The boy who had been thrown and the girl who had caught him rolled onto the floor in each other’s arms, their bodies aching from the impact. “Ah…”
The place was not a good environment for a child, but it was still better than living on the streets or being locked up inside a slave cart. It was merely a simple act of kindness that served no benefit to her; though, she thought that it might be nice in some ways.
But, while for her it was just a small kindness to let him live in a corner of her room, it could have been more than that for the boy. Such a young child could never have done anything to deserve to become a slave. She was sure his only crime was being born as the child of enslaved parents.
As she had told the boy before, she despised slavery. Perhaps because it reminded her of the images of countless slaves who had been beaten in her place by her father.
Count Rieda had used to beat the slaves in front of her without reservation, as though he was telling her how he would beat her if she were not of his noble bloodline. Slaves of about her age were dragged out with broken bones, bloody and bruised all over.
And there was only one reason for this brutal treatment. It was all because she was a cursed girl, abandoned by the gods, that the holy magic had had no effect on.