CHAPTER 450: THE HALF-ELVES

Lanbael quickly introduced the contraption to us while she led us onto it. As she said, the elevator descended in a remarkably stable fashion. Out of sheer curiosity, I reached out of the confines of the elevator but soon bumped into a transparent wall… so that’s what they use to prevent the passengers from falling off?

“The hidden barrier is to protect those inside while also allowing them to inspect the surroundings as they descend.” Lanbael was quick to answer, eyes open wide for any opportunity to serve me. “Your holiness has wings so falling off should not be an issue, but for us Dark Elves, descending into Slave Chasm is a much more laborious endeavour that requires such magical contraptions.”

Well, that was a really roundabout way to lick my boots. Is this how the high society people do it? Not at all like the usual bootlickers I get it; even makes me a little unsure about how to react… Now, those useless potatoes of mine in Purgatory… bah… let’s not talk about them.

Slave Chasm was a rather unique part of the colosseum. While it was still considered a part of the colosseum itself, there was quite a bit of distance between the two.

The pit itself had to at least be a kilometer deep. And based on how that squad of slaves and guards were moving about, this elevator was probably not meant for everyone to use either, not even those moving cargo. How did I know that last part? Because I just saw the method they used to send goods down.

As the name suggested, the Slave Chasm was a pit that the slaves lived in. Naturally, such a place would not have the means to sustain itself. If those living below wanted to feed themselves, they had to rely on the supplies from the surface… or just revolt.

This pit was still a part of the colosseum, and according to Lanbael, this area was directly below the colosseum above. With its depth of over a thousand meters and a winding stairway leading downwards, those who wanted to travel to the bottom definitely had to travel more than a kilometer. That required a lot of time, even more so if one was transporting goods. Plus, the lack of guardrails meant that the goods had a very real chance of just falling off the side.

In other words, taking the stairs wasn’t a safe viable option. The elevator was forbidden to those sending goods as well; this contraption was only reserved for VIPs. So what was a transporter to do in this situation? Toss the stuff down of course!

According to estimates, there were at least five thousand residents in the pit. That required a lot of supplies daily in order to upkeep. But given the difficulty of reaching these residents, the most logical and cost-effective solution would be to just throw the goods down.

Woah… those crates have levitation magic cast on them? What the fish! How extravagant can you be?! I know the Dark Elves have more mages than the humans, but to waste them on this?

I’m speechless…

Despite its almost hellish name, Slave Chasm wasn’t a fiery pit where slaves were burnt alive. In fact, the environment was rather cold. The houses themselves were well-built, stone structures; the kind you would find in a village. However, the area we were in right now was not the residential district for the slaves. Instead, this was the headquarters of the Half-Elves.

While the Half-Elves and the slaves were both situated in Slave Chasm, there was still a separation between the two groups. Yet even so, the two groups had something in common: they were both dressed shabbily. The Half-Elves were all dressed in tattered clothing, the kind you would expect to have been passed down through generations. From the looks of things, their living conditions were a lot worse than I had expected.

These Half-Elves were tasked with guarding the slaves in Slave Chasm, but because of their mixed blood, their standing was barely any better than the people they guarded.

The elevator we were riding just made landfall when the nearby Half-Elven guardsmen hurriedly rushed over to greet Lanbael. Each of them had on a shabby leather armor that was full of holes while their weapons looked like ones from the reject shelf of the blacksmith. Even their form of greeting seemed, no, was definitely more demeaning than usual. Rather than greeting, they were completely prostrated on the ground.

Based on how they were reacting to Lanbael, it was clear none of these Half-Elves had even seen the Matriarch before. Or perhaps it would have been more accurate to say that she had never stepped foot in this area before.

As one constantly on the lookout for ways to curry my favor, Lanbael immediately snapped at the Half-Elves, “What are you kneeling down to me for? Do you not see his holi…”

“That’s enough, we are here to see Aishael, is she here?” I swept my eyes over the prostrating Half-Elves as I said that and found that even their condition didn’t seem to be the best.

So they really are not much better than a slave huh?

One of the prostrated female Half-Elves answering hesitantly, “Lady Aishael is in the training grounds…”

“Lady Aishael?” Lanbael coldly harrumphed. “A mixed blood dares to address herself as a lady?”

The moment she said that, all the prostrated Half-Elves fell silent. Not a single one dared to move a muscle or even breath, lest they drew the attention of Lanbael.

Yet even that wasn’t enough for Lanbael who seemed on the verge of exploding once more. Seeing that, I made the decision to cut her off first. “Bring us to Aishael.”

“…” The female Half-Elf remained silent, turning to look at Lanbael as if she wasn’t sure what to do.

“What are you looking at me for? His excellency wants you to lead the way, so do it.” Lanbael had already guessed that I did not want to reveal my identity so she quickly glossed over this part. “The rest of you can leave. And don’t appear before me without cause… filthy mongrels.”

That last bit was whispered to herself, but I could clearly hear the disdain within the words.

Honestly, that struck me as really odd. Even the slaves did not receive this level of disdain from the other Dark Elves. Most of the time, the females even seemed excited about the prospect of picking their slave gladiator.

It therefore stood to reason that their standing in Dark Elven society must have really been awkward. This most likely had to do with their impure bloodlines, born from the union of an outsider female and a male Dark Elf. In my reckoning, they probably felt that their noble Dark Elven lineage had been tainted by this other half.

Either way, the fact that they were fully prostrated was more than enough proof that their daily life here was horrendous, and most likely worse than that of a gladiator’s.

With that in mind, I turned to look at Paliseth who seemed completely expressionless at the moment… Lady, we are about to visit your grandniece, could you at least show some emotion? Sigh… Unfortunately, her head was lowered so I couldn’t really gleam much from her at the moment.

Under the guidance of that fearful female Half-Elf, we quickly arrived at a circular structure, the so-called training grounds. It was actually an empty plot of land that was surrounded by mud walls. The building itself was austere, only bearing a line of clearly defective weapons lined up in an orderly fashion against the wall. There were roughly fifty Half-Elves sweating away right now, each busy with their own form of training. Some were engaged in two-on-twos, while some were busy whacking the training dummies. Then there were those who were mediating, so on and so forth.

By my estimates, this large area was at least one hundred meters across. At the corner of this training ground, there was a little girl who looked to be about elementary school aged whacking a training dummy, shortsword and buckler in hands.

Unlike the usual training dummies which only had a couple of wooden rods sticking out as targets, this training dummy she was whacking had at least ten over rods sticking out. What was even more impressive about this dummy was that it even spun about when you hit it!