A Fairytale for Wizards

The head maid warned Azriel as she handed over several silver coins. Azriel placed them in the pocket of her apron and left the estate. She knew that she would be scolded for her laziness if she were to come back even a little late. Hastily, she crossed the garden and headed toward the rear gate.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?”

A man with dull blonde hair appeared from the drill hall and called to her. As soon as he saw her, he put on a peculiar smile and approached her.

Azriel quickly lowered her head, “I’m going to the market for an errand, Young Master.”

The man was Count Colte’s heir and Deborah’s only brother, Damon Colte. He scrutinized Azriel’s body with glistening eyes. Though she was thin and small, her sixteen-year-old body was maturing, and smooth curves were beginning to develop. Upon closer examination, he saw that her face was unbelievably beautiful—even more so than his sister who was said to be the prettiest in the land. Deborah also treated Azriel harshly for this reason and frequently slapped her across the face. It annoyed her to know that her whipping child had an unnecessarily pretty face.

‘She will be a stunning beauty if she dresses up properly and ages a little more,’ Damon smiled, smacking his lips.

“If you earn my favor, you won’t have to do such things. Why don’t you serve me while I take my bath?”

“I’m sorry, but this is an urgent errand.”

“Is that more urgent than me?”

Azriel took a step back and dodged Damon’s approaching hand, causing him to frown. She politely bade him farewell while grabbing the hem of her skirt.

“It’s a matter of urgency. I believe the generous Young Master would understand.”

As she quickly made her way to the rear gate, she could feel Damon’s sticky gaze on her back, which still ached from her burning wounds. His gaze stopped only when she was completely out of the castle. She coughed in nervousness and pressed her chest to swallow her cough. Her uneasy heart beat palpably under her hands. Damon’s attitude towards her was becoming more unusual as the days went by, and she knew exactly what it meant. How long could an orphan girl of slave origin avoid the young master’s touch?

‘I need to run away.’

But how? And to where? Though slavery had been abolished two years ago, a girl with no guardian and bearing a brand was bound to be in danger anywhere she went. She had learned this reality as a slave. In fact, Azriel had been rather lucky. At least she had not been sold to the nobles as a nightly toy.

People could not be trusted without caution, either. There were not many who would do favors for a girl without any power or guardians to protect her for no reason. She had realized this when she was sold by the very guardians who had once smiled at her and told her to consider them her parents.

‘But I can’t stay here forever.’

Even more dreadful events might await her even if she did manage to escape. She could very well end up regretting her decision and telling herself she was better off withstanding life with the Colte family. Knowing what could happen to someone who was left alone in the world made her even more scared and fearful. Nevertheless, she had been preparing to run away, ever since she abandoned hope that the one who had named her ‘Azriel Esthera’ would come to save her. Hidden inside a stack of straw and covered by a worn-out blanket in her room were dirty coins she had been persistently collecting for the past two years. Saving money was very difficult for someone like her—an underage girl with no wages. Even so, she had managed to collect quite a decent amount so far, but she still needed to save more until she had enough to run away and settle in another territory.

Once she arrived at the market, she bought three blocks of butter as the head maid ordered. While pocketing the change, she checked the clock hanging on the wall of the general store. Since she had been hasty, there was still some time left.

‘I can stop by the bookstore. I hope there’s a job for me.’

While clutching the paper bag containing the butter, she slipped into an alley deeper in the market. A bookstore with a rusty sign sitting in a secluded spot came into view. At the entrance, old books were piled up precariously high as if they would fall at any moment.

“Welcome, Azriel,” an old, bespectacled man greeted her as she pa*sed through the piles of books.

“Hello, Grandpa Warden.”

“You are just in time. I have a job for you.”

A smile appeared on his wrinkled mouth as Warden handed her a package and an old book. Azriel received the items with a beam.

“I just need to write it in Limble again, right?”

“Yes. Bring it back when you’re done. I’ll give you five silver coins in exchange.”

Limble was the most widely used written language in the continent and generally used by commoners. People of higher rank usually used Lemm, an older form, rather than Limble. Lemm was also used for official doc*ments within the kingdom and as a general text to communicate between two countries that spoke different languages. For that reason, precious books tended to be written in Lemm instead of Limble.

Azriel had been saving the money she earned from translating texts from Lemm into Limble. Since not many people knew Lemm, it was a fair-paying job. Five silver coins per book was about the same as the monthly wage set by Count Colte. Under normal circ*mstances, her wages should have been at least a hundred silver coins, but there was no way Count Colte would ever pay her that much.