The Imperial Supreme Commander Has Returned - Chapter 63

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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The Imperial Commander Returns – Episode 63

When I arrived at the clearing, several figures huddled around a campfire.
A young man was poring over what looked like a ledger.
Three others sat perched on a rock, cleaning their blades.
To anyone’s eye, they were a slave merchant and his hired escorts.

“Why are you so late?”

The rude question came from the young man.
His expensive clothes and ornaments spoke volumes — prosperity that couldn’t be hidden.
The slave trade clearly paid well.

Medex stepped forward.
He drawled a complaint, his voice rough as gravel.

“Look, things come up. No need to be snippy about it.”
“You’re a new face to me.”
“Second-hand hire. Used to run bandits in the Eastern Lands, but the war dried up the work, so I figured I’d switch trades.”

Medex deflected smoothly, breezy as you please.
Not long before, he’d been terrified.
His acting was remarkable.

But it wouldn’t hold forever.
He’d burned through every scrap of courage he possessed — the same nerve he’d scraped up to confess to his first love. His face held steady, but his hands trembled visibly.
If it had been daylight, he’d have been caught.

A good employer lets their people rest when they need it.
Delram pulled back the hood of the robe he’d been wearing.
The slave merchant flinched at the sight of his youthful face.

“What the… a child?”
“Don’t like hearing it put that way. Just check the wagon first.”
“Where’s the other one? Is it just you two?”
“When did that start mattering?”
“What?”
“We deliver the goods, you take the goods. That’s the end of it, isn’t it?”
“…I suppose it is.”

The slave merchant nodded.
There was something off about all this, but Delram’s logic held.
Then he headed toward the wagon, but nothing emerged.

“Hmm?”

Sensing something amiss, the escorts rose to their feet.
Two moved a hand to their sword hilts, while the third approached the wagon.
It was then that the slave merchant, appearing belatedly, waved them off with a calming gesture.

“What’s going on here?”
“Like I said.”
“Ah, so it’s just a change of supplier?”
“You can keep trading the same way as always. That’s what my father—the villa’s new master—wanted me to tell you.”
“We’ve nothing to lose.”
“Not a loss—a gain. I checked the ledger. You’ve only been moving one or two a month? We don’t operate so narrowly. We’ll be bringing in at least twenty heads a month.”
“I like the ambition.”

The slave merchant smiled with satisfaction.
Of course, the annihilation of the Human Trafficking Organization that had normally supplied them with slaves was remarkable.
But it wasn’t a group they’d built themselves anyway.
Dead or alive—as long as they kept getting slaves, what did it matter?

“Do you know the going rates?”
“Roughly. All of them together fetch about ten gold coins, don’t they?”
“Many of them are damaged goods, so the price is dirt cheap. But… since this is our first transaction, let’s just pay what’s asked this time.”
“A tidy profit, then.”

Delram and the Slave Merchant shared a thin smile and shook hands.
When they parted, what remained in his grip was a purse.
From inside came the clink of gold coins.

“Mmph, mmph, mmph!”

Naturally, only the two of them were pleased.
The [merchandise] in the wagon couldn’t keep still.
Sounds of distress, almost like convulsions, spilled out.

They were the very ones who had sold countless people over the years.
They knew better than anyone what fate awaited those sold into slavery.

“I’ll do my best going forward.”
“We’re grateful. Let’s do business again sometime, young friend.”

The Slave Merchant flashed a contemptible grin and began moving the slaves.
Then he started heading back to his base of operations.
Taking care not to be pursued.

But God always sees all things.
Today, through the eyes of a green-eyed owl.

—Hoot!

The forest’s darkness.
The owl soared through the shadows above the wagon.

* * *

Tamkin of Gulles.
Gulles was the name of the territory, and Tamkin was the name of the security chief.

Tamkin had become security chief in his early thirties.
The secret to his meteoric rise was simple.
He was the Lord’s nephew.

But surprisingly, he hadn’t drawn much resentment.
Thanks to his considerable skill as security chief.

Not that he was speaking of combat prowess.
Security work was about restraint, not fighting, after all.
The skill in question was his [Eye for Detail].
He could identify criminals from the smallest traces.

“Ugh.”

And now Tamkin was at the Inn.
He held a handkerchief to his nose, his face twisted in disgust.
The moment the door opened, the stench of blood came rushing in—that was the cause.

Only a few days had passed since the incident occurred.
The attack had come last night, swift as lightning and over in moments.
Yet the stench was overwhelming.

With each breath, the taste of iron coated his tongue.
It told him everything about how many had died here.
Tamkin steeled himself and moved deeper into the inn.

……

The inn’s structure was peculiar.
At first glance, it appeared to be nothing more than a three-story building.
But inside, the center held a spacious garden.
Three buildings arranged in a triangle, connected to one another.

Tamkin grasped its purpose the moment he saw it.
With vantage points on three sides, escape would be nearly impossible.
And the central garden, where all attention would naturally converge, was ideal for conducting certain activities.
An auction, for instance.

“Ghastly.”

Standing in the garden, Tamkin muttered the word to himself.
He could not help but do so.

At least thirty.
That was the count of corpses lying prone, their breath already stilled.
Each lay at the center of its own dark pool of blood.

What truly chilled him, however, was the furnishings.
Every dead hand clutched a weapon of some kind.
Yet the inn’s fixtures bore almost no signs of destruction.
It spoke of overwhelming skill on the attacker’s part.
Tamkin noted this detail and moved on.

“Potar……”

As he reached the center, clear signs of actual combat finally emerged.
The corpse of a massive man lay sprawled across the floor.
Around him, the walls bore savage slash marks.

The cuts carved into the walls ran deep.
Everything in the path of those slashes had been severed.
The clean cross-sections of a shattered chair, a broken table, a split plate.
All of them cut with pristine precision.
Only one force in the world possessed such power: Aura.

The corpse’s name had been Potar.
An Intermediate-rank Knight and Deputy Commander of the Knights of Gulles.
With such a figure dead, the Lord had no choice but to rage.
He’d demanded the culprit be found at once, which was why Tamkin had rushed here before dawn.
Just then, a patrol officer approached and made his report.

“Commander, I’ve questioned those in the area.”
“And?”
“No one saw anything, sir. Apparently, the inn’s reputation was such that anyone who so much as glanced its way risked harassment from the mercenaries. Most learned to ignore it entirely.”
“That figures.”

Tamkin nodded in understanding.
As he’d noted before, this was no ordinary inn.
It was a Slave Trading House that the Lord had been turning a blind eye to in exchange for bribes.

In fact, he’d even invested in the place.
So the volume of transactions there was considerable.

Naturally, it was illegal.
If discovered, the penalties could extend to stripping him of his title.
Every major religion across the continent refused to sanction slavery.

Having Mana in one’s body didn’t prevent illness.
And Divine Power was what one relied on in such cases—but make enemies of the churches?
Even a king would find himself bedridden and suffering.

So absolute secrecy was essential.
He’d even forcibly kept the gaze of the surrounding nobles averted—

“Why are they all dead…….”

Tamkin muttered weakly.
The Slave Trading House had been attacked at dawn that very morning.

Only three had survived.
Just customers who’d noticed early and fled lived to tell the tale.
Apparently they hadn’t gotten a proper look at the attackers’ faces because of it.
Those who’d been conducting these shady dealings reported late, adding insult to injury.

Everyone else was dead.
Not only the slave merchants and clients, but even the knights who’d participated to indulge their vile tastes—all had become guests who would never return.
It meant the attackers possessed overwhelming skill.

“Write this down.”
“Yes, Commander.”
“The attackers number at least three. An Intermediate-rank Knight or higher, a mage who primarily uses Wind magic, and their escort.”
“…….”
“In particular, Knight Potar bore a fatal wound to his back. That suggests an ambush—which means they don’t prioritize honor. They’re likely mercenaries or from a privateering house.”
“…….”
“And the motive is… vengeance.”

Tamkin pressed deeper as he spoke.
Following the trail of corpses as they led onward, a lavish chair came into view.
The owner of the Slave Trading House had likely sat in this very place, watching the slaves being led away, grinning with avarice.

And indeed, that assessment proved correct.
An elderly man sat in the chair.
Though “sat” was perhaps not quite the right word.
His limbs were pierced through with Short Swords and held him there by force.

His head hung limp, his breath long since departed.
Had he endured excruciating agony before the end?
There were traces he’d tried to bite through his own tongue to end it.

Pinned beside him was a portrait that bore a striking resemblance to the old man.
Anyone could see it belonged to the Trading House’s owner.

“The old man got greedy and touched someone he shouldn’t have…….”

And then, by sheer bad luck, he’d tangled with knights in the process.
He’d have preferred if it were merely that—but why did he feel so uneasy?

* * *

Knock, knock.

Tamkin rapped on the Lord’s office door.
His expression was clouded with worry.

They’d never found the culprit.
That meant despite one of only two Intermediate-rank Knights in the territory lying dead, they had nothing to show for it.
And on top of everything, the Slave Trading House he’d invested in was ruined like that…….
It didn’t take much imagination to picture the hysteria that was coming.

“I’ve arrived, my Lord.”
“Come in!”

An irritable shout, as expected.
He carefully opened the door to find the desk in disarray.
Fine spirits and appetizers scattered about suggested a visitor of considerable standing.

“Who came and left, sir?”
“Some envoy sent by an insolent bastard. Make your report!”
“Yes, my Lord. So it is…….”

Tamkin gave a brief account.
In the end, no trace had been found.
If he dragged the explanation out, the rebuke would only worsen.

At the same time, Tamkin drew up his Mana to shield his head.
His uncle might well use that liquor bottle as a weapon.

But the Lord’s reaction was unexpected.
He didn’t rage like fire, didn’t throw anything as he usually did.
Instead, he merely sweated profusely.

“…My Lord?”
“Stop looking for the culprit. That fool of a Slave Merchant! I showed favor to commoners, and now they’ve earned the enmity of such a mage and knight……!”
“You’re certain we need not pursue this further?”
“Forget that—bring me a list of capable men. They must be tight-lipped and haven’t made enemies the way that last one did.”

A terrible assumption flashed through Tamkin’s mind.
Still, he asked, half-hoping it wasn’t true.

“Uncle—are you thinking of running the Slave Trading House directly?”
“Yes. At this point, there’s no other way.”
“Uncle! No matter what, the risk is far too great. Slave trading is an underworld operation—there are limits to―”
“Shut your mouth! You know nothing!”

Tamkin tried to argue further, but it was useless.
He ended up taking the liquor bottle to the head and being driven out—that was all.
But as the door closed, a voice reached him.

“The quota…I must meet the quota…….”

The tone trembled with anxiety.
But Tamkin simply let it pass.
He sensed that pushing further would only make things worse.

And so he would regret it for the rest of his life.
That he hadn’t stopped his uncle at this moment…….

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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