Westalia opened the closet, pulled out the hanger on which her outerwear was hanging, and took off the loungewear she was currently wearing. The light shining through the window illuminated her smooth skin. She’d been dressed casually since she was indoors, but now she changed back into her regular clothes, put on her cloak, and pulled the hood sharply over her head. After finishing her preparations, she left the room.
Later, Westalia made her way to the arena, her face hidden by a mask. There were several attendants at the rear entrance checking entry permits. One needed to be a member to enter, and Westalia was not a member.
“Please present your membership card,” one attendant said to her.
“I don’t have one. Instead...here.” Westalia quickly removed her favorite ring and handed it to the attendant as proof of identity. She’d worn the ring, with the hidden anesthetic needle in it, since she was young, and it was engraved with the Lhumzian royal crest.
The attendant checked the family crest, recognized Westalia as eligible, and let her in.
You weren’t surprised at all by the royal crest...so that means you’re used to seeing it, huh? Westalia thought. She could surmise that a considerable number of the upper class visited this place to buy slaves. Judging from the attendant’s lack of reaction, it was likely that even other foreign royalty, like herself, came here.
Westalia was shown into the basement of the arena, where the slaves were housed. The stone walls were damp, there was a strange odor that stung her nose, and there was dirt everywhere.
What an atrocious environment. This is no place for a human, she thought. She held a handkerchief over her nose and mouth and frowned.
“What kind of slave do you want?”
“A woman strong in mind and body. Do you have any female gladiators?” She had one purpose here, and that was to find an assistant to help her in the empress selection.
“Yes, of course. This way, please.” The salesman cocked his chin and motioned her toward the back. The slaves, chained together in cages, stared at her with hatred. She arrived in front of the innermost cage, practically feeling their loathing on her skin.
Westalia’s eyes met the eyes of the slave through iron bars. Inside the cage was a beautiful young man with blond hair like sheaves of wheat and indigo eyes. He looked remarkably calm and had a cold expression on his face.
“Isn’t he a man? I said I wanted a woman.”
“No, no, she may look like a man, but she is really a woman,” the seller explained with a wry smile. According to him, her name was Paige, and she often fought in the arena above, putting her life on the line—as a spectacle. Her opponents varied from humans to big game, and she killed for entertainment. She was the strongest fighter and hadn’t lost a single fight.
The reason such a strong and beautiful woman hadn’t been sold yet was because she’d ignored her first buyer’s orders and fought against him repeatedly, eventually causing a serious injury that took several months to heal, which had led her back to this basement. After that, everyone was so afraid of her that nobody wanted to purchase her.
“This time a lady wants to buy me? You have a very discerning eye,” a new voice said.
Westalia put her face close to the bars of the cage. This woman could seriously injure me... What she wanted was someone who would be absolutely loyal to her.
“I can’t take you with me if you won’t listen to me as your master,” Westalia said.
“They say in all beautiful things lies something poisonous, right? You must love them all, right, master?” the woman said teasingly, with a charming smile on her face.
“Why did you turn against your previous master?”
“He was a prick.” Paige’s former master had been an arrogant nobleman who often threatened his wife and resorted to violence. That violence had gotten worse when Paige was in his service. When the man had cut his wife’s hair and hit her in the face with a liquor bottle in a fit of rage, Paige had finally snapped and beaten him to a pulp.
“You did well! You made the right choice. But that was a big risk. Things might’ve turned out really badly for you. You’re lucky to be alive.”
“I decide who I’m loyal to, even if that means ending up back in this dingy basement or having to kill again.”
Westalia remained silent. She herself lacked that kind of backbone. All these years, even when she’d been confined unreasonably, she hadn’t said a single word in protest. She’d just meekly obeyed all the rules. If she’d been prepared to abandon her country instead, would her future have been different?
So she chooses for herself whom she’s loyal to... I wish I could tell this tale to my past self. Nobody from her home country had shown any worry about her. On the contrary, in the end they had only glared at her, blamed her, and shouted at her to hurry up and die—all while she’d been trying to be a good queen who protected her people.
“You’re quiet all of a sudden. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing... I have a number of things I would like to ask you. Can you do household chores?”
“As much as anyone else.”
“And what are your combat capabilities and physical strength?”
“As per my introduction, I’m likely the strongest one down here. My physical strength... I could probably carry you around this whole town in my arms.”
“One last thing. Will you put your life on the line in service to me? If you can swear to it, I’ll get you out of here.” Westalia moved even closer to the bars and shifted her mask up. It was selfish to ask someone she’d just met to put their life on the line for her. She wondered what Paige’s response would be, but the woman just laughed.
“Yeah, sure. But one day, if I decide you’re not worthy of my service anymore...”
“You’ll strike back at me? Like your previous master?”
“I hope you handle me well, so I don’t have to.” Paige’s lips curved into a smile and she looked provocatively at Westalia.