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Chapter 116: Orcs Will Never Be Slaves
🕑 Added 2025-01-11 04:37:20 +0000 UTCThe reason Gorgias University traditionally selects the twelve most beautiful female students as its Twelve Goddesses is that the Goddess of the Elves has twelve female attendants.
They are: the West Wind Goddess, the Laurel Goddess, the Forest Goddess, the Goddess of Favor…
Incidentally, the Goddess of Favor is depicted as a catwoman and serves as the source of Cat Spirit Magic.
Sheffield University also upholds a similar tradition, as the Lady of the Black Moon also has female attendants under her command.
Charlot couldn’t help but comment, “Graduating from Gorgias University, how did you end up as an assassin?”
Dolores said nothing, but Frederica sneered coldly and countered, “Have you ever seen an orc civil servant in the Central Government Office?”
Charlot immediately fell silent. Not only had he never seen an orc civil servant, but he had also never heard of one. He understood why.
The discrimination against orcs throughout the Empire was deeply ingrained.
On the Old Continent, having orc blood was far from honorable. After the destruction of the Orc Kingdom, its people became destitute wanderers, regarded as inferior in every nation.
Louis Simy once mocked, “There’s no way a lady of the Bretagne family would ever befriend an orc. Even a drop of orc blood is out of the question.”
This sentiment was deeply ironic.
Humans worshipped deities with orc appearances.
They honored the university’s most beautiful women with titles bearing the names of orc-like goddesses.
Yet they scorned the orcs themselves…
Charlot quickly realized his misstep. He performed an Imperial salute to Frederica and said, “I apologize. I’ve never been one to give much thought to things unrelated to me.”
“It’s not that I don’t understand the discrimination against orcs; I’ve simply never considered joining the ranks of the discriminators, so I momentarily forgot about it.”
Frederica’s emerald-green eyes revealed a trace of emotion. She could see that Charlot genuinely believed, in that fleeting moment, that she could become a government employee—a proper civil servant.
Such a belief demonstrated that Charlot Mecklenburg had never looked down on orcs. He regarded them as ordinary people deserving of the same rights as any citizen of the Empire.
Frederica huffed lightly and said, “I forgive you.”
At the same time, the leopard-girl thought to herself, “Because of your attitude, I’ll extend the third wave of assassins to six months.”
Charlot had no idea that a casual remark had postponed his appointment with death.
Not that he necessarily feared another assassination attempt.
Poor Dubin had gone ahead to scout for decent restaurants, only to return and find that both his superiors and his colleague had vanished.
Fortunately, Charlot, ever thoughtful, had written a message on the ground:
“We have business and went to eat. Feel free to act on your own.”
The words seemed reasonable enough but weren’t exactly reassuring…
Dubin stood there, dazed in the wind, for a full seventy seconds.
While Charlot was writing, Dolores and Frederica exclaimed in unison, “The Blade of Emptiness!”
A faint golden light emanated from Charlot’s fingertips, forming a blade only a few inches long. It expanded and contracted like a flickering serpent’s tongue. Though less dazzling than when attached to the Blood Rose, its sharpness was unmistakable—it could cut through stone and metal with ease.
Charlot shrugged and said, “The Arsilo Family’s secret techniques truly live up to their reputation, known across the continent.”
The great human philosopher Protagoras had mastered dozens of skills and even infiltrated the vampire clans, battling countless masters to acquire the secrets of the Thirteen Clans. From these, he forged the technique known as Blood Glory.
Blood Glory contained the secret arts of the Thirteen Vampire Clans, categorized into one emperor, two kings, three dukes, and seven marquises.
The Arsilo Family was the sole imperial clan and the cornerstone of Blood Glory. Their technique, Angel’s Thorn, was not only a transcendent secret art but also an unparalleled swordsmanship.
The Blade of Emptiness was an extraordinary ability that awakened at the mid-to-high levels of practicing Angel’s Thorn. It could be attached to a sword to pierce the protective combat energy of high-level transcendents.
On the battlefield, Charlot had slain dozens of Byron knights. Though their “quality” hadn’t been sufficient for a breakthrough, his frequent use of Arsilo Swordsmanship had naturally led to the mastery of this ability.
It was no wonder Dolores and Frederica were so shocked. Both were well-traveled and experienced, yet Charlot’s mastery of the Blade of Emptiness meant that any weapon he wielded was equivalent to a divine armament, giving him a significant advantage in combat.
The leopard-girl, who had previously fought Charlot, was particularly taken aback. She thought to herself, “I’ve changed my mind. I should lure a few of my enemies to assassinate Charlot.”
“That way, they won’t come back alive, and my grudges will be settled.”
When Charlot took the two girls out to dinner, he was entirely unaware of Frederica’s “malicious intentions,” plotting to use him as a garbage disposal for her adversaries.
...
Silver Dove Fortress truly deserved its nickname, “The Cynes of the North.” The city’s numerous rivers formed a network of canals, crisscrossed by arching bridges. Along both banks were art galleries, small museums, and unique curio shops. Silver Dove Fortress also featured countless small taverns that were rare elsewhere.
While Strasbourg had its share of small taverns, they were far less common, and its commercial districts leaned more toward coffee shops. The atmosphere was entirely different from that of Silver Dove Fortress.
Charlot found a tavern with a sailboat sign and led the two girls inside. He called out, “Bring us a dozen ales and whatever food you have! Prepare some for us.”
When Charlot had first arrived, he’d struggled with the lack of menus in restaurants, but he had since adapted to the local customs. He now knew that in the Old Continent’s nations, diners ate whatever was available, with no room for picky orders.
These taverns doubled as restaurants, offering signature dishes unique to their establishments.
The tavern owner, seeing Charlot’s imposing presence and the stunning beauty of his companions, eagerly replied, “We have the finest lamb and freshly caught fish today.”
“As for ale, I’m not boasting, but only three other taverns on this street can match the quality of my brew.”
Charlot’s interest was piqued. He asked for the names of the other three establishments.
As he chatted with the tavern owner, he instructed the staff to wipe down the tables and chairs again. He also chose a seat that would allow for a quick escape if necessary.
After all, surviving multiple assassination attempts left one with lingering paranoia.
The ale was soon served. Charlot took a hearty swig, feeling its refreshing coolness wash through him. Compared to Strasbourg’s ale, it was far superior.
He immediately inquired, “How much ale would I need to purchase for you to deliver it to Strasbourg?”
The tavern owner grinned and said, “Any amount is possible. We have caravans departing daily. With enough payment to the caravans, they can transport the ale even to the New Continent, let alone Strasbourg.”
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