The next morning, everything happens far too fast.

  Rin and I are still half-asleep in bed when Leana bursts into our room and announces—without warning—that everything is ready. I rub my eyes and push Rin off me. She’s somehow managed to sprawl across the entire bed again.

  It must be one of the great mysteries of all worlds how women manage to conquer every inch of a bed every single night.

  “Good morning, Leana,” I mumble. “What exactly is ready?”

  “Our departure. The spiders are saddled, the provisions are packed, and everyone is already waiting at the gate to see us off. Hurry.”

  With that, she spins on her heel and disappears as quickly as she arrived.

  …Does Borack want us gone that badly?

  Sure, I knew we were leaving early today, but this feels a little excessive.

  “Rin, wake up. Enough sleeping. If we don’t get moving, they’ll throw us out without breakfast.”

  I kiss her forehead and gently shake her shoulder.

  “Mmm… five more minutes,” she murmurs, turning over and pulling the blanket over her head.

  Exactly the answer I expected.

  “I’m getting dressed now,” I warn her. “If you’re still in bed after that, I won’t show mercy.”

  The threat has been spoken.

  I get up, wipe myself down quickly with a damp cloth, and pull on my clothes. This time I even dare to attach the crest of my family to my leather armor. Then I pack the rest of our belongings into bags. When I glance back at the bed, Rin is sleeping peacefully again.

  I did warn her.

  I sneak back over, yank the blanket away—

  —and Rin’s laughter echoes through half the village.

  “Hahaha! Stop! Stop it, I’m awake! Hahaha! Enough, or I’ll get angry!”

  Her threat is completely ignored.

  Tickling Rin is just too much fun.

  The sharp smack of the slap that follows is probably heard throughout the entire elf village.

  ***

  Ten minutes later, we stand wide awake at the gate of the elf village, drawing plenty of strange looks. I got carried away, and now there was no time for breakfast. It would’ve been rude to keep the elves waiting any longer.

  Half the village has gathered at the gate. In the center stand three giant spiders, each more different than the last:

  Butterblume in bright mustard yellow.

  Ares, jet black with a thick red stripe across his back.

  And Teddy, black-and-white striped like a zebra.

  The elves have clearly taken good care of them—they all look healthy and energetic. Leana is already seated on the foremost spider, speaking with Borack, the Elf King.

  We make our way through the crowd, every pair of eyes fixed on us.

  It’s even more uncomfortable than being late for school.

  “Good morning,” Borack says, interrupting his conversation to acknowledge us.

  “Good morning, King Borack,” I reply quietly.

  “For people who dislike mornings,” he remarks, “you seem surprisingly lively.”

  He gives Rin and me a crooked smile.

  While I desperately search for a response, Leana answers for us.

  “Your Majesty. They may appear immature, unreliable, and careless, but I personally vouch for their combat ability.”

  She winks at me, clearly proud of herself.

  I appreciate the help—and the fact that her range of facial expressions around me keeps expanding—but I can’t bring myself to be happy about that particular rescue attempt.

  “Be that as it may,” Borack says smoothly, dissolving the awkward silence like the eloquent king he is, “everything has been prepared as promised. In accordance with our newly forged alliance, we shall send you off with proper ceremony.”

  “Thank you,” I say, straightening up. “I swear we will bring other peoples into the alliance and stand united against Balaam. Await my call to battle—the one that will decide the fate of the world.”

  “We will prepare and await your message,” Borack replies. “I wish you luck, Hero Arik.”

  He turns to Leana.

  “Leana. Support Arik Eiswolf with all your strength. Learn from the world beyond our forest and give your utmost. I tolerate no failure. Only then may you call yourself a true elven warrior.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  With those stiff farewell words, Rin and I mount our spiders and ride through the gate. Behind us, the elves erupt—not in cheers, but in something closer to a war cry. The kind soldiers shout before charging into battle to drown out their fear.

  It works.

  I feel strangely motivated to press forward and not return to this village until I’ve completed my mission.

  “We head south,” I announce confidently. “To Hatsuria—the capital of the trading republic of Vene.”

  Leana nods crisply and turns Teddy southward.

  Soldiers don’t ask questions.

  For a brief moment, I’m relieved that everything is going according to plan.

  “Why?”

  Rin turns toward me, her expression deeply skeptical.

  …Ah.

  There it is.

  I forgot—again—to discuss my route with Rin beforehand.

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  I never learn.

  Before I can answer, she continues, clearly having thought this through far more thoroughly than I have.

  “The trading republic belongs to the human race, most of whom already stand behind your banner. Vene itself is not a military power. They have no standing army and instead rely on mercenaries… or slaves.”

  Her voice sharpens.

  “Worse for your reputation is the fact that the trading republic operates the largest slave market on the continent, driven by sheer greed. As the crown prince of Amarasia, it would be a disgrace to actively include such a nation in an alliance against the Demon King.”

  I open my mouth, but Rin does not give me the chance to interrupt.

  “Your father spent his entire life fighting slavery. He ensured that this cancer was cut out of Amarasia as thoroughly as possible. Illegal slave trading still exists—smuggling slaves into brothels and other shady establishments—but the majority of it has been stamped out.”

  She exhales sharply.

  “At the very least, humans are no longer enslaved. The punishment alone is deterrent enough. Only a few beastkin, smuggled illegally from the south, still fall victim to it.”

  Her eyes darken.

  “A disgusting concession to corrupt nobles—one your father hopefully intends to abolish entirely in the near future. Beastkin may not be considered equal, but this is about the complete eradication of slavery.”

  Rin has to take a breath. She has worked herself into a full-blown rage.

  And unfortunately… she is completely right.

  That pretty much sums up the entire situation.

  I live in a fantasy world with beastkin, and in fifteen years I have not seen a single one of those fascinating beings with my own eyes.

  Racism and oppression are not inventions of my old world. Humans here are just as skilled at deciding who belongs—and who does not. The resentment elves and dwarves harbor toward humans did not appear out of nowhere. It is rooted in a long history of wars, enslavement, and systematic oppression.

  Only a few decades ago did something resembling a peace treaty even come into existence. Each race was granted its own territory and the right to live in freedom. That agreement was only possible because of the external threat posed by Balaam. Without a common enemy, the races would likely still be tearing each other apart.

  Seen in that light, it becomes obvious why the elves of this world are not the gentle, flute-playing forest folk from fairy tales. As a small race, they survived only because of their militant nature. I shudder to imagine what became of my beloved, beer-drinking, rough-but-kind dwarves.

  But back to the real problem.

  As the prince of Amarasia, I never had any contact with beastkin. Slaves are considered dangerous. They are not loyal by nature. They are bound by magic—but at any moment, a slave could be a saboteur or an assassin smuggled straight into the royal court.

  That is why my father relied exclusively on loyal retainers.

  Beastkin, on top of that, are regarded as impure, lesser beings. At most, they entered the kingdom as illegal slaves, and it was considered unbecoming for a prince to visit places where they were kept.

  It’s not like I didn’t try.

  Rin caught every single escape attempt and dragged me back to the palace without mercy. In her previous life, she must have been a prison warden.

  Slavery, needless to say, is absolutely abhorrent. Like any modern, civilized human being, I despise it from the bottom of my heart and fully support my father’s uncompromising stance against it.

  Unlike elves and dwarves, beastkin do not originally come from this continent. Their homeland lies to the southeast, a smaller continent roughly the size of Australia. Beastkin are neither weak nor submissive. They are proud warriors—strong, fast, and intelligent—far beyond what ordinary humans can match.

  Their cultures are diverse, some even highly advanced. In truth, their kingdoms and tribes would never willingly bow to anyone.

  But their world is plagued by racism and an overwhelming sense of racial superiority. Scarce resources and limited fertile land only intensify the conflicts. As a result, their continent has known nothing but endless wars for generations. Smaller tribes, weaker races, and civilians suffer the most.

  There are regions where different beastkin races coexist peacefully, weary of war. But especially in the northern territories, conflict never truly ends. If I had to guess, the lionkin are a major factor—too proud and powerful to accept equality. They want to rule.

  Humans, being naturally inferior in strength and speed, did not take this well. Perhaps that is why they branded beastkin as lesser beings. Envy, after all, brings out the worst in us.

  From there, humans poured fuel onto the fire. Victorious beastkin kingdoms sold captured enemies into slavery to offset the cost of war. Bounty hunters—beastkin themselves—began capturing others and selling them to human slavers.

  Those are the most common paths, as far as I know. Slavers then transport their cargo across the sea to our continent. Most arrive at the massive harbor city of Hatsuria at the southern tip of the continent before being sold onward.

  A system disturbingly similar to the slave trade of my old world.

  Beastkin are in high demand. Many races are breathtakingly beautiful—or monstrously strong. Prices are accordingly high. The only reason the market has not spiraled completely out of control is the very real danger for buyers.

  To suppress their pride and will, humans use magically infused slave collars. These collars force obedience. But many beastkin would rather die than submit. It is not uncommon for a slave to kill their owner before the magic can fully stop them.

  Their overwhelming strength and speed have so far prevented humans from completely subjugating them. Some beastkin with exceptional physical or mental strength can even resist the collars entirely.

  There are, of course, gentler races, or those lacking the power to fight back. Still, I hope the day never comes when beastkin are fully broken.

  Any human scum who buys a slave should live with the constant expectation of being killed by them.

  And yet…

  I want to see beastkin.

  No proper fantasy world exists without them, and my heart simply cannot bear the thought of never seeing them up close. Maybe even… touching their fluffy ears.

  I would never admit that out loud.

  My dilemma could be solved with a short detour to the trading republic of Vene. All I have to do is convince Rin—without revealing my true motive.

  For that, I rely on my extensive knowledge of fantasy stories. In that regard, I am leagues above anyone in this world.

  After all, I can see the big picture.

  “So…” I begin.

  Rin immediately turns toward me.

  Her expression alone tells me I’ve already lost.

  “If you’re even considering telling me,” she says slowly, “that the fate of the world somehow depends on us visiting a slave-trading hellhole, you should stop right now.”

  Ah.

  So that argument is still on cooldown.

  I close my mouth again.

  The silence stretches.

  I search desperately for an answer—any answer—that doesn’t involve revealing what I actually want. Normally, this is where destiny, prophecy, or some vague divine guidance saves the day.

  But Rin just keeps staring at me.

  Then she exhales sharply.

  “The silence,” she says, “and that look on your face tell me everything.”

  My stomach sinks.

  “You don’t want to go to Vene for political reasons,” she continues flatly. “You just want to see beastfolk.”

  “…What?” I manage.

  She crosses her arms.

  “Don’t look so surprised. You’ve always been like this. And don’t pretend you’ve changed.”

  Her gaze hardens.

  “I had to drag you back into the palace more times than I can count. Every time you snuck out at night, full of curiosity. And every single time, I caught you.”

  She looks straight at me.

  “You were usually crying by the time I did. It wasn’t hard to guess where you wanted to go.”

  I feel exposed in ways no armor could ever protect against.

  “…In another life,” I mutter weakly, “you’d make an excellent prison warden.”

  Rin ignores that entirely.

  Before I can attempt a doomed rebuttal, Leana joins the conversation.

  “If Lord Arik wishes to play with beastfolk,” she says calmly, “I see no inherent problem.”

  Rin freezes.

  Slowly, she turns toward Leana.

  “Leana,” Rin says carefully, “I believe what you mean by ‘play’ and what he means by it are two very different things.”

  I can feel Rin’s glare drill straight through me.

  Leana tilts her head, genuinely puzzled.

  “…Is that so?”

  For half a second, I consider correcting her.

  Just half a second.

  Then I look at Leana.

  Her posture is flawless.

  Her expression earnest.

  Her understanding of the word “play” so catastrophically pure it almost hurts.

  She absolutely means playing.

  As in: harmless.

  Educational.

  Possibly involving observation and mild curiosity.

  And in that moment, I reach a profound conclusion.

  I am not explaining anything.

  Not now.

  Not ever.

  Some knowledge is dangerous.

  Some words should never be defined aloud.

  And some people—especially earnest, disciplined elf captains—deserve to remain blissfully uncorrupted.

  Leana grew up with bows, drills, oaths, and military reports. If her mental image of “playing with beastfolk” involves friendly interaction and cultural exchange, then I will protect that image with my life.

  I avert my gaze.

  This is it.

  No escape route.

  No prophecy.

  No heroic justification that won’t end with Rin personally redefining the term capital punishment.

  My shoulders slump.

  “…What do you suggest, then?” I ask quietly.

  Rin brings a hand to her chin and thinks.

  After a moment, she nods.

  “We’re already far to the west,” she says. “That way leads straight to the ocean. The north brings us too close to Balaam’s territory—even if there are nations there we should eventually approach.”

  She looks ahead.

  “That leaves the east.”

  Leana straightens slightly.

  “Neutral human kingdoms,” she adds. “And beyond them, the Bluefang Mountains.”

  Rin nods.

  “Dwarves. Giants. Other free mountain peoples.”

  The decision settles between us.

  Just like that, our next destination is set.

  We turn east.

  Toward human kingdoms.

  Toward the Bluefang Mountains.

  Toward new allies.

  …And for now, my detour remains nothing more than a postponed temptation.