Chapter 25

The Slave Market

Horace Greens had been a slave dealer for most of his life.

When he was a boy, he was sold to a slave dealer during a year of long famine so that his parents could feed themselves and his stronger, bigger brother. Later, due to being slightly smarter than most slaves he was allowed to accompany the slave dealer as an assistant. Along the way he learned most of the business and the slave dealer took him in as his son.

Despite the fate that the Goddess dealt him, he did not really hate his parents or his brother. His fate was better than most at the very least. He did not have to eat bark to live. He did not have to suffer the fate of most slaves, being sold to a slave trader with no soul.

Indeed, his foster father was a slave trader. But more than that, he was a strict yet fair man. A better father than his birth father.

Horace did not really hate being a slave trader. He saw the job as something of a necessity. Better be a slave than a dead man. After all, who could argue with the man who himself was one?

Today, just as every other day, he sat in front of his tent. A grey one with no eye-catching colors. Compared to the eye-straining colors his competitions were sporting, his was very bland.

On the top of a large wooden stage, his hype maker was introducing six of his newest slaves with vigor, competing in voice with other slave traders.

“Aah, this month is going to be a bit tight,” Horace said, massaging his shoulder.

“Why so, Horace?” A woman in green clothes asked. This was Alicia, his old friend. A prostitute of the famous ‘Lady of Fortune’ brothel. Despite their closeness, he had never purchased her service.

“All the rich nobles have moved to their mansions in the capital for the month. Look, all the potential customers are commoners! Perhaps some new nobles who failed to get their invitations to the ball.”

“Is that so? What bad luck,” she said languidly.

“Must be nice being you. At least you don’t have to face my father.”

“You offend me, Horace,” she put her hands on her hips with an angry expression. “Do you think I like being a prostitute?!”

“Don’t think I don’t know you, Alicia. You already have enough money to buy your way out of the brothel.”

“Hmhm, I knew I couldn’t fool my old friend,” She paused when she saw her friend’s eyes staring far to her right. “But you know, I wish that old friend bought exclusive right to my service sometime soon.”

She waved her hand in front of him, but he did not respond.

“Horace? Hello? I’m talking to you, you big lout!”

It was then that two figures stood by her and her beauty was immediately eclipsed by their presences.

“Are you the owner of this store? I am looking for a combat slave.”

Though he was alarmed by the two women, he quickly regained his composure and took stock of them.

Judging by the way she was dressed, Horace was sure that she was a rich noble from an old family. He had seen many new nobles, flaunting their wealth with unmistakable garishness. This girl, however, was subdued and learned. Her presence alone commanded respect. Even her friend was a dark elf. And by her stature, one of the old ones.

An excellent potential customer.

“Yes! Yes. I am Horace Greens. My father is sick right now, so I run the place. Please, come in,” he turned to Alicia and waved her goodbye. “I’ll see you later, Alicia.”

He then escorted them in, leaving Alicia fuming from neglect.

“I’m sorry, how may I address the two of you ladies?”

“Call me Lady Steelheart. And this is my partner, Miss Liban.”

“Lady Steelheart and Miss Liban. It is my pleasure to meet you today.”

As he led them in, he made small talk. Intending to get closer to the two. “What makes you stop by our store, Milady? There are many places where they sell slaves here. Perhaps much cheaper.”

“The slaves in your place looks better fed and there is less sign of abuse. I’m not looking for sick, weak ones.”

Horace nodded with a great smile, “Ah, yes. Our prices might be higher, but I assure you, our slaves have better value than our competitors. Please, this way.”

The clean-shaven man opened the tent flap that led to a large chamber filled with iron cages. Hundreds of eyes turned towards them. Some fearful, some angry. Mostly angry. The smell of the chamber was that of a wet dog multiplied by a hundred.

“Such smell,” Illumca said with upturned nose. The bad smell reminded her of her old self. And she hated that. She put a hand over her nose and breathed through her mouth.

“That is the smell of most beastfolks, unfortunately,” he said apologetically. “But if you want combat slaves, you cannot go wrong with beastfolks. They have innate skills in strength. I also have some humans and dwarves also, if that is more of your liking.”

“I don’t care about the race. I just want strong ones.”

Horace nodded with understanding. Bowing slightly in attention. “What is the purpose of the purchase, if I may ask? It will help me narrow it further.”

“I need one to help me with a quest. To defeat and carry Drygg Boars.”

“Drygg Boars? Hmm,” he walked past three cage with a scaly creature and thin men in rags, knocking his fingers against the side of the iron cages. “Then my combat slaves would be of help to you.”

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

He showed them to a place with three large cages the size of a cart. Each filled with about 3 to 5 humans and beastfolks.

“Look alive, you bastards! There is a customer coming!” Horace clapped.

The slaves turned. The moment they see her and Illumca, they hooted.

“Hey lady! Buy me!”

“Dumbass! We are rent only!”

They rattled their cages and showed their muscles. Hitting one another to show their strength. One even tried to bend the cage door and almost managed it.

“These are my combat slaves. I guarantee you full satisfaction for a fee up to 10 silver per hour. Let them show you their strength.”

Connie raised her hand to get their attention before Horace even managed to take out the keys for their cages. “I have no time for a sideshow. I only need them to keep standing.”

“What?”

The blonde-haired girl released a small fraction of her bloodlust and directed them at the combat slaves.

“Kneel.”

That order, said with a leisurely tone, was obeyed immediately by the slaves as their powerful legs trembled in fear and their teeth chattered. Their hearts thumped so fast it felt like they were going to burst. The weaker ones had fainted and blew out bubbles from their mouths.

“These are no good,” she commented lightly.

“W-w-wha-!” Horace was bewildered. All he could understand was that his combat slaves had suddenly succumbed to the girl’s words.

“How did you do that, Connie?”

“A simple direction of bloodlust. You will be able to learn it after you reach at the middle stage,” she told Illumca. “Now., Horace. Those who had felt fear and defeated by it would be easy to betray us. I have no need of them.”

She then walked slowly, eyes checking the cages as she let her bloodlust leak. As she passed by, the slaves either cowered or fainted on the spot. Illumca followed her, no longer surprised by her fearsomeness. When she arrived at the end of the tent, she ceased her step and turned to Horace.

“Are these all you can offer?”

“T-these are all choice slaves,” Horace gathered his courage by pinching his own side. All the slaves in the tent had either collapsed or succumbed to fear. What kind of monster is she? But Horace was not an inexperienced man. He had faced many dangers during his life and he stood his ground. So even though he was intimidated he still had his pride.

“I suppose we’d do well to look elsewhere. Come, Illumca.”

“Wait, Connie. Look. There is someone who did not fall to your bloodlust.”

Illumca pointed at the cages to her right.

Horace ran towards them and said. “I’m sorry, that is the place where I keep the ones I needed to separate from the others for one reason or another.”

There were some sick ones, one who kept staring into the darkness while mumbling and one who had one missing arm the last one was something…odd.

A curious plaque was in front of the last cage. On it, the price of the slave was written. The strange thing was that the it had price of 500 gold, then 350. And finally the price went down to more than eighty percent.

“A beastfolk child,” Illumca said.

“Strange. Everyone else in this godforsaken place has the look of despair and resignation. But this one, he has no such signs. He looked at ease.”

She gestured at the boy. He looked pretty and sweet, with short strawberry colored hair and cat-like green eyes. On top of his head were a pair of red wolf ears. His left ear had a small iron plate clipped onto the side.

She could see dimples on either of his cheek when he smiled, showing sharp canines between his lips. Even though he was wearing rags, there was a sign of intelligence in his eyes that belied his status of a slave.

“Wanna buy me, miss?” he asked charmingly in a melodious tone. “I’m very cheap.”

He gave her a perfectly executed bow even inside the cage that forced him to stay on her knees. “I am Martell Lobelia. 13 years old. I may not be strong, but I am very smart.”

“As you can see, he is very pleasing to the eyes. With good manners and a very charming attitude. However, he cannot be controlled. So far he has been bought by more than twenty people and they always end up returning him,” Horace said with exasperation. “I don’t know what I should do with him.”

Illumca raised her eyebrow. “Returning him? Why?”

“For some reason anyone who bought him had very bad luck. Things going missing and falling pots, that kind of thing. They say he is cursed.”

“A curse, eh? That’s just a load of bull.”

“I did not believe them at first, but well, I cannot talk much about it lest I gain my father’s ire. Furthermore, it is our rule that we don’t hold our customers for what what they do to their slaves, you see. And some of the old gentlemen have quite the hobbies,” he said matter-of-factly. “Also there is also a fact that he sold himself.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Yes. He…sold himself and gave the money to a relative. I was excited because he was such a fine specimen. Would make a nice toy for the discerning gentlemen, or gentlewomen. We do not discriminate one’s tastes here.”

“Come on, mister. I’m a good boy. It’s just the buyers don’t know how good I am.”

“Shut up, you little devil! I don’t need you to teach me about how I do my business.”

“Why don’t you buy me, miss? I’m good for anything, any play!” he said with a smile.

“A spry one, isn’t he?” Connie commented.

Illumca groaned, “I don’t trust his look. We should look for another slave.”

The slaver kicked the cage with a grunt of anger. “Anyway, I do not recommend you buying him. I also intend to just sell him to another slave trader. No matter how good the product is, if it keeps getting returned, it will also affect my brand.”

“Slavers have brands?” Illumca questioned with a surprised look.

“Of course. You don’t get high paying customers with shoddy goods. Though some does do that.”

“Hmm. Illumca. Use Analyze on him. I want to see what he has.”

Illumca gave her assent and declared her skill. She scanned through the status screen shown and spoke. “His level is 15 and he has some household skills. His strength is surprisingly low for a beatsfolk. But his speed and endurance are good. There is one skill that I cannot see. My Analyze level is not high enough to see.”

Connie shrugged and made a move to leave. “That’s disappointing. Perhaps another time then, Horace. Keep us in mind.”

“Yes, Lady Steelheart,” he stepped aside as she walked past him.

“Wait,” the boy rattled the chain as he grasped the cage’s iron slats. “I can help you. I may not be strong but I am smarter than most. Even smarter than him.”

“That’s enough out of you!” Horace made a move towards his cage.

“Illumca,” Connie gestured and the Dark Elf stood before Horace, stopping her with a look.

“I know that you are smart, miss. Oh, is Lady better?”

“Connie. I don’t like his tone. Can I just smack him a bit?”

“Maybe later,” Connie said. “So, you say that you are smart, Martell?”

“My parents called me Mar,” he said mischievously. “And I can help you! I heard you are looking to hunt Drygg Boars?”

“And bring them into the city,” Illumca added sullenly. “We need 5 of them.”

“I know a lot about Drygg Boars. I know where they usually gather. Also…” he grinned. “I know how to help you bring them in.”

“Is that so? how do you propose you do it? With the numbers for your strength I doubt you can lift an infant one,” Illumca commented.

“Why don’t you buy me first then I’ll tell you,” he turned his gaze towards Connie, who had been silent for a while now.

“I don’t trust him, Connie. He may be young, but he felt wrong.”

“Er, if I may interject.”

“What?!” Illumca and Martell stared daggers at the slave trader.

He felt indignant at being stared like that by his commodity, but he ignored that for better profit. “As long as you have the money to buy him, I’ll throw in a Slave Contract Spell to bind him to you for free. With that, if he tried to hurt or go against you, he’ll lose his head.”

“See that miss? I’m a bargain!”

“Connie?”

Illumca felt that it was strange that she had kept mum for this long. The blonde girl looked at the small beastfolk boy before off-handedly saying.

“How much is he?”

“I’ll part with him for 200 Gold.”

“A hundred.”

“Please be kind, Lady Steelheart. I bought him for more than that. I just want to recoup my loss.”

“A hundred.”

“Um…” in his heart, Horace was fuming. This customer did not even raise her offer! That’s not how this goes!

“Be reasonable, Lady Steelheart. 190.”

“A hundred. That and I’ll tell you how to heal your impotence.”

“H-how did you know that?!” Horace was horrified. That was secret only he and his father knew.

Connie did not answer. Her gaze was still on Martell while she was bargaining.

“I…” Horace was sweating as he pinched himself to make sure that he was not dreaming.

“Fine. It’s a deal.”

Hearing that word, Martell let out a small cheer and urged Horace to open the cage door.

“You won’t regret this miss!”