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Chapter 5 - A Gimlet Inside A Pocket(1)




Chapter 5. A gimlet inside a pocket(1)
Translator: BaeBae
“Why are you praying to the emperor?”
Juan asked the Faun who was still in the middle of praying. Looked like he was flustered for a moment.
“Why? I’ve never even once actually thought about it.”
“The Emperor is dead. Just like the gods. So why are you praying?”
“He’s not dead. But…. hmm, fallen asleep. Proof lies in that at the imperial center, his corpse still remains and hasn’t decomposed.”
“Hasn’t decomposed?”
Juan tilted his head in doubt but thought maybe the magicians or his dedicated followers used some chemical to achieve this feat.
The practice of creating a mummy was a technique that was known during his days as emperor. But never imagined, it would have been done on him.
“That’s right. This is a ritual for his promise. Promise that the emperor’s wandering soul will return when the time is right.”
“Well it seems like all the slaves who died here weren’t enough.”
“It was due to our betrayal that he had to suffer, now the pain should be given to us.”
‘Our’ suffering huh.
Juan thought about Gared, the one who stabbed him.
He knew his death was because Gared betrayed him.
But the people left in this world thought differently.
For what godforsaken reason, did they think they are responsible for another’s sin.
“Complete fools.”
He could have said it just to himself but he didn’t hold back his thoughts.The Faun smiled bitterly.
Was it necessary to say those words?
“Instead, why not go and pray to the inspector? The inspector is a living being, very powerful and at least he can actually listen to the prayers and react to it. Or creatures and even the gladiator champion. Whichever one, it is better than a corpse.”
“Everyone is praying to the emperor.”
“Right. And everyone’s the same. Fools. I should have replaced praying with self neck hanging. Then people would only pray when they are actually in dire situations. Furthermore, the number of idiots would decrease…..”
Juan shut his mouth. He noticed that the crazy woman was praying with the most upright posture in this cave.
The Faun lightly patted Juan’s back.
“Understandable that you don’t like the emperor. Especially if you came from outside the empire.”
Juan snorted.
“I can’t explain in detail, but say what if you could lean on an existence far superior than me? Wouldn’t it feel good if someone that even the inspector or the director couldn’t mess with is on your side?
“So all this pain is a step required for a better future?
“Yes. It’s all part of the grand emperor’s plan.”
“What do you think is the plan for all these gladiator slaves in an outskirt town?”
“Being a lowlife Colosseum slave, I wouldn’t know. Nor would you know. Same applies for our lady. However, everyone believes once the plan is fulfilled, they will come to understand and be rewarded for their pain.”
“But isn’t the emperor, someone who was born for the sake of the human race? Once the grand plan is fulfilled, do you think a Faun would also receive any rewards?”
The Faun’s expression slightly stiffened at Juans words.
He then looked at the porridge bowl and went silent. And then with an embarrassed smile shrugged his shoulder.
“Well, like you said, we could really be an existence comparable to a grain of sand. An insignificant grain of sand inside a giant Colosseum that his majesty the emperor is intending to build.”
*****
The inspector had a headache all morning. It was because he received an order from Daaron the Colosseum director.
In a few days, a festival was to take place to celebrate the emperor’s birthday.
The Colosseum was the biggest arena in Tantil and often would host city wide events.
In preparation for the event, he was extremely busy but another command was issued which made his headache go up a level.
‘Sand dyeing? Why do something useless as that….’
The Colosseum’s floor was covered with sand. The sand floor often had teeth, hair, rotten bits of flesh that was missed during the clean up.
Because of this, new sand would be brought in weekly. And everytime Daaron ordered the sand to be dyed.
Inside the Colosseum, the sand wasn’t white. The colour should always fit the occasion.
Daaron who was obsessed with gladiator battles, took small details very seriously.
The problem was, sand dyeing was hard work that took a physical toll on one’s body.
But orders were orders.
The inspector visited the cave to pick slaves he needed for the job.
He couldn’t use gladiators to dye the sand so he was looking for useless slaves with no worth.
But not long after he entered the cave, he noticed a strange sight.
“Who did this….”
“Did Lecto do this to kill time?
“Lecto? If that big idiot came into the cave, we would have seen him.”
A group of soldiers congregated next to a wall muttered silently.
Inspector got irritated as to know what on earth the soldiers were doing at their work station.
“What? Was there an accident?”
“Ah, inspector. Have a look at this”
Once the soldiers moved to make a gap, a big hole in the center of the wall could be seen. The hole was almost big as a human height so it felt peculiar.
Beneath it, a large rock was broken into many pieces. The biggest piece came up to a person’s waist.
“This was too big so he told them to leave it but then when we had a look this morning it was broken.”
“There’s a slave that can break this?”
“With a pickaxe? You’re mad. Your wrist would break before the pickaxe would.”
The inspector scans the broken area.
It was really difficult to break a rock the size of an adult without the right equipment.
Maybe a skilled masonry could, but there was no reason for such a skilled individual to be sold off to a fighting arena. Obviously no signs of explosives or fire being used could be seen aswell.
“Did you ask the slaves?”
“Yes, already asked. But they gave an absurd story….”
“What did they say?”
“Uh…..”
The soldier told him the story.
Listening to his words, the thought of sand dyeing disappeared. Replaced was a distorted expression.
“The kid?”
*****
“Come in”
The door opened and a shabby looking boy walked into the room.
Inspector analyzed the boy’s appearance as he made his way into the room through the door.
Disheveled muddy clothes that hadn’t been washed for a while. Greasy hair.
It was a common look of a slave.
But his eyes told a different story.
Eyes that had no emotion behind it. If there is any, maybe a hint of annoyance.
The inspector couldn’t help but feel weird. If gladiators existed above slaves, soldiers were above gladiators and above all of them was himself.
Usually, when he brought slaves into his room most were scared or tense regardless of the reason why they were here.
Checking to see if the boy is in a right state of mind, the inspector asks his name.
“Name?”
“Juan.”
An immediate reply. The boy did not look mad nor tense.
Juan. The inspector brooded over his name, but also thought highly of his boldness.
“Name matches the emperor. A good name.”
Juan didn’t retort.
“Juan. Did you break the large rock inside the cave?”
“Yeah.”
The inspector pondered on how to react to Juan’s way of speaking.
Tantil was a settlement in the most outskirts of the empire and slaves were often captured from outside the empire. He had met slaves who couldn’t speak the empire’s language.
If Juan couldn’t speak the empire’s language well it was understandable.
“How?”
“With a pickaxe.”
“……….How with a pickaxe?”
“By prying the pickaxe.”
That went without saying. You couldnt dig a rock with a pickaxe.
The inspector suddenly had an urge to pry Juan’s head. Brooding over his replies, a thought passed his head. For a bit, he made a nonbelief expression then slowly asked a question.
“How many times did you pry the rock”
“Didn’t count ….. Maybe all day yesterday?
Inspector stood up and felt Juan’s arms. Then moved down to his hands where callas had start to form.
The inspector was soon disappointed.
Juan’s body was plain average. It wasn’t at all strong.
“It’s a rock that even adults wouldn’t be able to break after a week let alone a day. No, for starters it’s a size that cannot be broken with a pickaxe. So how on earth did you ….”
“Ah, that would be the case if you’re randomly prying all over the place.”
Juan interrupted the instructor and replied back curtly. The instructor ignored his tone and understood the meaning behind his words.
“Wait. So you pried the same spot for the entire day?”
Juan nodded his head. His vibe gave off a feeling ‘what’s so hard about that’.
Instructor pulled out a dagger from his waist belt. Juan looked at the dagger presented before him and raised his eyebrows. He gave back a ‘What am I supposed to do with this’ face.
He knew giving a weapon was dangerous, but had confidence that he wouldn’t lose to a child. And above all that he placed his curiosity first.
“Use this to stick it on the desk.”
Juan gave a suspicious glance then accepted the dagger. As requested, he brought it down on the desk.
A single white blemish was left on the solid wood desk.
Inspector nodded his head.
“Do it one more time.”
Juan sighed as he brought it down again on the desk.
The dagger was brought down on the exact same spot Juan made before.
The inspector nervously fiddled his lips after looking at the dagger rooted without a single margin of error.
Juan didn’t line up the angle nor readied his shoulders. He simply did it instinctively.
“Once more ….”
Kwak, Kwak, Kwak, Kwak, THUD!
Before the inspector could even finish his words, Juan repeatedly stuck the knife on the desk five times.
On the last attempt, half of the dagger rooted itself into the desk.
No damage could be found anywhere else except where the dagger had been rooted.
Juan looked at the inspector with an expression that asked ‘are we done?’
‘He’s for real.’
There’s a saying where water drop could penetrate a rock.
If water continuously dropped on the same dot over hundreds, thousands of years, a hole would form and eventually completely pierce it.
Concentration to be able to consistently stab on the same single spot.
This boy was able to do this.
‘A tremendous talent’
Accurately swing his weapon as intended and freely move it as he wants. An attribute that was highly sought in a swordsman.
Additionally, a touch of ill mannerism and overflowing with self confidence.
His superb concentration would stay with him on a battlefield.
‘Too talented to be rotting away as a slave.’
The inspector summarized.
His job wasn’t just simply to buy slaves and make sure they didn’t die.
His role as an inspector entailed growing talented seeds into swordsmen where there was potential or cut them down if they posed a threat.
“You…. what’s your age?”
“No clue.”
“Okay. It’s not really important. A little more height and a few years, it’s possible you could surpass Lecto as the gladiator champion…. But to raise you until then could be tricky.”
The inspector looked truly regrettable as he spoke.
If Juan was 13 or 14 years old, he would have suggested to Daaron the director to train him into a gladiator.
But Juan was too young.
And yet, he was too talented to be passed up on.
The inspector thought for now, keep him at arm’s length close by till the time comes when he could use him.
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