"I was told that you recently acquired a group of slaves?" Dave asked, trying to keep a neutral expression on his face. "One that could be purchased at a discount?"
"Ah," Zippermin nodded. "Yes. Come, I shall show them to you, and you can decide whether the elkin group is worth the investment."
"What's wrong with them?" Dave blinked, a twinge of unease creeping into his gut as he followed the bondsman into the depths of the building.
"They've contracted a magical sickness in the wilds," the salesman explained, absentmindedly twirling his lush mustache. "I'm afraid that it is incurable. They have a few years at best and it takes a special client to tolerate their… unique appearance, which is why they're on discount."
Dave frowned as Zippermin opened a heavy metal door and ushered him inside.
The room was dimly lit with a few crystal runes, casting an eerie gloom over the captives within. Dave's eyes fell upon a group of thirteen antlered elkin teenagers that inhabited the space. There was a see-through barrier between him and the shackled slaves. As Dave looked closer, he couldn't help but notice a very peculiar sight that adorned their majestic elk antlers.
The once-proud appendages were now covered in a tapestry of spiderwebs, silk strands weaving intricate patterns around the antlers. Amidst the webbing, blooming white fungi-like forms flourished, petals unfurling. Tiny, white spiders skittered between the dandelion-like flowers, their spindly legs dancing across the webbing as they tended to their unusual garden.
Dave felt his heart clench at the sight, a mixture of pity and dismay welling up within him.
"Are those... spiders?" He asked, his voice barely concealing the growing unease at the sight.
"Alas! These young, capable elkin, who should have been reveling in the prime of their lives, are condemned to a slow, painful decline!" Zippermin tutted, his voice imbued with a dramatic flair that seemed almost mocking. "Our healer tells me that the fungi go all the way into their brains and across their bones, taking on the function of many of their muscles and organs. If it is removed, they will die."
Dave clenched his fists, anger and pity warring within him. "How much for all thirteen of them?" he asked.
"One thousand silver," the salesman replied without missing a beat.
Dave's frown deepened, but he held his tongue. He needed these workers, as tragic as their circumstances were.
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"You will get a lot out of them, even if their time is limited," Zippermin said, attempting to sweeten the deal. "They're exceptionally well-coordinated. They managed to kill three Shadow officers while being detained. The only rule is—you must keep them confined. I suggest using them in a small mining or an enclosed workshop operation. They must not be allowed to come into contact with other elkin, as the magical malady is capable of spreading."
Dave frowned.
"Don't worry, it has no effect on humans like yourself or other races," the bondsman assured jovially. "From what I was told, it is a highly specialized type of curse affecting only those who have been already severely weakened by extreme malnutrition or other severe injuries. It spreads very slowly and is only dangerous if it's not scrubbed from the antlers in time for it to take root. These thirteen must have been in the wilds for a long time. They were collared after they attempted to raid a caravan heading from Illium to Shandria."
Dave mulled over the salesman's words, his mind racing with the potential consequences and implications. The fate that had befallen these elkin was a cruel one, but perhaps he could offer them some semblance of dignity and purpose in their final years.
"I don't have a thousand silver," Dave admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. "Would you..."
"Mmmmm, no," the salesman shook his head with an air of feigned sympathy. "A thousand is the lowest I can go. They’re already highly discounted due to their condition. A single, healthy slave goes from three to ten thousand silver because they can provide a lifetime of service.”
Dave sighed. It seemed that this situation required the charisma of the future Sovereign of Shandria to get the salesman to budge. His own persuasive skills were insufficient to sway the overly-cheerful bondsman.
"I'll be back," Dave said, casting a final, pained glance at the doomed elkin, feeling the weight of their gazes upon him like a physical burden.
"We're open from sunrise to sundown," Zippermin smiled, the gesture failing to reach his eyes. “Come back anytime.”
Dave nodded. He pushed open the door and stepped out of the oppressive gloom of the slave merchant guild, the fresh air outside almost jarring after the stifling atmosphere within. As he walked back through the town, his thoughts were consumed by his desire to find Cedez.
The possibility that the knowledgeable vixen might know a specialized healer in town who could help the unfortunate elkin buoyed Dave's spirits somewhat. Clinging to this hopeful self-invented idea, he continued his walk to the front gates of Shandria.
As he passed through the gates, the giant snail that housed the Cambria Snail Cafe came into view. Wizard Murdoc, as usual, was perched atop the gargantuan gastropod, surveying the scene below. Dave's eyes darted through the cafe crowd, seeking the familiar sight of a dark tail and a dark leather dress. But Cedez was nowhere to be found.
A snow-white owlkin, dressed in a flowing blue gown, approached him with a warm smile. "Welcome to the Cambria Snail Cafe!" she greeted him with a mellifluous voice, the white feathers on her head bristling. "How can I serve you? Our snail cake special is..."
Dave barely registered her words as his pulse quickened, his chest tightening with anxiety.
Cedez was gone.
The gravity of not seeing her brilliant smile crashed against him like an ocean tide, as the bustling world around him seemed to fade into a blur.