Beyond the broken stone wall, there were stone steps leading to the interior of the fortress. From far away, the faint voice of a tormented dragon finally reached her ears. For Branwen, it was a voice she hadn't heard in what felt like forever. Forgetting her fatigue, she eagerly ascended the stairs.
"It's me, Usher! Let's get out of here quickly"
Usher would welcome her. And then her desire to fall into slavery would be shattered. In order to counteract Dogura's words, Branwen kept walking even when about to stumble, the sound of her feet on the stone steps akin to the pounding of her heart. She couldn't tell how many times she had yearned for this moment. The sounds of claws and wings scraping the floor were getting closer. A friend who would share her freedom was right there.
"Usher...!!"
Her field of vision opened up. There, unquestionably, was Usher, somewhat emaciated. A body larger than a statue, covered in silver scales. His wings were folded yet they still filled her vision, like a waterfall of platinum. Crescent-shaped claws dug into the stone pavement. And blue eyes so clear that they distinctly reflected the beholder’s features. The ancient ruler of the skies, who had been revered by all people alongside her, was undoubtedly there. As Usher's blue eyes caught Branwen, he was making a wheezing sound as if he was crawling. Branwen found her voice choked with tears.
"It's me, Branwen! I'll get you out of here now."
Branwen looked at the thick shackles, thrusting her sword tip into the snake-like chain. However, that's when it happened. A tremor ran through her body, and before she knew it, she was thrown back against the wall. Usher's figure looked somewhat smaller.
―――What was that...?
Branwen, wobbling, went back to Usher's feet. She was going to break the chain again. But then came the second roar. This time, Branwen was not taken by surprise, she plunged her sword into the floor and managed to stay standing. However, she couldn't even bring herself to lift her face.
"....Why?"
Branwen had her eyes closed and her head down. It was unclear who her words were directed at. Usher's roar was an undeniable instinct of rejection. Flying dragons despise ordinary humans, especially those who have lost their nobility. That's why Branwen was able to continue being his friend for many years. Her original self, the Holy Dragon Warrior Branwen, was the most rare existence on the Continent, revered by all people and regarded as the noble being she was.
Yet, Usher's animalistic rejection, denying Branwen as one of his own, kept echoing in the cell. He spread his wings, damaging the ceiling and walls, scraping the stone floor with his claws. It was a hatred so intense that he forgot he was hurting himself in his rampage. How long did Branwen stand, contemplating, as such roars fell upon her? It might have been just a few minutes, but to Branwen, it felt like an eternity, as if she had been wandering in the underworld.
"My only friend, Usher..."
Branwen lifted her face. Usher's blue eyes, so close they were breathing on her, were clouded, having lost their light in rage. Of course, she wasn't reflected in them.
"Farewell...!"
Branwen swiftly swung her sword, this time finally severing the chain and removing the thick shackles. She then kicked and destroyed the fortress wall with all her might, inviting in the wild night wind. Outside, thousands of stars were shining through gaps in the dark clouds.
Usher turned his neck around and seemed to be engrossed in the long-unseen night sky, his threatening posture completely silent. As if he had forgotten about Branwen, he changed direction and fluttered his wings that had been folded for so long. After a few gust-like flaps, he dragged his slackened body and took flight. Branwen did not take her eyes off him. The shadow of the dragon gradually shrinking towards the sky suddenly made several sharp turns in mid-air. Whether he was regaining a sensation he hadn't experienced in a while, Usher demonstrated a flight of godspeed, unchanged from long ago. It seemed like a dance of joy that transmitted the enjoyment of freedom even to those on the ground.
Branwen merely watched the scene in silence. The dream of returning to their homeland together was over. However, even when superimposing herself onto the back of her shrinking partner, no feelings of regret or resentment surfaced in Branwen. She simply felt a fire rekindling in the depths of her heart.
A few days later, a furious Dogura began a thorough search for Branwen. Using every information network available to the goblins, he searched everywhere from the rugged land to the towns of neighboring countries. And finally, he found Branwen in a caravan traveling across the desert.
"Finally found you...!"
Branwen was in a carriage with iron bars, sitting back and looking up at her former master while on one knee. She was still wearing her training gear. She looked no different from when she was in the swamp.
"I've decided, I'll use you up until you're a worn-out rag."
".........."
Dogura, breathing heavily and openly displaying his anger, began whipping Branwen. Then, from outside the carriage, the leader of the caravan called out. It was a middle-aged man you could find anywhere.
"Dear customer, you can't treat the goods as you please."
"She's my slave, there's no problem, right?!"
"Hmm? There *is* actually a problem."
Two burly men appeared from outside the carriage and took Dogura by the arms.
"What do you guys want? I was an aide to the witch!"
"It doesn't matter. We are slave traders from country A."
"What?" Dogura was flustered. Country A was such a major power on the continent, even the Swamp Witch had made peace through treaties to avoid all-out war.
"She came to our slave caravan yesterday and pleaded for us to sell her. When we checked, we found out she was that noble Dragon Warrior! So, we absolutely plan to put her up for sale at the next market."
"Wait a minute, she's a slave who ran away from me!"
"So what? In our country, the ownership of slaves is decided by where they currently are."
"Uggh..."
"Moreover, if she ran away, isn't that your fault? If you have more to say, we might need to take this elsewhere."
The men showed a glimpse of the batons hidden in their clothes. Dogura's face turned bright red like a demon, he gritted his teeth and looked down at Branwen. That was all Dogura could do.
"So you were just a masochistic slave without pride."
"...Feel free to say as you like."
Dogura repeated his pathetic complaints and went away. That was the last time she caught sight of Dogura.
"What a pitiful master."
"....Indeed."
Then, the carriage took Branwen to the largest slave market in Country A. She looked around through the carriage bars. People from all nations were walking around in a crowded street. Slaves were standing chained here and there, with buyers and sellers even haggling over prices. It seemed that street was where the selling of slaves took place.
"Now, it's your turn, Branwen," said the caravan leader in a monotone voice.
"Understood."
Branwen waited for a while in the wings of the auction hall, still wearing Dogura's training equipment. The goblin's training gear, capable of silencing even a formidable female warrior, was also reputed in this country.
"A Holy Dragon Warrior is a rare sight. There will be many who want to take you as a concubine."
".........."
In the back, mainly female slaves were chained and waiting. Some were naked or made to wear risqué outfits. Branwen understood what kind of slave this auction was selling.
---Indeed, maybe Dogura was right.
Branwen thought about her situation. The plan to sell herself to escape from Dogura was something she would never have thought of before. She deserved to be scorned after deciding to continue life as a slave.
"Now, up next is the star of today's show. The Holy Dragon Warrior, Branwen!"
The host shouted extravagantly. Branwen, brought onto the platform, vaguely looked at the bustling crowd. All of them were affluent-looking men, faces eager to raise their bidding paddles.
"Let's start at 5000...."
---But at least they’re not Dogura.
Branwen suddenly roared like a dragon, interrupting the rapidly rising bidding for her.
"I am Branwen, the Holy Dragon Warrior! Are there any who wish to fight me!? No matter what the battlefield, I'll exceed your expectations!"
For a moment, the hall was silent. But it was soon filled with laughter. The host continued to confirm the bids as if nothing had happened. But that was okay. In Branwen's eyes, a faint fire had been lit.
Under the flowing clouds, the trade route leading to the country stretched on endlessly. Branwen looked at the scattered bandits around her, wiping the sweat off her forehead, satisfied with the successful counter-ambush. She wiped off the blood on her brand-new sword and looked at her reflection in the blade. The sturdy cloak draped down to her feet was dirty with mud and blood, and her facial expression had become more resolute.
"Lady Branwen."
One of the soldiers from the squad Branwen was leading came running from behind, reporting that the road leading to the castle had been secured. Of course, the caravan they were escorting and their cargo were safe.
"Good job. You must have had a hell of a time."
"No, no. It's all thanks to your strength, Lady Branwen."
".........."
"The commander will surely praise you as well."
Branwen looked up at the mountain sky in the opposite direction of the castle. A black dot was moving fluidly in the far sky. It was probably a dragon. Branwen let herself get lost in thought, wondering whether she could be seen from that high up. But hearing the footsteps of her subordinates moving forward, she came back to her senses, swiftly turned on her heels, and walked towards the direction of the castle.
The desert kingdom of X was located where several trade routes crossed. To ensure the safe passage of numerous merchants, the kingdom cultivated guard troops that could protect them from monsters and thieves. Most of them were slaves gathered through the vast trade routes. Branwen was also just another slave who had been purchased.
"... We're back."
Branwen shouted as soon as she set foot in the mansion where the head of the escort squad lived. By the time she arrived, it was already evening. The mansion was just like a nobleman's house in size, but rather simple, without any fancy decorations. She crossed the corridor and knocked on the door at the end. Without waiting for a reply, she opened the door to a bedroom dominated by a large bed. Despite the rest of the rough-hewn house, this room alone was filled with perfume and furnished with high-quality bedding. Branwen's face turned red in an instant.
"Hmph. Same as ever," said a man who appeared from the corner of the room, stroking Branwen's head. He was the head of the escort squad that the X nation boasted, and her master.
"I-Idiot. Don't touch me like that," Branwen blurted out.
The squad leader put his arm around Branwen's waist and stroked her head gently, as his nightly reward for Branwen after she completed her mission. When this was done to her, Branwen felt as if she, a warrior, was becoming submissive. After letting her master do as he pleased while she blushed, she went into the bathroom alone, as usual.
In the thick steam, Branwen lathered up high-quality beauty lotion on her trained, gallant naked body. Despite her life still being filled with battles, being enveloped in such expensive soap was a small luxury for Branwen now. And all of this was possible because she had met her current master.
Branwen had been moving from one wealthy slave owner to another since she was put up for auction. It was a somewhat modest life as a slave, without being whipped or humiliated in public. However, she was only ever desired as a woman. They had no use for her outside of the bedroom. Even while living such a degraded life, Branwen still vehemently showcased her martial prowess. Their masters bought women with money, so they were no better than vulgar me, but unlike monsters, they understood her language. Gradually she received requests similar to those for a mercenary, and her martial achievements grew even more. The Enslaved Warrior Branwen had become a somewhat famous figure about a year ago, three years after escaping from the swamp.
The current master, the squad leader, was the first one to buy Branwen as a warrior. From training his subordinates to the frontline of missions, Branwen served him with blood boiling excitement. Now, as a symbol of X nation's military power, Branwen had become a relied-upon figure.
"Good, get out," he ordered.
Despite the sun having long set, the bedroom was gently lit by the brightness of the desert visible through the window. In front of her master sitting on the bed, Branwen appeared wearing thin nightclothes, a pure white negligee that shimmered like a pearl.
"... Now, do what you want," she muttered, slightly looking down as she ran her hands through her loose hair. As he invited her to sit next to him, she took a seat, and with his robust arms, Branwen was gently pushed down onto the bed.
She didn't know when it happened, but Branwen had started feeling comfortable being by his side. Not just as a woman, but also as a slave. One day he told her he would free her from slavery. It was a moment Branwen had long waited for, but she rejected it.
"I'm a woman who wants to serve others. I truly think that," she said.
She had parted ways with Usher and wandered the wilderness without any plan, eventually selling herself to a slave trader. In the cage, Branwen calmly reassessed herself. In a sense, Dogura had hit the truth. Fighting under orders, fulfilling the tasks assigned to her, being a trained soldier; those satisfied Branwen's instincts better than being a revered Holy Dragon Warrior.
"That's why I'm happy to be serving you... I feel comfortable here."
More than being a warrior, she was also loved as a woman. This wasn't so bad. Branwen felt she had finally found a place where she belonged.
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