Chapter 12

Outside the Cottage.

When Charlo stepped out of the humble fisherman’s hut, he faced the curious and shocked gazes of his subordinates. He took a deep, steadying breath, forcing his heart rate to slow.

"My Lord?! What happened in there?" Davis rushed forward, his eyes darting to Charlo's exposed left arm, which was smeared with dried blood and dust. "And the noise..."

"It’s nothing. A small misunderstanding occurred during the negotiation, but it has been resolved." Charlo waved his hand dismissively.

Fortunately, he was proficient in healing magic; the damage from the earlier confrontation—where he had nearly lost his arm to a blast of raw mana—had already been knitted together, leaving skin as smooth as if it had never been broken.

"Did you bring the items I asked for?" Charlo asked, changing the subject.

"Everything is here! However, we could not find a fine silk veil or a velvet hood, only rough homespun cotton." Davis signaled two knights to bring the bundle of clothing forward.

Charlo inspected the fabric and nodded. His request for a "veil" had been a slip of the tongue in the heat of the moment. This was a fishing village on the edge of the world, and his men had arrived in a frantic rush; naturally, they wouldn't have noble ladies' accessories on hand.

He waved over the daughter of the house and spoke to the two knights. "Give the clothes to the child. Let her take them inside."

The knights accompanying him were veterans of the Demon War; if they went inside, they would instantly recognize the face of the nightmare they had fought against. Only this innocent village girl remained ignorant of the monster sitting in the ruins of her bedroom.

Charlo knelt before the little girl, looking into her eyes, which held a mix of timidity and excitement. He asked softly, "What is your name?"

"I am Anna... My Lord."

"Alright, Anna... I heard you spoke with the big sister inside earlier, is that right?"

Charlo had chosen Anna for a calculated reason. Since she had survived her first interaction with the Demon Lord unscathed, the chances were high that she would be safe delivering a set of clothes. Clyris, for all her brutality, seemed to have a blind spot for the harmless.

"Yes... My Lord." The girl took the heavy bundle of clothes, looking back at Charlo for reassurance.

"Anna, I need you to do me a favor. Take these clothes to the big sister inside, okay?" Charlo patted her head gently, his tone sincere.

"Okay." The girl nodded and walked into the cottage without hesitation.

Charlo stood outside the door, counting the seconds. One. Two. Three...

Only when the girl emerged unharmed five minutes later did he finally let out the breath he had been holding. It was only then that he realized the padded lining of his armor was soaked through with cold sweat.

"Does this girl attend school?" Charlo summoned the village chief, keeping his voice low.

"She does! She does! We follow the 'Compulsory Education' decree you promulgated strictly, My Lord. All children of age in the village are in the classroom by dawn!" the chief answered hastily, fearful of being reprimanded.

"Good. Give this family fifty Small Silver Coins. Deliver it today when the man of the house returns from work. Make sure you explain the reason clearly—it is a reward for their hospitality and bravery," Charlo ordered.

"Yes! At once, My Lord!" The chief bowed repeatedly, eyeing the cottage with newfound awe.

Inside the Cottage.

Creeaaaak—

The door opened again, and little Anna stepped inside.

"Sister Clyris, the Lord asked me to bring these clothes to you."

She glanced curiously at the wooden bed that had been snapped in half and the crater in the dirt floor, then walked over to the Demon Lord, holding out the rough linen garments.

"Did he tell you to do anything else?" Clyris took the clothes. The texture was rough, scratching against her fingertips. The craftsmanship was crude. Rural standards, she told herself. Endure it.

"No, the Lord just told me to deliver the clothes. Sister, are your clothes broken?" Anna shook her head, then asked innocently, pointing to the shreds of armor on the floor.

"Ah, yes. My clothes are... broken."

Clyris untied the cloak Knight John had lent her earlier, revealing the state of her attire.

Her dark gold armor had long since shattered; only a few jagged plates still clung to her frame like broken eggshells. All that truly remained was the black combat undersuit, tightly wrapping her injured body.

Clyris looked at the girl's curious face. She felt a strange impulse.

She gathered the ambient mana in her palm, condensing it slowly. The air hummed as she forced the energy to solidify, compressing it until it formed a solid, thumb-sized crystal of pure violet light.

"This is for you. Keep it, or trade it for money, it is up to you," she said, handing the mana stone to Anna.

Anna took the crystal carefully. Her large eyes blinked, sparkling with wonder as the light danced on her face. "Sister Clyris, what is this?"

"A mana stone. Just think of it as a very valuable rock. Now, go on."

Clyris didn't explain further. Anna was a mortal, and in her current weakened state, Clyris couldn't tell if the girl possessed magical aptitude. For a person without talent, it was a fortune to be sold. If she had talent, the stone might help her awaken.

It was a whim. A payment for the soup.

The Road to Ironwood.

After changing into the disguise, the Demon Lord stepped out of the cottage.

Aside from the Lord himself, the other knights eyed her with suspicion. Dressed in rough linen, draped in a hooded cloak, and with her face wrapped in cloth, she looked less like a mage and more like an assassin or a bandit.

"Let's go. I'll show you something interesting," the Lord said with a smile, stepping forward. He had removed his armor and changed into a fitted, dignified black tunic.

"Fine. Lead the way. I hope you do not disappoint me," Clyris replied coldly, her voice muffled by the veil.

The group galloped along the main road leading inland.

Riding her horse, Clyris looked at the neat, lush green wheat fields stretching out on either side. Despite her cynicism, curiosity began to flicker in her eyes.

The road was dirt, yes, but it had been tamped down until it was as hard as stone. It was incredibly wide, easily accommodating three four-horse carriages side-by-side. The center was crowned to let water run off into stone-lined ditches.

Carriages passed them frequently, loaded with bags of unknown goods. When the drivers saw them... or rather, when they saw the Lord... they smiled and waved.

And the Lord smiled and nodded back.

Strange.

Clyris watched the drivers. Their eyes held a bright light. It was pure respect, perhaps even affection. It was not the fear and awe she was accustomed to seeing in commoners facing nobility.

And the Lord himself showed none of the arrogance typical of the aristocracy. He returned greetings even to the lowliest peasant driving a manure cart.

More importantly, after riding for miles and seeing hundreds of people working in the fields, she hadn't seen a single slave.

"Hey... you..." Clyris looked at him, hesitating, unsure how to address him without her titles.

"You can call me Charlo," he said directly.

"Hmm..." She pressed her lips together. "Charlo. I've been watching the fields along the way. Does your territory not possess slaves?"

"Ah? That..." He chuckled, pointing his whip at the people laboring in the wheat fields. "Those people, and most of the ones you've seen on the road—they are slaves."

"What?" Clyris asked, genuinely surprised. "They don't look like it. They didn't prostrate themselves when we passed, and their bodies aren't emaciated. Are you sure they aren't just common farmers?"

Indeed, these people were nothing like the slaves in her memory.

In Clyris's experience, slaves were walking skeletons, looking more like ghouls than men. Their bodies were bent permanently, limbs like dry sticks, faces sunken skulls. On the main roads, they weren't even allowed to walk on the path; they had to trudge in the ditch.

If a knight passed, slaves were expected to drop like wheat in the wind, face in the dirt, forbidden to look up. To make eye contact with a knight was a capital offense.

But here... they stood tall. They were well-fed.

"Ah, yes. Although they are legally slaves for now, you can treat them as ordinary farmers. Though most of them are young, barely over thirty," Charlo nodded, looking ahead with a distant gaze.

"For now?" Clyris was stumped. "What does 'for now' mean?"

"Because their status as slaves is something they will eventually shed," Charlo explained calmly. "In my territory, any slave—whether in farming, mining, factories, or construction—can become a Free Citizen after five years of hard work and diligence."

"Once they become citizens, they graduate from basic subsistence. If they are farmers, I give them land to rent. If they are workers, I give them wage contracts. Farmers get subsidies; workers get salaries. No one remains a slave forever."

His voice wasn't loud, but to Clyris, it sounded like a thunderclap.

"No more slaves? How is that possible?"

Her first reaction was denial. It went against the economic foundation of the entire world. Who would do the dangerous, dirty work if not slaves?

"Is it?" He looked at her with profound meaning. "You will soon see if it is possible or not."

"Soon?" She narrowed her eyes. "Are you implying that this 'powerful weapon' you mentioned is what will end slavery?"

"Why would a weapon stop people from being slaves?" Clyris asked, skeptical.

He didn't answer directly. He simply smiled, a glint of steel in his eyes. "If you are willing to follow me, I will tell you the answer. Machines do not need to be whipped, Clyris."

"Forget it!" The Demon Lord suppressed her curiosity, her guard going back up. "A brat full of big talk. You have ambition, I'll give you that. But trying to recruit me? Keep dreaming!"