The Regressed Princess - Chapter 62

Chapter 62: A Very Distant Future; Unfortunately, No Matter How Moving a Child’s Words Are…

Crack.

The sound of breaking wind suddenly rang out. This whip-crack was loud and sharp; the person wielding it was clearly in a foul mood.

The Hyena Legion was Scar-eye’s precious treasure. She took them everywhere, terrified that someone might sneak in and abduct them. To ensure the combat effectiveness of this legion, the slaves had to train desperately after every battle. Scar-eye was shrewd; she would lock away all the better weapons and equipment to prevent wear and tear during training, and even more so to prevent the slaves from staging a revolt once fully armed.

However, she was quite generous with food. She never skimped on the combat slaves’ rations, fearing they would lose weight or starve to death. Not only were the slaves physically powerful, but even the instructor who had just cracked the whip paced the training ground with a protruding belly.

Normally, she cherished these combat slaves. After all, blades have no eyes on the battlefield. Although the instructors were only responsible for holding the rear while the slaves did the charging, who knew if one day the order would flip during a retreat? In such a case, a rain of arrows from behind could turn you into a hedgehog, and there would be no one to complain to.

But today was different—very different.

The instructor’s pacing appeared forceful, but in reality, her face was tense. Today’s atmosphere… was not right. She knew this group of slaves too well. They were a flock of tamed lambs; only under the charge of a wild wolf or the lead of a hound would the courage deep within their souls erupt.

Yet today, the “scent” emitted by this flock had changed.

Whenever she turned her back to demonstrate a sword swing, she could feel a gaze of malice stabbing at her body. But when she whipped her head around, she could find nothing.

Rustle, rustle.

She could swear she heard whispering in the quiet ranks. There was definitely some business going on beneath those lowered eyelids that she wasn’t privy to! But she had no evidence.

The instructor trained them suspiciously for two hours. Nothing strange happened, save for her heart beating faster and faster. The slaves’ movements were as mechanical and submissive as ever. They remained silent during training, giving her no excuse to lash out.

Wrong. It was all wrong.

The instructor struggled internally. She wanted to consult her colleagues or, better yet, report to her omnipotent master. But the master didn’t like listening to nonsense; a subjective suspicion without evidence would make her look like a madwoman—a fool scared witless by slaves! She didn’t want to lower her master’s opinion of her, so she could only grit her teeth and continue swinging her longsword, praying for the shift change to arrive quickly.

Trot-trot, trot-trot-trot.

The rhythmic sound of hooves approached from nearby. The instructor looked toward the gate with relief: Great! Is the master here for an inspection?

She quickly discerned the three people and three horses. Oh, it definitely wasn’t the master—just two children and a slave. Curiosity replaced the light in the instructor’s eyes.

Commoners wouldn’t dare ride horses toward a military camp, even if it wasn’t a Nolanna Legion but a slave legion. These people were definitely nobles. But the nobles of the capital… truth be told, the differences were vast. Great nobles, minor nobles, those with power, those without, the wealthy, the broke—all required different treatment.

The instructor sniffed the air as if catching intelligence on the wind. She quickly judged that the two youths riding together must be children of a great noble family; their status was absolutely extraordinary. There was no fear in their eyes none at all.

The girl with the golden-red hair had a slight curve to her lips; the way she controlled the reins appeared somewhat languid yet entirely natural. This languor held weight; riding for her was not entertainment or work, but simply a part of life.

A Hetuyan… looking at her hair color and features, she was likely a Hetuyan raised on horseback, and of high status. When the instructor’s gaze moved to the girl in the Hetuyan youth’s arms, her pupils dilated with shock.

Black hair, amber eyes… could it be?

Eleanor’s clothing was truly plain, with no insignia to prove her identity. The instructor had to scan Andra several times before finally reaching a terrifying hypothesis based on the gold-thread patterns: Could they be the Princess and the Hetuyan hostage staying with us?

“Noble guests, noble guests!” she welcomed them excitedly, eagerly offering to lead their horses.

But when Andra dismounted and lifted Eleanor down, an icy gaze swept over. The instructor broke into a cold sweat instantly. Darn, almost forgot. These children were traveling light specifically because they didn’t want their identities revealed. If she accidentally exposed them and caused them to encounter assassins on the road, not just the instructor, but even Lord Scar-eye would be buried with them!

But if she didn’t reveal it… she knew well that the slaves behind her certainly wouldn’t be able to deduce so much from minor clues. They would only think the golden-red haired youth was a noble because of her magnificent clothes, and the black-haired child would likely be seen as a small attendant.

They must not do anything disrespectful—

For a moment, the instructor felt the claws of a monster stretching out from the void, tearing at her soul and body. If those mud-legged wretches really planned to do something big today and the two Highnesses died here… what would become of me?

If her previous worst-case scenario was merely being beaten to death by angry slaves—becoming a bag of gold coins sent to her family by Lord Scar-eye—then what might happen next could lead to her entire family, and Lord Scar-eye’s entire family, being flayed and dismembered, down to the pet dog.

No, a person must save themselves! The instructor decided to coax the two Highnesses away.

“Two noble guests, this is a legion outpost. If you wish to purchase goods, please head that way~ our largest marketplace is over there~” The instructor put on a fawning smile, hoping for an immediate farewell.

However, the little Princess did not waste words. She struggled in Andra’s arms, wanting to jump down, but the grip on her legs and waist was a bit tight. She could only lean in Andra’s embrace and observe the slaves outside.

She blinked and said with utter innocence: “Wow! there are so many warriors here. Is everyone willing to come with me?”

The stagnant atmosphere almost solidified. Those words made the instructor’s hair stand on end: Oh my little lady, my Great Highness  please just leave!

However, when the air flowed again, the atmosphere actually improved slightly. Perhaps the little girl’s cute appearance held no threat, or perhaps Eleanor’s gaze was too clear and her tone too naive.

The slaves, accustomed to being cursed and mocked, looked at one another in silence. They made a path, and a person who could speak for them all squeezed out. The warrior who would later be called “A-Ying” stepped forward and stood before Eleanor.

The bad news was that there were two High-bloods here, and they were about to do something big. The good news was that these two High-bloods were just children, useless.

Clack.

As A-Ying approached the little Princess, the royal guard stepped forward a few paces, blocking the path between her and the Princess.

“Noble one, we are not for sale today.”

As A-Ying spoke, she gave a meaningful look to the instructor, making the latter’s legs tremble. What do you mean ‘not for sale’? Slaves were for selling; only their master, Scar-eye, could say that! Betrayal… this was a shameful betrayal! They were going to betray Lord Scar-eye!

The instructor felt despair from the bottom of her heart. If it were on a battlefield, she could still rely on her armor to resist a bit and turn to call her colleagues for help. Unfortunately, this was the Nolanna capital; she couldn’t even send a signal. Who would dare light a beacon fire on the outskirts of the royal city? Regardless of whether there was a slave revolt, the only outcome for everyone would be a total massacre by the King of Nolanna or some general.

The instructor turned to look.

To her surprise, the black-haired girl, clearly precocious, smiled as if she hadn’t understood anything: “Not for sale? That’s great then. You can leave freely with me.”

Upon hearing this, the instructor’s first reaction was: This girl doesn’t want to pay?

A-Ying, however, was shaken by the word “freely.” She looked at the girl before her with complex emotions. Was she being sarcastic, or was she simply so young that she took it for granted that both slaves and freemen… should belong to her?

Both guesses were grim, yet the girl’s smile was innocent and persistent, not provoking anger. It was as if a third option truly existed outside of everyone’s recognition.

“No, we will not go with you.”

A-Ying’s words could be interpreted as: they were loyal combat slaves who would not leave Old Scar-eye. But as soon as she saw the instructor’s terrified expression, she knew the other had figured it out… Hmph, as soon as I get a sword, I’ll send her on her way first!

She hoped the child was smart; she had refused so clearly. If she and her companions didn’t flee now, it would be too late. Unfortunately, A-Ying’s hope was in vain. The little girl merely thought for a moment and asked: “Then what kind of place do you want to go to?”

This question made A-Ying, the instructor, and even the slaves behind them show expressions of surprise. Their lips moved as if they wanted to answer, but the question transcended their imagination. If she had asked—”Where do you want to go?”—many would have answered: home, the mountains, a place full of memories. But this question was asking: what kind of place do you want to go to?

A-Ying didn’t want to answer such a small child, but her lips moved first in a bitter smile: “Want to go? I want to go to a place where I can eat my fill, stay warm, and not be beaten.”

Does such a place exist? It didn’t. For lowly slaves like them, it certainly didn’t exist. She mentioned “not being beaten” with a slight delay, because eating one’s fill and staying warm were already extremely difficult requirements to meet. They were the elite combat slaves; Scar-eye would never skimp on their food, but once on the battlefield, whether it was hunger or cold, it was all too normal.

As for being beaten… to be honest, they didn’t think the status of “slave” was inherently bad. A slave at least had the protection of a master and didn’t have to think about various things. What they opposed was the master’s violence; too many slaves had been beaten to death.

Eleanor pursed her lips sadly, her eyes reddening slightly. She had seen it too many times. Even without counting the regressed time, she had seen far too many similar things. The common people of this world had no opportunity to receive basic education, let alone study deep subjects like politics, history, or philosophy.

Thus, whether it was the slaves before her or the slaves she had seen in the past and future no one, not a single slave, could overthrow a local ruler. They lacked a platform… in essence, they were just like her, out of place, lashed by the era.

Eleanor said with a sob: “You can come with me. I swear I will take you to a place where more people can eat their fill, stay warm, and not be beaten.”

A child’s sincere words can always move people. Unfortunately, no matter how moving the child’s words are, adults will not believe them.

A-Ying turned aside and sniffed, saying gruffly: “Kid, just go back… don’t stay here if you’re so weak!”

Eleanor looked into her eyes and said: “Because I am weak, you refuse to believe what I say, right?”

“Yes!” A-Ying turned back and stared at the girl with bloodshot eyes, saying seriously: “Yes, yes, yes. You are a noble but you are not the King of Nolanna! By what right do you make such a promise?”

A harsher sentence surged in her heart, one she was unwilling to spit at a young child: Even the King of Nolanna can’t do it! No one in the world can! The Gods never granted us such happiness. Not in the past, and not in the future. So we can only kill, seize, and… flee on our own.

A-Ying’s emotions were collapsing. The instructor nearby keenly felt the slave’s mood: I see. These slaves aren’t excited today; they are afraid. They knew. They knew this rebellion would be hard to win. They knew they had nowhere to run how many could escape the pursuit of the Nolanna army?

A-Ying opened her mouth with a distorted expression. She was going to use vicious words to make this innocent noble child cry and run away. If she didn’t leave, she would kick her backside hard and toss her onto a horse!

But when she looked up, she found the girl wasn’t crying. Even the reddened rims of her eyes had returned to their normal color. Eleanor was thinking. After a brief moment of thought, she went to Andra’s side and pushed her forward with a da-da-da step.

What did this mean? The slaves’ gaze concentrated on the youth with golden-red hair.

Eleanor nodded to Andra, then went to the instructor’s side, tugged her sleeve, and said loudly: “Those sisters think I am weak, so you all should have a match with Andra first!”

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