me.

"Is he here yet? Lord Wigram?" I asked, keeping up with Deckard as we walked through the city.

"Hmm..." He grumbled, thinking. "If he's on schedule, unlike Sah, he should be here in less than two hours."

"Good." I breathed, feeling a little relieved.

"Though long-distance travel is rarely so punctual," he added, and my unease deepened. "He may arrive a few hours early or be delayed."

Bloody hell. I bit my lip as I marched on, each step heavier than the last. The weights on my legs seemed out of control. A foolish notion when I knew full well the not-knowing was the cause of the unbearable dread. It was killing me.

By the time we reached City Barracks, I was drenched in a cold sweat.

One look at the gate, and I knew. He was here. In front of the main gate where two guards usually stood were two others with them. Not the city guards, though.

Their uniforms bore a similar design, except for two pieces of cloth pinned on a standard blue hip-length jacket like pauldrons on armor. Safe for the white hem, these 'pauldrons were the same violet color as their shirts. If this piece of cloth had any practical use, I didn't see it. All I could think of was it differentiated them from the city guards at first glance.

Seeing them standing there, I faltered. Deckard didn't. So I followed. Only a coward would flee, right? We got closer, and I noticed a more subtle distinction their uniforms bore. They were decorated with gold coin-sized buttons as opposed to silver ones.

A few more steps and I saw their classes.

[Imperial Soldier: lvl ??]

[Imperial Soldier: lvl ??]

No surprises there, except for their levels. They could match the master guards. I swallowed and used the union ring. "Are all soldiers this strong?"

"If they were, Sahal would control all of Eleaden," Deckard said with amusement in his inner voice. "No, these two are Special Units."

"How do you know?" Was it the fabric on their shoulders?

"First of all, it's their levels. Then, the row of pins on their lapels," he said as we reached the gate.

"Halt!" roared the man, an imperial soldier. I looked at the white lapels of his jacket and the pins on them. Five on each side, round like buttons, but smaller, each engraved with runes. "Who are you, and what is your business here?"

Unlike my experience with the guards, this one was quite rude. Perhaps stricter was the right word.

Deckard glanced at the guardsmen, the elder of whom shrugged helplessly, and back at the imperial soldier, nodding at me. "I'm here to make sure no harm comes to her, boy," he said with cold in his voice.