After a long torturous travel, they arrived near the walls a couple of minutes later.
They kept behind a few houses, slowly looking up if there was a guard nearby. "This spot doesn't have a sentry," Tacky said, "But there could be guards."
They learned from befriending some aborigines like Rona that when war came, people had to get past the 'main' walls in order to win. The Lord knew this too, so it wouldn't be a surprise if he set guards everywhere in the inner wall battlement while keeping their outside area minimally guarded.
However, to their surprise, there was no guard—at all—nearby, which alone was surprising as they would expect Fargo to focus on guarding this area.
"Miss Althea and the others must be causing havoc inside," Dog said smugly, and the others agreed. "He has thousands of guards. How can there be no one hunting for us when we're already so near the walls?"
Tacky and the others looked at them being so confident and their hearts raced. They wondered… was their freedom within reach?
Then they stepped forward, quickly realizing that Fargo did, in fact, set up obstacles for them in the form of slaves.
They looked at the line of slaves there, distanced a few meters apart. They knew Bright lost thousands of people to slavery and, looking at this, they probably used most of them as secondary walls here.
The slaves were lined up in a single line. They stayed in place even with some of them having shaky legs. Their states were extremely pitiful, extremely dirty and filled with wounds. They had bloodless faces but their bodies had bloodstains all over. To the passerby, it seemed like they were barely holding on to life.
Their hearts broke when they saw their expressions of surrender and pain, and things just got worse when they saw some familiar faces.
"SISTER!!!" Tacky yelled, immediately running forward. He lunged so unexpectedly that no one was able to stop him.
"Ooi—TACKY!" His friends yelled, but Tacky didn't hear anything. His eyes was focused on getting to his poor sister.
Tacky emerged from the 'safety' of the dense houses and entered a 3-meter distance from the slaves. Without warning the handful of slaves nearby—including his sister—lunged towards him.
Their expressions were helpless but their bodies were like fast-moving zombies aiming to get him.
Juan and Crow caught up with Tacky and held an arm each, pulling him back as fast as they could.
"ENEMY! ENEMY!" The slaves nearby screamed at the top of their lungs, much like human alarms. Their voices were raspy and croaky—obviously too parched and tired to yell so loudly—but apparently the order didn't care whether or not they destroyed their throats.
The slaves stopped following after a certain distance. They returned to position parallel to the wall, but their mouths did not stop yelling—likely to continue doing so until Fargo's men arrived.
Tacky sobbed as he was pulled, seeing his sister's poor state. Even now, he could hear her voice among the various 'alarms'. She was yelling with a croaking voice, almost wheezing.
If Lani continued to do so, maybe her throat would be damaged!
His little sister always liked to sing. She drank various healthy drinks to keep it healthy! What was this now?
Then Tacky recalled her appearance. Lani was bloodied and had no good skin around her. Her body was filled with wounds, some parts of her clothing ripped. Her wounds and appearance was similar to the women who were… abused.
He had been trying to find a way to rescue her, but who told him to be so weak and got sent to the hospital half-dead instead! During the time he was being treated, what had she experienced?!
They let go of him as soon as they entered a relatively safe alley. Tacky fell helplessly to the ground, shaking. He buried his face in his palms. "Those bastards! Those bastards!!"
He sobbed, punching the wall until his hands bled, crying as he did so. "Bastards, bastards! I'm going to kill them—I'M GOING TO KILL THEM!"
Crow went out of their hiding place as the 'alarm' calmed down. There were no guards that came their way, likely too far away, but he did hear some new voices.
He found an inconspicuous place and looked to see the status of the wall. There were a few battlement guards that arrived. Obviously, they were spread thin and the slaves also functioned to pinpoint where they ought to focus.
Logically, this was not a bad idea—considering the other more immediate threats elsewhere—if it wasn't so… inhumane.
His jaw clenched as he looked at the poor slaves. They could barely keep themselves standing. Some were already half naked because of how poor the state of their clothing was. All of them were injured to some degree, but they couldn't move away from their positions at all.
He also looked at the surroundings, his sharp eyes studying what they could use. After noting what he could, he went back to where the rest were hiding. By this time, Tacky had calmed down somewhat.
"A few battlement guards have arrived, but they aren't getting down the wall. I assume there aren't many guards in this area at all." Hence, the guards kept the most advantageous position.
Tacky lifted his head and looked hopefully at Crow. "Is there a way to save her?"
Crow looked at him and thought for a while. "It's not impossible, but we can only save very few."
"That's enough for me!"
Don't blame him for being selfish, but of course his sister would come first!
Crow looked at him and then at the others, who nodded. They only had a few knockout potions left with their party and they would of course keep some for emergencies. This meant they only had a bottle to spare.
They were only civilians, after all, they weren't like those cool TV protagonists who needed to hit some part of the neck and the person would lose consciousness. Who knew what they'd hit instead?
Besides, the 'slave orders' could push people beyond their limits. What if they couldn't be knocked out easily? A knockout potion, even if diluted, was still safer.
"Okay, we'll do what we can."
Tacky looked at them with wide, teary, eyes and kowtowed. "Save her and I will owe you for the rest of my life!"