That was how the prisoner rental system worked.
Those who wished to be served by a prisoner they found appealing would pay a small sum of money to the lord and rent the prisoner.
Essentially, one could rent a prisoner during their stay in the city and treat them as if they were a concubine.
Of course, there were instances where, if things went well, the individual might end up purchasing the prisoner outright.
In the nation of the Calus Empire, to which the prison city of Olpasbet belonged, slavery was not illegal, so this practice wasn’t particularly unusual.
The prisoners who were flirting with travelers had their own reasons for doing so, enthusiastically sending winks and temptations their way.
Half of the money paid for renting a prisoner went to the lord’s side, while the other half went to the prisoner. Since most travelers visiting Olpasbet were relatively wealthy, it wasn’t a bad source of income.
Moreover, if one met someone decent, they could persuade them to buy them out of their prisoner status and live as a concubine instead.
However, the essence of this system was clear.
It was essentially a slave system permitted by the Lord of Olpasbet.
Aslan regretted having to use such terms but understood that, in reality, there was no other way.
He hadn’t properly handled his tasks in the city and still hadn’t figured out how to proceed with the main quest.
Amidst all this, he couldn’t afford to kill or injure anyone.
Aslan thought that if he had almost fought at the inn, getting kicked out like that, killing someone would have immediately made him a prisoner.
Even though Olpasbet was a city indulging in pleasures, it wasn’t lax enough to let murderers roam free.
Especially since the prisoners were considered a kind of specialty and property of the city, they wouldn’t let such individuals go unchecked.
Though Aslan had his own rationale, whether the girl would understand it was uncertain.
Sure enough, when Aslan turned his head, Angie’s eyes were beginning to show signs of suspicion.
“Are you going to rent me?”
Even without being imprisoned for a long time, one could understand what renting entailed. After all, right on the street, there were people trying to attract travelers.
It was only natural that Angie’s expression began to sour. She seemed to think that offering her this meal was part of some ulterior motive.
Aslan pondered over her reaction. He admitted that he felt the necessity of renting her services.
This city harbored a monster’s nest within it, and those with prisoner status had to pay tribute to survive.
Those who didn’t pay wouldn’t last long. Angie appeared to lack the funds to make such payments. Relying on Harold Crow seemed like an option, but the girl didn’t seem inclined towards that.
If she had intended to do so from the start, there wouldn’t have been any conflict with him.
He needed to plan based on the girl’s chances of survival.
In this situation, Aslan believed renting wasn’t a terrible choice. The timing of the rental was the issue; as long as Aslan didn’t act irresponsibly, it wouldn’t provoke her disapproval.
In fact, if he rented her and provided her with basic necessities, it might ease some of her suspicions.
Additionally, if she were rented to Aslan, her survival wouldn’t be a concern.
Although his initial statement was a way to deflect the situation, Aslan intended to use it to his advantage.
“Yes.”
To implement the plan, lying wasn’t an option. It was easier to reveal the truth and persuade her rather than hiding the intention of renting and getting caught later.
As expected, Angie’s expression twisted, prompting Aslan to clarify.
“But I’m not renting you to do anything to you.”
The girl, who had assumed perverted intentions, raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
“What kind of nonsense is that?”
While many anticipated sexual misconduct or various hidden desires, these generally occurred when the traveler who rented the prisoner wanted something specific.
Aslan’s words unsettled the girl amidst flickering red lanterns.
“I mean it literally. I want to rent you, not to do anything to you, but because I need your help.”
“Help…me?”
“Yes.”
Suspicion filled Angie’s golden eyes. Seizing the moment, Aslan continued.
“I’m a veteran.”
A veteran.
In reality, merely bait for the Supreme Divinity, but in public perception, it was different.
A master among masters.
A supreme expert.
The pinnacle of human skill.
Unbiased judges seen through the eyes of deities, recognized as the world’s greatest warriors.
That was what veterans were.
Typically, veterans either worked as mercenaries until they were killed by martial artists or earned high salaries working for nobles as problem solvers or bodyguards.
Thus, a veteran asking for help wasn’t a common occurrence, making it easy to instill the idea that one’s assistance was crucial for some mission or task.
There was no need to look further for supporting evidence.
“What kind of veteran are you?”
“A veteran of combat.”
“Combat…”
There were seven veterans in total.
Sword, blunt weapons, spear, hand-to-hand combat, bow, magic, and battle.
All experts in their respective fields, but an unspoken premise existed: the highest among veterans was the Master of Battle, capable of wielding all weapons and ensuring victory.
With that reputation, images of Aslan surfaced in the girl’s memory.
Aslan had crossed paths with Angie and the nobleman before, rescuing her. When Harold attempted violence, Aslan subdued him without resorting to force.
Naturally, Angie couldn’t help but recall these scenes convincingly.
A brief silence followed, and the girl wiped under her nose, rolling her eyes. There was no trace of suspicion left in her gaze.
“What does a great lord like the Master of Combat need from me?”
Though her tone was brusque, her eyes sparkled, and her voice tinged with anticipation rose slightly.
“I said I saw you fight, remember?”
“You did.”
“I’m the Master of Combat. When I see others fight, I can assess their potential to some extent. And according to my judgment…your potential is remarkable. Unyielding determination, broad adaptability, and mercilessness in attacking vital points without hesitation. You’re exactly the kind of talent I need as a comrade.”
Even among the impoverished, they weren’t entirely excluded from stories. Exaggerated tales and rumors became adventures for them.
Given that the girl once lived in the slums but aspired to become a mercenary for a relatively safer life, she undoubtedly possessed an adventurous spirit.
That’s what Aslan aimed for.
By identifying her potential, recruiting her as both a companion and disciple, he crafted a story akin to the beginning of an adventure tale to allure her.
And the plan worked exceptionally well.
Her expression shifted from confusion to hope and anticipation.
Aslan extended his hand to seal the deal.
“I need someone I can trust my back with. Will you become my comrade?”
The girl softened her expression with a hint of awe, trembling her lips slightly. Then, showing off a tough front, she revealed her teeth and extended her hand.
“Fine, I’ll do it. I also…needed someone I could trust my back with.”
Though boasting, her face radiated with hope.
Aslan smiled faintly. Despite her bravado, her expression was filled with earnest expectation.
‘Anyway, looking at the main quest that popped up, she isn’t completely unrelated.’
He was initially concerned about traveling companions, but that was a problem he could address later.
Even if the main quest was cleared and she never reappeared in another quest, it wouldn’t matter much.
Once she saw what Aslan faced and who hunted him, her fighting spirit would likely be broken easily.
Just as Aslan finished his thoughts, the girl asked abruptly.
“But why rent? Why not just buy me?”
Aslan shook his head.
“There’s someone chasing me. They might be in this city. If someone were to suddenly buy a prisoner, it would draw too much attention. So…”
Under Angie’s skeptical gaze, Aslan glanced at her sideways.
“I’ll rent you and break you out once we’re prepared.”
“What?”
Surprised by the statement, the girl widened her eyes and looked around a beat later. Fortunately, there was no one nearby intelligent enough to overhear and react.
“Damn, I thought someone heard us.”
Wiping her forehead with the back of her hand, Angie redirected her gaze to Aslan, who started walking ahead.
Following behind, Angie asked.
“Why?”
“Because you’re not ready yet.”
It was true that someone was chasing him.
Probably a martial artist.
A martial artist who hired mercenaries to capture Aslan.
But he doubted they were in this city.
Martial artists among priests were usually quite conspicuous.
It was also true that she wasn’t ready.
The girl’s limbs were thin.
Her hair was so long that it sometimes nearly obscured her face.
Her clothes, although relatively clean, didn’t feel like everyday wear.
To bring her to a state where she could endure minimal combat, renting her and investing considerable effort would be necessary.
The girl frowned at the suggestion that she wasn’t ready but didn’t press the matter further, seemingly understanding.
“So, where are we going now?”
Aslan glanced at the girl following behind and nodded toward the castle in the center of the city.
“We need to go rent you.”
*
Rental or purchase-related prisoner business was typically managed by the lord’s direct clerks or their assistants.
The rental process itself wasn’t overly complicated.
You just needed the money and the paperwork.
Aslan felt an odd sense of familiarity as he fiddled with the quill in front of the clerk.
On the parchment, details of Aslan’s information were written down, along with the request to rent Angela Tail for a month.
The clerk assistant barely glanced at the elegant writing while reviewing other documents.
Finally, after finishing the writing, Aslan handed over the parchment, and the assistant briefly inspected it before speaking.
“Twenty-one silver coins.”
“···What!”
The girl standing behind Aslan gasped in shock, and Aslan carefully counted out the silver coins from his pouch and handed them over.
The clerk assistant received the coins expressionlessly, checking each one meticulously before placing them into a wooden box and nodding politely.
“Thank you for your wise choice. We hope you enjoy your time here in Olpasbet. Should there be any issues or dissatisfaction with the rented prisoner, please come back here…”
The assistant’s smooth greeting paused momentarily as he noticed someone over Aslan’s shoulder.
Startled by the abrupt halt, Aslan turned his head curiously to see a middle-aged man with a thick jaw wearing armor staring at him.
“The lord requests your presence. Please accompany me.”
Speaking with impeccable politeness, the middle-aged warrior stood ready. Aslan hesitated briefly, unsure why the lord would summon him.
However, refusing the lord’s invitation wasn’t an option. Preparing to escape if necessary, Aslan followed the middle-aged man.
The warrior led Aslan up three floors.
The higher they ascended, the more peculiar moisture filled the air, and the scent of gunpowder wafted between the dim torches and lanterns.
“Here.”
The middle-aged warrior stopped in front of a large office located centrally on the third floor. He knocked lightly before stepping aside.
“Enter.”
The voice filtered through the door sounded rather high-pitched for a man.
Aslan glanced briefly at Angie behind him before entering the office.
Inside, a well-dressed man sat at a desk.
Stout with muscle, clad in a light blue doublet, the middle-aged man undoubtedly was the Baron of Olpasbet. Upon Aslan’s entrance, the baron stared silently before nodding.
The middle-aged warrior closed and locked the door behind Aslan, blocking the way with his body.
Seeing no other threatening movements, Aslan eyed the noble seated at the desk warily.
“Pleased to meet you, Master of Combat.”
The noble, the Baron of Olpasbet, greeted Aslan directly.
Aslan furrowed his brow at the recognition.
The title “Master of Combat” was indeed famous—both naturally and due to the promotion by martial artists.
But it wasn’t common for someone to identify him instantly upon seeing his face.
“How did you end up here, considering you were recently working with mercenaries in Netchagni?”
It was even rarer for someone to know what Aslan had been doing recently.
During Aslan’s puzzled observation, the baron flashed a sly smile.
