A Certain Immigrant’s Story (1)
My name’s Shink. I’m a beastkin who used to be a slave in the Granzur Empire.
My parents were slaves too, so I was born into it.
The name Shink—I picked that up after coming to Arland. My real name’s just a number. Folks told me that was too pitiful, so I chose the first word that came to mind and made it my name.
To be honest, I’m still confused.
It all started so suddenly.
I was sold twice. The first master of mine apparently got caught up in some kind of noble scandal and lost his standing, so I got sold off to cover his debts. That’s when I was separated from my parents. I don’t even know if they’re alive anymore.
The second master was a little better. He only hit or kicked me when I was in his way. That was about it.
Oh, and sometimes he’d skip my meals when he was in a bad mood—said it was “to save expenses.”
But I still got enough food to stay alive, so I thought that wasn’t so bad.
Honestly, I never questioned the way I lived. Being beaten or cursed at was just normal life when you were born a slave.
But for some reason, the second master got rid of me too. Can’t say I blame him—male beastkin like me aren’t good for much besides hard labor.
The third one was the best of the bunch. I really hit the jackpot that time.
He was a merchant—and for a slave, that’s about as lucky as you can get. He gave us proper meals, didn’t lash out, and the worst he’d do was work us till we dropped.
To a merchant, a slave’s just labor power. Skipping meals or beating them up too much just wastes that, so they rarely do it. The ones who won’t work at all get sold off quickly.
By the way, the absolute worst kind of master is an adventurer. If you get a decent one, they’ll treat you kindly—but most use you as a meat shield. I don’t wanna end up eaten alive by monsters, no thanks.
So yeah, I lived a pretty ordinary slave’s life.
Sure, I had complaints. I wanted a pretty wife with a nice coat of fur too. But girls like that were usually for show—pets, basically—and we weren’t even allowed near them.
And no woman’s gonna look twice at a guy dressed in rags. Still, I dreamed about it. Wearing normal clothes, eating at one of those “restaurants.” I’d have settled for just plain black bread if I could eat till I was full.
You’re wondering how a born-and-raised slave like me even knows about that stuff, huh? That’s because not every slave was born one. Some were free folks caught and enslaved after hiding from the Empire.
Those kinds were hard to handle. They had too much fight in them. So they usually got a Collar of Subjugation.
That thing’s nasty. The idiot son of my second master once put one on me for fun. If you defy a command, it sends a searing pain through your whole body and tightens around your neck. Luckily for me, the thing’s pretty expensive, and they decided I was too docile to bother with it, so they took it off quick.
Still, those who’d lived free taught us a lot. They knew more about the world outside. Some even tried to escape—and ended up killed as examples. I never thought of running though.
Think about it—how’s an uneducated beastman like me supposed to survive out there? I can’t farm, can’t hunt, can’t do anything.
Then one day, a knight from the Arland army showed up. I didn’t have a clue what was going on.
He was wearing better armor than any master I’d ever seen, and he said something to mine. My master turned red in the face and started screaming, yelling about unfairness and all sorts of things.
We slaves hid in the barn, scared of getting caught up in it.
“So you were hiding here.”
We couldn’t even answer. The knight’s sword was stained with blood. I later learned that my master had tried to resist—and got cut down for it.
“Th-that blood…”
“Hm? No need to worry. Those who resist get no mercy. Relax—we’re beastkin too.”
He took off his helmet, and sure enough, he had the same kind of animal ears as us.
“Hey, that’s bad! You’ll get killed if you walk around in that armor! Beastkin aren’t supposed to wear something that fine!”
The beastman next to me shouted, trembling. And he was right—that armor wasn’t something a beastkin could wear. I’d seen noble knights’ armor before, even polished some once for my first master’s son. I could tell—this was better.
“Beastkin…”
The knight sighed, sounding oddly exasperated.
“I am a beastkin. And a knight of the Kingdom of Arland.”
Then he said, “You have a choice. You can stay here and live as slaves—or come with us and claim your freedom.”
None of us could respond. Freedom? What even was that? That was my first thought.
Then an elf man hiding nearby burst into tears.
“Arland… is it really the Kingdom of Arland!?”
“Hm? An elf, huh. There’s an elven territory in Arland, but they rarely leave it. I don’t know many personally.”
A territory for beastkin and elves? So in Arland, sub-humans were nobles?
Everyone was confused. Nobility was supposed to be reserved for humans.
Now that I think about it, that elf had been captured and enslaved too.
“Please! Help us! My clan was heading for Arland!”
The knight’s sword flashed, and for a moment I thought he’d killed the elf—but no, he’d cut through the chains on his leg shackles.
“Of course. You’ll gain freedom now. If you wish to immigrate to our country, you’ll be welcome. We don’t persecute anyone who isn’t a human supremacist.”
At those words, everyone begged to be freed. Me included.
In the end, most of the Empire’s slaves were liberated.
The commander of the Arland forces, surprisingly, was a child. A princess, apparently. But don’t underestimate her.
She commanded an army of iron golems—rumor said they were her own creations, wielding terrifying weapons that even the Empire’s army couldn’t stand against.
Though, when she looked at us, she didn’t seem scary at all… until she turned her gaze toward the Empire. That glare was cold enough to freeze your spine—I almost wet myself.
Princess Alicetia gave us a choice. Those who wanted to remain slaves were allowed to return to their masters. Those who wished to go home or search for friends were given travel funds and food and set free.
And those who wished to immigrate to Arland—she declared they would be accepted as citizens.
Not slaves. Citizens. People who could work, earn money, wear proper clothes, live normal lives.
Everyone cheered and chose Arland. Some picked other paths, but Princess Alicetia didn’t get angry—she simply said she respected their decisions.
As for us immigrants, we were to travel to Arland’s royal capital aboard an airship.
That ship… it scared the hell out of me. I’d seen airships before—the Empire had them too—and even ridden one once with my merchant master.
But Arland’s ships were totally different. The Empire’s were mostly wood. Arland’s were made of iron. Yet they were faster—way faster.
That’s when I first learned that the Empire had started a war with Arland—and lost.
“Is it true Granzur lost?”
“Who knows…”
“But the army took the capital, right? Sounds like Arland won to me.”
“Yeah, then moving there should be safe, huh?”
We’d been told Arland was a savage land full of brutal barbarians, but the knights who rescued us and the airship crew didn’t seem like that at all.
Actually, they were just… normal. And the food they served—man, it was so good we cried. I never want to eat black bread again. I had no idea soft bread could taste so good.
By the time we reached Arland’s capital, most of our fears were gone.
And when we saw the city, we were stunned.
First thing that hit us was the energy. It was livelier than the Imperial Capital itself.
Apparently, the city was being expanded, and that construction boom was driving all the activity.
But from above… the city walls looked huge. Way wider than the Empire’s. I asked if everything inside those walls was really part of the capital.
A crewmember laughed and answered,
“Yeah, it’s huge, right? There’s no way we can fill all that yet. But it’s for the future—Arland’s growing fast, and so’s its population. If we don’t expand now, we’ll have to rebuild again later. So we’re doing a grand expansion all at once.”
Made sense, I guess. Thinking about the future, huh? I’d never thought further than my next meal.
Seeing all that, I got excited. There’d definitely be work here.
… But Arland wasn’t quite the country we imagined.
When we arrived, we were housed in temporary buildings—“makeshift homes,” they called them. We wanted to live there permanently, but… no luck.
Still, it was so comfortable that I didn’t want to leave.
“Uh, excuse me, where’s the well?” I asked awkwardly.
A soldier guarding us laughed kindly. “Just turn that faucet there. Water comes out.”
“Yeah, right. I’m not that dumb…”
But he twisted the metal handle—and water actually came out. I was so shocked I jumped backward. Apparently, beastkin do that by instinct when startled—it’s a reflex. Shows you’re timid, they say. Guess that fits me.
“A m-magic tool?” I stammered.
“Sorry to scare you,” he said, smiling. “I don’t really understand it myself. It’s called plumbing—pretty new, even for Arland.”
So even here, it was a recent thing. Good—wasn’t just me being dumb.
Still, why were we getting to use such fancy stuff? Human experiments? I started bristling, but the soldier chuckled.
“Don’t worry—it’s safe. We use it too. It’s just a new system. Someday the whole city’ll have running water. Nobody’ll have to haul buckets again.”
Great. There goes my best skill—carrying water. Guess I’m stuck hauling cargo instead. I hate that, it’s exhausting.
Anyway, they said we’d get some rest first. Apparently we looked really worn out. Not our fault everyone in this country’s built like a bodybuilder!
I mean, half the people in the city were jacked. No wonder we looked scrawny. And seriously—they should wear bigger shirts; I can see the muscles through the fabric! It’s intimidating!
And what’s with all the black-clad guys who look like demon cultists? My instincts screamed don’t get involved! But they were calmly tending flowerbeds and cleaning the streets—and even greeted me politely.
So I spent my days resting and learning basic reading and writing. Not too hard; even slaves know a little of that. Just made me sleepy.
They said we could stay in the temporary housing for about half a year. After that, it’d be torn down for new construction. So we had to find work and a place to live by then. Wish we had more time, but apparently finding jobs wouldn’t be a problem.
Still, how was I supposed to look? I didn’t know the area at all. The soldiers said they’d guide us if we asked, but… most of us had never looked for work before. Masters always decided that.
I remember the soldiers’ faces when they looked at us. They weren’t pitying our past—it was more like sympathy for what was coming.
I didn’t get it then. I just fell asleep in the soft bed, feeling safer than I ever had.
And the next day, we found out what that look had meant.
“Hell yeah, fresh laborers!”
“Hire them all!”
A mob of well-dressed men came charging at us, eyes bloodshot with excitement.
What do you think about this chapter?
