"H-how can you do this, Harcon?" Elira couldn't help but ask as soon as they got moving through her domain, watching the slave trader Ratledge as he took some sort of magic tool from the illusionist mage, switching it off, her eyes fixed on the former Master Guard. If she saw any way out, it was to convince Harcon to help them.

"Shut up," the bruiser woman carrying her snapped, her massive shoulder digging into Elira's stomach. But half-naked as she was, the guardswoman ignored her.

"If you..."

"Don't try to preach to me here, Elira. It's too late for that," Harcon cut her off. She, however, couldn't let it go. Her life depended on it - hers, Vara's, Grey's, and quite possibly that of her brother Elias and the others at the Esulmor Gate.

"You used to be a Master Guard, Harcon. How can you...?"

"I said shut up," the bruiser growled, pressing Elira's waist to make her point so hard it squeezed the breath out of her.

"...d-do you at l-least know what happened to Elias? Please tell me!"

"I wish I had a sister like you, Elira," Harcon remarked wistfully. "Mine doesn't give two shits about me or our old folks. The bitch borrowed a shitload of money in their name and simply left."

"I..." she said, stopping short as she remembered hearing something about it. Back then, a lot of gossip went around about the reason why he had quit as a Master Guard. The fact that Vara loved gossip certainly didn't help, but in between all the gossip about Harcon being in love with Captain Rayden, or that he had killed someone, she mentioned that his family had fallen into a debt that the Master Guard's salary couldn't cover.

"W-well, your sister. I mean, couldn't Captain Ray...?"

Once again, Elira stopped in mid-sentence as a finger landed in front of her eyes. "One more word and I'll have you and the other wench fitted with collars like the Slave."

"No need, Arlo," Harcon remarked, as if unfazed by the fact that Elira, which to the outside world was supposed to look like a sack of potatoes, might draw unwanted attention. One shout, one cry for help, and they could have a whole squad of city guards on their asses in minutes. A bit of a naive hope, and Elira knew it, but seeing the first Castiana citizens, obviously no longer kept out of their sight by that magic tool, appearing on the evening street, she hoped to wait for the right opportunity. With Harcon around to call out to the first one they met would be akin to condemning the poor fellow to the same fate as theirs - or worse. Moreover, sad as it was, from her experience patrolling the streets, most people didn't like to get involved in other people's business - not unless they got something out of it.

So no, the most logical thing to do was to shut up as the thugs wanted and wait until they were on a busier street. Hope was that among those present there might be one of her colleagues or at least someone with enough guts and sense to let the city guards know what was going on - something she'd like to know herself.

"What, Harcon? You guarantee that the wench won't open her mouth again?" the little round slave trader said with a snort. "You also insisted they would follow orders, and how did that turn out? And you lot... didn't any of you think to gag them?"

"I thought of that, boss," the workhand, a young man barely a few years from coming of age as far as Elira could tell, said, raising his hand.

"Ah, you did, Tate? Then why the fuck I'm not seeing the gags in their mouths?"

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"Because you didn't say anything, boss."

"And you said something?"

"No, boss. You always tell me to keep my dumb ideas to myself."

"Traiana, help me," Rutledge muttered under his breath. "If it weren't for the promise to your mother, I would... damn it, stop staring at me, boy. Gag 'em."

"I told you it isn't necessary, Arlo."

"And I that I don't give a shit about what you say."

"Eh, boss? What should I use as a gag?"

"Nothing!" Harcon snarled, obviously struggling to hold back. "How many times do I have to say it's not necessary. Didn't any of you notice that I conjured a Silencing Spell around us?" The thugs all looked at each other. Even Elira couldn't help glancing around, piercing the former Master Guard's gaze as it shattered all her plans and hopes.

"I did, Mr. Werley," the workhand raised his hand again, stopping his search for a suitable gag for a moment.

"Of course you did," Rutledge muttered under his breath, clearly tired of having the young man around. "Anyway, I'll be more at ease if they're gagged. Nothing like a good old honest job."

"Then why have me around?" Harcon growled, pointing at the illusionist walking behind them. "Or him? You know what? Forget it, Arlo. Put them to sleep, for all I care."

"Boss?" the young workhand asked after a moment, unsure of what to do. "Should I put them to sleep?"

"Do you have the means? Because I don't."

Not surprising. After all, why would a trader dealing with slaves of 40 sigils or less have potions and tools that could put someone with nearly 120 sigils to sleep? That would be a waste of money. Of course, being unprepared when they knew they were going to be dealing with someone like Grey, and potentially her and Vara, was just stupid. However, slavers were notorious for over-reliance on slave collars. Not surprising. Why buy expensive potions, restraints, and who knows what else when all you had to do was give the slave a command? In situations like this, though...

'Luck didn't seem to have completely forsaken me'.

Being knocked out would be the worst thing that could happen to them right now. No way of knowing what's going on around, no chance of calling for help or escaping. As such, Elira didn't resist too much when the young workhand eventually stuffed a piece of old rag into her mouth and tied it with a piece of rope that bound her hands and feet. Certainly no ordinary rope, as it could hold her strength and definitely wasteful to use for a gag. Something Rutledge let the young workhand know when he found out.

After that, however, all she could do was watch helplessly as they traveled through the city from the Third District to the Fourth, with the people in the streets oblivious to their plight, fright slowly gripping her heart. The slavers weren't stupid. They took their time, trying not to attract too much attention, even avoiding people with too many sigils, just in case they could see through the illusions cast on them. One look might be what it would take.

'Two half-naked Guardswomen, bound and gagged. That would have to raise a few eyebrows.'

Unfortunately, unless someone took a direct look at them with the intention of seeing their info, there was no chance that the Lattice would just inform anyone the three sacks on the shoulders of Rutledge's goons were, in fact, women. As such, they arrived at the notorious corner of Wet and Tight Streets, without her noticing anyone so much as raising an eyebrow, let alone the alarm.

"You're late!" hissed a woman standing there, leaning against the wall at the entrance to one of the houses. [Shadowcoin Holdings] read on a sign above the door, while a blackboard next door proclaimed: ‘You are one step away from fulfilling your dreams’. Elira, however, couldn't give a shit what the loan sharks baited people with, not when all her attention was on the woman who was piercing her back with her gaze. "Way too late and with undue weight. Ward won't like that."

'Ward? It can't be that Ward, can it?'

"Is he inside?" Rutledge asked, failing to feign nonchalance over her remark, to which the woman chuckled.

"He is - waiting."

'Shadowcoin Holdings? Was this Ward’s business, too?'

"A-all right," Rutledge breathed, nodding more to himself. He then turned to his goons. "You lot, take the wenches to the wagon and get ready to roll up. I'll..."

"No, no, no." The woman held up a finger, stopping them. "Ward's gonna want to see you all. Not everything went according to plan."