Children of the Holy Emperor

On the western side of the continent lies a long, rugged mountain range stretching from the south to the north.

This lengthy range starts from the border between the kingdom of Flanders and the Asein Republic, passing through Rohan, climbing northwards, and getting increasingly treacherous until it ultimately becomes the boundary of the habitat of the sea beasts.

In the past, it was called by various names like the White Eagle Range or the Blade Range, but now, the people of the continent simply referred to this colossal range as the ‘Western Range.’

At the beginning of the Western Range, near the Flanders kingdom border, there existed a small flower village, established only a few years ago. It was a small village built by a minority of Flanders people who had lost their homeland during the war with the Carthago Republic and sought refuge in the mountains.

Recently, the village population ballooned to nearly a hundred as refugees flowed in from Rohan. Needless to say, there was a severe shortage of housing, supplies, and food.

The transformation of the little flower village into a den of bandits was almost instantaneous.

One reason was that many of the new refugees were former thieves who had fled from Rohan, being chased by the Rohan’s suppression squad.

Coming down from the mountain with a few rabbits caught in his traps, having not had much luck with hunting, Aslan noticed a strange carriage parked in the village square.

‘It’s smaller than usual…’

Aslan asked the man standing next to him, “What did they steal this time?”

“I’m not sure. It seems to be a peddler crossing from Asein to Flanders.”

“Ah, really… what are they all doing? This is already the nth time this month. What will they do if the Asein Archduke organizes a suppression squad?”

The man shrugged as Aslan scowled. “Well, what of it? It doesn’t seem like a proper merchant, and would Asein really care? They say it was an easy score with no escorts.”

Listening to the man, it seemed the peddler and his party were found by a search party scouting the mountain. With just one carriage carrying a sack of food, three prisoners, and two low-ranking mercenaries, they were stealthily slipping out of the old trade route, which merchants seldom use these days. The merchants and mercenaries, upon encountering the bandits, immediately abandoned the carriage and fled.

“There were prisoners?” Aslan asked, puzzled.

Why would a peddler be transporting prisoners across the border?

“They’re all guys who received capital punishment. Sometimes, Carthago sells these guys for a cheap price. They put them in the dark mines and make them dig until they die.”

The dark mines of Carthago were the absolute worst. It would probably be better for those guys to just die here.

The man said this, shook his head and walked away.

Sure enough, three men were dragged out of the carriage following the sacks of food.

One was completely disfigured with burn marks all over his body, making his face unrecognizable. Another had a hollowed-out eye socket and all of his fingers cut off. Seeing their horrific appearances, Aslan unknowingly furrowed his brows.

The last man, who looked relatively unscathed on the outside, had a dark brand on the back of his head visible above his loose robe. Even from a glimpse, one could tell it was a dreadful brand given by the heresy judge.

The mark of a devil worshipper.

In some sense, he was the worst condemned criminal among the three.

The three were transported to the leader’s place.

‘They’ll probably check their background before they kill them.’ Thinking this, Aslan turned away from the square and left.

Aslan was an orphaned boy from Rohan. He did not know what his parents looked like, and as far as he could remember, he had always lived among a gang of thieves in Rohan. He didn’t even know his exact age. From various information picked up from the gang, he could only guess that he was probably not older than 16.

In the rough and uneducated gang, Aslan was a remarkably standout boy. He was naturally calm, intelligent, and quick to learn. He learned various fighting techniques shown by the gang members and helped a hunter-turned-thief, learning how to set traps. One thief, a former village guard falsely accused and on the run, even taught him basic aura manipulation.

There were a few people in the gang who had bad luck and met the gang, but thanks to their useful skills, they survived. People like Seymour, the medicine man, or Gustav, the low-ranking priest. They generally held resentment towards the gang, but they were relatively kind to young Aslan. He soon learned to read and how to harvest medicinal herbs from them.

Not much later, Aslan, despite his young age, held an undeniable position within the gang.

He was the one who led the most companions among the fleeing thieves, setting out for the south early and successfully establishing his own power.

At first, Jerome didn’t care much for young Aslan, but as he got to know the various talents that Aslan possessed, he began to grow fond of him. Gradually, he started seeking out Aslan more frequently for various matters. From preparing hangover remedies and simple medicines to organizing a list of stolen goods, there were many problems scattered around that were difficult to solve without Aslan. Among them, included discerning aura users.

He had been mentally preparing himself, assuming that they would be looking for him soon, and sure enough, the leader’s confidant called for Aslan. By the time he arrived at Jerome’s quarters, two corpses were already being carried out. They were the burned prisoner and the one missing fingers he had seen earlier.

At the gruesome sight of their completely battered faces, Aslan momentarily furrowed his brows before stepping into the shack.

“Those two bastards had their tongues cut out. They just made annoying noises, so I couldn’t see any reason to keep them alive.” Upon seeing Aslan’s face, Jerome explained his unasked actions with an irritated face. Considering they were no longer in a state to work properly, their deaths were an expected course of events.

Jerome was a cruel man. His strength was as formidable as his towering physique, and his fist was quick to fly at the slightest provocation. His wife became crippled from being beaten, and his son became limp-legged after being thrown as a child. Presumably, it was Jerome who had smashed the faces of the two prisoners. 

Naturally, Aslan’s gaze drifted towards the third prisoner standing before Jerome. He was in a better state than expected. There was fresh blood at the corner of his mouth, suggesting he hadn’t escaped being hit, but it was a relatively lenient punishment.

Jerome pointed to the prisoner with his chin and spoke to Aslan, “This guy is an apothecary. He used to be a priest, but was declared a heretic and tried after conducting research on the plague.”

In other words, a useful person for our village. The third prisoner’s survival rate had exponentially increased.

“Check if this guy is a trained aura user.” 

Jerome, despite his hasty disposition, said it with an icy demeanor.

Although he’s been boldly robbing the trade top these days, Jerome is essentially a cautious man. Even with a prisoner with such a harsh brand, he does not completely rule out the possibility that they could be spies sent from Asein or Flanders.

Aslan approached the prisoner and examined him carefully. The man was taller than he appeared, and his frail body, wrapped in a loose robe, felt typically priest-like. He didn’t appear weak, but it seemed difficult to assume he had received professional physical training. Above all, it felt as though the flow of aura around him had almost stopped, a characteristic of those who were extremely weak or bedridden.

“This guy is not an aura user. Rather, his aura is unusually weak for a living person.”

Jerome nodded. “Well, if the body of a man who’s been through a heretic trial is normal, that would be even stranger.”

Aslan, thinking that his task was over and turning to leave, another order stopped him.

“See if his knowledge is really useful by taking him with you.”

Ah, Aslan hesitated to respond. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea.

Jerome’s order to ‘take him along’ essentially meant that Aslan had to take care of everything from food to sleeping arrangements for him. There was no deadline, and if the prisoner escaped by any chance, the responsibility would entirely fall on Aslan.

“Hmm…” 

As he was hesitating to respond, a sharp voice rang out from inside the shack.

“Why bother? Just kill him, father.”

A boy with a nervous disposition limped towards them. It was Jerome’s son, Kaien, who had been unable to walk properly since he was thrown as a child by the man.

Unlike his robust father, the boy often victimized by violence had a somewhat twisted and frail physique. However, he strongly resembled his father’s cruel temperament, and Kaien’s face was always distorted with rage towards his surroundings.

Even now, his fierce eyes were full of malice as they roved over the prisoner.

“Why do we need two apothecaries? We already have this guy.” He pointed to Aslan with his chin.

“Apothecaries are valuable personnel, Kaien.”

Hmph. The boy snorted at his father’s answer.

“Ah, father, think about it. Haven’t we been robbing the trade top recently? Even if you’re worried about the reaction from the Archduke of Asein, a perfect apothecary appears just in time?”

“Hmm……”

“Would you use him when it’s creepy? Why do you keep him alive at risk?”

“He’s been tried as a heretic and branded. Do you think he’s a spy sent by Asein?”

“But why does he look fine to me? Isn’t that strange?”

“That’s my business, not yours.”

“Ah, let’s just kill him off. It’s simple, isn’t it?”

“Shut up. Get lost before I land a punch.”

Aslan felt a headache coming on from the nerve-wracking argument of the two rich men.

Kaien, that bastard, was always hell-bent on killing everyone in sight. Jerome was no different, but Kaien’s stubbornness was somehow provoking a sense of rivalry. If a third party was having such a headache over this, the prisoner whose life was hanging by a thread was just blankly observing the two rich men bickering.

“Uh, then I’ll take this one with me.”

Jerome, with an annoyed look on his face, didn’t even bother to look in his direction and just waved his hand dismissively.

Aslan took hold of the hem of the robe of the prisoner, who had been standing still until then, and hurriedly left the shack.