Chapter Twenty-One: A Secret Deal

The Sea of Death remained as lifeless as ever. Aside from the monthly arrival of the Liberty, no one else ever came or went from this place.

Gleir sat at the port of Purgatory Island, hugging his knees, gazing at the seabirds soaring in the distance.

It had been three months since the little princess left.

Since Avril's departure, Gleir clearly sensed a change in how those around him treated him.

If before, people looked at him with a modicum of admiration or respect, now their eyes carried a faint trace of awe.

Yes, awe—the servants now regarded him with a reverence no other head servant had ever enjoyed. Even Andrew, who once addressed him with a curt detachment, now spoke to him with courtesy.

Before this, although Gleir’s work had always satisfied Andrew, he had never said things like, “How did your work go today?” “If you need anything, just tell me.” “Shui, you’re the finest servant I’ve ever seen.”

He no longer called Gleir by his surname, but instead used his given name with a newfound warmth.

Beyond that, Andrew had even granted him special permission to walk about freely when there was nothing to be done.

Thus, Gleir could now sit at the port, gazing into the distance, unburdened.

Before, even to come to the port, he would have to ask Sisser for permission to play the role of a delivery boy.

In just a year, Sisser was gone, and he had become the most powerful servant on the island.

But what did that matter?

The mightiest ant is still but an ant; the most powerful servant is still only a servant.

Andrew regarded him differently because, even in the harshest circumstances, he had never shirked his duties and had performed every task with careful diligence. But if he dared to use the unofficial title of “Guardian Knight” to slack off or show disrespect to his master, he believed Heinz would not hesitate to cast him into the Death Chasm. Even if Avril were to rage, Heinz would not be deterred.

Perhaps Streik VI might kill a dozen ministers for his daughter, but he would never destroy an alchemy master crucial to the empire’s rise for the sake of a servant.

So Gleir remained as dedicated as ever.

Each morning, he joined Lancelot on the hunt, and at noon, he spent his time in the library. Now, when apprentices needed to search for information, Gleir often no longer needed to consult the books—he could simply tell them the answer.

In the afternoon, Gleir oversaw the servants’ work in each area, reminded them of key points, assigned their duties, and monitored and recorded everyone’s performance.

At dusk, he would always come alone to the port, to gaze upon the sea, though the sea was as lifeless as ever.

At such moments, he would ask himself: for a servant, to have come this far—was this already the summit?

The answer was no.

But to advance further from here would be just as arduous as before.

He longed to break the shackles of servitude and join the inner circle of Purgatory Island. Yet his status bound him. No matter how highly Andrew valued him, he would never promote him to apprentice.

A servant for a day, a servant for life.

The concept of hierarchy was too deeply rooted to be changed easily.

Fink ran over from the direction of the castle, breathless, and when he saw Gleir, he called out, “Shui! Shui!”

Gleir turned his head. “What’s happened?”

“They’re taking me away! The Liberty arrives in five days. They said no one has ever lasted a year on Purgatory Island, so I have to go. I don’t know where I’ll be sent; Andrew won’t tell me. But I don’t want to leave you.”

“Did Andrew say anything about me?”

“He said you won’t be leaving, because the little princess said she wants to see you again next year, and Andrew is very satisfied with you. He said you’ll be the only exception.”

At this, Fink’s mood grew bittersweet. He looked at Gleir. “Shui, I don’t want to leave you. You’ve taken such good care of me this past year... I know that. Last time you said you couldn’t do without me... but actually, it’s me who can’t do without you. I know you only said it to comfort me.”

Fink’s voice choked, and tears shimmered in his eyes.

Gleir gazed at Fink, momentarily lost.

He had once mentioned to Andrew his wish for Fink to stay, but Andrew had said nothing.

At that moment, he knew things were not looking good.

Sure enough, the bad news came today: Fink was to be taken away.

After Sisser, yet another friend was about to be lost.

Poor Fink, he still didn’t know what fate awaited him. His tears now were only for the pain of parting from a friend.

Gleir stepped forward and gently embraced Fink. “Fink, my friend, do you trust me?”

“I’ve always trusted you.”

“Then let me tell you a story. You must remember it well.”

“Oh, all right.”

“It’s a simple story. There was a group of rabbits, about to be taken away by a hunter. The hunter would kill one, then eat one... kill one... then eat one...”

“I don’t understand, Shui. This is a terrible story.”

“Listen to me, Fink. Among those rabbits, one was in utter despair. It wanted to escape, but had no chance. What do you think it should do?”

“Resist?” Fink asked.

Gleir shook his head. “No. It should wait. For those rabbits, as long as they were alive, there was hope, even if survival was a torment.”

“You mean... wait? Shouldn’t it fight back?”

“No, not fight back. Resistance would only make the hunter more ruthless, and a rabbit could never overpower a hunter. So it must stay silent, play dead, wait, do whatever it takes to survive, and when the moment comes—when the hunter grows careless—it must suddenly run. Even if it cannot do that, it should at least delay as long as possible. As a rabbit destined for the pot, if you cannot resist, at least be the last one to be thrown in. Remember, before you go into the pot, there is always hope.”

“I don’t quite understand what you mean,” Fink said, confused.

Gleir sighed. “I will miss you, Fink. Remember my story, but don’t tell anyone else. If one day you find yourself in danger, I mean if... then even if you can’t escape, at least learn to delay.”

“And then?”

“Pray,” Gleir replied.

—

Fink returned, bewildered; he had not understood what Gleir meant.

Gleir could not make it too clear. If he told Fink that every servant taken away met a deadly end, it would terrify him. Fink could never deceive Andrew—he was too inexperienced.

Sitting alone by the sea, Gleir stared dreamily at the horizon.

Sisser was gone; now Fink would go too. One friend after another was leaving him.

Yesterday it was Sisser, today Fink, tomorrow—perhaps it would be his turn.

As long as he was a servant, he could not escape this fate!

Perhaps it was time to take the initiative.

He must break the shackles of servitude, or he would never escape the threat of death!

Now, if he acted, his chances of success might be slim, but he still might save Fink’s life.

After a long reflection, he finally made up his mind and stood up.

He headed toward the castle.

“Master Andrew.”

“What is it, Gleir?” Andrew was in his laboratory, busy with some alchemical experiment, apparently concocting a potion. Without looking up, he said, “This is my work time. I recall telling you not to disturb me now.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but these are this month’s reports—there are quite a few, and I thought you’d appreciate having them early.”

“Put them on that table. I’ll look at them.”

“Yes, sir.” Gleir carried the documents over. Seeing that Andrew wasn’t paying attention, he quietly slipped an extra report into a stack of old records. Unless someone searched through those old files, the report would never be found.

Having done this, he left the alchemy tower and headed toward the lake.

At this time, Lancelot was training by the lake.

“What? You want to undergo a week of extreme training starting today?” Lancelot was surprised.

“Yes, sir. I want to do a week of extreme training. I still feel too weak.”

Lancelot considered, then nodded. “All right. I can help you, but do you have the time?”

“I can train at night.”

“But then you’ll be exhausted the next day.”

“It won’t be a problem, sir. It doesn’t need to be as intense as last time.”

“Very well, as you wish. But let me tell you, seven days alone won’t do much.”

“I understand, Lord Lancelot, but I still hope to receive your guidance. Even just one more day is a lifetime’s fortune for me.”

“You always know what to say, little one,” Lancelot laughed.

After bidding Lancelot farewell, Gleir returned to the castle.

He made his rounds through the various regions.

In Area Nine, the saber-toothed beast wagged its tail excitedly at Gleir’s approach.

“Burke,” Gleir said, “Fang seems to have missed me.”

“Yes, Head Servant,” the new servant replied respectfully.

“Step outside for a bit. I’d like a word with Fang in private. I’ll take care of your tasks here.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the youth left, Gleir’s expression grew cold.

He reached for the magic cage’s energy crystal.

Carefully, he replaced it with a nearly depleted one.

Leaving Area Nine, he moved on to the next, where several other fierce beasts were kept.

He repeated the process.

—

Five days later.

Fink was taken away, and the Liberty arrived.

The Liberty’s main task was to deliver all sorts of ores needed for crafting large automatons, rare materials not found on the island, and new servants, while each month carrying away Heinz’s alchemical works.

Over the past year, though Gleir had become Head Servant, he still insisted on personally going to the port to deliver goods each month.

The guards on the ship were fascinated by the island’s alchemical products—many of which were of great use to warriors, though all were the property of the state. On Purgatory Island, not even a leaf could be owned unless a young servant secretly supplied it.

And for Gleir, the guards could provide him with favors no one else could offer.

After loading the goods onto the ship, several guards exchanged looks with Gleir. One of them, a burly man named Bailey, laughed loudly. “Hey, Shui, good to see you again. It’s been a year, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, Bailey. But Master Andrew seems very satisfied with me and wants me to stay.”

Now, Gleir no longer needed to address these guards as ‘sir.’

Bailey laughed, “That’s great. You’ve done well, Shui. I guess it’s because of the little princess, right? I heard she named you her Guardian Knight.”

“Maybe, but I hope it’s more because of my hard work.”

Bailey seemed to remember something and slapped his forehead, “Oh, right! I’ve got a bottle of wine in the cabin. To celebrate our dear friend working a full year on Purgatory Island—and about to break the record and keep going—maybe we should have a drink. Care to join me, Shui?”

“If it’s not too much, I suppose I could.”

“Come along, then.”

The two exchanged banter as Bailey signaled his companions, then led Gleir into the cabin.

On the way, Bailey whispered, “Did you bring the stuff?”

Gleir smiled. “Of course. And what about what I asked for?”

Bailey jerked his chin toward the cabin. “Right there.”

From a box, Bailey furtively took out a small piece that gleamed like red agate. “This wasn’t easy to get, Shui. We took a big risk for you this time.”

“The greater the risk, the greater the reward. Remember, these things ultimately end up back with you,” Gleir replied. “The real risk is mine—I get nothing for helping you, and I risk Andrew finding out.”

Bailey grinned sheepishly and started rummaging in his pockets, but Gleir stopped him. “Bailey, you know money means nothing on Purgatory Island. Don’t thank me with money.”

Bailey nodded quickly. “Right you are, Shui. We really do appreciate your help. Honestly, we’re just poor warriors. If we didn’t make a little money on the side, I wouldn’t be able to feed my eight wives and twelve children. Oh, and Shui—never marry too many wives. You don’t just have to feed all those women and kids; you get eight mothers-in-law, and they can devour a mountain!”

Gleir smirked.

Was this what they called ‘a little money’?

Any warrior allowed on secret missions to Purgatory Island was already wealthy, and everything from the island fetched a fortune. Even scraps of material could be sold for a good price.

But no amount of wealth could satisfy their greed.

Greedy scoundrels, the lot of them.

Since their first deal, the guards had grown bolder—smuggling anything from ordinary energy crystals to rare materials. The better the item brought, the greater Gleir’s reward.

This time, they brought something truly valuable.

Gleir produced several vials and a small box. “I had to injure myself repeatedly to get these healing potions. You know what that cost me. And this mana potion—took me ages to trick Andrew into thinking he broke a bottle himself. As for this poison, it’s brewed from the venom of a spotted viper; you know how dangerous it is to extract, and I had to keep it secret. The materials in the box were also hard to squirrel away without Andrew noticing.”

“Thank you so much!” Bailey said, eyes shining as he took the bottles.

Any of these could fetch a fortune on the black market, especially the mana potion, which was priceless. The healing potion was also worth a great deal—a life-saving treasure. As for the poison, well, that was a deadly weapon.

This golden-haired boy was truly resourceful!

“These are the things I’ll need next time. See if you can get them?” Gleir handed Bailey a list.

Bailey glanced at it, then tore it up. “No problem.”

“Thank you. There’s one more favor I need.”

“What is it?”

“It’s about Master Heinz and the other three lords,” Gleir said, leaning in to whisper. “I want to know more about their families.”

“How does that help you?”

“It helps me flatter them better—knowing what to say and what not to say. Building rapport, so that if... if I ever make a mistake, they might forgive me. You know, if any of our dealings ever come to light, maybe they’ll turn a blind eye.”

“Fair enough, but that’ll take time to gather.”

“I can wait, but I want updates every month.”

“You’re cautious, Shui.”

“That’s the secret to success.”

“See you next month, then.”

“Until next month.”

As he left, Gleir asked, “Bailey, you won’t breathe a word of this, will you?”

“This is a hanging offense—who’d dare?” Bailey replied instantly.

“Exactly—it’s a hanging offense,” Gleir said with a sly smile, a glint of triumph in his eyes.