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The Freed Slaves Are Obsessed-Chapter 128: The Die of Twisting Fate (1)
The Northguards.
A term used to describe the warriors who protect the northern regions of Isengar, a land of eternal frost.
Of course, not everyone among them is a fighter. The Northguards are a select few; the rest are ordinary people.
Most Northerners live in small tribal communities scattered across Isengar, and among these, Lake Fortress is the largest settlement.
The interior of Lake Fortress was like a small world where life had been hardened and honed by the relentless northern winds.
The canyon walls were a blend of ice and rock, with massive ice barriers shielding the village from the wind, granting it a rare moment of calm.
As outsiders entered, curious villagers emerged to watch us.
The tribespeople were all clad in thick outerwear, made from the hides of animals, with necklaces adorned with animal fangs and other ornaments.
The tents standing on the snowy ground were constructed from animal hides and sturdy wooden poles, thickly reinforced to keep out the cold and ice.
Smoke rose from various points in the village as groups of people gathered around fire pits to warm their frozen bodies.
A cold but resolute way of life. The scenery of Lake Fortress reflected their determination and survival instinct.
I casually waved at a young girl who was peeking at me while sniffling. She hesitantly waved back, only to be quickly pulled away by a woman who seemed to be her mother.
'Tsk.'
The Northerners were fundamentally self-sufficient. They had little use for goods from the outside unless desperate outcasts ventured to trade with them.
Because of their limited interaction with outsiders, their attitude was naturally closed-off.
Even so, they couldn’t help but gather along the roadside, mesmerized by Ashies. Truly, beauty is the ultimate talent.
Just her silent presence was enough to reduce the distance between us and them.
“Enter. The chieftain is waiting for you,” Jorne said, leading us toward the largest tent within Lake Fortress. Inside, an elderly woman sat on animal hides.
“Show your respect. This is Chieftain Darca of Lake Fortress.”
Chieftain Darca. A shaman.
She was adorned with bone necklaces, a staff decorated with bones, bone earrings, and even a bone hat. If she ever lost all her teeth, she wouldn’t have to worry about dentures—she had plenty to spare.
But what truly caught my attention was the brilliant blue gemstone hanging at the center of her bone necklace.
Lazulite.
The reason we had come here.
Even unpolished, the gem radiated a vivid, refreshing blue light.
‘She’s just wearing that priceless thing around her neck, huh.’
Honestly, I felt tempted to just take it, but obviously, that wouldn’t be a wise choice.
“Chieftain, these outsiders have destroyed the bridge,” Jorne reported.
“What? Destroyed the bridge?!” Darca exclaimed loudly enough to burst eardrums.
She had a particularly unique trait that made her quite memorable.
“My legs are perfectly fine, though?”
She had dementia.
“No, Chieftain. I mean the bridge that leads to the other side.”
“The other side?”
“Yes, Chieftain.”
“Who’s the chieftain?”
“You are, Chieftain.”
Darca widened her eyes and pointed at herself.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“A chieftain?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The seemingly endless exchange continued. If it were me, I would’ve given up halfway through, but Jorne handled it with the patience of someone who’d done this many times before.
“Chieftain Darca, you have visitors.”
“Visitors?”
“Yes.”
Finally registering our presence, Darca leapt to her feet and circled us, scrutinizing us with an intensity that was almost uncomfortable.
“Visitors! We have visitors!”
Jorne gave me a meaningful look, prompting me to step forward and bow respectfully.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Chieftain. I am Karami, a humble slave trader.”
“Slave trader? What’s that?”
“It means I’m the kindest person in the world who liberates slaves.”
“Oh! How wonderful!”
Jorne shot me a glare and barked, “You wretch! How dare you lie to the chieftain!”
“Why are you shouting? You scared me. Right, Chieftain Darca?”
“That’s right! Why are you shouting? You startled me!”
“...My apologies.”
Darca scolded Jorne, who lowered his head in contrition. Then he shot me another glare.
Honestly... considering you’ve been working at her side, shouldn’t you have known better?
“And who’s the woman next to you?” Darca asked.
“This is my slave, Miss Ashies.”
“Hmm?”
The people inside the tent murmured in disbelief. Their skeptical gazes at Ashies clearly conveyed their thoughts: That woman... a slave?
I understood their confusion. Ashies’ appearance was so unreal that it didn’t fit the image of a slave. Even if she were dressed in rags, her beauty would remain undeniable.
“A slave... you say?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
Jorne still seemed unconvinced, but since Ashies didn’t deny it, he begrudgingly accepted it.
“So, what business does a slave trader have here? Are you planning to enslave us?”
“Of course not. I never force anyone into slavery. I always take the proper and ethical approach.”
“Then why are you here?”
I looked directly at the Lazulite hanging from Darca’s necklace and replied, “I’ve come for the blue gemstone you’re wearing, Chieftain.”
“What?”
The room erupted into chaos. Darca recoiled, clutching the Lazulite tightly in both hands, her face stricken with alarm.
“No! This was a gift from my grandmother! No one can have it!”
“This gemstone is a symbol of our chieftain, passed down through generations in our tribe. Are you saying you want to take it?”
“That’s correct. I intend to craft a fitting accessory for our princess,” I replied calmly.
“For something as trivial as decoration...” Jorne scowled deeply, his hand moving to his waist, ready to draw his tomahawk at any moment.
“We have nothing to give to savages like you. Leave the village at once, or I’ll see to it that your hides are hung as trophies.”
Well, as expected.
This reaction wasn’t outside my predictions. These people, already wary of outsiders, wouldn’t take kindly to someone barging in and demanding not just the chieftain’s symbol but a personal heirloom from her grandmother.
While I would have preferred to win them over and obtain the Lazulite through diplomacy, my soul synchronization wouldn’t allow it. The spirit of the slave trader, bound to me, compelled a direct and aggressive approach.
Still, I had my own tricks up my sleeve. I was ready to present an irresistible offer that would make them hand over the Lazulite willingly when—
“Chieftain! Look at this! There was someone hiding in their luggage!”
So much for that.
“I-I am a dwarf! Let me go!”
“Shut it! Where do you look like a dwarf?”
“I’m a half-dwarf!”
The person the soldier dragged in was Ferka.
“Miss Ferka?! Why are you here?”
“She... was hiding... in the luggage...” Ashies said with her usual monotone.
“Excuse me?”
Ashies, what do you mean she was hiding? You knew and didn’t tell me?
No wonder I thought I heard a woman’s scream when we fell earlier. I brushed it off as my imagination, but it was Ferka all along.
Thanks to her, the Northerners’ distrust of us had reached its peak.
“Hiding someone in your luggage? You were scheming something after all.”
“I think there’s been a misunderstanding. She is a dwarf and merely snuck aboard without our knowledge.”
“I won’t listen to your deceitful tongue any longer. Kneel and surrender, or the hostage’s life is forfeit.”
“Hiiik?!”
The soldier holding Ferka placed a curved blade against her neck.
“Shall I... kill them?” Ashies tilted her head and asked, her tone calm. With her abilities, she could easily neutralize the soldier before the blade could harm Ferka.
But fighting here would be irreversible.
Forcibly seizing the Lazulite was an option, but it was the worst one. While I did need the gemstone, the process of obtaining it was equally important. If Ashies didn’t interact with the Northguards properly, her liberation would be delayed. The cold could be suppressed, but full freedom would remain out of reach.
The right choice here was to retreat.
“I see now that this item is far more precious than I realized,” I said, raising my hands in a gesture of peace. “Very well, we did not come here to fight. We will leave quietly. May we at least take our belongings and our companion with us?”
“Release the people who came to steal our treasure?!”
“If a fight were to break out in the middle of the village, wouldn’t your precious tribespeople be harmed? Even if we surrendered, do you have a prison strong enough to fully contain my slave?”
“...”
“I am offering you the most peaceful solution.”
Jorne closed his mouth, clearly struck by my words. After a moment, he gestured to one of his subordinates, who left and returned with our belongings, including the frozen Hargran.
“We will hold onto the hostage until you are far from the village.”
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We were escorted out of the gorge under the watchful eyes of the Northguards.
Ferka, still held hostage, trailed behind us, her life clearly at the mercy of the soldiers. Once we were deemed far enough from the village, they released her, and Ferka dashed toward us in a panic.
When our eyes met, she seemed to shrink under the weight of guilt, lowering her head in immediate apology.
“I-I’m sorry...”
“What exactly were you trying to achieve by following us?”
“Well... it just looked really fun...”
“It seems you snuck aboard without permission. I imagine Torvar must be worried sick.”
“My father? Worried about me? Not a chance. That guy’s got nothing in his head but hammering. He wouldn’t even notice I was gone.”
Ferka laughed carelessly, as if this was all a big joke. If I had known she’d cause this much trouble, I wouldn’t have set her free. Keeping her on a leash might have been the better choice.
“So, what now? We’ve been kicked out by the Northerners. Looks like getting that gemstone is out of the question,” she said, grinning sheepishly.
“Indeed, thanks to someone,” I replied pointedly.
“Hehe... But it’s not like Lazulite only exists here, right? If we look hard enough, there must be another one somewhere in the world.”
Of course, that was true. With enough money, I could buy one.
But as I’ve said before, missing out on Ashies interacting with the Northguards wasn’t an option. The Lazulite in Darca’s possession was the only one that mattered.
“For now, let’s set up camp near Lake Fortress.”
“Here? Won’t the Northerners get angry?”
“They told us to leave the gorge, not this area. There’s a difference.”
We had no reason to fear them strategically.
“What about Hargran? Is he even still alive?”
“Of course he’s alive. But we’ll thaw him later. Waking him up now would only cause chaos. He’ll melt naturally with time, so let’s leave him be. Come on, let’s get to work. It’ll be colder once night falls.”
The dwarves lit fires, hammering and assembling tents with practiced efficiency. By the time the sun set, we had established a decent campsite near the gorge.
While warming herself by the fire inside a tent, Ferka asked me a question.
“So, Karami. Are you really planning to negotiate with them? I know I’m the one who caused the mess, but it’s not going to be easy.”
“Probably not.”
I glanced toward the watchtower at the edge of the gorge.
The flames of our campfire, burning in the middle of the snowy plains, would have made our presence impossible to miss. Thanks to Ferka’s earlier antics and my “honest” responses, the Northguards’ wariness toward us was at its peak.
My original plan had been to hunt a magical beast and offer its high-quality meat and hides as a gift to earn their favor. But at this point, simple efforts like that wouldn’t cut it.
I needed to get the story back on track.
It was time to spice things up.
‘Good thing I have just the item for this situation.’
I turned to Ferka and Ashies, holding my hands out toward them.
“Look, you two. As you can see, my hands are completely empty.”
“...?”
“But when I clench my fist and then open it...”
The once-empty hand now held a single die.
“Ta-da~ A die appears out of nowhere.”
“Ooooh! Is that magic?”
“Call it sleight of hand.”
“Sleight of hand! Karami, you can do things like this too? But... why the die all of a sudden?”
“This isn’t just any die. This is something very special.”
The die was a shimmering pink, a perfect icosahedron—a twenty-sided die. Each face gleamed with iridescent gold and deep blue numbers.
“This,” I said, a mischievous smile spreading across my face, “is the Die of Twisting Fate.”