Blood loss, stress, pain, and suppressed fear all hit me at once.

  I sank into the snow, panting and trembling.

  My wounded arm throbbed as I pressed my hand against it to stem the bleeding, finally acknowledging the injury.

  “Gift, are you ok?” Uther and the medic came running in my direction.

  “I’m fine, this is not serious,” I said, though I had no idea if my injury was serious or not. I had more pressing concerns. “Blueberry hit her head, go see her first, please.” I pointed at her with a shaky hand. A droplet of blood fell from the tip of my finger, hitting the white snow as a frozen red pellet.

  The medic gave me a nod of acknowledgment and went to see Blue. Uther handed me a clean piece of cloth to wrap around my injury.

  I looked around. One of the knights had taken a direct claw strike from a gargoyle and would surely need a healing potion. The knight who had been grabbed was coughing and gasping for air, but it seemed he hadn’t suffered any major injuries.

  The carriage I had been traveling in was completely destroyed; it would likely be easier to build a new one than attempt to salvage it. At least no horses were lost—a couple had suffered minor scratches, but nothing severe. I had no idea what we would do with the supplies we were carrying.

  “What the reck was that?” the knight, whom the gargoyle had grabbed, asked me exasperatedly with an uneven, husky voice while massaging his throat.

  It was too much to expect that they would just let it slide. I looked at him, but I was too drained to muster a reply. Dahlia came to my rescue:

  “You see ... this is a ... ham ... circlet of monster control I am testing,” Dahlia said, her voice both broken and monotone.

  By the Gods, if she was the one who came up with this deception, she could at least not be such a terrible liar, I thought with exasperation.

  Professor Locan put a hand on her shoulder and asked if she could go administer the healing potion to the wounded knight, which she agreed to do with childlike enthusiasm.

  He shook his head in frustration and turned to us:

  “Her circlet is the prototype of a magical item that allows the user to communicate with and have limited control over monsters. We are using it at Prince Uther’s request due to the extreme danger of this mission. It is top-secret research with huge implications, so we expect everyone here to keep quiet about anything you see.”

  The explanation was dry and to the point.

  “Yeah, this is a very curious little trinket,” the combat mage said, his voice carrying a peculiar undertone that I was too drained to notice.

  In the end, everyone seemed to accept the excuse and shifted their focus to more urgent matters.

  I saw Blueberry sit up as the medic conducted a concussion evaluation while tending to the cut on her forehead. Seeing that brought me so much relief I could cry.

  “Do you want a potion?” Uther asked as we finally cleaned enough blood from my arm to properly assess the damage.

  The laceration was large and hurt like hell, but it was far uglier than it was serious. Before the war, it would have been a no-brainer to use a potion for something like this, but now…

  “No, we don’t have potions to use on anything that is not crippling or life threatening.” This time we had a medic. With a few stitches and healing magic, I should be mostly recovered by the time we reached Ironwall, so it was not a huge problem.

  Still, I wasn’t exactly thrilled at the thought of the scar it would inevitably leave behind.

  After asking the wounded knight whether he would prefer a potion from the Darius Alchemy Shop, known for its bold smoky flavor with notes of honey and cinnamon, or a Marielle Number 7, prized for its fruity, refreshing taste and lingering numbness post-reconstruction, Dahlia returned sniffing an empty bottle.

  Yes, she was definitely a weird one.

  Locan stood staring at the broken carriage, his arms crossed. Dahlia joined him, her posture mimicking that of her colleague. She remained silent for a few moments before asking:

  “You’re thinking about using that thing from the dragon, aren’t you?”

  “But I don’t want to…” Locan replied, his exaggerated expression of disapproval and a tone reminiscent of a spoiled child. He sighed, letting the frustration slip away as he returned to his serious demeanor. “This is going to be expensive… So expensive… We could probably buy twenty carriages for what it’ll cost me to fix this one.”

  “And do you see anyone selling carriages around here?” Dahlia retorted, gesturing dramatically as if to emphasize the lack of options.

  Locan lowered his head, sighing again.

  “You’re right. I hate when you’re right.”

  “I hate you too,” Dahlia replied with a smirk, blowing him a theatrical kiss.

  I observed him and the other men as they removed the supply crates and repositioned the carriage, almost as though they were preparing a human for the administration of a healing potion. Meanwhile, the medic stitched my wound, and suddenly, anything else—no matter how boring—became endlessly fascinating.

  After the carriage was repositioned, Professor Locan retrieved one of his peculiar gadgets. It resembled a cylindrical oil lamp at its core, but wires and tubes were haphazardly arranged across its surface, giving it an unconventional and almost chaotic appearance.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  He then produced a mana crystal from his pocket—beautiful even from a distance. It was likely a high-grade one. With a grunt of resignation, Locan placed the crystal into a slot on the gadget.

  He placed the device over the broken carriage, pressed a button, and stepped back. A humming sound emerged—a mixture of magical circuits activating and a strange synthetic tone. I jumped as the broken pieces began to flow together, mending themselves. It was just like a healing potion, but for objects! I hadn’t known such a thing was even possible.

  Within moments, the process was complete. The carriage wasn’t restored to a brand-new state, but it looked just as it had before the gargoyle attack.

  Professor Locan removed the crystal from the gadget. It was now dull and grey. He pressed the crystal in his hand, and it crumbled into fine dust.

  At that moment, I finally understood what he meant by “expensive.” Mana crystals were notoriously costly, though they were known for being infinitely rechargeable. To destroy one for a single spell? That was a whole new level of pain—financially speaking.

  ***

  Everything was nearly ready for us to resume our trip.

  Reloading the supplies onto the carriage and tending to the horses took some time. I was resting—my throbbing injured arm rendered me unfit for the necessary muscle work, not that I was much help with that even in my best condition.

  “Miss Gift…” Blueberry approached me hesitantly. The medic had kept her under observation due to her head injury, so we hadn’t had a chance to talk since the attack.

  “Blue! I’m so glad you’re okay.” I gave her a light hug with my good arm. “How are you feeling? Any pain?”

  “I’m fine, Miss Gift. The cut doesn’t hurt much. It’s just my memory—it’s a little fuzzy. I don’t remember much of what happened.”

  I looked at her bandaged cut and her overall appearance. Her hair was matted with dried blood, the same substance that marred her clothes and the side of her face. To be honest, I wasn’t in much better shape myself.

  “We’ll try to find an empty house near the road to spend the night. That way, we can have a proper bath and clean off all this blood. I hope our clothes won’t stain too badly…” I trailed off as I noticed something. “Blue, where’s your collar?”

  “What do you mean? It’s here…” She froze mid-sentence, her hands reaching for her throat, but her fingers found only bare skin.

  I looked around instinctively, heading to the spot where I had dragged Blue —and there it was, half-covered by snow.

  I put on my gloves and retrieved it. The collar was icy cold from being left in the snow and smeared with blood. It was also open, as though it had been unlocked.

  As I examined the collar, Uther, Locan, and Dahlia approached me.

  “What is this?” Dahlia asked.

  “This is Blueberry’s slave collar. It opened when we escaped from the toppled carriage.” I handed the collar to Dahlia for inspection.

  “This is a magical lock, not a mechanical one. This kind of thing doesn’t just pop open. Forcing it unlocked can kill the wearer,” Uther commented.

  “You’re right, and it also doesn’t look damaged,” Dahlia said, carefully examining the item. She then handed the collar to Locan. “Havak, be useful. This is your area of expertise.”

  Locan cast a spell on the collar, summoning a magical circuit that displayed texts and intricate drawings. I could only assume the spell had something to do with the mechanical abominations he was so fond of.

  “This isn’t exactly top of the line, but it’s still pretty decent,” Locan remarked, his tone matter-of-fact. “The mana crystal is charged, there are no interruptions in the circuit, and no signs that the encryption has been compromised. The circuit is powered, but I’m not detecting any readings on the magical field.”

  “And the translation is…?” Uther asked, trailing off.

  “There’s nothing wrong with the collar, but it isn’t working. Maybe we should have the girl try using it as a test... But for now, the collar is too cold and gory for her to wear, that can be bad for her health. We need to clean it and warm it up first.” Locan handed the collar back to me.

  I figured I could wash it in warm water later that evening. Turning to Blueberry, I began to ask if she was okay with that.

  “Blue, what do you… Blue?”

  From the moment her hand touched her throat until now, she hadn’t moved a muscle. Her face was frozen in an expression of impotent terror, the only movements coming from her were rapid breaths and silent tears.

  “Blue?” I called to her again, carefully, my worry spiking to unknown levels.

  Almost as if breaking free from a trance, she looked at me. Her eyes held the haunted look of someone desperately hoping to wake from a nightmare but unable to.

  She immediately turned to Uther, but her fear was so overwhelming that she couldn’t bring herself to raise her head.

  “I… I… I am so, so sorry.” She spoke each word as though it were a struggle, like she was desperately grasping for the right ones amidst her sobs and fragmented self-control. “Please… I… I don’t dare to ask for mercy for myself, but… but my family…”

  She faltered, her sobs growing louder and more unrestrained. Blueberry took a deep breath, which allowed her to recover a fragile sliver of self-control.

  “My mother and my sister, they’ve never done anything wrong. They are loyal and hardworking…” Her voice shattered as she finally broke down. Among uncontrollable sobs, she begged, “Please… Please, don’t hurt them.”

  Uther looked at me, perplexed.

  At first, I thought Blue had lost her mind due to the wound on her head, but then it dawned on me:

  “Removing a locked collar without a master’s express permission is considered the same as attempting to escape. The punishment for that is brutal and extends to the offender’s family or close friends, and it is worse for her because she is a repeated offender.”

  “What she did?” Asked Uther.

  “She was serving tea to your sister and the handle of the teapot broke.”

  “That? But that was nothing…” his voice had a tinge of exasperation. “Also, we don’t even know why her collar unlocked, and we have two Academy professors with us!”

  “For the laws of the castle, it doesn’t matter.” I replied shrugging.

  “Why not? That’s completely unjust!” Uther protested, his voice brimming with indignation.

  “And yet, this is how it is. Blue has her reasons to expect to be treated like that.” I remembered Blue’s pained ‘this is so unfair’ before Modesty whipped her.

  I explained everything to Uther because I knew him better than anyone, and he didn’t disappoint me.

  He approached Blueberry and tenderly placed his hands on her trembling shoulders. Her frame was so delicate that Uther could probably crush her with even moderate strength, but he was gentle.

  “Blueberry, look at me,” Uther said softly, his voice almost like that of a parent comforting a frightened child.

  Blue gathered all her courage and looked up at him, her eyes red and brimming with tears.

  “Did you try to escape?”

  “Never!” she replied emphatically, almost desperately so. “I would never try to escape. Everyone here has been kind to me. I feel so happy that I was allowed to come here. I would never betray that trust. Never!” There was a core of unwavering conviction behind her sobs and tears.

  “Then this is settled as far as I am concerned. If anyone asks, you can say that I allowed you to remove the collar, and I will confirm it. If they try to do anything to you or your family, they will face the full force of my wrath.”

  Blueberry looked at him with a tinge of disbelief, but Uther reinforced his stance.

  “Let me make this clear: I will not punish you for something you had no fault in, and I will certainly not punish your family for your faults. Do you understand?”

  Blueberry’s acknowledgment was contained—a simple nod as she struggled to regain her composure.

  Uther smiled warmly and gave her a quick, reassuring pat on the head before turning to handle other concerns.

  Though she was still recovering and her emotional state remained fragile, I could see something new in Blueberry’s eyes as she watched Uther walk away. It was not fear or the subservient respect that a slave has for her master. It was deeper, something profound and personal. It was admiration, and the kind of respect that is earned, burning brightly behind her round, brown eyes.

  Sometimes, we are oblivious to the impact that our small actions have on others. To Uther, it may have seemed like he was merely clarifying his expectations to an inexperienced slave girl, unaware that this baseline act of fairness and compassion would earn him one of the most dedicated and loyal retainers his household would ever know.