A Righteous Reckoning at the Tannery

As the noon bells chimed, Saranya, having just secured additional personnel from Cecilia, arrived on Glory Street, leading Vireta and several Silver Hand elites.

The throngs of protestors had already dispersed from the square, the morning’s toil prompting them to seek respite before dedicating the remainder of their day to their livelihoods.

After all, one could not subsist on passion alone; until the tables were completely overturned, everyone still had to consider how to put food on them.

Before the second wave of demonstrators descended upon the square, Saranya had a precious hour or two to address the tannery workshop’s affairs.

She resolved to act while the crowds were sparse, aiming to prevent any escalation of public tension.

“Vireta, you, and you two, follow me.”

“The rest of you, block the small door in the back alley.”

Saranya’s party consisted of seven individuals.

Confronting the modest tannery, she dispatched three to the rear entrance while personally leading four through the main door, intending to assess the situation first.

The moment they neared the main entrance, a pungent aroma of chemical agents assailed them.

The group instinctively pinched their noses, but Vireta, overwhelmed by the acrid fumes, clutched her mouth and coughed violently.

The odors emanated from an acid vat, where animal hides, after initial dehairing and fleshing, were steeped in acid before being further tanned by the leatherworkers.

Nearby, a large suspended furnace glowed, spewing thick plumes of smoke overhead.

A ring of stretched animal hides hung above, while apprentices below adjusted the racks’ height, ensuring the smoke thoroughly cured the hides without scorching their surfaces.

As strangers rarely ventured into the workshop beyond the leatherworkers and their assistants, Saranya and her companions naturally drew their attention.

Beside the nearest workstation, a tall, slender man, his face obscured by a linen mask, dropped a bloodied raw hide and strode purposefully towards her.

“What brings you here, lass?”

The lanky man’s murky eyes widened as he scrutinized Saranya from head to toe, subtly shifting the fleshing knife he held behind his back.

Maintaining a composed demeanor, Saranya gestured behind her, prompting two Silver Hand members to enter the workshop and spread out horizontally with her and Vireta.

Ignoring the man’s query, she instead retorted with a cold question of her own:

“Are you in charge here?”

“Oh, I am indeed,” the man, who called himself ‘Short-Hair,’ sneered, pulling down his mask to reveal a damp, grinning face beneath the fabric.

“Everyone calls me ‘Short-Hair.'”

“What’s the matter, did you perhaps wander into the wrong place?”

“I’m here to discuss business.”

“Are you looking to buy tanned hides, or seeking our services for processing?”

Saranya turned slightly, her gaze sweeping past Short-Hair and into the interior of the workshop.

The room was crammed with tanned hides, so numerous that there was barely space to set foot.

Most were neatly stacked and packaged, seemingly prepared for client delivery.

Such a volume of hides seemed excessive for a small workshop; without external assistance, they couldn’t possibly acquire so many raw materials.

Saranya raised a hand, pointing towards the finished hides, her tone unyielding:

“I’ll buy the hides, all of them.”

“That particular batch has already been ordered by a major client; you’ll have to wait.”

“I’ll offer a premium price, Mr. Short-Hair, a very, very substantial one.”

Saranya’s eyes narrowed, her icy blue irises glinting subtly.

She, of course, had no intention of purchasing a single hide; her true interest lay with the ‘major client’ Short-Hair had mentioned.

“Lass, we conduct business fairly…”

“Of course, fairness indeed.”

“Perhaps you could tell me who ordered this shipment, and I could negotiate with your client directly?”

The man clamped his mouth shut, clearly refusing to engage further with Saranya.

“Hmm? Who might your client be? It’s terribly difficult to guess…”

“An armorer?”

“A tailor?”

“A merchant caravan, perhaps?”

Saranya let out a low chuckle, her tongue delicately tracing her upper lip.

“Or… the Bloodsail Alliance?”

Her words seemed to flick a switch, as the air instantly solidified.

All those busily working around them abruptly ceased their tasks, turning in unison to fix their gazes upon her.

“I know what you’re up to… You’re Haia, aren’t you?”

“Let me warn you, if you turn around and leave now, I, your elder brother, can pretend none of this ever happened…”

“Oh, come now, if nothing were to happen, wouldn’t my journey here have been entirely in vain?”

The man snorted coldly, snapping his fingers.

With a dull clang, the main door behind Saranya was slammed shut and locked, as the assistants grabbed tools from their immediate vicinity and converged, encircling them.

Their adversaries numbered over ten.

Judging by Short-Hair’s composed expression, which clearly conveyed ‘the advantage is mine,’ he was utterly convinced of Saranya’s capture:

“And I must say, lass, you’re worth far more than any animal hide…”

“What do you mean by that?”

“A beauty like you, why bother being a warrior?”

“It’s laughable… You could live comfortably just by lying beneath someone, couldn’t you?!”

“Hahahaha—!”

“…”

“Ah, hiss… That’s right, I recall you actually have a master, your lady, hahaha!”

“It’s your lady, isn’t it?!”

“During the church’s divine officer selection, we all witnessed you groveling before your master in the arena!”

“You were willing to lick your master’s feet in public, so why are you acting so high and mighty with me here?!”

“You filthy, stinking, worthless s*ave!!!”

“…”

“Oh.”

“Oh! Then let this old man examine whether you truly are a rotten piece of trash—!”

The man lunged forward, his fleshing knife flashing out from behind him, narrowly missing Saranya’s neck.

Simultaneously, his other hand clawed for her collar, his grimy nails brushing against the pristine skin of her neck.

“Momma, watch out!”

“Aaaaargh—”

Vireta’s sword had barely cleared its scabbard by half an inch when the man’s agonizing shriek suddenly echoed through the workshop.

“You foolish dog…”

Saranya, with a swift backhand, seized Short-Hair’s wrist.

Her left arm rose, and from beneath her cloak, her alchemical gauntlet discharged a beam of frigid light, instantly incapacitating the closest armed assistant, who collapsed to the ground.

As the man’s other fist swung towards her, Saranya countered by lifting her elbow to strike his armpit, then brutally slammed the heel of her palm into his forearm.

A sickening *crack* rent the air as his entire forearm dislocated, folding outwards at a grotesque two hundred and seventy degrees, dangling limply from behind his shoulder.

“Hoo-oh-oh-ahh! Yo-oh-oh-oh-oh—”

The exquisite sound of bone fracturing caused Saranya’s pupils to constrict, her lips twitching upwards into a smile.

She deliberately twisted Short-Hair’s arm, now limp as a noodle, forcing him to emit a fluctuating symphony of screams that rose and fell in tormented waves.

“How does it feel to be taught a lesson by a piece of trash, hmm? Hmm?! Ah?!! Speak, you bastard, speak!!!”

“Aaaaargh—”

The surge of exhilaration and cruelty was so sudden that Saranya found herself completely immersed in it; beyond the act of torment, her mind could entertain no other thoughts.

“You… demon… and you still call yourself… a righteous ranger…”

‘Righteous?’

Saranya remained unperturbed, instead stretching her lips into a sickly, twisted smile.

“Righteousness…”

What was righteousness? She had once believed it meant protecting the people of the Northern Reaches, ensuring her kin lived in peace and prosperity.

Later, she had thought it meant battling villains and monsters, safeguarding her comrades and companions.

But now, she possessed nothing, absolutely nothing… not even her body or soul remained her own.

‘Righteousness? Perhaps in this moment, righteousness was… exacting a price from all who had wronged her.’

At last, clarity dawned upon her once more.

Such moments of lucidity were rare, and she knew this particular clarity was fleeting.

Her only imperative was to savor this sensation of freedom while it lasted.

To freely unleash her fury, to freely inflict torment upon others—this was, quite possibly, the most blissful act she could ever achieve in this life.

She lifted her knee, delivering a relentless series of blows to the man’s abdomen, each impact causing his eyeballs to bulge and spittle to fly, his body swaying back and forth like a tattered sack:

“I’m a s*ave? Am I a s*ave?! Am I not a s*ave?! Say it again?!! Answer me! Am I or am I not!!!”

“Ha… Hahahahahahaha, those who would make me a s*ave, those who would harm me, you will all pay the price… you will all pay the price!!!”

‘Yes, especially Kaelan.

Alas, her dear master wasn’t here.’

The crowd stammered and recoiled, utterly dumbfounded, not daring to approach her by a single step.

“You are the slaves, a pack of worthless scum, worse than pigs or dogs…”

“Hmph hmph… hahahaha…”

Saranya gripped the man’s jaw, dragging him like a dead dog all the way to the edge of the acid vat.

Foaming at the mouth and convulsing violently, the man’s mind had already been bludgeoned into submission:

“Ugh-oh—no… I’m not… I’m not the owner here… Ugh—I was lying to you just now… the boss told us to say that—I’m sorry, I’m sorry, spare me aaaah *gurgle gurgle*—”

“Shhh—”

Saranya abruptly plunged the man’s face into the vat, watching as he produced gurgling bubbles in the acid.

She reveled in this novel method of torture, a hazy pleasure blossoming in her heart.

Turning her head, she glanced at Vireta, whose face had turned stark white.

“You see… you foolish dog, I told you to be quiet; you’ve frightened my daughter…”

After repeating the process several times, she gently lifted the head in her hand.

Witnessing the man’s skin sloughing off, emitting wisps of smoke before her eyes, she curved her lips into a smile of profound delight.

“Mr. Short-Hair… the ledgers, all the delivery manifests, the roster of workshop employees… tell me everything you know…?”