Chapter 4 – Trust

A year passed - or maybe more.

For Michael, it might as well have been a day or a decade. The mundane, repetitive days made him lose track of time. While he had to admit that the working conditions were far better than he was used to, it didn't make them good by default. The guards had eventually lost interest in lashing out at him but not until dozens of scars had marred his back for life. During that time, Michael had barely interacted with anyone except for Arthus, who had often accompanied Michael and took care of him on his own accord. Michael was grateful for the kind gestures, but at this point, he had already returned to the hollow and soulless husk of a human that didn't bother about anything or anyone.

Concerned about the troubled Michael, Arthus had tried various ways to comfort him. For example, he'd adviced him about how he could acquire a similar position like him and became a favorite of the Captain.

In Arthus' case, he'd been rewarded for turning in one of his findings he'd found during mining. When he'd found an artifact buried within the earth with potential magical properties, Arthus could guess at once that it had to be something special. Instead of handing it over to one of the guards, he took the risk and directly confronted the Captain about the matter. After a series of events, he'd become the Captain's favorite and his workload was cut in half. Whatever that artifact was, it had elated the Captain to no end, resulting in Arthus' better treatment and a more comfortable life. To this day, it might have been the best decision he'd ever made in his life.

“They are afraid,” Arthus answered one of Michael's rare questions.

They sat outside the lodgings, looking at the clear night sky. Seven stars in different directions, which Michael could name with ease, shone particularly brightly, almost eclipsing the moonlight with their luster. The rest of the workers had already gone to sleep when the two sneaked out. It was the only time they could have some privacy for themselves without too many eyes watching them.

“Those few are close to acquiring decent Magecraft.” Arthus continued with a pained look on his face. He had told Michael how the two were very similar – they both couldn't learn Magecraft. It was one of the reasons Arthus had been fonder of Michael than the other Newbies. Earlier, Michael had asked why there seemed to be some discrimination in regards to who got punished by the guards more or less.

“I know you don't know much about this stuff, so I'll keep it simple. As long as you can acquire a decent Mana Pool of Aer within your body, the Empire will assign a new function to you. For us talentless, this means an enormous time of following a small procedure we were taught at a young age. It's a snail's pace, but eventually, after decades of patience, some will have enough. None of the guards wants to make a bad impression on a future magus, no matter how low ranked he'll be. If that magus ever gained some standing after leaving this place and wanted revenge, not even the military would step in. Most of the guards here are veterans who had survived being sent as cannon fodder. Explains why some of those bastards are so deranged... Captain Sergaz is one of the very few higher-ranked non-magus Captains. During a drunken stupor, he'd once let it slip that he was here due to some punishment after getting on the bad side of a magus ranked below him. Sigh... If only we had the talent... Everything would be different.”

Michael only listened with one ear as he gazed at the stars, thinking about the usual stuff. While Arthus would spend their short nighttime with casual chitchat and never seemed to run out of topics to talk about, Michael was always lost in his own thoughts. He couldn't help but wonder what the point of all of this was. After escaping a life of meaningless work and torture, he'd thought that this would be his chance. Yet, how did it turn out like this... again.

Arthus continued his usual small talk until the middle of the night. More often than not, he'd rant about fairness, justice and eventually complain about women. Michael never bothered engaging in a proper conversation, but he was always courteous and silently listened to the man's complaints. Maybe that was the actual reason Arthus was so fond of him. It wasn't easy to find someone who'd let you rant on and on without getting annoyed.

As it turned out, there was an open secret. Michael was not privy to it but couldn't care less. Most war prisoners, especially those from a different race, were stationed in various mines with more valuable and dangerous resources. For example, the toughness of the descendants of the Stone Dwarves was convenient for mining ores deep below the earth where temperatures were too high for regular workers. They also had a talent for finding rare minerals, and as long as you could convince them, you would have very valuable and desired workers.

Far more important for Arthus, however, were the hidden female elven prisoners that were reserved for some of the guards and the Captain. Taking them prisoner was usually a very, very, bad idea. However, these particular elves were considered 'forsaken.' Whatever it meant, it enough to convince humans that there was no danger in keeping them for... entertainment. It was an open secret among the workers that under exceptional circumstances, they could be rewarded, increasing the motivation of some. Female elves were a feast for the eyes, and even nobles would dream of spending a night with one. Thus, although there had been extremely few cases of this particular 'reward,' it was something that motivated some of them to work harder.

When Arthus explained this to Michael, the former couldn't hide the dirty look on his face as he reminisced about something. Michael didn't care much about the matter, and Arthus quickly coughed to hide his embarrassment, dispersing the awkward atmosphere. The night went on and only a few guards in their vicinity were patrolling the surroundings, occasionally giving them some glances. The previously clear sky became cloudy and blocked most of the moon- and starlight, cladding their surroundings in darkness. The distant torches in the hands of the guards became more visible and Arthus judged the time to be right. He abruptly changed the topic, accompanied by a severe tone in his quiet whispers. To be extra careful, he covered his mouth with his hand and didn't turn into Michael's direction, forcing the latter to pay focus properly if he wanted to understand anything.

“Michael, I know it's hard for you. I've been there. We both don't have any chance of escaping this place through conventional means.”

Michael suddenly jerked up in response to hearing those words. No longer distracted by his stray thoughts, he entirely focused all of his attention on Arthus. If he wasn't wrong, then this was...

“You're right,” Arthus whispered, confirming his suspicions. “I believe we can escape from here. Don't look at me like that. I know firsthand how heavily guarded this place is. I'm not a fool.”

Michael wasn't sure what he should make out of this. But listening couldn't hurt for now.

“By chance, I glanced a sneak at Sergaz's schedule. That man is eagerly waiting for a certain day. In about a year from now, he will finally leave this place and switch posts with some other Captain. During this switch, security will be at its lowest. I can't predict how lax they'll be without supervision, but if there is any chance for us escaping this place, then this is it. I bet that Sergaz won't follow the proper protocol either.”

“Why me?” Michael asked, skeptically.

“Because we are the same," Arthus answered sincerely. Michael couldn't make out his expression, but there was no lie to be found in his voice.

"I remember when I first came here, it was hell. We are both untalented in Magecraft and the Empire considers us expendable. Also...”

At this point, Arthus' voice grew rather painful as he thought about his past. His life at this mine hadn't always been as smooth as it was now...

“You didn't fall prey to it yet, but the guards aren't the only problem in this shithole. Sure the... freakish show... you've put on, kept the more driven workers away from you but who knows how long that'll last. Many veteran workers take out their stress on hitting the newbies or making them their underlings. As long as enough ore is being mined, the guards won't care about anything else. They'll even join if the event seems fun enough to them.”

“I'll need to think about it.”

“Sure, we have enough time. But I'll need to make some preparations and the more hands, the better.”

The two returned to the cabin, but before they stepped in, Arthus leaned into his ear one more time.

“Don't tell anyone else about this plan. I can be sure about you, but I don't trust the others. Someone might turn us in as a favor for an... 'ahem'... eventful night. Regardless, we must trust each other's back on this, partner.”

Michael wanted to refute him, saying that he hadn't accepted the idea yet, but he let the matter drop. Instead, he thoroughly thought about the offer. His experience with escape attempts wasn't good, to say the least, but it was as enticing as always. Even in the worst-case scenario, what would happen? Death penalty? He had some slim hope left in him, but he'd also arrived at his wit's end. So what if he lost this life as well? What was the difference between death and this way of living? Thus, it didn't take long for determination to flicker across his eyes as he made his decision.

“What is this?”

Michael looked down at the uprooted weeds he was holding in his hands. There wasn't anything special about them except for their slight silver luster in the center. They grew in abundance all around them and nothing indicated that they could be used for anything substantial.

“Silent Sleep, a widespread grass but not many know of its narcotic uses.” Michael looked at Arthus with much curiosity.

“I used to read a lot of books back in the orphanage,” Arthus continued. “It was mentioned in a book of fiction, where the hero had drugged the dreadful monster with tons of this stuff. It was quite exaggerated, but its effect is authentic. Press out the tiny amount of liquid from a dozen handful of this stuff, put it into an unprepared man's drink and sleep-you-soon, he's gone for the day.”

Whenever Arthus ran the occasional errands for Captain Sergaz in the vicinity, he'd carefully pluck more and more of the grass in preparation for their escape plan. It was Michael's job to be on the lookout while Arthus was busy preparing the medicine they needed. It was simple to squeeze out the little amount of liquid within the grass, but they required a considerable amount.

“How do you plan to make them drink that?” Michael asked.

“After Sergaz leaves with some of his personal guards, I'll mix it into their alcohol."

Michael looked at him skeptically and Arthus could only return a wry smile as he shook his head.

"I know, I don't expect this to do very much. But as long as I can reduce the number by a few, it should be worth it. Considering their characters, they won't fret over a few guards who won't wake up and simply reduce the number of patrols. Then again, although they do spend their time more drunk than sober, I can't predict who drinks out of which of the numerous barrels in the storage.”

Michael wasn't too sure about this idea and Arthus probably wasn't either. It relied mostly on luck just like their actual escape attempt. This couldn't even be called a plan. But there was no other way. In the end, they could only have a minor effect on the outcome themselves and slightly heighten their chances.

After the liquid was extracted correctly, Arthus mixed it within a bowl with some water and stirred it with a stick in his hands. Occasionally (when he was sure there were no guards watching) Michael looked down at the water swirling in the bowl, thinking about his future. He thought back about what Arthus had said was needed for their success. They needed to trust each other.

Nothing much had changed for the two of them while they waited for the fated day to arrive. Michael had long regrown the long hair and beard he hated, but there was nothing he could do to change that. He preferred much shorter hair that wouldn't remind him of his past life, but there were more pressing concerns at hand. When the day had arrived, there wasn't any indication that the Captain and some of the guards had left. Under normal circumstances, no one would be aware of this, but Michael and Arthus knew there chance had come. Under the cover of the night, the two of them sneaked out of their lodgings. They had previously discussed which way they should go and slowly made their way into the forest. At first, they had to stop several times when they encountered some patrols. There wasn't any indication that the security was any lower than usual and any effect of the medicine Arthus mixed in didn't show results.

Nevertheless, they wouldn't give up. The next Captain would soon arrive and only because of Sergaz's impatience did they have this chance, to begin with. At least they would have fewer guards chasing after them in the worst-case scenario.

Michael and Arthus glanced at each other, contemplating how they should proceed. Each guard was within viewing distance of another, leaving no severe blindspots they could use to get through while creating a spotty ring of fire with their torches.

Michael racked his brain until he finally came up with an idea. It wasn't perfect, but at this point, he'd try anything. In the time leading up to his year, he had invested himself more and more in the idea of escape. It was a risky idea and depended heavily on the fact that the guards didn't bother taking their duty seriously.

At first, Arthus was vehemently against this stupid idea, but after some convincing, he relented. After all, he didn't have a better one. They circled around the perimeter until Arthus found one of the guards whose name he could recognize.

“Rekan! Time to switch...” Arthus shouted, trying his damndest to disguise his voice while staying outside the radius of the torch. His voice wasn't that much different from usual, but he succeeded in sounding lazy and slightly annoyed.

The man called Rekan turned around in surprise. Whoever had called him was some distance away and he couldn't recognize the shadow.

“...Eric? What, it's already time? Man, sometimes time flies when you are bored. Or drunk...” Rekan responded and stumbled towards Arthus whom he'd dubbed Eric.

“Did you see my flask around here? I seemed to have dropped it the last time with some good liquor from my hometown.” Arthus answered, trying to prevent the nervousness within him from showing in his voice. If Rekan paid even the slightest attention at all, he would realize this farce immediately. Thankfully Rekan was now busy searching the ground. Whether it was pure luck that they had found the right idiot or just too stupid of an idea to think of and execute, it worked.

It didn't take long for Rekan to find a flask made of jagged metal lying on the ground. It was one of the few things Sergaz had given to Arthus as a reward. When Rekan opened the flask, the sweet aroma of alcohol filled his nostrils, causing a broad smile to appear on visage.

“Don't you dare, Rekan! You couldn't pay for that stuff with a month's of your meager salary.” Arthus shouted no longer hiding back his initial nervousness. This only fanned the greed of Rekan, and without holding back, he gulped the contents of the flask down.

“Good stuff!! I'm...”

With a loud thud, he dropped to the ground and began snoring. Unbelievable...

“Indeed. A case of too dumb to be real...” Arthus breathed out in relief. But it didn't last long when Michael hurriedly pulled on his sleeve. Time was of the essence and it wouldn't take long for the other guards to notice the missing patrol. After Michael hid the body behind the closest bush, they sped off as quietly as they could following one particular direction.

“As long as we head towards this star,” Arthus pointed to a bright shining star in the sky, seemingly at random, “we can make it to the closest city within a day.”

Michael was busy contemplating a few things before nodding in agreement. He didn't have the slightest idea where they were anyways.

They gained more distance and much to their relief there had yet to be any signs of pursuers. Eventually, the two of them needed a break. While working in the mines increased their stamina, it wasn't to an extent they could run kilometers without a break at full speed. They chose a good spot behind some bushes to sit down and catch their breath.

“Water?” Arthus gasped through ragged breath, and after taking a swig himself, he handed over the small bottle of water he'd hid in his jacket. The two of them chose to wear it for the first time as the grey color was perfect for camouflage.

“I'll be damned. I didn't expect this to go this smooth. Especially after your... 'plan,'” Arthus sighed as much in exhaustion as disbelief. He'd been here for almost two decades and never found a chance. Had he never found that artifact and gotten on the good side of Sergaz, he'd still be condemned to that shithole for the rest of his life.

Michael gave a non-committal hum and drank from the bottle. The two of them recovered for another minute before continuing their venture.

However, when Michael stood up, he suddenly felt dizziness overwhelm him, paired with more exhaustion. He stumbled slowly on the spot, seemingly struggling to stay conscious with all of his might. He bit his tongue until it began bleeding out of his mouth and scratched his arm until they too started bleeding. But no matter what he did, after a few seconds, he collapsed onto the ground facefirst.

“I'm sorry, partner,” Arthus said with any trace of his usual kindness gone. “But I'm not taking any risks. If I'm lucky enough they might believe there was only one escapee. Even if that wasn't the case, the chase would surely slow down after they find you.”

Without hesitation, he stepped away from the unconscious Michael, and without turning back, continued his escape.

But not for long.

He had barely walked a few meters before he felt a cold blade of steel pressed against his neck, threatening to slice it in half if there was any movement from him. His pupils shrank to the size of a pin needle as he slowly turned his head around to look at the young man who held his life in his hands.

“H-How!?” Arthus stammered incredulously at the sight of Michael behind him.

“The Path of a Saint... It's a good book. Indeed, very educational.”

Michael answered calmly, causing drops of sweat to roll down Arthus' back. He couldn't believe that this was happening.

“You shouldn't have lied when you said you were incapable of Magecraft.” Michael continued, increasing the force of the blade he had stolen from the unconscious guard earlier. “The Star of Judgement can only be seen by magi. And don't think I didn't realize the traces of Mana you infused the medicine with.”

“Y-You are a magus!?” Arthus exclaimed convinced by his own truth, but Michael was no longer responding, too busy with his thoughts. He was conflicted about what he should do now. If it wasn't for Mother Catherine's well-versed education, his life would have once again ended right here and now. This was enough reason to kill the man in front of him, but he couldn't bring it over his heart. No matter how callous, he understood the man's feelings. With so close to freedom, he wanted to increase his chances as much as possible. Unfortunately, Michael knew the astronomical star map like the back of his hand. Usually, only a magus would have the 'sight' to differentiate the Seven Stars of Heaven without calculations. Even for him, the fast learner, it had taken him years to correctly memorize the position of the moving stars. It was considered a useless skill, and the only reason he had learned them to begin was simply out of interest.

Disregarding that, the traces of Mana inside the mixture was a dead giveaway for Michael. He was confident in his assumption that the swirl was slightly too strong for the tiny movements Arthus made, revealing the addition of Mana. Apparently, the later hadn't paid attention to that but who would have expected that Michael was this astute.

To be fair, Michael wouldn't always pay this much attention to meaningless tasks. But Arthus sought him out too often. It was evident after a few meetings, there was more to this than Arthus led on to, and low and behold he was right.

Regardless, Michael had still hoped very much for this escape to go smoothly without any backstabbing. Yet no amount of hoping and wishing would change the situation in front of him. If Michael had learned anything from his past life, then it was this. He'd prefer to trust people, but that had to be built on a solid foundation. No longer would he blindly believe what other people said.

While Michael thought about how to proceed, Arthus felt his world turn upside down. Silently he cursed at himself for being so rash, but how could he expect this to happen! No matter how he looked at, Michael seemed to have some sort of talent in Magecraft and it exceeded his own by far.

“Look, this i-” Arthus pleading was interrupted by a sharp pain on his neck, accompanied by a trail of blood rolling down his neck. He proceeded to shut his mouth and reluctantly waited for Michael to decide his fate.

There was no way Michael would just let him go. Who knew what the man would do? But he couldn't bring himself to kill him, no matter how much logic told him to do so. Thus, he took a quick look around to make sure there wasn't any Blackwood Resin nearby and grasped the last bottle of water.

“Drink this or I'll slit your throat,” Michael whispered into the man's ear with as menacing as he could. It didn't seem very effective since Arthus was clearly hesitating. However much Resin he had previously swallowed would never allow him to counteract an entire bottle of water filled with Silent Grass. Instead of using more verbal threats, Michael simply increased the force on the knife he was holding until Arthus finally gave up and resigned himself to his fate, drinking the water. His body slowly lost its tension and Michael let him sink to the ground. Arthus was sure to not wake up for the night, but soon the despair in his eyes was replaced by a wicked and self-destructive smile. He gathered the last of his strength to move something within his jacket before he fell unconscious to the ground.

From underneath his jacket, a small flare rose into the sky and exploded above them, illuminating the entire forest as if it was daytime. The short beacon was quickly extinguished again, but it was more than enough time for Michael to make eye contact with the distant guards who had begun searching for them.