"Hello, are you looking for something?"
The fat man with the mustache asked, it was immediately obvious to the group that he was the slave trader.
His eyes scanned their clothes once more, looking for any sign of wealth that could mean a big purchase. The greasy smile on his face widened as he stood aside, gesturing toward the wooden doors of the compound behind him.
"Ah yes, we’re here to browse."
Bernia calmly replied.
She kept her voice completely even, showing no emotion at all. She wore the perfect mask of a wealthy merchant, hiding the intense disgust that was currently boiling inside her stomach.
The fat man nodded his head, then pointing at the structure behind him—
"I’ll walk after you."
He said that with a smile on his face.
He bowed slightly, a fake gesture of respect that didn’t match the heavy, unwashed scent that rolled off his expensive silk clothes.
The group wasted no time and started walking, they saw two guards standing outside—and they don’t look like normal people... they seem to be soldiers working for the city.
The two men stood straight, wearing the official iron breastplates and bearing the insignia of the local garrison on their shoulders. They didn’t have the rough, careless look of hired mercenaries. They held their spears with discipline, their eyes cold as they watched the visitors approach the entrance.
’Hmm, this slave trader seems to have connection with the city lord.’
Bernia and the others concluded in their heads seeing those guards.
It was a dangerous realization. A slave trader who had the official backing or protection of the city’s ruler meant that the law in Sven was completely on his side.
Anyway, as they were walking—
"I don’t think Nara would want to see what’s inside. We’ll stay here outside and wait for you guys."
Jed stopped and whispered that for Bernia and the others to hear.
He had placed a hand gently on Nara’s shoulder, stopping her before she could take another step toward the entrance. His beast ears, hidden beneath his heavy hood, twitched slightly as he caught the faint, distant sounds of chains rattling from within the stone walls.
"Umm, I think I’ll stay here with Brother Jed."
Nara agreed with him, she doesn’t want to enter the place she broke free from by chance and luck.
The little girl gripped the fabric of Jed’s robe tightly, her eyes wide with a sudden, rising fear as she stared at the heavy wooden doors. The memories of her own time in chains were still fresh, and the mere sight of a slave compound was enough to make her small body tremble.
"..."
The others understood that and they just nodded their heads.
There was no need to force the child to relive her past trauma. Pwyll exchanged a quiet, knowing look with Bernia, while Tatum simply stepped forward to take the lead, his large frame providing a protective barrier between the child and the entrance.
And with that—only Tatum, Bernia, and Pwyll entered the slave shop.
TAP—
The owner didn’t pay any attention to them, he’s just interested in selling slaves and earning money.
He didn’t care who stayed outside or who came in, as long as the ones remaining inside had gold to spend. He walked past them, his heavy boots thumping against the stone floor as he took his place at the front of the group to guide them through his inventory.
... ... ...
*****
As soon as the three entered the slave shop, the air and atmosphere dropped by a lot.
The temperature seemed to plummet the moment they stepped past the threshold. The air was thick and stagnant, carrying a suffocating mixture of old sweat, rust, and the metallic tang of blood that had been washed away but never truly cleaned.
Bernia and Pwyll unconsciously frowned upon feeling the unpleasant atmosphere once again.
The familiar, sickening dread of the slave pens hit them like a physical blow. It dragged back dark memories of the days when they were the ones trapped behind the iron, waiting for some wealthy human to decide their worth.
And Tatum, who was feeling it for the first time, was feeling uncomfortable.
The three of them looked around, and they saw humans chained onto the walls, behind bars, they don’t look rough, but they don’t look fine either.
The cells were clean enough to keep the merchandise from catching diseases, but the people inside were hollow. They sat on the cold stone floors with their knees pulled to their chests, their eyes staring blankly at the ground, completely stripped of their dignity and will to resist.
The slave trader, who introduced himself as Ripah, started talking, trying to sell the slaves around.
"These ones here are excellent for domestic labor, dear customers. Clean, quiet, and already broken in. You won’t have any trouble with disobedience from this lot, I assure you."
He spoke with a casual, practiced tone, as if he were selling simple horses or grain at a common market. He tapped his wooden cane against the iron bars of a cell, making the inhabitants flinch.
He told them that the slaves in this part was useful, they have sets of skills that are useful.
"We have scribes, cooks, and even a few who know basic accounting. Perfect for a growing merchant business like yours."
He continued, his mustache twitching with every word.
Bernia and Pwyll swallowed their disgust and asked to see more of the slaves.
"Show us the rest. We want to see everything you have available before we make our choice."
Bernia said, her voice freezing cold but maintaining the demanding tone of a picky buyer.
Ripah just smiled and led them further inside the building.
"Of course, of course! A thorough customer is my favorite kind. Right this way, please."
He chuckled, completely oblivious to the intense hatred radiating from the three people walking right behind his back.
... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
So basically, the slave shop was separated into three sections, the first section has a lot of human slaves that can be used as guards and servants, they’re kept pretty well.
These were the prize possessions, displayed near the front where the lighting was better. They were given decent clothes and regular meals to ensure they looked appealing to the wealthy merchants and minor nobles who frequented the establishment.
The second section are just normal citizens, they’re fed, at least...
These were the people captured from bankrupt farms or small villages, destined for hard labor in the fields or the mines. They were packed tighter into the cells, their clothes ragged and stained, but they still retained enough physical strength to work.
And the last section are full of apparently "criminals", and humans who had lost everything they had from debt.
This was the deepest part of the upper facility, where the light of the torches barely flickered. The cells here were filthy, filled with the groans of the sick and the dying.
They’re barely kept alive because the slave trader sees no value in them.
They were given nothing more than moldy bread and dirty water, left to rot until someone desperate enough bought them for dangerous work, or until their bodies simply gave out from the abuse.
"..."
"..."
Bernia and Pwyll were angry seeing all these, remembering their time before as slaves. But they didn’t show it.
Their faces remained completely still, stone-like expressions hiding the furious rage that was threatening to break through their merchant disguises. They knew that a single outburst would ruin their cover, so they forced themselves to stay level-headed.
Then, after the short tour of the three sections—
The fat trader turned back to them, wiping a thin layer of sweat from his forehead with a silk handkerchief.
"Well? Do any of these catch your eye, or should we discuss the pricing for the domestic workers in the front?"
He asked.
"We didn’t see non-human races... do you have any of them?"
Tatum asked that to Ripah. His voice was deep and rumbling.
Ripah was confused as to why a guard is asking that, but he paid no attention to it--
"Ah, the beasts? Yes, we keep a few in the back, though I must warn you, they are a complete waste of coin. They don’t learn commands, they bite the guards, and they would rather starve themselves to death than do a honest day’s work."
He just said that they have. Though... he explained that non-humans aren’t really selling well because they tend to be aggressive and attack their owners and disobedient.
He spat on the floor, his expression turning into one of pure annoyance.
So normally, when they receive non-humans slaves, they leave them to die.
"It’s simply not worth the price of the food to keep them fed, you see. If they don’t sell within the first week, we just throw them into the lower cells and let nature take its course. It saves us the trouble of dealing with their wild tempers."
He said casually.
Just hearing that made Tatum’s face twitch.
His eyes flashed a dangerous, predatory red for a split second beneath the shadow of his hood. His breathing turned heavy, the pure aura of a superior predator beginning to leak from his body as his muscles coiled, ready to tear the fat man’s throat out right then and there.
"..."
Bernia and Pwyll felt a cold chill on their back, they know he was about to snap from that.
They could feel the sudden pressure dropping in the room, the unmistakable sign that Tatum was on the absolute verge of unleashing his full, monstrous strength.
"Hmm...?"
Even Ripah felt chills, but he just thought it was the wind, he doesn’t know he’s so close to dying.
The fat man shivered slightly, pulling his silk coat tighter around his round shoulders as he looked around the stone hallway.
"My, the draft in these old buildings is terrible. I must remind the guards to seal the lower vents."
He muttered, completely ignorant of the fact that a literal monster was standing inches away from ending his life.
But lucky for him—
"Ah, can we see them? The non-humans?"
Bernia spoke to stop Tatum from doing so. Verc told them to not cause any trouble after all.
She stepped between Tatum and the slave trader, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. She placed a firm hand on Tatum’s arm, silently reminding him of their Lord’s strict commands to avoid any unnecessary attention.
"..."
Tatum calmed down thanks to Bernia.
He took a slow, deep breath, forcing the red hue to fade from his vision. He forced his hands back to his sides, though his posture remained completely rigid as he stared at the back of the trader’s neck.
"You want to see them? I mean, sure... Follow me."
*****
Ripah bought the three where he put the non-humans, and just like back in the slave shop back in the Sionann—it was in the basement of the facility.
"Watch your steps."
They walked down a narrow, steep flight of stone stairs that led deep underground. The air here was even worse, so foul and cold that it felt like entering a tomb.
Under the facility—what they saw was as bad as what Verc saw before.
The scene was a complete nightmare, a display of pure, unadulterated cruelty that made the upper levels look pleasant by comparison.
The whole area was dark, and in a single cell—thirty or more non-humans are cramped.
The bars were rusted and covered in filth, and the space inside was so narrow that the bodies were piled on top of one another. There was no straw on the floor, no water troughs, nothing but the cold, damp stone.
They all look dead...
Well—because they are.
Most of the figures in the shadows were completely motionless, their skin pale and their breathing long gone, abandoned by the guards to rot in the dark.
Only ten of the non-humans inside the cells are alive, barely clinging to their lives. The others are already dead!
"..."
Pwyll, Bernia, and Tatum went silent seeing this. Their face a mixture of surprise, disgust, and anger.