Became the Unjust Contract Slave of the Archamage’s Book

“Wow, the village is quite large.”

The first place Binaeril and his party arrived at after walking across the grasslands was a village named Fairhill.

“It’s because the area near Elfenbine is safe. There’s less worry about being harmed by demons, so naturally, people gather here,” Sylvia explained.

She was right. Fairhill was a small village at the eastern border of the empire, but it had grown significantly due to the influx of migrants. Many villages near Elfenbine had similarly grown on the basis of safety.

“What should we do? Should we pass through or stay here for the night?”

By the time the party, who had set out in the morning, arrived at Fairhill, the sun was hanging over the mountain peaks. The three, unaccustomed to traveling on foot, were moving slowly.

“It would be nice if we could ride horses.”

After just half a day of walking, their challenges became apparent. The continent was vast, too vast to traverse on foot. Walking required more stamina than expected.

Even if they somehow acquired horses, only Sylvia was proficient in riding. Binaeril had only ridden a few times as a child, clinging to his father.

“It would be great if we could ride a carriage.”

“No coachman would drive from the border to the capital.”

Unlike the relatively safe areas near the capital or Elfenbine, the middle regions were death zones teeming with demons. No coachman would risk their life to help them.

“Since Lady Rike seems tired, let’s rest here for today.”

“That’s fine, but we need to consider our pace. This is too slow.”

Rike struggled with even short walks. Sylvia attributed it to the poison she had ingested as a child.

“Once we get past Edenburg, we can meet the royal guards from the capital. We need to manage on our own until then.”

Edenburg was a city located slightly to the left between Elfenbine and the capital. Sylvia mentioned that Edenburg was marginally within the capital’s sphere of influence.

Fairhill was a village on a hill, as its name suggested. Being a sizable village, it had a gate and guards at the entrance.

“Stop! State your identity and purpose,” a young guard demanded, gripping his spear as Binaeril and his party approached.

“We’re travelers heading to the capital and plan to stay here for the night…”

“Is that all? Do you have any weapons?”

As Binaeril explained, an older guard, arms crossed, suddenly slapped the younger guard on the back of the head.

Smack!

As the three looked on in shock at this sudden act, the senior guard hit the younger guard’s head two or three more times.

“You idiot!”

The senior guard shouted at the young guard, who was now rubbing the back of his head, “Can’t you see? These people are from the magic tower.”

“Uh, excuse me?”

“It’s the season for newly appointed mages to emerge. How dare you point a weapon at a mage?”

“Oh, we’re fine…”

Still not satisfied, the senior guard snatched the spear from the young guard and threw it aside.

“Get out of the way!”

The young guard retreated, looking thoroughly dejected. The senior guard, his face darkly tanned, approached Binaeril and the others, rubbing his hands together and forcing a smile.

“Apologies. The rookie doesn’t know much. You’re from the magic tower, right?”

“Yes, yes.”

“Fairhill welcomes mages. Planning to stay the night? Follow me.”

The guard, now transformed from a veteran soldier into a friendly guide, led them into the village. The three followed, feeling slightly awkward.

Binaeril elbowed Sylvia and asked quietly, “Hey, do we look obvious?”

“I don’t know.”

Their badges, symbols of their appointment, were tucked away in their bags. Their clothes were ordinary, and aside from their diverse hair colors, it was unclear how they were identified as mages.

“Excuse me.”

“Yes? What do you want to know?”

Rike, with her innocent face, asked the guard, “How did you know we were mages?”

The guard responded with a knowing look, “Just by looking at you. Young travelers rarely come to these parts unless they’re mages or someone of similar standing.”

-Basically, he’s saying you’re a bunch of conspicuously rich-looking kids. Who else could you be but mages?

Indeed, Rike, Sylvia, and Binaeril did not have the rugged look of farmers or guards. Their pale skin and slender frames set them apart.

The guard led them to a two-story wooden building in the village center. “This is the chief’s house. He will find you a place to stay.”

The guard, having completed his task, quickly disappeared.

“The chief? This looks like a mansion,” Sylvia remarked.

The interior was just as grand as the exterior. The three whispered among themselves about the apparent wealth of the village.

Despite it being midday, the village chief had a fire going in the fireplace and the windows open. He sat in a rocking chair by the window, basking in the warmth and luxury.

“Ah, welcome. I’m Billwood, the chief of Fairhill. Are you the new mages?”

The chief, with a friendly smile, seemed accustomed to such visits. He set aside his blanket and stood up.

“Fairhill welcomes you.”

The villagers treated the group with great hospitality. They provided high-quality meat, bread, warm baths, and white bedding in their rooms.

“Isn’t this a bit strange?” Binaeril muttered.

“What’s wrong?” Sylvia asked, her mouth full of meat.

“Never mind. Just eat.”

Sylvia was always hungry. She was a typical physical type, needing to eat as much as she moved.

“What do you mean?” Rike asked.

“Aren’t they treating us too well? We haven’t paid for anything, yet the food and accommodations are top-notch.”

“Hmm. Maybe they’re showing their gratitude for Elfenbine’s protection?”

“I hope that’s the case.”

Only Binaeril seemed suspicious of their hospitality. He couldn’t shake off what Veritas had said earlier. Veritas often made snide remarks, but there was usually a grain of truth in them.

***

“Look at these greenhorns who look like easy marks.”

Most graduates of Elfenbine came from noble families. Naturally, many were naive about the ways of the world, and Binaeril’s group was no exception. After his mother’s death, Binaeril had helped his father manage the household’s expenses. This wasn’t a grand noble banquet where appearances had to be maintained, so it seemed odd that a village chief would go to such lengths to entertain visiting mages.

“Don’t be so suspicious, Binaeril. They all seem like good people. It’s not like we enjoy such luxuries every day. Once we enter the empire, we’ll need to hide our identities,” Rike reassured him.

“Yeah. What could these people possibly do to us?” Sylvia added.

Still, Binaeril couldn’t shake his doubts. He wondered if he was worrying needlessly as he stuffed his mouth with food.

“Chief.”

From outside the kitchen where they were dining, they heard the guard from earlier talking to the chief.

“There’s another visitor.”

“Another mage?”

“Yes, but…”

The guard lowered his voice, seemingly aware of Binaeril and the others.

‘Veritas, can you tell me what they’re saying?’

-I’m not a spy, but let’s see… ‘Not a greenhorn. Seems like he’s been around.’ 

“I’ll meet him.”

Binaeril put down his food and quietly followed the chief outside.

“Ah, hello. I’m Billwood, the chief of Fairhill,” the chief greeted the late visitor.

The newcomer wore a tattered robe, suggesting he had been exposed to the elements for some time. From the magical aura he emanated, he was clearly a mage as well.

“Fairhill welcomes all mages. Can we offer you a meal and a place to stay?”

The visitor, who had his hood pulled low, looked neither very young nor very old. He waved off the offer and showed his canteen.

“No, I just stopped by to get some bread. I’ve run out of food.”

“Of course, we can give you some. It’s late at night, though. Are you leaving already?”

“I plan to camp nearby.”

“Why not stay inside?”

The young man responded to the chief’s smile with one of his own, but Binaeril sensed a subtle tension between them.

“I prefer being alone. I’m sensitive and find it more comfortable.”

“Come on, there’s no need to be shy. We’ll give you the best room.”

Despite the chief’s insistence, the mage stood firm. Accepting a loaf of warm bread, he dropped a few silver coins into the chief’s hand, despite his refusal, and left the village.

As the departing mage’s gaze met Binaeril’s, he widened his eyes and shook his head before moving on. The chief, noticing Binaeril, finally spoke.

“What are you doing out here? The night air is chilly. Come back inside.”

Binaeril explained what he had seen to his companions.

“Isn’t this odd?”

“Looks like one of our seniors. He wouldn’t refuse such hospitality if it were genuinely pure,” Binaeril pointed out.

“Maybe he’s just really sensitive,” Rike suggested.

“Can’t you ever think of things more simply?” Sylvia retorted.

“What? Can’t you ever think less negatively?”

Even Rike, who usually sided with Binaeril, sided with Sylvia this time.

“Binaeril, nothing has happened yet, right? Don’t worry so much,” Rike said.

“Rike, even you? I still think something’s off. Let’s take turns keeping watch tonight,” Binaeril suggested.

Sylvia grumbled at Binaeril’s proposal. At that moment, the chief appeared, wearing his characteristic friendly smile.

“Did you enjoy your meal?”

“Oh, yes,” Binaeril replied tersely.

Sensing the tension, Rike stepped forward with praises.

“It was delicious. Thank you so much for treating us so well.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. We owe a lot to Elfenbine. This is the least we can do.”

The chief laughed heartily at Rike’s polite words.

“Where are you three headed?”

“Oh, we are…” Rike began to answer honestly, but Binaeril interrupted her.

“We’re heading west. Far west. I’m afraid we can’t give you any more details.”

“Far west? I see.”

The chief’s eyes twinkled as if calculating the weight of their purses. Finally, he got to the point.

“Then you’ll need to settle the bill for the meal, the bath, and the rooms.”

“Of course.”

“But you didn’t mention this earlier.”

“Did you expect all this for free? Even as esteemed mages from Elfenbine?”

The chief pretended to be shocked. Binaeril shot a triumphant look at Sylvia, as if to say, “See? I told you so.”

“We’ll pay. How much do we owe you?” Binaeril asked.

“It’s not much,” the chief said, rubbing his hands together with a broad smile. For the first time, his smile seemed genuine.

“I’ll take ten Florin silver coins per person.”

It was an outrageous price.