A series of wooden thumps echoed down the stone hallway, waking Bert from his nap.

“What- Whozzat banging on the damn door?!” protested Bert, bemoaning his ruined rest.

Since he was the youngest of the Sergeant’s squad, he automatically had to do the dirty jobs – which would often be both actually dirty and physically tiring.

Stuff like polishing the squad’s armor, stacking the provision crates down in the Guard house’s emergency stores cellar while John quietly took stock, and wrangling the more unruly of “guests” down in the cells left him sweaty, tired, and irate.

Usually, he’d take the chance to nap during the early morning guard shift.

Around the small hours the Sergeant was too lazy to check up on him - and no one was sober enough to cause trouble warranting a visit from the guardsmen and a night in the lockup.

Bert’s mind sobered up right quick once the thumps came back, realizing who was making all that noise.

The young guardsman slung his short sword and his club to his side and quickly rushed to the door. Opening it, he was greeted with a very tall, bare-chest mountain of a man, bulging muscles twining around tree-trunk like arms attached to a rain barrel chest.

He was more concerned by the shorter figure in front of the goliath.

“Master Toad” stammered Bert.

Master Toad, A business partner of the Sergeant, was a weekly sight at the Guard house. He self-described himself as a “human resources reallocation specialist” – but even Bert’s uneducated mind knew a slave trader when he saw one.

The pot-bellied man’s skin was a sickly greyish-green, warts covering most of it. His round face sat on a nearly-unnoticed neck entombed with fat, an indulging smile showing at least three gold teeth peeking from obscenely plump lips.

He may have been about half Bert’s height, but his hairs stood on end, knowing that merely a gesture would have the goliath behind the man snap his like a sick kitten’s, and no one would dare bat an eye.

Master Toad’s dealings with the City Guard were well known, after all.

“Young man, would you kindly lead the way to your Sergeant’s office? I believe I am expected.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

The man’s voice was deep and gravelly, his courteous words spoken in a tone insinuating that regardless of either Bert’s the Sergeant’s or even the damn Captain of the City Guard’s opinions, he was indeed expected.

Bert wisely chose to comply, showing remarkable insight unbecoming his usual record.

“Right this way, Master Toad.”

It took a few minutes to navigate the Guard house’s corridors to the sergeant’s office and chambers – while the same confusing corridors made great defensive chokepoints against peasant uprisings, they also made getting anywhere a pain in the ass.

Finally, Bert, Master Toad, and the goliath stood in front of the aged wooden door to the Sergeant’s chambers.

“I’ll let him know you’re here, Master.”

Master toad simply nodded, crossing his arms with that same smile.

Bert decided he should be quick about it.

Knocking twice on the door and then entering as the Sergeant taught him, he found the man at his wooden desk, working on some parchment or other.

While the position of Sergeant might sound unimpressive, it apparently was enough to justify what could be said to be opulent chambers, with colorful fabric banners adorning bare stone walls and a fireplace warming the space from the cold winter night air coming through the window, despite the shutters.

The Sergeant turned his head to Bert and took one look at his face.

“Stand guard at attention outside, no one gets in unless they’re using your guts as a fashionable scarf.”

“Aye sir” snapped Bert, actually pulling off a decent salute, and rushed to the door alongside the Sergeant.

After seeing his man out, Sergeant Nash saw Master Toad in, alongside his “help.”

“Master Toad, welcome. Care for a drink?”

“I am afraid Business comes before pleasure. Let us take a look at the stock first, then perhaps a tour of the actual merchandise, shall we?” the merchant gestured at the table nearby.

“As you wish” Nash said.

The two sat down, the Sergeant pulling from his desk both the record from last day’s induction and a hand-written list on a simple scroll with numbers on it, organized in a list.

Nash began reading:

“We have seven new additions to our stock since last week; two minors, five adults.

“Of the minors, we have two females, caught prostituting without permit or backer from the P.O.P, therefore free for the taking. They look decent and with some work could be worth something.

“Next, we have five adults, of which one is on the older side, two females with similar background to the minors, and two younger adults with one having recently hit majority.

“As per the City Lord’s agreement, standard fee for procurement applies with tax to the City Lord’s estate included, all responsibility for the goods and liability for any damages held by the procurer, as per the Charter of the Grand Empire of Light’s Free Cities Coalition.

“Do you agree to these conditions, Master Toad?”

The warty face cracked a smile, his eyes sparking a flame of passion – this was the fun part.

“I do.”

Sergeant Nash smiled in return, and answered.

“Then let’s begin negotiating”.