Areth let out a weary sigh as his fingers brushed against the storage ring. Eight hundred gold pieces was a staggering sum for a single slave. To put it in perspective, even the most "exclusive" slaves typically commanded a price of around a hundred gold.
Considering Rosavelle carried royal blood and possessed ethereal beauty, it was obvious she stood in a league of her own, yet eight hundred gold was still an exorbitant amount.
For a fleeting moment, Areth considered stealing the money back from the slave trader, but he dismissed the thought instantly. He was unwilling to take the risk of being blacklisted by the Merchant Guild, one of the most powerful guilds in this world. Besides, Rosavelle was undoubtedly worth eight hundred, perhaps even a thousand gold pieces.
As for why Rosavelle Dumanna was so valuable...
The Kingdom of Dumanna was a realm situated far across the sea from Olnalend, the city where Areth now stood. Rosavelle was the daughter of the late king's favorite concubine, and her story was one of profound agony and hardship. According to the original plot, Rosavelle was destined to be sold to the city's most depraved underworld kingpin.
She was to endure rape, exploitation, and relentless violence until she finally discovered her hidden power. Used like a plaything, she would eventually become a mere tool of entertainment, offered up by her master to influential figures during negotiations. Ultimately, after several failed suicide attempts, her master would lock her away, rendering her unable to even move.
Only after a long period of perpetual abuse would she stumble upon her power by chance. Her first act would be the brutal slaughter of the master who had defiled her and his entire family. But she wouldn't stop there; she would go on to massacre every inhabitant of the slave city, Olnalend. People would whisper terrifying epithets about her, and she would become the most feared name on the entire continent.
Yet, Rosavelle's vengeance would not end with the city. Her rage would not subside until she had butchered the step-family who killed her mother and orchestrated her enslavement. Finally, she would ascend the throne as the Bloody Tyrant Queen.
Ironically, in the original story, she only survived until she was killed by the protagonist, who had also failed to take his revenge. It was as if she were denied the right to avenge her own suffering. Yes, Rosavelle was one of the primary villainess of the novel titled "The Journey of a Rising Hero."
As Areth recalled the full scope of her story, he couldn't help but curl his lip in a grimace.
When he had first read the novel, Rosavelle's tale seemed tragic, yet also absurd. The author had a peculiar habit of subjecting characters to constant torment only to transform them into monsters. Rosavelle was one of the most extreme examples of this trope.
In her entire life, she had known only two things: pain and betrayal.
What finally emerged from that crucible was not a human being. It was a catastrophe.
Areth shook his head slightly as he deactivated his storage ring.
"A truly foolish story…"
But now, this woman was real, and he couldn't deny the sympathy he felt for her. Areth didn't try to banish the thought. Instead, as he took a few steps forward, he carefully weighed that emotion.
When he had read of Rosavelle's fate on the pages of the novel, what he felt wasn't exactly pity. It was more like… discomfort. Every step the author took to break the character felt too deliberate. Every tragedy, every betrayal, and every instance of abuse was engineered to push Rosavelle further toward the abyss.
It was as if the author's goal wasn't to make her evil, but to leave her no other choice but to be evil. Areth had realized this even back then. And now, by a strange twist of fate, he was walking within that very story.
And that girl…
The girl destined to become the most feared tyrant of the novel…
Was currently standing a few paces away, looking at him with a mix of shame and averted eyes.
Rosavelle remained silent for a long time.
Her head was bowed slightly, though her gaze wasn't fixed entirely on the floor. Every now and then, she would steal brief glances at Areth before quickly looking away, as if searching for something in the man's face. There was a curiosity in those eyes, mingled with embarrassment.
It was as if she were trying to decipher the man standing before her.
People who looked at her usually fell into two categories: those who looked with naked lust, or those who examined her like a piece of expensive merchandise. Rosavelle knew those looks all too well.
But Areth's gaze was different.
There was no hunger in his eyes, no desire for possession.
There was… a sense of understanding.
Because of this, Rosavelle involuntarily watched him for several seconds. Her eyes lingered on his face for a brief moment before she flinched and looked away, overcome by shame.
Areth noticed, but said nothing.
Light from the harbor filtered through the large windows of the guest room. The chamber was opulent, with thick carpets, embroidered curtains and heavy wooden furniture, all of which had been carefully chosen to flaunt the slave trader's wealth.
But the silence in the room was heavy. Rosavelle remained standing, her fingers interlaced as she waited. Areth, meanwhile, sat comfortably in a chair. Just then, there was a knock at the door.
A moment later, the heavy door creaked open.
The slave trader entered.
He was a short, stout man with a wide, greasy smile plastered across his face. His eyes held the constant shimmer of a calculated businessman. Three slaves followed behind him, all dressed in simple but clean knee-length tunics.
Behind them came a senior member of the Merchant Guild, present to ensure there were no irregularities. He watched the trader's every move, scribbling notes in a thick ledger.
The trader stopped in the middle of the room and spoke with a broad grin.
"Young man, I crave your forgiveness for the delay."
His voice was excessively cheerful.
Areth's expression remained unchanged.
The trader continued, "For a distinguished client such as yourself, I decided to procure an advanced seal rather than the standard one. That required some preparation."
The man waved his hand dismissively.
One of the slaves behind him stepped forward, holding a small black box. When opened, it revealed a thin crystal disc. Complex magical runes were etched onto its surface, glowing faintly in the room's light.
The trader turned to Rosavelle.
His eyes were filled with the cold appraisal of a merchant.
"Kneel."
Rosavelle's body tensed slightly. But she did not hesitate. She sank silently to her knees. One of the slaves moved behind Rosavelle. Another held the crystal disc with both hands, lifting it above the girl's head.
The trader joined his fingers and muttered a brief incantation. At that moment, the crystal disc began to glow. Faint golden lights began to swirl around Rosavelle's head. The runes manifested in the air one by one, then etched themselves into her skin like invisible ink.
Rosavelle's body trembled slightly. But she made no sound. She simply clenched her teeth. Areth's eyes narrowed. This was no ordinary slave brand.
The complexity of the runes was high. It probably included a mental obedience mechanism, which was a structure designed to suppress any attempt to disobey an order.
A minute later, the light began to fade. The runes remained as a faint mark on the back of Rosavelle's neck. The crystal disc went dark.
The trader nodded with satisfaction.
"It is complete."
Then, one of the slaves brought forward a small velvet tray.
Upon it lay a simple yet elegant ring.
A single, small black stone was set into the band. Deep within the stone, almost invisible to the naked eye, tiny magical symbols swirled.
The trader took the ring and held it out toward Areth.
"This is the control ring," he explained proudly.
"Rosavelle is now bound by the advanced slave seal. Through this ring, you may command her. She cannot defy your orders; any attempt at disobedience will be suppressed by the magic. Though he has already inspected it, if you wish, you may have Mr. Alderson verify it once more before your eyes," he said, gesturing toward the senior member of the Merchant Guild.
"That won't be necessary," Areth replied.
In the novel, there had been no issues with the seal, and besides, a slave trader would never dare cross the Merchant Guild. Moreover, if the Slavers' Guild heard of any malpractice, he would never be permitted to sell a slave across the nine realms again.
Areth looked at the ring.
It wasn't bright, nor was it particularly flashy. At first glance, it looked like an ordinary piece of jewelry. But the runes swirling in the depths of that small black stone spoke clearly of what it was.
Control.
Magic designed to chain a human being's will.
Areth took the ring and turned it between his fingers for a few seconds. As the runes within the stone moved, it looked as if a tiny vortex was forming.
Alderson, the senior guild member, watched him intently. The old man's face was neutral; he took neither the side of the merchant nor the client. His duty was solely to ensure the transaction followed the laws.
Finally, Areth slid the ring onto his finger. The stone pulsed with a faint light for an instant. Then, as if something had snapped into place, he felt a very thin connection deep within his mind.
A thread.
No…
A chain.
And the other end of that chain was tethered to the girl kneeling just a few steps away.
Areth tilted his head slightly.
"Rosavelle."
The girl flinched.
His voice wasn't loud; in fact, it was quite calm. Nevertheless, Rosavelle's shoulders tensed instinctively.
She bowed her head even lower.
"Y-yes… Master."