Became the Unjust Contract Slave of the Archamage’s Book

“What are these guys?”

“Oh? Your Imperial tongue is quite fluent, isn’t it?”

Indigo, who had expected to encounter the border Margrave’s soldiers, found himself facing a strange group of civilized people instead. There was a gray-haired kid, a man with a face grotesquely distorted by burns, a woman dressed in thin, pure white clothes completely unsuited to the weather, and a big, bald brute.

No matter how much he rubbed his eyes and looked again, it was a bizarre combination.

“Who are you guys?”

“That’s none of your concern. Are you the khan of this place? What’s the name of your tribe?”

“We are the Senega tribe.”

“Never heard of it. Where are the warriors of the Senega tribe? We’d like to borrow them.”

Indigo didn’t like the brute’s way of speaking, as if they were already acquainted. Even the border Margrave’s soldiers wouldn’t dare treat Indigo with such disrespect. And certainly not these ragtag nobodies from who knows where…

“Inyakan, you can’t speak like that. We need to calmly explain the situation,” the gray-haired kid intervened, trying to hold back the brute.

Indigo couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Civilized one, what did you just say?”

“I said, we need to calmly explain.”

“No, what did you call that brute?”

“Inyakan?”

Indigo was momentarily paralyzed by the name he hadn’t heard in so long.

“This bald, muscly brute is Inyakan?”

The khan of the Inya tribe, Inyakan. It was a name feared by anyone who lived in the harsh northern lands. But Indigo knew something that made it impossible.

“Ha ha ha ha ha!”

Suddenly, a loud laugh burst from Indigo, causing Binaeril and Inyakan to look at him as if he were insane.

“What did you say, kid?”

“I said he’s Inyakan.”

“Ha ha ha!”

Binaeril, unaware of the situation, was annoyed by the laugh, thinking it was mocking him. The other members of the Senega tribe also looked over, wondering what had caused Indigo’s outburst.

“Hey, look at this! Inyakan! Inyakan has graced us with his presence!”

“Khan Indigo! Is that really true? Ha ha ha!”

As others joined in the laughter, unable to hold back, Inyakan leaned in close to Indigo’s face and asked, “What’s so funny?”

He ignored Binaeril’s shouts and strode directly into the temporary quarters of the Cherokee tribe.

“What’s gotten into him? Like a gorilla who’s lost its food.”

“…Seems like he’s angry.”

“Maybe it’s because your identity as Inyakan was questioned.”

The rest of the group watched his heaving back and made their own comments.

“Cherokee Khan! I have arrived! Inyakan has arrived!”

He shouted with genuine force in his voice. The thunderous roar startled the Cherokee tribe members out of their old quarters, making them rush outside in alarm. Most of them were women, the elderly, and children. There were hardly any young, healthy warriors or men to be seen.

Though the sight struck Binaeril as odd, it didn’t register with Inyakan at the moment.

“Cherokee Khan!!”

“Who are you?” an old man asked as he stepped forward in front of Inyakan.

“Who are you? I’m looking for the Cherokee Khan.”

“The Khan is not here right now.”

“Where did he go? Out hunting? Or did he go to teach those arrogant Senega bastards a lesson?”

The old man slowly shook his head.

“It’s not that. The Khan has disappeared. We don’t know where he went.”

Only then did Inyakan take the time to look at the faces of the Cherokee tribe members.

“Not just the Khan… I don’t see any warriors either. Where are all the men?”

“They all followed the Khan. And they never came back.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Inyakan didn’t use honorifics even once while speaking with the old man. To him, it was only natural. As the Khan of the proud Inya, only the Khans of other proud tribes were worthy of his respect. He had no intention of using honorifics with an ordinary tribesman.

But that was only Inyakan’s perspective. The continued disrespect began to sour the mood among the other Cherokee tribe members.

“You lack manners, you civilized fool!”

“C-civilized fool?”

Someone shouted in anger, and Inyakan, hearing the words, was so stunned that he couldn’t even get angry.

Having taken Binaeril’s thick fur coat to wear, he indeed looked different from the Cherokee tribe members, who were exposing their bare skin to the bitter cold.

“Binaeril, do I look like a civilized person to you?”

“Why are you asking me…?”

“Hey, you annoying brat. Do I look like a civilized person to you?”

“If I had to say, right now you do look closer to that.”

“Hey, woman.”

“No, wait.”

“Why didn’t you ask me?”

Inyakan looked genuinely shocked. A proud Khan—especially the Khan of the Inya tribe—being called a civilized person! It was more humiliating than any insult he could think of.

As Inyakan was at a loss for words, Binaeril stepped in to speak on his behalf.

“Don’t misunderstand. This man is not a civilized person. Ah, we are civilized, yes. But this man is Inyakan, the Khan of the Inya tribe.”

“Inyakan, you say?”

The tribe members, who had been scowling and pointing fingers at Inyakan, reacted sharply to the mention of “Inyakan,” murmuring among themselves.

“Are you really Inyakan?”

“I am indeed Inyakan.”

Among the tribe members, voices quickly rose, questioning whether the Inya tribe was supposed to be extinct or if he was a fake. The old man, representing their concerns, swallowed hard and asked,

“If you truly are the Khan of the Inya tribe, show us proof.”

Unlike the women and children of the Cherokee tribe, the old man had seen Inyakan in his youth. Though the appearance was somewhat similar, he wasn’t fully convinced that the man before him was truly Inyakan. After all, no word had been heard of Inyakan for several years, and most believed he had died in battle.

“Can’t you tell by looking at this?”

Inyakan raised his arm to display the bracer wrapped around it. The old man shook his head.

“That alone is not enough. Many tribes other than the Inya use similar weapons.”

Inyakan stroked his chin in thought, pondering how to prove his identity as Inyakan. He didn’t carry items to prove who he was because his mere presence was usually enough to make people recognize him.

So, he looked around at his companions for suggestions.

“How about giving your true name?” Binaeril suggested, but Inyakan immediately dismissed the idea. He disliked the thought of revealing his true name, and besides, he doubted the old man would remember it.

“How about showing them your reckless fighting skills?” someone suggested.

“Who am I supposed to fight?”

“Why not recite a Word Spirit?”

Everyone offered their suggestions, but none of them seemed particularly helpful. Frustrated, Inyakan shouted,

“Curse it all! Why should I need proof to prove that I’m me? I am Inyakan! If you don’t believe me, come at me!”

He pounded on his bracer, his voice booming through the air.

“Relying on sheer bravado to convince them might be a bit… optimistic,” Binaeril muttered, a worried expression crossing his face.

But then, to everyone’s surprise, the old man responded, his voice trembling with emotion,

“You… you really are Inyakan!”

The old man’s eyes welled up with tears as he spoke, moved by Inyakan’s outburst. Binaeril and his companions exchanged looks of disbelief, their expressions asking, “Is this actually working?”

“That spirit! That powerful voice! That arrogant demeanor, completely unconcerned with what others think! You’re exactly as I remember, Inyakan!”

“What? Old man, do you know me?” Inyakan asked, his voice still gruff but with a hint of curiosity.

The old man nodded so vigorously it seemed his head might fall off.

“Yes! In my youth, I looked up to you and dreamed of becoming a warrior! You truly are Inyakan!”

“Of course I am!”

“Even that shameless attitude is just like the Inyakan I remember!”

“I told you, that’s because I *am* Inyakan!”

As the old man continued to shout in affirmation, the other Cherokee tribe members began to believe that this man really was Inyakan.

“…Is this really working?” one of Binaeril’s companions whispered.

“But isn’t he just insulting them?”

“Shh, let it be. He seems happy.”

While the barbarians were lost in their own world, Binaeril and his group struggled to suppress their laughter. But the old man was so moved that he seemed on the verge of tears, and Binaeril had to pinch his thigh hard to keep a straight face.

The old man then cried out,

“Inyakan! Please, help us! If you, the greatest warrior of the barbarians, won’t help us, then no one will!”