Became the Unjust Contract Slave of the Archamage’s Book

Binaeril and Inyakan set out once again towards Elfenbine. Their steps led them southeast. Since the mission to track down the Marquis of Ruben, Binaeril had grown significantly closer to Inyakan, mostly because he had finally learned his name.

Whenever they heard a stray dog’s howl while walking, Binaeril would exclaim, “Oh no, Inyakan! It’s a scary wolf! We need to run away quickly!” 

And when they were settling down to sleep at a campsite, if he heard the cry of a beast, he would worry aloud, “What if a wolf takes Inyakan away while we’re asleep?”

Binaeril would bring up the subject at every opportunity. Not all at once, but little by little, and often. As a result, Inyakan was on the verge of developing a neurosis about wolves.

“Shut up already! The wolves of Barbaroana are far more savage and gigantic than these stray dogs around here! And that was decades ago when I was just a child!”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

“…I might have to tear that mouth of yours apart just to stop hearing about those damn wolves…”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Are you changing the subject because you’re losing this argument?”

Binaeril tapped the map he was holding and pointed out, “According to the map, we’ve just entered the territory of Aliba.”

They were heading towards Aliba, located southeast of Elfenbine. Aliba was a small nation that belonged to the Pigruben Federation. The federation was composed of the commercial nation Pigny and the Kingdom of Ruben, forming an alliance of smaller states that were often overshadowed by the might of empires and holy kingdoms.

Even though they had entered Aliba’s territory, the landscape hadn’t changed much. 

“We’re almost at Steelbelt, the major city of Aliba. Let’s hurry before the wolves catch up,” Binaeril added one more jab before quickly dashing ahead, escaping before Inyakan could hit him.

As Inyakan chased after Binaeril, his foot caught on something. He assumed it was just a rock or a tree root. But rocks don’t scream.

Inyakan turned to look back.

“What the hell! If you kick someone, you should apologize! You rude bas…tard…”

The stone, now writhing in pain, lifted its head to glare at the one who kicked it. It lifted, and lifted, and kept lifting its gaze until it finally reached a chest.

‘Is it a woman?’

The sight beyond the massive chest was a small, shiny head that barely peeked out. 

“A giant!”

The “rock” screamed in surprise and leaped up, though by its standards, it barely reached Inyakan’s waist.

“What is this? A fairy?”

It wasn’t a fairy. 

If someone mistook that rugged face with a bushy beard for a fairy, even Eden in the ring would be horrified by the misunderstanding.

“What are you talking about, giant? I’m not a fairy, I’m a Toin!”

“I’m not a giant; I’m Inyakan.”

“Is there a species called Inyakan?”

“And is there a name like Toin?”

‘What a peculiar name or species,’ each thought as they continued to misunderstand each other. Just then, Binaeril, who had gone ahead, turned around, curious about what was happening behind him.

Binaeril caught sight of the fallen Toin’s face and exclaimed in delight, “Bapaluga!”

That was the name of a Toin Binaeril had met in the Duchy of Dux within the Empire. The fallen Toin looked exactly like the Bapaluga from his memory.

“Bapaluga? Who’s that? I am Gaul!”

“Weren’t you a Toin just a moment ago?”

“Huh? I am a Toin and Gaul!”

“Make up your mind.”

“What on earth are you two talking about?”

Ending the absurd conversation, Binaeril reached out a hand to the fallen Toin and asked, “You’re not Bapaluga? You look exactly the same.”

“I swear by the Earth Mother, my name is Gaul!”

‘Even the way he talks is the same…’

In any case, Binaeril wasn’t concerned with his identity. Seeing an opportunity, he pulled out his map and asked for directions.

“Mr. Gaul, we’re heading to Steelbelt in Aliba. Do you know the way?”

“Steelbelt? What business do humans have in the capital of Aliba? Oh, is it for the festival?”

‘Festival?’ Binaeril wondered what he meant, but decided not to dwell on minor issues.

“We’re on our way to meet the King of Aliba.”

The Master of the Tower had said that meeting the Mother of Nymphs wouldn’t be easy. The few remaining nymphs were all under the protection of Aliba’s king. Though a small country, Aliba, part of the Federation, was known for being predominantly inhabited by Toins. Naturally, the King of Aliba was also a Toin, more famous by the title “Toin King” than by his actual name.

‘The Toin King is eccentric, but if we explain the situation, he won’t turn Binaeril away. If necessary, you can even mention my name.’

“A human wants to meet our Toin King? Hmm, that’s unusual. Well, I was on my way to Steelbelt anyway, so I’ll guide you,” Gaul agreed without much concern and cheerfully led them towards Steelbelt.

“Inyakan, isn’t it a bit hot?”

“The day is drawing to a close, but it feels like it’s getting hotter…”

Binaeril flapped his sweat-soaked shirt as they followed Gaul. The closer they got to Steelbelt, the hotter the air around them became.

“This heat might be too much for a human. Listen up, Steelbelt is the city of steel! It’s a city of blacksmiths who work with steel, gems, and treasures!”

Even Inyakan, who was from the north, struggled with the heat. Beads of sweat had already begun to form on his forehead.

“Don’t worry. We’re almost there. Steelbelt is also the city of beer! A well-brewed beer is the pride of us Toin.”

“Now that’s good news,” Inyakan said, running his hand over his head. 

“I’ve had the chance to try it before.”

“What? Toin beer? Where on earth?”

“I got some from Toin settlers living in the southern part of the Empire.”

“Ah, I’ve heard that some Toin have settled there, though most of us are reluctant to step into the Empire because of our history.”

Just as the heat carried by the wind seemed to become even more oppressive, Gaul announced, “This is the city of steel and beer. Welcome to Steelbelt!”

Binaeril realized where the heat was coming from. Ahead of them, lining the road, were dozens of blacksmiths’ forges. He was certain that even if all the furnaces in the world were gathered together, they wouldn’t match the number he saw before him. Maybe. 

Binaeril squinted in amazement as the hot wind hit his face, while Inyakan, who rarely showed much emotion, also stood with his mouth slightly agape.

“Surprised, aren’t you, human? And you, giant!”

“I’m not a giant.”

“The Toin King you’re looking for should be somewhere in this city. Now that we’ve arrived, I’ll be off!”

“What? Wait, wait!”

“What? What now?”

“You need to tell us where the king’s palace is.”

Gaul snorted, his beard twitching as if the question was absurd. “There’s no palace. I don’t know where the Toin King is!”

“…What?”

He spoke of his king as casually as if he were talking about the man next door. 

“He’s probably off doing something foolish somewhere. But he should be in the city. Anyway, I’m off!”

With that, Gaul bounced away, heading down the hill toward Steelbelt. The way he moved resembled a large bean rolling down.

“Shall we go in?”

“We don’t have much choice.”

Wiping sweat from their brows, the two entered Steelbelt. The northwest gate where they entered led to a street lined with Toin blacksmiths. From what they overheard, it seemed to be called ‘Furnace Street.’

“Are there other streets too?”

As it turned out, if they crossed the block, they would find the street of jewelers, and beyond that, the street of brewers.

“How about we get a beer first?”

“Let’s ask around at the nearest place first.”

“Ugh…”

So they started at Furnace Street. The blacksmiths here were not just craftsmen but also merchants.

“A set of three finely honed swords for a single gold coin!” 

“Unbelievable sale! A well-balanced hammer for just five silver coins!”

“These aren’t your typical shoddy goods. Here, we have weapons crafted by a true master!”

“What did you say? Shoddy goods?”

“Well, it’s not wrong if they don’t have the master’s seal, is it?”

“You little punk!”

The hot air from the bellows, the sharp sound of hammers striking metal, and the shouts of the blacksmiths all mixed together, making Binaeril feel dizzy. 

“Too many Bapalugas,” Binaeril muttered to himself.

All the Toin he saw resembled either Bapaluga or Gaul. It was clear that distinguishing between them by appearance alone was nearly impossible.

The quarrelling blacksmiths grabbed hammers and chisels, ready to go at each other. It looked as though blood might be spilled and bodies might drop at any moment, but somehow, the fight never escalated to that level. This kind of bickering was probably just a part of daily life here.

“Who should we ask?” Binaeril asked Inyakan as they watched the spectacle.

But there was no response.

“This is a fine piece,” Inyakan was already inspecting goods in front of one of the forges, admiring them.

“Inyakan, we’re not here to shop.”

“Look at this, Binaeril. It’s Sikrun.”

Indeed, it was. Displayed before them were weapons similar to the curved blade Binaeril had received as a gift from the Duchy of Dux. The fact that such rare weapons were on display for sale showed that this truly was the city of steel.

“Buy one.”

“Without even bargaining?”

“I don’t haggle over a craftsman’s pride.”

“Hahaha! The giant has the right mindset! I’ll give it to you for half price!”

Inyakan picked up an elegantly crafted curved blade and smiled with satisfaction before turning to Binaeril.

“Pay up.”

“…Ah, yes.” 

Of course, he wouldn’t haggle since it wasn’t his money. Without a word, Binaeril handed over the money and then grabbed Inyakan’s arm, pulling him outside.

“Come again, giant!”

“I’m Inyakan.”

Finally stepping out of the sweltering heat of the forges, they found themselves in a quieter area.

“Should we try asking someone here?”

This block seemed to deal in a variety of items—glasses, staffs, and an assortment of other things whose purposes were unclear. Binaeril chose a shop that seemed particularly lacking in customers.

“Why is there no one here?”

“What do they sell?”

As they entered the cluttered shop, the owner emerged from the back, rubbing his eyes. He was a Toin, with grime smudged across his face and a pair of goggles resting on his forehead.

“What do you want, human? Go away. I don’t sell to humans,” the shopkeeper grumbled.

The shelves were cluttered with various trinkets, but most of the items were stacks of paper, scattered about.

“Why not?” Binaeril asked.

“Because this place doesn’t sell items; it sells dreams.”

“What kind of nonsense is that?”

Binaeril picked up one of the papers. “What’s this?”

“Let me see… That? An invention that, with the press of a button, draws a picture identical to reality!”

“But it’s just paper.”

“…It’s the blueprint!”

The shopkeeper was clearly a jokester. Binaeril grabbed another sheet and asked, “And this one?”

“A steel carriage with the power to race across the entire continent without stopping!”

Inyakan shot the shopkeeper a skeptical glare. “And what about this one?”

“A small cannon that can pierce not only a person but even iron with just a flick of the finger!”

“…And it’s a blueprint, right?”

“How did you know?”

“Because they’re all just pieces of paper.”

“Of course! This is a place that sells dreams.”

Binaeril exchanged a glance with Inyakan. Inyakan’s eyes conveyed a clear message: *’This old man is crazy.’*

But Binaeril’s thoughts were different: *’It’s kind of ingenious when you think about it.’*