Jui-san no Oshigoto in Isekai

Slave Knights - Knights called that exist in Ravan territory.

The reality is a combat group made up of slaves owned by Lords of Ravan Territory, Doni Ast Ravan.

Old and young, men and women, people and sub-people, are made up of about two hundred people, leaving the gates of Hydra and the security of the castle at their disposal.

The leader of the regiment is Liz-Vaat Savi.

She is a young but legal skilled person named sixteen and binds slave knights to also possess physical abilities and unusual combat skills as a subhuman.

There is no seniority in this group. It's a complete system of strength just because everyone is a slave.

The overriding directive given to such slave knights was to ensure the safety of "underneath".

I have been told not only to submit to Donnie, but also to be in a good mood if necessary.

Liz, in particular, had a direct life telling him to always refrain beside the wind if he didn't even have a special use. They thought I was a stone and two birds because my arms stood and I was a woman once.

That was annoying to her.

Usually I sit (sleep) great in the captain's office, or I can't disobey my owner's orders if I just put him in a mock fight in the barracks.

Slaves had ”laws" inscribed on absolute obedience and souls, whatever the Lord's command.

Whether they want their bodies, or their lives, it doesn't matter what their will is.

It was normal here to be treated like things, not people, at the time of enslavement.

A slave knight is just a name. It's just a consumable used on behalf of a costly ordinary knight.

So now that Minami was resting in a room with a Hadrian cleric, Liz had to keep her as a bronze statue outside the room like a soldier.

But doggy - too, that's painful for her in Wearwolf.

He is silent with a difficult face as to whether it is unpleasant to be connected to a place like this.

I can't help but wonder at the slave knights that are in charge of security as well.

It's stressful on my stomach just because my boss is standing next to me, yet I didn't feel like being looked at like this.

(Hmmm. I guess I can't let that go if it's under my nose and my opponent)

But the truth is, Liz wonders if she can be clueless.

The other guy even yesterday gave Nora a handkerchief and a voice of hard work to guard the patrol. Thank you. Unlike Donnie, he seems to be a man who tries to treat slaves equally.

So I think I'm going to say I don't mind if I just try a little bit.

If you enter the room properly, the rest should belong to this one.

Well, let's even practice making cat strokes.

And, usually, he was running his head full that he only used for about two things to sleep and fight.

It's not something to think about that you're just not used to. The face had a similar level of risk to when thinking about combat maneuvers.

"Lord Commander. May I have a word?"

I was plotting that, and a big man with muscular bones came.

"It doesn't matter. What's up, Glenn?

His name is Glen-Ford Servi. He's the deputy commander of the Slave Knights.

The age will be forty, but the decay will be fine dust. Instead, the cohesive air is equipped with the weight and sharpness backed by experience, making you feel the strong man of war.

A decent organization would make him the head of the Knights.

"There's a move on the people who were watching. Daimyo, you must have heard the subpoena success and moved on to action. We've eliminated any undercover detectives heading outside the city. What about the guys who stay in the base?

"I knew it, I overlooked it, I warned you, and then all you had to do was crush it. I wonder if there were a total of three bases. I'll go for one. And then it would be enough to properly organize subhuman excellence in perception that he is good at erasing the signs. Glenn is directly in charge of combat, so I'll leave the appropriations to you."

"Ha, that's as tough as ever. Do you want to put your hands on the guard here?

Glenn laughed out loud at the insignificant bad reviews.

He is a man of great mind and weight, as is his physique, and among slave knights he is placed his trust as a great black pillar. If you're going to make an impression on an animal, you're a big, gentle bear.

It is usually Liz who makes fun of it in front of everyone.

The only thing I could think of was sleeping and hunting. The captain could pull a bunch off, and he could bring up diverse people because there was opposite leadership between the two.

"There's that“ white suit ”in there, isn't there? If we're going to attack, we have to bring even the finest killer or dragon breed. So enough with the excess of poor combat. Or the one who needs a break.... Yeah, but maybe we should get a woman anyway."

Kihiko, and Liz, the villain, slackened her mouth, looked back at the other guard.

This face is a very bad face.

In slave knights, Mr. Liz is well known for this face when he is mean, and today's target was a sub-woman knight who was guarding with him.

Thirteen when I was a year old. She was too young a girl to call a knight.

Quina looks terribly frightened of what she will do, who trembles excessively.

They don't know that's inspiring Liz's addiction again.

"Quina. Look, you say you prefer hero colors, right? We don't have any loco breaks, and if they bring us in, we'll take a break and we'll finally be happy. What, don't worry about me. Besides, if you're on the bed, losing won't kill you, so it's an easy fight."

"Oh, no. Then I... will fight, better..."

"Hmm. So you're following me? Donnie's brother is the best you've ever unleashed. I'm sure it'll be fun to kill."

"Do -... ugh"

I wish I could have honestly said no, but I can't do that.

The opponent is the head of the regiment, assuming full command. Liz has the authority to decide which knight to put on a high casualty arrow in the next fight.

It was the work of the unskilled, and Quina was anxious in her heart that it was its reserve.

I'd like to think not, but it might depend on Liz's mood to get there.

Quina asked Glenn for help with her gaze as she shook the devil's grin in front of her.

(I can't even wash it. Sorry)

No words, but Quina despaired at the trick of scratching the back of her head in silence.

From the standpoint, what can a general soldier do if he is abandoned even though only the deputy commander can give Liz an opinion?

She moisturized her eyes and was going to cry if it was even a little thing, but Quina had managed to work hard on that line.

He thinks crying and begging for mercy in a place like this is useless proof.

(Though my heart takes something to look up to)

Glenn is impressed when he works hard, even though he's shaking like a kitten hit by rain.

I wish my body could follow that feeling, but there are few examples where strength comes with it, like Liz. That is the abomination of heavenly extraction.

At the same time Liz was impressed again.

On the contrary, she was overly impressed, and she accidentally wanted to do a pepper and tongue lick.

If you want her to say it, it's still only if prey is what you try to scratch to the end, even if you put your nails up and threaten her.

This appearance was really “delicious” again, and it gave me a soothing look.

"Hmm, what's going on?

That's why I want to try to keep up with you.

Liz let her worry with a gentle enough face to relax.

And yet Quina is a phantom: 'Which do you prefer to die or be held?' I thought I heard a voice.

The cold sweat stains.

As he stiffened his back, he was gently stroked with his fingers along his cheek, and in his ear he said, "Ku i na?" and they whisper their names. I even felt comfortable getting my real name grabbed by a witch.

"No, the..."

Quina can hardly respond. I was afraid of a mis-response and had to solidify.

As a slave, she knew exactly how irrational the world was, so Liz's whims were horrible and unpleasant.

I felt terribly ambiguous about the boundary between phantom and reality.

Although the history of becoming a slave knight varies from person to person, Quina was a rare example of falling out of a merchant's house of moderate stature.

About a year ago, I ran into my father and a bunch of people who chase him off with the power of a knight named Bandit Knight when he buys out merchandise. She was stripped of her luggage and body, and she managed to escape with her father thanks to the fact that she threw out the merchandise.

But because of the loss, the house was no longer able to make a living, and the cracks spread gradually to the family.

As a result, Quina was sold into slavery by her trusted father.

I still don't want to believe they traded me for gold.

I shouldn't have done one thing wrong. The house collapsed, my parents betrayed me and even enslaved me.

- How unreasonable. If there was a god, how cruel would that be? He was an opponent I couldn't hate enough to hate.

And irrationality goes beyond that.

"Ugh, hih..."

Quina was so overflowing with tears when she remembered from it that she was so heartbroken that she hyperventilated.

Under the slave trader, she has become an anthropophobic step-by-step male hater who has tasted so much that she continues to be exposed to inferior eyes and hands as a commodity and says she doesn't like the ugliness of a man.

She had managed to gain nothing by being served by a slave knight like that.

But that seemed to be because it was determined from appearance that it would be usable in intelligence or something.

But that means "as long as you have the appearance, you can change it." So I knew repeatedly that Quina, who had no power whatsoever, was most at stake herself.

She was labeled from the beginning as only worthy of her appearance.

"Li, Captain Liz..."

Liz touches Pong on the shoulder of the unanswered and tearful Quina.

Quina alternated between Liz and the door, which seemed to imply "I'll leave the spear to you the most," and became more and more confused.

I still remember being a slaver and palpitate if I put a stranger in front of me.

I don't like dying to be held by a man who looks at people like a toy.

But if I don't dance the way Liz wants, they'll send me to a dead end later. In that case, there was no way for me to survive useless.

Only at a time like this do I recall a companion who followed a tragic death on the battlefield.

How many arrows stabbed all over my body.

I got skewered by countless pikes and messed up.

He was crushed in the head with a mace or slapped in the leg with a great sword and bled to death.

There are still people who survive.

But there's no treatment for just a slave opponent. The only procedure was to wrap and connect the wound with a bandage.

The fellow who managed to survive cutting ahead is rolled into bed just because he was bandaged by a wound.

At first, fine.

Later, however, he became feverish for days, his wounds putrefied, and at the end, his necrotic arm fell just pulled by the caregiver to wake up his body.

- That kind of replaces me and makes me chase experience it.

Getting messed up, moaning at the pain, being done, the wound pus, rotting, disappearing.

(I don't want to die, and I don't want a man... But, but -)

I don't want to die like that.

He told me to kill him. I just didn't like the same end road as the guys I hit around.

Compared to that, it still seemed better to treat them in slave traders. Toy handling and palpitations just make your mind less polished. It was still a viable option.

And.

"Ha ha. It's a joke, Quina. I'm sorry to hear that, but don't cry. - Hmm?"

Liz laughed at the place where Quina was supposed to be, but she couldn't see.

I looked beside him because I was crazy, and I was there.

The head and everything went all around. Quina banged the door as she scratched half a beard! and they were leading to an outrage that pushed open.

Apparently, your voice is going through a state of getting into your ear.

Shh, and silence dominates the place.

She even thought it was over when she remembered the meaning of the outrage she had committed with the wind and Chloe's gaze that flew in.

It is no longer disrespectful to the neck if Donnie is the opponent.

"... hmm?

He was inside - the wind sight was studying the language, apparently.

When I twist my neck, I walk up to a visitor all of a sudden.

Every step of it seemed like a second reading of the death penalty for Quina, and she was shaking her legs.

At the bottom of the line she knows very little about rumors of wind sightings.

I only thought he was in the same presence as Donnie because he only has orders to be absolutely obedient.

I just wonder what they might pull me off as disrespectful, kick me in the minute of slavery, and maybe that's about it if the bug is in a good place.

So she had trauma flashing back and twitching with fear.

But the wind that walked over gave me a worried look at her complexion instead of putting it on my hands.

Besides, I'm a human being from another world, but I just learned the awful words, "Is something wrong?," he asks, stroking his head like a toddler.

"Huh. Ah, agu. The, uh, me, I..."

Quina managed to fix it.

But nothing is wordless. The moment I say it, it all weathers and falls apart.

"Don't worry. It's okay."

I don't have much vocabulary yet. I tell that in few words.

For Quina, that coincidentally coincided with my father's words I heard at an early age.

When wild dogs chased me, or when I saw demons and got scared, I was flabbergasted by those words.

It was the warmth I should have lost.

The moment I felt a nostalgic fatherhood in my hand stroking my head, something that was strong about Quina was easily broken.

"Huh..."

Then again, instead of being held, it is the end of embracing the wind and crying out.

Confused about what was going on, the wind gaze was giving Liz and Glenn a glimpse.

"Mmm, that's sloppy. I wanted to be like that anyway..."

"No, no, more than that, Lord Commander. Your Highness is still waiting for an explanation, isn't she? I'll sue you with my gaze."

"Ha ha. Grayne? I'm not really up for a head-on battle. This is the Vice Commander's battlefield, I'll take care of it."

"Uhm, I thought so"

Liz, clapping her shoulders, just walks away.

Trouble flaunts me, and I seem willing to run and hunt as I please.

Creating wrinkles between the eyebrows was always Glenn's role.

Donnie, leave the equivalent VIP alone. This is a terrible story.

Glenn, who shows his unrivalled work on the battlefield, also went to the challenge with his face ready for a struggle.