Volume 1 Chapter 37 The City of Opcheri
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
Rudy’s escape was a total failure.
I took a beating trying to cover for him, and we both ended up bound and tossed into a cell.
”If we’re gonna do this, when?” Rudy hissed.
”Tomorrow morning. Before dawn,” I replied.
We had finally resolved to flee this village.
Our plan was built on the assumption that since we were tied up, they wouldn’t bother with a night watch.
I would use a Fireball¹ to break the cage, slip out the back gate while the guards were gone, hit the highway, and make a break for the city of Opcheri.
”Let’s sell this,” Rudy said, fumbling around until he produced an Al-miraj² horn.
It was from the one we’d caught the day before we arrived here.
”I’m surprised they didn’t swipe that from you,” I said.
”Yeah, those bastards were too obsessed with the pelts. Back in my village, these trade for just as much as a hide,” Rudy explained.
He mentioned they were used for medicine, though he didn’t know the specifics.
”If we sell it, let’s use the cash to actually eat,” I said.
”True. But if we’re heading into the mountains, I want a knife at the very least,” Rudy replied.
”Maybe we can scavenge one in the village?” I suggested.
It was dark, and if we dawdled, the odds of getting caught were high.
We decided that if we found one on the way out, we’d “borrow” it.
Our cell was semi-underground with a barred window high up that let us track the world outside.
As the sun dipped and the sounds of people vanished, sleep—predictably—never came.
I’d secretly hoped Marie might feel some pity and bring us a snack or something, but it seemed that sleeping together for a few days didn’t spark enough affection for her to risk breaking the village rules.
(Well, it’s not like I’m packing much down there anyway, so I can’t exactly blame her. Dammit.)
”Is it time?” Rudy asked.
”No, not yet,” I whispered back.
Rudy was twitchy, but looking through the window, I could still see lights flickering in some of the houses.
Just then, snow began to drift in through the bars.
”Shit, no wonder it’s so cold,” Rudy muttered.
”Rudy, use the blanket to block the window,” I said.
”Why? If you’re cold, you do it,” Rudy grumbled.
”I’m gonna burn through these bars. I need to make sure the light doesn’t leak out,” I explained.
The bars gave way faster than I expected.
Whether the Fireball was just that good or the iron was that cheap, I don’t know, but the job was done in five minutes.
We huddled under a single blanket, crept up the stairs, and I reached for the door handle.
I’d expected it to be a massive ordeal, but surprisingly, it wasn’t even locked.
It slid open with a soft hiss, letting in a rush of freezing air.
Rudy and I shared a look, then sprinted for the back gate.
If we were spotted now, it was game over.
The gate was held shut by a simple latch—no lock.
We slid it back quietly, stepped through, and we were out. We were actually doing it.
The highway was less than a kilometer away. We ran like hell, still draped in that blanket.
When we finally reached the road and looked back, the darkness and snow had already swallowed the village whole.
* * *
”You sure about this, girlie?” an old man asked.
”Ain’t no problem. Larry’s mine now, y’hear?” the young woman replied, rubbing her lower belly.
”It’s cold out. Shut that gate and get your tail back inside,” the old man said.
Rudy and Larry, already nearing the highway, had no way of knowing the back gate was being barred behind them.
* * *
Taking a deep breath of the freezing air made my throat seize up, forcing a cough.
I pressed the blanket over my mouth and kept a brisk pace.
Thankfully, the highway wasn’t jammed with carriages; the snow had already filled in the ruts, leaving a smooth white path.
After a while, the gates of Opcheri came into view, but since it was night, they were shut tight.
Refugee tents and unhitched carriages were scattered in front of the walls.
At first, we tried to huddle under a wagon, but the cold was unbearable.
Wandering around, we found a public latrine likely meant for the refugees.
Ignoring the stench, the stalls provided a roof and a break from the wind, so we decided to sit tight until morning.
However, there were only three stalls.
As the sky turned gray, people started trickling in one by one, making it impossible to stay.
We hit the road again, searching for somewhere to belong.
On the east side of the city, we found a massive sprawl of tents.
I thought they were more refugees, but then I saw rough-looking mercenaries coming out to take shits in the open.
Women were stooped over huge cauldrons cooking soup while men harassed them with lewd gestures.
A scream rang out; I looked over and saw a naked woman sobbing as she ran, chased by a man with a face buried in a thick, matted beard.
The whole area was a landscape of pure chaos.
”Hey, this looks bad,” I said.
Rudy didn’t even need me to say it; he was already pulling a 180.
”Try the west side?” I asked.
”Forget it,” Rudy muttered.
He slumped against the city wall, wrapped the blanket around himself, and started to doze off.
The wind was manageable, so I sat down beside him and drifted into a fitful sleep until a bell tolled.
The North Gate opened. Inside, the city was surprisingly busy.
Most of the people moving about were soldiers in tights; I didn’t see a single woman.
”What now?” Rudy asked.
”Guess we just head in,” I replied.
Rudy agreed, and we started down a road wide enough for two carriages toward the city center.
The central plaza was a chaotic mess of horses and wagons surrounded by towering buildings.
”Hey, you two… refugees, I reckon?” a laborer called out.
”That’s right,” I said.
”Huh. Northern refugees, eh? What the hell happened to your faces?” the man asked.
”A lot of things,” I replied.
The man seemed to think we—or maybe just Rudy, given his filthy clothes—were refugees from Pannonia³.
While I talked, Rudy kept his eyes moving, scanning everything.
”Give me a hand. I’ll pay ya,” the man said, looking desperate. “One silver coin each for the morning.”
”Three silvers for the both of us,” Rudy barked, suddenly jumping into the negotiation.
Apparently, he didn’t trust me to handle the money.
”Fine, fine. Can’t be helped,” the man sighed.
The man’s job was hauling cargo by horse, but he’d been hit with a request to care for half the horses in the plaza and was drowning in work.
”How come there aren’t any women helping out?” I asked.
Hauling fodder was heavy work, but anyone could brush a horse.
”You lot just get in today?” the man asked.
I nodded.
”I was gonna bring my wife, the granny, and my sister. But then the soldiers started acting up. They’re messin’ with every woman they see.”
It turned out the regular army inside the city was just as predatory as the mercenaries outside.
Every woman in the city was barricaded in their home.
”On top of that, this army belongs to Count Straba. They’ve got the Second Prince of Kiridal⁴ with ’em, and it’s gone straight to the soldiers’ heads,” the man added.
I didn’t know the first thing about Count Straba, but having a Prince in their camp apparently gave them the idea that they were untouchable.
”So, what’s the army’s move?” I asked.
”Keep this under your hat,” the man whispered. “Word is they’re marching out tomorrow morning to invade Schweilitz⁵.”
I almost shouted in shock, but the man hissed at me to be quiet.
”This place has always been a border town between Pannonia and Schweilitz. Good for trade, but the wars never stop. Honestly, I don’t care who wins, as long as they don’t hike the taxes to pay for it all,” he muttered.
It was a blunt, honest sentiment.
The grain ratio in the fodder was higher than what the 303rd Unit⁶ used.
Maybe grain is easier to come by than grass around here.
Since I was used to handling horses from my time in Carpaccio⁷, the old man was thrilled.
When the morning was over, he handed over the three silver coins as promised.
”You guys came from the north—any sign of Schweilitz moving this way?” the man asked.
”Haven’t heard a peep about it,” I said.
It was a total lie, but since the Village Chief hadn’t mentioned anything, it wasn’t technically wrong.
We thanked him and left the plaza.
First things first: food. We bought a large, flat loaf of bread from a bakery and found an alleyway with a cart to sit on.
”So, what’s the plan?” Rudy asked.
”Don’t ask me,” I replied.
Kiridal was supposed to be in the middle of peace talks.
The idea that they’d suddenly invade Schweilitz was beyond any logic.
Either the Second Prince or the Count was going rogue.
I wished they’d consider how much they were screwing up my life.
”Let’s eat, sell the Al-miraj horn, and then go check the south road,” I suggested.
”The border to Pannonia. Might as well stick to the plan,” Rudy agreed.
The bread was fresh and soft, and it was gone before I knew it.
I was still hungry. We headed to the market inside the South Gate.
We sold the horn for four silver coins and checked a secondhand weapon shop, but prices were through the roof.
We couldn’t even afford a rusted knife or a hatchet with what we had.
”Maybe it’ll be cheaper tomorrow once the army leaves,” Rudy suggested.
I nodded.
We promised to earn a bit more money in the evening and actually eat a real meal tonight.
As we stepped outside the South Gate, we saw a soup kitchen.
Three massive cauldrons were boiling with wheat porridge.
”Hey, you wanna grab some of that?” I asked.
A massive line had formed. We joined the back.
There were easily three hundred people there.
I would come to regret not listening to Rudy’s intuition at that moment. The people in line were emerging from the woods flanking the highway.
They must have been hiding there during the storm.
It meant we could slip into the woods without looking suspicious—the snow would hide our tracks.
However, the language was a barrier. I couldn’t understand a single word the people around me were saying.
The food started moving, and they ladled porridge into wooden bowls.
There were no spoons; everyone just tilted their heads back and gulped down the scalding mush.
”A spoon would be nice,” I muttered.
”What’s a ‘spoon’?” Rudy asked.
”You know, a little round thing for scooping… never mind,” I replied.
The Fee family had them, but Rudy didn’t seem to get the concept.
”Something feels off,” Rudy whispered.
Mercenaries with nasty looks on their faces were starting to encircle the crowd.
”Let’s get back inside the city,” I said.
As we left the line and headed for the South Gate, a man who looked like the commander stepped out.
”When you’re done eating, men line up in fives over here! Women, get in the carriages over there!” he shouted.
I didn’t understand the words, but the threat was visceral.
”Move! Now!” I hissed.
I ditched the porridge and ran for the gate with Rudy, but men blocked our path.
”We aren’t refugees! We’re not from Pannonia!” I shouted in the local dialect, trying to shove past.
I was thrown back.
”Don’t matter none!” the man laughed. “We’re man-hunting. Don’t care where you’re from!”
Shit. Behind us, screams erupted as women were grabbed.
A dozen men tried to fight back with whatever they had, but half were instantly skewered by thrown spears.
The rest were hacked to pieces with swords.
It happened twenty paces away.
The snow melted from the heat of the blood. I couldn’t even scream.
They were already dead, but the mercenaries kept stabbing.
The mercenaries were laughing. Men were dragging women by their hair, punching them in the face as they wailed.
A few tried to break through the line with knives.
Three made it past the initial circle, only to be cut down by arrows before they reached the trees.
The survivors were dragged to the center. Their hands and feet were hacked off with swords.
The man died quickly, but the message was clear: total terror.
Rudy was vomiting next to me. My sense of reality began to dissolve. The sounds faded away.
(I’ve had enough of this!)
* * *
Larry has entered Autism Mode⁸.
At times like this, as the one who reincarnated into this world, I take the reins of the body I’m parasitizing.
I can move Larry’s body with my own will, but… The slaughter of twenty people was laid out right in front of me.
The heavy, iron scent of blood and the stench of entrails hung in the air.
It took a moment to process.
When faced with an overwhelming power gap, you have to endure the pain and wait for your moment.
I helped Rudy up and started walking. A man-hunt.
They’ll probably use the men as meat shields on the front lines. ou see it in modern warfare back on Earth, too.
Useless in open fields, but they work for blunting an enemy’s charge in tight spaces.
The women will be sold as slaves. Or maybe the camp followers trailing the army will use them immediately.
This is the Dark Ages in its purest form.
The Kiridal soldiers in Garao Village were tough, but these guys? I don’t see them beating the Schweilitz army in anything but numbers.
It feels like some noble just grabbed a prince to start a war for their own ego.
To toy with lives for something so half-assed… it makes me sick.
And Larry, you play around with Marie’s body and then dump all the hard stuff on me when things get ugly? Absurd.
Still, that doesn’t change the fact that these mercenaries don’t value our lives more than dust.
One wrong move and it’s over. I have to keep that in mind. Always.
—
Summary:
After a successful prison break, Larry and Rudy reach the city of Opcheri, only to find it teeming with predatory mercenaries and a mobilizing army.
While attempting to secure food and passage, they are caught in a brutal ‘man-hunting’ operation outside the south gate.
As mercenaries slaughter those who resist and enslave the rest, Larry’s consciousness dissociates, allowing the ‘reincarnated soul’ to take full control of the body to navigate the life-threatening trauma.
—
Trivia:
- The Al-miraj horn is highly valuable as medicine, nearly equal to a pelt in Rudy’s hometown.
- Opcheri is a border trade city between Pannonia and Schweilitz.
- The local dialect uses markers like ‘-gaya’ and ‘-dayo’, which the characters use to try and blend in.
- Regular soldiers in this world are described as wearing ‘tights’ (common historical hosiery).
- Larry possesses magic strong enough to burn through iron bars in five minutes
—
Character Insight:
Larry exhibits a clinical, detached analytical perspective during extreme trauma, contrasting with his usual self-deprecating internal monologue. Rudy shows a protective instinct and pragmatic negotiation skills, though he remains vulnerable to the physical horrors of the world.
—
Lore And Worldbuilding Context:
The author uses ‘Autism Mode’ not as a clinical diagnosis, but as a trope-heavy shorthand for a character who can shut off their emotions and operate with machine-like logic during crises.
—
Glossary:
Notes:
• Rudy – 14‑year‑old black‑haired militia recruit from Heberich Village, formerly of Garao, now wood‑hauls with Larry as his brother‑in‑arms. Grandson of a hunter, he knows forest creatures, excels at math, battles war anxiety yet mocks Larry’s condition, visits him daily. He code‑switches dialect to negotiate, struggles with armor and horse, holds elitist views of Strock Village, and fiercely protects Larry amid captivity. Filthy, traumatized, he devised a hidden‑trail escape and knows northern trade and Al‑miraJ biology.
• Al – Alberto, a massive red‑haired man recently married to Mary, just finished his village wedding. He is a companion of Hans, helping intimidate and gather elders as a villager and leader working alongside him.
• Marie – 15‑year‑old granddaughter of the village head. From a prior village, briefly involved with Larry (also called Iva), she feigns harassment to hide her secret affair while prioritizing village rules over personal affection.
• Larry – 14‑year‑old third son of the Strock headman, reddish‑white skin, bronze eyes, curly bronze hair, now a slave‑soldier in Militia Unit 303. He hosts a Parasite with a 40‑yr‑old Sage’s memories, uses fire magic (Fireball), reads hearts/mana by touch, syncs golems, battles PTSD and mana inflammation, admires his sister‑in‑law, trains to be Village Head, and feels guilty for a killing.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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