【Era of Succession Year 150, Spring / 2】
Yo.
Last time, I was blessed with a pretty great body.
When you’ve had a run like that, the first thing you want to do the moment you wake up is check the specs on the new one.
Hmm. Average build. Bearded. No standout physical traits. A kitchen knife at my waist. No armor. And I definitely smell.
A plain old bandit (Zoku). Well, this is the “usual” for me, but having a body like the last one gave me a lot more freedom. It’s a shame.
Alright, next up: checking the surroundings and remembering my current standing.
“Hey! You there!”
There are a lot of bandits around. They look like a pretty rowdy bunch. They seem skilled for bandits—though, of course, they’re trash compared to real soldiers or adventurers.
Now, as for my position—
“You! Are you even listening?! Hey!!”
“Ah, you mean me?”
Getting yelled at while trying to remember stuff is startling. It really messes with my concentration.
“The cargo is arriving soon! Get the cages ready!”
“Right, right.”
Being told to do a job when I don’t know the first thing about what’s going on is a pain.
Just as I was looking around—
“The cargo is here!”
“Get ready!”
Voices echoed, and the bandits went scurrying toward the commotion.
Separate from the shouting, I heard a heavy creaking and rattling. Being dragged along was a massive cage.
…Cargo. Cages. Ah. I get it.
This is some abandoned village, and the “cargo” being brought in are captured humans, to be bought and sold like objects. The “cages” are basically the display shelves.
I’ve lived the bandit life enough times to wake up in the body of a guy who raids travelers on the highway, so I’m not exactly one to talk, but this never sits well with me.
If you look at the world at large, I’m sure there are people who fall into this trade willingly, but looking at the people being hauled in, they clearly have that “forcibly abducted” aura about them.
That said, if I go on a rampage just because I don’t like the vibe, it won’t change anything.
Even if I had that “blessed body” from my last run, the result would likely be the same.
“Get out, now! You want to be killed?!”
Violence and total control playing out right in front of me.
“Whoa, Brother (Brother). Take it easy on them. They’re technically ‘merchandise.’ I’ll handle these ones. You go over there and help with the guard duty.”
Forcing my way through won’t work.
Whether I’m being smooth-tongued or not, I can at least distract them and shift the situation.
“Tch. Fine. Do it right!”
“Leave it to me.”
The rough bandit snorted and walked away.
The people trapped in the cages will soon be called “Resources” (Jinzai) and sold off as products.
In other words, they’re the inventory for a group called “Human Traffickers” (Jinzaisho).
People of all ages and outfits looked at me with deep anxiety.
I scanned the area.
There were several cages, but the number of bandits wasn’t enough to manage and guard them all properly.
The guy who yelled at me first seemed to be the one in charge, but he was too busy to pay me any mind.
Still, if I just let them go here, they’d just be hunted down and it’d be over.
“Don’t look at me like that. …I won’t treat you badly.”
For now, those words were the best I could do.
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“Set up the watch! Stay alert!”
the man who seemed to be the boss barked.
He continued, “Move the merchandise to the usual spot. Don’t leave them in the stables forever.”
The bandits nodded, saying “We got it,” but “knowing” and “doing” are two different things.
However, the boss just said, “As long as you understand,” and left.
Apparently, the “bandit smell” was too much for him, so he was going to stay in a nearby town. Good grief. Is he really the boss? He should change his title to “Irresponsible-in-Chief.” …Well, that’s just how it is. People with a strong sense of responsibility and competence don’t do dirty work like this. If they did, they’d be in a much higher position.
With the boss gone, the bandits’ laziness accelerated.
But as long as the captives were locked in cages, they couldn’t escape.
Whether I was going to plot something or not, I decided to scout the surroundings.
The results came quickly. It didn’t take long to investigate.
The bandits and the “resources” were within a fairly small area. The bandits were gathered in what looked like a central plaza. The “resources” were kept in a stable a bit further away, along with some carriages.
It looked like an easy escape. I wonder if they’re okay with this?
There were six carriages. I remembered that if you head west from here for a while, you’ll hit Uroguma.
Even if everyone was distributed among them, six carriages could easily carry the whole group.
The bandits were in the middle of a rowdy party, practically forgetting about the captives.
…The stage was set for “plotting something.” Well then, there’s nothing to worry about.
I walked over to the stables. Anxious eyes turned toward me. Some held glints of hatred, but I ignored them.
“Keep it quiet. …I’m getting you all out of here. Look, there are carriages right over there, perfectly placed. Head west to Uroguma. Once you get there, you should be under protection.”
My words probably didn’t sink in immediately.
The cages were locked, but with poor-quality locks. I have just enough knowledge and skill in lockpicking to be better than a beginner. After a quick bit of tinkering, they popped right open.
By the time I’d finished with all the cells, they finally seemed willing to believe my words.
I get why they wouldn’t believe me until then. They were brought here through violence. And the ones who dealt that violence were bandits just like me.
If I were them, I wouldn’t trust a bandit no matter what they said.
But they were different. They seemed to appreciate what I was doing. Maybe that’s where “innate goodness” shows through.
“You are… a bandit. Why…?”
A man who looked to be the eldest, bordering on old age, asked me. That’s a tough question. It’s not like I had a clear answer, like having someone specific I wanted to save. But, well, if I had to name the root of it:
“Doesn’t it look cool to suddenly save someone in trouble?”
The group looked stunned, then some stifled a laugh.
The elderly man gave a slight, confused smile.
“That… yes. I suppose it is a noble sight.”
“Then I’ve gotta do it.”
They were surprisingly well-organized. They were desperate to escape, to survive.
They climbed into the carriages. There were several among them skilled with horses, so the role of coachman was settled without issue.
We were just one step away.
“Hic… Just a little… hic… taste won’t hurt, right?”
A single bandit approached, carrying a torch. He had a sword at his waist. The fact that his weapon wasn’t a kitchen knife or a farm tool meant he might actually have some skill. For a bandit, those who prioritize ease of use over intimidation are often the dangerous ones.
His sword looked old, but that also meant it had been in his hands long enough to wear down. He was drunk. A fool trying to touch the “merchandise,” but the absence of the boss invites this kind of situation. Though I suppose I have that “Irresponsible-in-Chief” to thank for making this escape possible.
“Huh…? The cage is op—”
No time to hesitate. I slammed the kitchen knife hanging at my waist into the drunkard’s head. If I assumed he was a skilled fighter, leaving him alive would only hinder the escape. I figured a surprise kill was the best bet, and it worked. He slumped over, and the torch falling from his hand immediately began to set the stable ablaze.
“Go!”
At my shout, the coachmen spurred the horses.
“W-What about you?!”
The man who had questioned me earlier called out. He seemed like the type who would keep the group together even after the escape.
“I’m counting on you to get everyone to Uroguma.”
I turned my back to the departing carriages.
“I’ll buy as much time as I can.”
He looked like he wanted to say something, but he understood that time was precious.
The carriages picked up speed and left this place behind.
“H-Hey! You… did you let them go?!”
Bandits, drawn by the fire, came running.
There was no talking my way out of this. I wished I could have used my silver tongue, but that wasn’t going to happen.
“Hah!”
With a sharp shout of spirit, I flung the kitchen knife, splitting a bandit’s head open. At the same time, I pulled the old sword from the drunkard’s waist.
What happened after?
Well, it’s obvious. Outnumbered and surrounded. They beat the life out of me, and that was that. But I thinned their numbers a bit. I bought enough time.
As I listened to the demoralized, terrified bandits planning their own escape, my consciousness dissolved into the darkness.
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