novelraw Chapter 5: To Deal with People
Chapter 5: To Deal with People
The door opened again. Raphaëlle stepped out, rubbing her slightly reddened neck. The human’s touch still lingered there—just like his voice, echoing in her ears.
The white bedding had already been moved into the room by Larr and the others. At the doorway, Larr peeked out with her large, watery eyes, cautiously looking at Raphaëlle as she exited Fischer’s room.
“Lady Raphaëlle… did he... did he hurt you?”
Inside the room, the bedding was all spread out across the floor. Raphaëlle’s was nearest the door, and Larr sat beside her, eyes filled with worry as she stared at Raphaëlle’s reddened neck. Larr was the youngest of them all—just seeing the mark made her eyes tremble, as though they might fill with tears.
Raphaëlle paused, caught off guard. She was still thinking about the game rules Fischer had laid out. Her slave mark was still visible on her chest, but it had become a hollow shell—it no longer exerted the same control.
She opened her mouth slightly, but in the end, said nothing. Instead, she gently hugged the small, anxious Larr.
“No... don’t worry. I’ll bring us home.”
“Lady Raphaëlle…”
Cachil and Fassil, the pair of white-scaled twins from the tribe, had originally been her assigned guards and companions. Because of her carelessness, they too were captured by humans. Mir, the eldest among them, was the only adult dragonkin, already married and bonded to a chosen mate. She hadn’t seen her loved ones in a long time now.
If it weren’t for Raphaëlle’s mistake, none of them would have been taken from their homeland. Knock knock…
As Raphaëlle held Larr, there was a soft knock on the doorframe. Fischer appeared.
Everyone but Raphaëlle and the one in her arms instinctively shrank back a little.
“Come eat.”
With that, he vanished from the doorway.
The dragonkin looked at each other. Only Larr’s stomach answered, growling softly.
“Lady Raphaëlle, I’m hungry…”
The small voice came from her arms. Raphaëlle looked around. Her companions were also watching her.
“Let’s go.”
Stepping out of the room, Fischer was nowhere in sight. Up the stairs, the door was open, revealing the sky—already darkening.
Raphaëlle led the way. The night air was cool against her scales, and the moment she exited the carriage, she remembered the game rules she had agreed to.
She could kill him outside the carriage—and win the game. Win her freedom.
Her emerald eyes gleamed faintly as she instinctively searched for the man.
There he was—standing by the river, holding a strange long wooden rod, gazing across the darkening wilderness. On the far side of the river, faint glowing eyes peeked through the darkness, watching.
Fischer raised the “stick” in his hand and aimed it. Raphaëlle’s tail lifted slightly—then:
BANG!
“ROARR!!”
The sharp crack of the gunshot shattered the air. One unlucky wild wolf dropped on the spot. The rest fled in a panic—the terrifying roar hadn’t even come from them.
Fischer lowered the firearm and turned around to look at the red dragonkin girl. Her pupils had shrunk to slits. Her scales lifted defensively, and hot steam hissed from her skin. She crouched low, eyes locked on him like a threatened beast, fearing he might fire again.
The others had already hidden behind the carriage, their fearful eyes peeking out from cover.
Ah, so that’s it.
Fischer glanced at Raphaëlle and casually holstered the gun.
“Can any of you start a fire?”
“... Grr.”
Raphaëlle’s legs trembled. A soft growl escaped her throat. She was like a startled animal.
“If not, go fetch the wolf. Unless you want to starve tonight, move quickly.”
Carrying the gun on his back, he walked past the tense Raphaëlle and pushed aside the dragonkin hiding behind the carriage.
“Make way.”
Inside the hidden compartment there was a portable campfire pit, enchanted to light via magic. He wasn't sure how many uses it had left—the last time the magic array had looked nearly worn out.
That was the problem with magic. It took a long time to inscribe, wore out quickly, and was expensive. No wonder the folks in Saint Nary were so obsessed with steam engines.
“What… what was that thing? The one that made the noise…”
Fischer was adjusting the fire pit when he heard a soft, sweet voice. He thought it was just the earth spirits chittering—but when he looked back, it was actually the smallest blue dragonkin talking to him.
Larr, wasn’t it?
Her face was pale as she stared at the smoking gun on his back. Her expression was still shell-shocked, and she touched her scales—as if checking to make sure she wasn’t bleeding.
“This?”
“...Mm.”
“It’s a gun.”
Fischer responded while activating the fading magic array, not even turning to face her.
“Is it made with magic?”
“No. It’s man-made.”
“Is it for… fighting us?”
He didn’t know whether she meant demi-humans or dragonkin, but either way, her guess wasn’t right. Beneath the brilliance of human civilization, filth always festered.
He shook his head.
“No. It’s for fighting humans.”
Larr opened her mouth. Her thoughts were clearly still boiling like a stewpot, trying to make sense of everything.
“Larr!”
Mir had only taken her eyes off her for a second, and suddenly Larr was chatting with the dangerous human. When Fischer suddenly raised the gun again, Mir panicked and rushed forward to shield Larr with her body—
BANG!
Another shot exploded.
This time, a puff of dirt burst across the river, followed by shouts of panic.
“D*mn it! Lania got hit!”
“Get out of here—he’s not someone to mess with!”
“Hold his chest—he’s bleeding out!”
In the darkness, chaos erupted. Voices scrambled and faded as distant figures vanished into the shadows. A few gunshots rang out—likely cover fire to help their wounded escape.
Larr and Mir both stared, dumbfounded, across the river where the figures had disappeared. Then they looked at the man calmly fiddling with the campfire, expressionless.
The Southern Continent was full of gold, drawing in countless explorers from the Western Continent—but many of them were criminals and outlaws.
Before Fischer had come, he’d already heard rumors that the Council wanted to ship convicts to an island near the Southern Continent, as a cost-saving alternative to maintaining prisons.
In short, the South was a chaotic mess. Many never made it back.
Those bandits had probably been lured by the sound of gunfire and hoofbeats. With his enhanced body, Fischer had easily caught their whispers.
His last demi-human research had earned him plenty of perks—like this incredibly strong body, sharp senses, and even some magic casting capability.
“Larr!”
Raphaëlle returned, carrying the slain wolf. She relaxed visibly upon seeing Larr unharmed.
Fischer glanced at her coldly, then pointed at the fire now glowing underfoot.
“We’ve got research to do tonight. Eat first.”
The others didn’t understand what he meant.
Only Raphaëlle’s lips tightened.
Her emerald eyes locked onto him.