"Y-Yes, Your Highness." The elder nodded, though still looking confused. "It’s just a common plant that grows all along the swamp edges of the Hollowlands. It’s tough, yes, and it glows a little in the dark, so our folk use it to mark paths at night. But it’s nothing special, really."
"Nothing special?" Aurelia muttered in a low voice; it seemed like she was feeling challenged. I could see her smiling faintly before continuing in a louder and confident voice.
"That’s where you are wrong, Elder. What you see as a common plant is actually classified as a Three-Star material. Its true value isn’t just in being tough or glowing. The fibers naturally absorb and stabilize ambient aura, releasing it as a pure, steady light. It’s a self-sustaining enchantment. Moreover..."
And she started explaining the plant’s effects, how useful it could be in what situations, and so on. Honestly, I doubted whether she was really a princess, not a biologist, for a moment there. And looking at others’ reactions, they probably shared the same thoughts.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of botanical and alchemical exposition, Aurelia seemed to run out of steam. Mid-sentence, she appeared to suddenly become aware of herself again.
"T-Then..." Her voice trailed off, and I watched as realization dawned on her face—the same realization that was probably hitting everyone else: she’d just delivered what sounded like a master’s thesis on swamp flora.
Her ears turned a shade of red so vivid it almost matched the ruby brooch at her collar.
"I... I apologize," she said quietly, her earlier confidence evaporating. "I got rather carried away, didn’t I? I... I mean, that was probably far too much detail about something so..."
Before she could finish her embarrassed apology, I started clapping. The others followed after me, and I couldn’t help but grin.
"Your Highness, that was genuinely impressive. Really good," I said, giving her a thumbs up.
The elder joined in next, followed by several others. Even Cassie, whom I’d expect to be the most skeptical about royal enthusiasm, was nodding approvingly. When our eyes met, the merchant gave Aurelia a thumbs-up as well.
’...Now she copied me.’
"If what you said is true," Cassie added, "then this town really does have a chance not just to survive, but to thrive. However..." she paused, a merchant’s instinct clearly kicking in, "I need to verify it with my own eyes first. It’s a habit of mine, I can’t make informed decisions without proper assessment. I hope you understand."
"O-Of course," Aurelia nodded, the color in her ears fading slightly. "It’s wise to verify before committing resources."
"Elder," I spoke up, glancing between the old man and Cassie, "would you be willing to take the Princess and Cassie out to see the plants? Show them exactly where it grows and what we’re working with?"
"Absolutely," the elder replied, seeming relieved to have a concrete task, a way to save the town. "I know the patches well. It’ll take an hour or so to get there and back."
Aurelia rose gracefully, and Cassie already looked ready to move.
"That works perfectly," I continued, turning to address Vance and the Vice Captain. "While they’re doing that, the rest of us need to get organized. So, we will go to recruit our ’free laborers’. We need to get them assembled and working as soon as possible. Every day we delay is a day this town remains vulnerable."
"Yes!"
Thus, with the next steps clear, we finished our lunch with a renewed sense of purpose. We parted ways at the elder’s doorstep.
The elder, Aurelia, and Cassandra turned in the opposite direction, while Vance, Elria, and I made our way to the makeshift prison, a repurposed storage shed with a heavily reinforced door and a single, barred window.
The guard stationed outside gave a sharp nod to us and unlocked the heavy bolt. The door swung open with a groan, revealing the dim interior.
The air inside was thick with the scent of sweat, fear, and despair. The bandits, or what was left of the ambush party, were huddled together on the dirt floor. A few were curled into tight balls, shivering. Others were biting their knuckles or fingers raw, a desperate, mindless attempt to distract themselves from their fate. Their eyes were hollow, their faces gaunt.
’ It’s that bad here, huh?
’Hmm...’ I tapped the hilt of my knife lightly against the metal bars of the doorframe. The sharp clink-clink echoed in the quiet shed.
"!" The prisoners flinched as one, their heads snapping up. A few muttered, "F-food?" their voices raspy with hope.
But that fragile hope shattered into pure, unadulterated terror the moment their eyes focused on the three of us standing in the doorway. They shrank back even further, pressing themselves against the far wall as if they could phase through it. Their wide eyes darted from Elria’s cold, professional gaze to Vance’s menacing eyes, finally landing on me. I saw the memory of their defeat flash in their eyes. To them, we weren’t rescuers; we were the monsters who had put them here.
I greeted them with my most innocent, disarming smile.
"Good afternoon, dear ban-friends," I began, my voice cheerful. "I have a question for you all. Would you... like to be free?"
They stared, suspicion warring with their desperate want. It was the look of people who knew a gift horse was likely to bite.
I didn’t mind their silence. "Vance," I called out without looking away from them. "Bring them out."
At my words, a flicker of genuine, bewildered hope ignited in their eyes. Freedom? Now? They shuffled forward slightly, their chains clinking.
Then Vance stepped back into the doorway. He wasn’t holding keys. Instead, he was carrying a large wooden tray laden with bowls of the same hearty stew we had just eaten. The rich, savory aroma of meat and herbs flooded the stale air of the shed, so potent it was almost a physical presence.
My smile widened for a fraction as I took the tray from him.
I watched their faces. Every single one of them was now staring, transfixed, at the food. Their earlier suspicion was completely overwritten by a primal, gut-wrenching hunger. Their eyes were glued to the steaming bowls.
"Now," I said, my voice still light but gaining a hard, pragmatic edge. "Let’s talk about the price of your freedom... And your lunch."