Chapter 30: The wandering bazaar

“So this is it?” I ask looking at the so-called ‘Wandering Bazaar’. I don’t know what I expected but it certainly wasn’t a black dome planted in the middle of the grassland.

I glance back at Sairal. A large brown cape with a hood obscures every detail of him, even his race. When I use Identify all I get back is a simple question mark, not even a grade.

Sairal nods. “Yes. It may not look like much from the outside. But once we are in, you will be surprised. It’s spatially expanded, you see,” even his voice is twisted into something monotone and robotic.

I look down at the brown robe I wear, “And you are sure that this weird cape will hide our identities?”

He nods again, “Normally it couldn’t do so, but the artefact you are wearing is reinforced by a skill the owner of the Wandering Bazaar has. I think it was called Everyone Stays Hidden. That is also what makes the bazaar so popular. Now, add this pin to your robe so that I can recognise you if you get lost.”

He hands me a pin shaped like a diamond. I put it on and see that he wears the same. We get into the line with the other beings that also wear pins to show their group members to who they belong. I try to figure out if the pins have any meaning, but there is no rhyme or reason for them.

Sairal and I reach the front of the line. He hands the individual that wears a black robe, instead of the brown, two yellow-coloured gems.

They look over them, checking something I can’t see. After a few gruelling seconds, they nod and motion us forwards.

We enter a dark tunnel that is only lit by the blue gems set in the walls.

Sairal doesn’t say anything, tension leaking off him even through the obfuscation effect of the robe.

My ears pop painfully as we near the end of the tunnel. The market opens up in front of us and indeed it is a sight to behold. Most of the beings are in robes, hiding their identities, but there are quite a few that don’t wear them. The beings without robes mostly stand behind stalls advertising goods. They probably don’t wear them so they can lean on their own reputations to sell their goods.

I follow Sairal onto the cramped streets with stalls on each side. Behind them are doorways that lead to shops that seem to be spatially expanded too. Black-robed beings occasionally wander the streets, keeping everything in check.

My eyes wander over the street. I let them rove over the stalls that all seem to sell different goods, from food to swords and from wands to strange trinkets.

The shops vary too, some made out of shoddy wood that barely seems to hold together while other shops have walls made out of metal or stone.

Above me, up in the air, there is a second floor of shops connected by hanging bridges. Level after level rises until a ceiling of stone that has stairways leading up further to probably more exclusive parts of the bazaar.

From where I stand, I count at least six floors, though, I don’t doubt that there are more than that.

“What do you think?” Sairal asks.

“Amazing,” I say, not knowing where to look. “That dome was barely a kilometre wide, how but it is this large…”

“That is the power of a (B) grade. And this is only the lowest row of shops on the lower layer. As amazing as it is Green, stay close to me. And whatever you do, never enter streets that have few to no lights. As your world has uglier parts, this one too isn’t all flowers and sunshine.”

A shiver runs up my spine as he says that.

“Okay. So what’s the plan?”

“We will sell our goods first and ask if there are any Zusillian shops or generals that are buying back prisoners. We will sell the human back. and Then we’ll do some much-needed shopping,” he says with longing.

I stare at a humanoid snow leopard that stands behind a stall that sells all kinds of trinkets, all their functions unknown, “How can you find humans from Zulis when everyone is hidden in these robes?”

Someone walks past, their hood barely covering their face. And even with that, I can’t see anything. The information seems to just slip out of my mind. When I focus more on the face, all I see is a pool of darkness where the face should be.

Just how strong can skills get, that some being is able to provide this to everyone in this space?

“If Zulis is here, most will know. There is no rule that you have to wear a robe.”

I continue to Identify everything around me, seeing that most of the trinkets are (H) grade. The stronger stuff must be in the shops or on the higher floors.

Thanks to this, I also finally have a good chance to level my skill. Already I can feel the experience build up after each use.

I trail after Sairal as he moves from shop to shop, bartering with the owners while I look around.

Most of the shops are the size of a dressing room on the outside, but on the inside, they are far, far bigger.

I enter the next after Sairal, this one particularly interesting. It isn’t as large as others, but the space is used to its full potential. All the walls from floor to ceiling are lined with shelves, bottles that hold everything from insects to flowers, and monster eyes on them.

Sairal barters with the humanoid behind the counter, pulling items out of his pocket space and laying them on the counter as he points to each one and haggles faster than I can follow.

Items are swapped gold is exchanged and he turns to me, “Can I sell your stuff here?”

“Sure,” I say, having given up on following the exchange and instead looking at all the bottles with interesting things.

He continues to barter and they shake hands. I don’t see anything outside of two blurry outlines shaking which is a bit weird but before I can ponder on it, I get dragged along by him as we continue our way down the street.

After two more shops he nods, “Okay, I have sold most of my stuff. Now it’s time to get rid of the human.”

“You know where they are?”

“Yeah, in one of the larger auction houses they are buying up every human from Zulis. We’ll go there and sell him directly. Remember to play hard to get, Green. His life depends on it.”

I press the revolting feeling down, telling myself that this is the best outcome for him.

I follow Sairal as he bulldozes through the crowds.

The beings on the street lessen as less savoury things are sold from beast organs in jars, to living creatures.

He stops at an intersection, barely anyone around us.

“Okay, for this next part, we’ll have to walk through one of those streets I told you about. Close your eyes and give me your hand, I’ll lead you through it,” he lifts the slumbering human higher onto his shoulder to get one of his hands free. He reaches that one out to me to grab onto.

“Is it really that bad? We already passed a shop that sells slaves?” I ask looking into the dark street.

I imagine him frowning, “Listen to me, Green. There are skills for everything. And I mean literally everything. There is magic that is forbidden, not only by the Greater races but even by the lower races. There are fates in this world that are worse than death. Do you really want to see that?”

I think about it seriously, “You hinted at that magic several times. What is it?”

He shakes his head, the hood moving along with it, “You really want to know?”

“I think I do?”

He sighs loudly and leans towards me to whisper, “Soul and Mind magic. Both can do things…dangerous things. You’re a smart mandrake. You can figure out the rest from here.”

Without saying anything, he grabs my hand and begins to pull me along through the street. I close my eyes, believing him. If there is magic that affects the soul and the mind, you can do anything with anyone. Shape their mind to your own wishes, twist their soul into your own image.

“Hey you, are you interested in my service?” a voice, more twisted than any other in this place says.

“No thanks, he already serves a purpose,” Sairal says back.

The entire conversation makes me feel sick and I don’t know what is better that it is open to imagination what their service is, or not.

“Is it-”

“No, it’s worse. Now be quiet,” Sairal shushes me.

The revolting feeling grows as we continue down the street. While I have my eyes closed, I’m not deaf. And in this moment I wish I was.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

I won’t even think on it, the sounds disturbing enough that they don’t deserve thought. They do not deserve to be put into words or any other method of communication. I can only say that those sounds will haunt me forever.

***

“You can open your eyes, we are in the main lobby of where we need to be now,” Sairal says.

I open my eyes slowly as if afraid and see a reception where a black-robed individual stands behind a counter.

The human, still asleep, is laid out next to me as Sairal talks with the figure.

I listen to their conversation, still reeling from the things I heard.

“Are you selling wares?” the being behind the auction asks with interest.

“We do, but we want to sell directly. Is that possible?”

The being pauses and pages through some notes. “You want to sell to Zulis, I assume?”

“Yes.”

The black-robed individual nods, “We have a general in a suite. We’ll contact her, please wait a moment.”

We wait for a bit. Sairal finds a comfy place to sit as I wander around the lobby, looking at the golden plants, or the plants made of gold. It’s hard to distinguish them. They look like fake plastic plants, but they are so well made, that I’m unsure if they are real or not.

Before I can come to a conclusion, a man in a suit walks out. He has reddish skin and has two horns growing out of his head. When I target Identify at him, the skill slips away.

His red pupils lock onto me and he bares his teeth in a smile.

He bows to Sairal, “General Aïska of the Zulissaian army has agreed to your request,” the demon-like man strolls back to the entrance he came from, “Please follow me, I will lead you to her suite where you may discuss the details of the transaction in private.”

Sairal stretches out like a cat on the couch and stands up. He blows a strange green power into the human’s face before picking him up and following the demon man.

We move through a hallway that stretches on almost infinitely, the numbers written on the door the only indication that we are moving forwards.

“Green,” Sairal says. His hood doesn’t turn towards me, still looking at the demon-like man. If the man hears us, he ignores us completely, “I hope you can act a bit. This will be a valuable lesson.”

I roll my eyes as he brings it up again, “I know, how much should I ask for him?”

“If I may advise?” the demon-like man says.

“Please go ahead,” Sairal replies.

“If I am correct he is an (H) grade of the army, so he isn’t worth much. However, I assume that he holds valuable information and therefore will have a higher price. I advise to sell him between four to seven golden coins, depending on the value of the information he holds,” he aptly says.

Before I can ask the question Sairal gives me the answer, “He is correct. The Bazaar has a reputation to uphold so he doesn’t lie.”

“Indeed,” the demon man says, “As you have likely been here before, you know how it goes and that reputation is invaluable. The reputation of the Wandering Bazaar cannot be tarnished. Ah, we are at her suite. I wish you good luck in reaching an agreement,” he says.

Standing in front of door 129, the demon man bows to us and knocks on the door. When a voice inside speaks up we step in and he heads back to the lobby.

A muscular woman, sitting on a blood-red couch is the first thing I see. Her ocean-blue eyes rove over us with ill-hidden disgust. She takes a sip of her drink and gestures to the couch in front of her. “Sit,” she says, her voice demanding.

Sairal lets the human down on the floor and sits on the couch. I follow him and take in the human woman as she does with us, not that there is much to see since we wear the robes.

Her brown hair is streaked with red. The dress she wears isn’t something as elegant as back on Earth. No, it fits the word elegant in a slightly different way. The dress looks like a mix between armour and a ballroom outfit.

AÏska throws back the rest of her drink and slams it down on the table next to her. Then she leans forwards, her fingers knit together as she lays her head on them, while glaring at us for a good ten seconds.

“So tell me dryads, how much do you want for the kid?” she says as she keeps up her glare.

It takes me a moment to reply. She thinks I’m a dryad. I wonder how she would react if I pulled back the cloak and showed myself to her. I imagine her face going through a range of emotions from surprise to shock and settling on greed.

I stop indulging my fantasy of seeing her face twist in disbelief and speak up, “Eight gold.”

She stands up and pours herself a new glass of some kind of stiff drink, “Hmmm. No.”

I wait for her to sit down on the couch. This all is a show of power with words.

I continue to wait until I have her attention, “He holds valuable information.” I add.

“He got captured by a living weed,” she says while glaring at us.

“So?” I ask, “Does that make him less valuable? With your standing and role in the army, I thought that you cared about your troops. Shouldn’t you keep your soldier alive to the best of your abilities?” I keep my tone jovial but on the inside, my stomach begins to twist.

This is so fucked up. Why the fuck am I talking smack when that human’s life is at stake?

She throws back the drink and glares at me, “I told any soldier that was under my authority that if they would get captured, they’ll be dead in my eyes. He got captured, so he is dead.”

On purpose, I let out a long sigh. Talking with her feels like a game of cat and mouse. Everyone in this room knows she wants the human back, why can’t it be easy for once?

I try another tactic, “Then why are you here, buying all these dead humans, general? or are you just here to watch the show as your soldiers get sold off to other groups that will do who knows what with them?”

As a response, AÏska closes her eyes for a brief second. Then it is her turn to sigh, “He isn’t worth eight gold. What about a single coin?” she replies, her eyes lingering on the teen.

Is this the trap Sairal was talking about? If I give him now, he will be considered a spy, right?

I stare into her eyes, leaning forward. I can see her heart break under her facade. I feel the same thing coming from me and I’m for once thankful that this itchy, clingy robe hides my face.

In a last attempt I shrug and act casual, “I’m sorry. My boss said that it would be Eight gold for Zulis, or not at all. You know, he is quite angry that you all invaded Luxia. So, I guess that this is his way to spite you. If I can’t sell him to you, I’ll sell him somewhere else.”

I stand up from the couch and walk towards the windows that shows an ongoing auction below. On the stage, one of the black-robed individuals is selling a rhinoceros-like human. From here I can look into his eyes, empty like the ones of a corpse. Did they cast some of that forbidden magic on him? My heart hurts, imagining the human there on the podium with the same expression.

I continue the bluff, “If I can’t sell him to Zulis, Maybe someone else down there will want him. I mean, look at that human. Young and a male. I bet plenty of beings will want him for a myriad of reasons.”

I turn back from the window and look at Sairal, “Oh hey, maybe we can sell him to one of those vendors in one of those streets that have no light? Maybe they can use some magic on him? Won’t it be fun to have him as our personal pe-”

The general stands up, her face red with rage. “YOU WOULDN’T!” she screams at me, the room around me shaking with the power of her voice.

Something in me tears in me with pain, worse than when I killed those other two humans. What am I doing? What the fuck am I doing? This is so fucked up.

I let out a fake, low chuckle, “Oh, I certainly would. Everyone needs gold after all.”

Tears well up in my eyes. I’m really a monster, aren’t I? Who cares if I look like one? Playing with someone’s life like this is something only monsters can do.

I move back to the human, kneeling as I look at his face. I keep my voice steady as I turn towards Sairal, “Didn’t you say that you wanted to run some experiments on him?”

I can almost feel Sairal smirk under the hood, “Yes, I can use some extra subjects. Humans always make good base material for creating golems and guardians.”

The General hurls the glass in her hands onto the wall. Shattering it into a rain of glass splinters. Her voice is deeper than before, “I’ll buy him for five gold.”

The world is dizzy around me as I turn towards Sairal, “What do you think?”

Like me, he makes a show of it, “A bit low, but good enough, I guess. Probably more than what we will get from auctioning him.”

I turn towards her, “Five gold it is.”

She throws the coins at me.

Gently, I pick the coins off the ground.

Her voice is strained with anger, “You have what you want. Now let him go.”

Having picked up all the coins, I leave the room with Sairal.

Before I close the door, I see her already looking over the human. She turns towards us, “Filthy weeds! We will burn down your forest to the very last tree. I will make you go extinct! I will kill all of you!”

“Then I will see you on the battlefield,” I say and close the door.

I hear a few more muffled screams and I walk on, Sairal trailing behind me.

A dozen paces later I lean against the wall, the world turning and twisting around me.

“You’ve changed,” Sairal states.

“Yes,” I say, my stomach heaving while I try to keep my bile down, “We all change. I did what I had to do.” I move on, taking deep breaths as I count the numbers down as we exit the hallway.

“And what was that?” Sairal asks, wanting me to say it out loud.

“Make sure that the human is safe. They won’t think he is a spy now. And we needed the money,” I feel numb. I just want to go back to my home and curl up and cry.

Sairal puts a hand on my shoulder, “Green, he’s alive thanks to you. Remember that. An enemy he may be, but you saved him.”

“I guess so,” I say, not believing it.

“Who knows, maybe he’ll even quit the army and go back to Zulis to live out the rest of his life inside the confines of the walls.”

I know that he’s trying to lighten the mood but it isn’t helping, “Why is this world like this? Why does magic like that exist? Why do beings treat each other like this? This is so messed up! It is all fucking messed up!”

Sairal stops, “Magic can do many things. It can make the world better, prettier a nicer place to live in, but like everything, it is a tool and beings use it how they want to. If you don’t like it, become stronger. Strong enough that you don’t have to be afraid of humans. Strong enough that they will never hurt you. We all fight for that power to change the world into our image.

“And Green, just some advice from me, but you need to harden your heart. You will need to kill to grow stronger. You’ll need to slay entire armies when you reach (D) grade. You’ll be forced to do things you will never forgive yourself for,” he says.

I look at him, wishing that he wasn’t wearing that hood right now, “Have you done something like that?”

He shrugs, “When my options were few, I struck a deal with someone when I didn’t have a choice. But beyond that? Not really.”

He resumes walking towards the exit and I follow him. “But one day?” he says more to himself than to me, “One day, I will do something terrible. Something that cannot be excused. And I will find glee and sadness in it. I will love and hate myself. And I will learn to live with it as I take another step closer to power.”

“So that is how this world works? To become strong and to be strong, you will need to give pieces of yourself up. You need to break the rules you give yourself just for another level?”

He turns back to me, “You finally understand it. Be your world or this one, power always comes with strings attached. The Quests you will need to do will try to break you in one way or another. That is how this world works and what the system demands.”

“And if I want to change that?”

He lets out a slow, long chuckle, “If you want to change that you need to become as strong as Pursua, need to be as inspiring as Miras, or be as feared as Zierann. Either way, you need to climb to the very top if you want to change the world and the system. You will need to become stronger than the Dryad king, stronger than the entire human federation combined, and strong enough the complete the final quests the system gives.”

“And then?” I ask.

“I don’t know. No one knows,” he admits, “Whatever it is, You will need to do what Pursua has done to the system and change it like few have done in the entirety of existence.”

So that is my end goal? Like every person who got isekaied, I want to change the world. I want to sculpt the world into my image. I feel stupid thinking this. But what else will you do with power? What good is it if it doesn’t serve a goal?

I shake my head and sigh, “Looks like I have my work cut out for me.”