Became the Unjust Contract Slave of the Archamage’s Book

And so, their fight came to an end.

“But Inyakan.”

“Thinking about it, why should I be grateful that you trust me?”

Inyakan scratched his left cheek with his finger.

“I could have beaten you and dragged you along, but I didn’t. That’s something to be thankful for, isn’t it?”

Typical bandit mentality.

Binaeril shook his head in disbelief. Seeing Inyakan’s demeanor made him feel that the oath they had made was wasted.

Binaeril took out the crystal ball that Dean Yulio had given him from his pocket. It was connected to the pursuit team and allowed him to determine their location.

“What’s wrong?” Inyakan asked.

Comparing the magical signatures on the crystal ball with the map, Binaeril let out a dismayed groan. When they had departed from Elfenbine, the pursuit team had been moving straight east. Traveling east from Elfenbine would lead through the Principality of Pigny and eventually to Ruben. Therefore, Binaeril had planned to head straight to Ruben. But now…

“They’re moving north.”

The pursuit team was heading north from the border between the Principality of Pigny and the Kingdom of Ruben. And if they continued north from their current position, they would end up…

“The pursuit team is heading towards the territory of the Order.”

It was the Holy Kingdom of Vitory, where his brother resided.

The Principality of Pigny prided itself on being a free trade state, allowing travelers and merchants to pass through freely with only basic identity verification, regardless of whether they were criminals, nobles, or kings. The country, overflowing with gold compared to its population and area, typically showed little interest in outsiders. Binaeril had crossed the principality’s border when he enrolled in Elfenbine.

“Entering shouldn’t be an issue. We have the IDs issued by Elfenbine.”

“IDs? I didn’t get anything like that.”

Binaeril pulled out a golden badge from his pocket, displaying it. The badge, engraved with olive branches and hazelnuts, certified him as a legitimate mage from Elfenbine. Although mages were not always warmly received in the Empire, the Principality of Pigny had a more favorable relationship with Elfenbine, making this badge a reliable form of identification.

“That’s fine for you, but what about me?”

“I’ll introduce you as my companion. It should be fine.”

It should have been fine. 

Binaeril silently handed the badge to the border guard, who eyed him up and down. The guard’s reaction was peculiar. He glanced at the badge with a disinterested look and waved his hand dismissively.

“Step aside,” he waved dismissively again.

“What’s wrong with you? Don’t you recognize this?”

“I know. It’s a mage’s badge from Elfenbine.”

“Then why won’t you let us through?”

“Because I don’t feel like it, idiot.”

The guard’s companion snickered beside him.

Since when had mages from Elfenbine received such treatment? For a moment, Binaeril wondered if he was still in the Empire.

“I need to pass through here.”

“Why are you being so annoying? I said step aside!”

Suddenly, the guard pointed his spear at Binaeril.

“No one’s getting through right now! Don’t you understand?”

Binaeril’s irritation grew in response to the guard’s obstinate behavior.

“You’ll regret this…”

“Hey.”

Inyakan, who had been observing the situation with his arms folded, suddenly stepped forward. The guard flinched and stepped back. Inyakan’s presence was far more effective than any amount of talking Binaeril could do.

“Why can’t we enter?”

“The lord has imposed a curfew. No one can enter or leave!” 

“A curfew?”

“Y-yes, no one can enter…”

“The lord’s curfew?”

They were trying to enter the fortress city of Velos. The lord of Velos had absolute authority within the city. However, it was unusual for the lord of a city that thrived on commerce and travel to impose a curfew.

“A curfew?” Binaeril asked, perplexed.

The guards, clearly intimidated by Inyakan, answered more readily this time.

“It’s exactly what it sounds like. The city is under a lockdown. No one can enter, and no one can leave.”

“You’re lying. The lord would never do that unless he planned to ruin the city.”

“Look around! You two are the only ones on this wide road.”

Binaeril had indeed noticed the eerie emptiness of the road leading to the principality.

“Why?”

Binaeril pressed for more information, but the guards had reached the end of their patience.

“There’s nothing more to say. Now get lost!”

The guard’s tone was as unpleasant as it was dismissive. Binaeril glanced at Inyakan. Inyakan met his gaze, and they both realized they were finally in agreement on something.

“What are you doing?”

Despite the clear order to leave, the guards stepped back nervously, awkwardly pointing their spears.

“Get back! Come any closer, and we’ll call the soldiers!”

“Oh? I wonder if your call will be faster than my punch.”

As soon as Inyakan finished speaking, they both moved simultaneously. The guard’s poorly aimed thrust got caught in Inyakan’s bracer and snapped. The guard let out a groan of panic, and Inyakan quickly jabbed his thumb and forefinger into the guard’s throat, causing him to collapse unconscious.

The guard Binaeril faced was momentarily relieved it wasn’t him. While he was distracted, Binaeril channeled mana into the ground between the guard’s legs. A small pillar shot up and struck the guard in the groin, rendering him speechless.

One guard lost his voice; the other lost his future.

“That’s what you get for running your mouth.”

Binaeril had been rougher than usual with the guard who had taunted him.

“Let’s go inside.”

“Right.”

Without sparing a glance at the fallen guards, they entered Velos Fortress. The guards were right; the approach to the fortress had been eerily quiet, but inside was a different story.

Binaeril looked around the bustling marketplace, overwhelmed by the noise and activity.

“It’s like everyone’s been corralled in here.”

“It’s more than just a feeling; they’re truly trapped.”

The streets were crowded with peddlers carrying goods on their backs, large merchant caravans, angry travelers, and wandering minstrels. Binaeril grabbed a passerby and asked a question.

“Why are all these people gathered here?”

“Don’t you know? It’s been three days since the lord imposed the curfew. If you were trapped here, you should know.”

Unable to confess that they had knocked out the guards and sneaked in, Binaeril made an excuse. 

“I was ill and had to stay in a room to recover, so I didn’t hear the details. Why did the curfew get imposed?”

The man clicked his tongue and explained, “It’s a power struggle.”

“The lord of Velos is in a standoff with the merchants. Someone angered the lord.”

“Angered him?”

He nodded and continued, “Pigny’s wealth isn’t just because of its central location on the continent. There’s another reason.”

Binaeril already knew this much. 

“The principality’s small territory makes it easier to maintain internal security. They invest heavily in their military to ensure this.”

“Exactly. The lords of the fortresses have considerable military power. The Grand Baron of Pigny respects their autonomy and collects very low taxes.”

The Grand Baron of Pigny, though nominally the ruler, wielded little power. This made Pigny more of a decentralized state, with its lords governing their territories with significant autonomy. In places like Fairhill or Rostock near Elfenbine, village heads acted like kings in a land without a monarch. Pigny truly was “the land of the lords.”

But what kind of person had dared to provoke such a lord?

“Who was it? And what did they do to warrant a curfew over the entire fortress?”

The man looked around before lowering his voice. “Someone insulted the lord to his face, calling him a parasite who does nothing but fleece merchants.”

“…Insane.”

“I know, right? The furious lord imposed a curfew on the entire fortress, demanding they exterminate all nearby monsters before anyone can enter or leave safely.”

Whoever caused this mess was a fool. Even if they thought it, saying it directly to the lord was suicidal.

“Who was the person responsible?”

“I don’t know that!”

Seeing Binaeril’s shocked reaction, the man seemed pleased but quickly denied knowing the culprit.

‘He knows something.’

He probably didn’t want to get caught speaking out of turn.

“Oh, you don’t know. Well, thank you for the information. Let me show my appreciation.”

Binaeril discreetly took a few florin gold coins from his pocket. The man’s eyes widened.

“Hmm? No, I didn’t tell you for a reward.”

Though he said that, he was already following Binaeril to a secluded alley.

Once out of sight, Binaeril grabbed the man’s face with his palm. “Why are you doing this? Hey!”

“You will fall asleep now.”

Inyakan looked puzzled but kept watch as Binaeril gestured for him to stand guard.

“When you wake up, you will not remember meeting me.”

Binaeril channeled his mana, focusing on inducing a trance and confession. Though abstract magic was difficult, he concentrated hard, trying to mimic the aura Priya had exuded in Thornwinter Swamp.

‘It’s working.’

“Tell me who angered the lord and where they are.”

The man, drooling and entranced, responded, “They are at the Dreaming Great Whale Inn…”

The man, under the influence of Binaeril’s spell, began to spill everything he knew.

“The ones who angered the lord are from the Bemes caravan….”

“Bemes?”

The name sounded familiar.

“Could it be Gillian Bemes?”

The Dreaming Great Whale Inn. Velos Fortress, with its heavy traffic, housed many large inns capable of accommodating entire caravans. Among them, the Dreaming Great Whale Inn was known for its massive size, befitting its name and stature among innkeepers. It was a regular stop for well-known caravans, with the Bemes caravan being one of its biggest patrons.

The innkeeper, with his distinctive golden mustache resembling a sideways ‘3’, usually greeted the Bemes caravan with a warm smile. But circumstances had changed. For three days, the Bemes caravan had been stuck there, unable to leave or repack their unloaded goods, effectively turning them from esteemed guests into quasi-hostages.

Currently…

“How dare you try to send the caravan master’s son into danger alone!”

Gillian Bemes, the son of the caravan master, was loudly arguing with Pavel, a senior member of the caravan. The scene was chaotic, and the remaining guests were on the verge of leaving.