Became the Unjust Contract Slave of the Archamage’s Book

Priya asked, “Do you think that would work?”

“It’s a spell passed down from the ancestors. If there are more descendants, wouldn’t that make the spell’s power stronger?” Her suggestion was speculative, and there was no certainty behind it.

Binaeril looked at Inyakan and asked, “Is that true?”

“Hmm… The Inya warriors have a ritual before large battles where they gather and shout together. It’s meant to boost morale and solidify their resolve.”

“If that’s the case, then it would be better with more people than just one, right?”

“That’s obvious.”

It might be true that the Inya tribe’s magic only manifested its full power when they gathered together, as Priya suggested. However, there was one critical point that needed to be addressed.

-Veritas, if the Word Spirit of Inya is indeed a fragment, wouldn’t Yunnaeril have already absorbed its power?

-I’ve thought about it while you all were talking. If Starfall had absorbed this power, then there’s no way this barbarian’s words would carry any magic.

-Then how do you explain Yunnaeril’s rampage?

If Yunnaeril hadn’t absorbed the fragment’s power, there would have been no reason for his rampage. And if he hadn’t gone on a rampage, the Inya tribe wouldn’t have met their end at his hands.

-There’s only one possible explanation.

Veritas offered a hypothesis, which was unusual for her. She usually dealt in facts.

-Starfall only absorbed a portion of the fragment that the Inya possessed.

Binaeril found himself agreeing with Veritas’s speculation, though nothing was certain yet. The true nature of the Word Spirit would only be confirmed if they could recreate it.

“Then we have a problem,” Binaeril said.

“I understand that you want to hear that spell again, but isn’t it impossible now?” Priya pointed to Inyakan. “He’s the only one left who bears the name of Inya.”

It was a tragic situation. If Yunnaeril hadn’t fully absorbed the Inya’s fragment—a theory, albeit an uncertain one—then his rampage had led to the death of everyone who could harness the fragment’s power, except for Inyakan.

“So, what do we do?” Binaeril asked, though it was clear that there was no easy solution.

The two mages continued to ponder, but it was Inyakan who spoke up first.

“There is a way.”

“What do you mean?” Priya asked.

“If we can find warriors like the Barbaroana, who are willing to follow my lead and shout together, that might work. They may not have the same intense power as the Inya, but many neighboring tribes have similar traditions.”

“They can be persuaded. Inyakan is revered and admired by all the other Barbaroana tribes,” Inyakan declared with confidence. Binaeril and Priya exchanged glances. It wasn’t entirely implausible, though his self-praise was a bit over the top.

“But will the warriors from other tribes be enough to fully harness the power of the Inya?” Priya asked, still skeptical.

“From what you said, sister, it seems the key lies in the role of the lead chanter. If the others only serve to amplify the power of the Word Spirit, then we have the most powerful catalyst right here.”

That catalyst was Inyakan himself. Even if the entire Inya tribe were alive, no one else would have embodied their spirit as much as he did.

“True. It’s not certain, but the possibility is there…”

“Definitely,” Binaeril affirmed, feeling a glimmer of hope for the first time.

Binaeril smiled at Inyakan and asked, “So, Inyakan, which tribe was closest to the Inya?”

The tribe Inyakan mentioned wasn’t far away. As they prepared to set out, one person spoke up—Paladin Callisto, who had been silently observing.

“I will not go,” Callisto stated firmly.

Everyone turned to look at him.

“I’ve learned all I needed about the past. The stories of the commander, the sister, and Lord Binaeril—stories I didn’t even need to hear, I heard them all.”

Callisto felt that staying among these people was detrimental to him. He had sworn to take revenge on Binaeril in front of Matthias’s corpse. But the more he listened to Binaeril, the more his resolve wavered, because he was beginning to understand Binaeril’s perspective.

He didn’t want to become a man who couldn’t keep his word.

“Sir Callisto, where will you go in this harsh cold?” Priya asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t even know what I should do right now.”

He turned to look at Binaeril.

“Lord Binaeril, the vow I made before my brother’s death is not something I take lightly. I have not forgiven you. Just as you sought the commander’s life, so too will I seek yours.”

“…Thank you for your consideration,” Binaeril replied, understanding that the fact Callisto hadn’t drawn his sword during their time in this remote cave was, in its own way, a kindness.

“When we meet again…” Both men began to speak at the same time. Binaeril nodded, allowing Callisto to finish.

“I will cut you down.”

“I will remember that,” 

Paladin Callisto left, taking the carriage he had brought with him. Now, only Binaeril, Inyakan, Dominic, and Priya remained.

“We should get moving too,” Binaeril suggested.

“Indeed. The nearest tribe is the Cherokee,” Inyakan replied.

It took them less than half a day to reach the village in the magic carriage. However, when they arrived, they found the place deserted.

“No one here.”

“Not a soul.”

“Not even a rat.”

Inyakan’s knowledge of the area was outdated. It wasn’t uncommon for tribes to relocate, especially over long periods. Binaeril shot an annoyed glance at Inyakan.

“Ahem, ahem…”

“Let’s try another nearby place,” Binaeril suggested.

They searched for all the other tribes that Inyakan remembered in the vicinity, but it was all in vain. Not a single person remained in any of the locations.

“Why? A tribe or two might relocate, but for all of them to disappear like this?” Inyakan wondered aloud.

Priya provided the answer. “With so many demons infesting the area, anyone would flee to somewhere safer.”

The reason the neighboring tribes had vanished was clear. The demons left behind by Starfall had overrun the nearby villages, turning the entire region into a wasteland.

“It seems unlikely we’ll be able to rely on the neighboring tribes for help. Do we have any other options?” Binaeril asked.

“There is one, though it’s not ideal…” Inyakan hesitated before explaining his new plan.

The Inya tribe had lived deep within the region of Barbaroana, a place far removed from civilization. The deeper a tribe lived within the snowy wilderness, the stronger, more resilient, and more capable they were at surviving. This was the case for the Inya, as Inyakan described them.

However, not all the Barbaroana tribes lived in such remote and harsh conditions. In fact, the opposite was true for many. Numerous tribes had settled closer to the Empire’s borders, where the weather was milder, and it was easier to raid nearby settlements for supplies.

“The only option left is to seek out the drifters who have abandoned their pride as Barbaroana,” Inyakan suggested, using the term “drifters” with a hint of disdain.

There was a reason for his choice of words. Among the southern tribes of Barbaroana, some had struck deals with the Empire’s soldiers, trading loyalty for survival and supplies. Inyakan saw them as people who had abandoned their pride.

“Then we should head south and make contact with them,”

“It seems that’s our only option now. Though I don’t like it,” 

Binaeril steered the magic carriage southward.

Meanwhile, Indigo, the chieftain of the Senega tribe, was in high spirits. This month alone, three smaller tribes had already been absorbed under the Senega tribe’s banner. In the increasingly harsh environment of Barbaroana, smaller Barbaroana tribes were consolidating under the leadership of a few powerful ones, and the Senega tribe was one of the most prominent among them.

This success was largely attributed to the so-called wisdom of their chieftain, Indigo. The Senega tribe had not suffered from hunger; in fact, they had an abundance of food, a rarity in Barbaroana.

“Khan Indigo, we’ve finished tanning the hides. Should we load them onto the cart?” 

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me ‘Khan’!”

“Well, what should I call you then if not ‘Khan’?”

“You should address me as ‘Lord Indigo,’ as I’ve told you countless times!”

“And what exactly does that mean?”

“It’s how you address someone who has been knighted.”

“Isn’t that a custom of the civilized people? Besides, you haven’t even been knighted, Khan.”

The man who kept responding with these retorts was Bekom, Indigo’s close aide and the vice-chieftain of the tribe. Annoyed by Bekom’s backtalk, Indigo grabbed the nearest object and threw it at him. Unfortunately, that object happened to be a letter opener gifted by the Margrave.

Bekom ducked just in time, narrowly avoiding the flying letter opener, and looked at it stuck in the wall with a puffed-up neck, much like a bird ruffling its feathers in irritation. The reason Indigo kept Bekom close was simple: Bekom was the strongest warrior in the Senega tribe.

“Have you lost your mind?”

“…Sorry,” Indigo apologized, handing Bekom a loaf of white bread as a peace offering before sending him away.

“These damn ignorant fools. I really should hurry up and submit to the Margrave.”

The Senega tribe’s rise to become the most powerful single tribe in Barbaroana, surpassing other tribal alliances, was thanks to none other than Indigo’s “business partner.” This partner was the Margrave Valhardt, the lord of the Empire’s frontier bordering Barbaroana. 

In exchange for sending the “less useful” Barbaroana tribespeople to the Margrave’s fortress, Indigo received enough supplies from Valhardt to keep the Senega tribe well-fed and then some. Their alliance had grown even stronger recently, largely due to the appearance of demons in the north.

Barbaroana was known for its harsh winters, which made food scarce, but it also meant there were few threats apart from the cold. The biggest threat in Barbaroana had always been the demons. Except for a few rare species adapted to the cold, most ordinary demons couldn’t survive in the frigid lands. 

However, recently, a horde of demons that had taken over a northern village began to encroach on the territories of other tribes. The smaller tribes, having no other choice, reluctantly migrated south. But the south was already home to established tribes like the Senega, making survival for these newcomers difficult. Most of them ended up swallowing their pride and joining the Senega tribe, except for a few tribes from the far north who only had their pride left to cling to.

“Damn Cherokee bastards,” Indigo muttered.

The Cherokee tribe, like some other northernmost tribes, was known for being one of the strongest among the Barbaroana. The Cherokee had settled like an immovable stone within the Senega tribe’s territory, refusing to budge. Neither persuasion nor threats, nor any of the schemes Indigo devised, had any effect on them. Figuring out how to deal with the Cherokee tribe had become Indigo’s biggest headache.

“Khan Indigo, someone has come to see you,” Bekom announced, having returned after delivering the bread.

“I told you to call me ‘Lord’… Ah, forget it. Who’s come this time? Are they bringing offerings to our tribe?”

“No, they’re not.”

“They aren’t Barbaroana this time.”

“Who else could be left in this snowy wasteland besides Barbaroana or those cursed demons?”

“They’re civilized people.”

Indigo’s eyes widened. It was clear that these were guests of the Margrave. Without hesitation, Indigo rushed out barefoot to greet them.