"My Lord, this ti I’ve brought you three thousand slaves."
Before Simon had even gone to seek out Edger to ask if he had any new slaves, the man had already taken the initiative to find him. Only a few days had passed since the ox-powered waterwheel was completed, yet Edger had already returned from the grasslands, eager to report his haul.
"Three thousand? How could there be so many this ti?" Simon’s voice carried disbelief.
Edger chuckled smugly. "My Lord, we must thank the heavens for their gift. This year’s harsh snowstorm killed off many of the reavers’ cattle and sheep. Even with trade routes open to the empire, the tribes couldn’t afford to keep so many slaves. Rather than letting them starve, they preferred to sell them to in exchange for food." He paused, then added with a hint of pride. "I travelled through several tribes to gather these three thousand slaves. Those reavers were quite cunning, though they sold them at high prices. But knowing Your Highness urgently needed slaves, I bought them all."
Simon nodded in satisfaction. This ti, Edger had done well. At this point, Simon no longer concerned himself with the fact that the reavers were the Eldorian Empire’s long-standing enemies. The developnt of his domain ca first, everything else was secondary.
Over the years, the reavers frequently raided the borders, abducting countless citizens. Many captives died during the journey to the grasslands, while those who survived lived as slaves in unbearable misery. Less than one in ten ever returned alive. Rumours often spoke of the reavers treating the empires captives like prey, releasing them into the wild only to hunt them down for sport, a ga to pass the ti.
"You’ve done well. A higher price doesn’t matter. These people are citizens of the empire. That they were captured is already a humiliation for the empire. No matter how they are brought back, through silver or through force, it is always a good deed. Na your price. I’ll take them all."
Edger’s eyes flickered with surprise. He had heard rumours of Simon’s recent wealth, the rchant guild, the auctions, and the influx of foreign rchants were all proof. But knowing the prince had money was one thing, actually getting a share of it was another.
Hesitating for a mont, Edger bowed deeply and spoke. "My Lord, being allowed to do business under your na is already a great honour, but I have one small request. Would Your Highness permit to join the Brambleford rchant Guild?"
Simon’s lips curled into a faint smile. The Brambleford rchant Guild had beco a legend among traders. Through word of mouth, its reputation had spread like wildfire, with rchants whispering promises as if they were slogans from a pyramid sche: "Join the Brambleford rchant Guild, and you’ll make a fortune."
"I would have spoken to you about this had you not been away." Simon said casually. "Since you’re already working with on the slave trade, you’re naturally one of my people. Joining the rchant guild is a given."
His voice lowered slightly. "However, I’ve also established my own trading company. If you’re willing, you can report to Percival. From now on, you’ll be one of my n. And if your contributions are sufficient..." He paused, eyes narrowing. "...I might grant you an official position in the future."
Edger’s entire body trembled. The four words ’official position’ rang in his ears like heavenly music.
In the Eldorian Empire, as in most dynasties, society was rigidly stratified. Commoners had little hope of rising in status. Even those who passed the imperial examinations had to face the Golden interview, a brutal screening process where officials evaluated not only a candidate’s knowledge but also their family background, appearance, and reputation. Those without powerful backers were quietly eliminated. Only the top three scorers bypassed this process and gained entry into the imperial court.
For a rchant like Edger to beco an official was nothing short of a phoenix rising from the ashes.
"My Lord’s great kindness, Edger will never forget!" Overco with emotion, Edger fell to his knees with a loud thud.
Simon watched him quietly. In his mind, an official position was nothing more than a carrot on a stick, sothing to dangle in front of those who could be useful. But in this era, such a promise was more precious than gold.
"Don’t celebrate too early." Simon warned. "What I give, I can just as easily take away. Everything will depend on your own rit."
Edger bowed low. "I understand! If Your Highness ever needs , I will walk through fire and water without hesitation!"
Simon smirked faintly. "We’ll see about that."
After dismissing Edger, Simon made his way to the workshop district, where the new slaves were being housed. With the influx of labourers, Bjorn had built a slave housing compound within the workshop zone. Tall walls surrounded the area, both to prevent escapes and to keep outsiders from prying.
When Simon arrived, he found the slaves huddled together, far different from the previous batch. The new arrivals were little more than walking corpses. Years of tornt had drained every shred of life from their eyes.
Only the young and strong still carried a flicker of light.
Simon ordered the guards to separate the elderly and children, leaving behind those between thirteen and thirty years old, the age group most capable of learning. Out of three thousand, only three hundred fit the criteria.
The rest had either died or been killed by the reavers long ago.
With these three hundred, Simon would lay the foundation for his industrial empire.
The next morning, he stood before them by the Ford River. His voice was calm, neither harsh nor overly kind.
"You were once citizens of the empire. The reavers stole you from your hos but now, I have bought your freedom."
A ripple of shock passed through the crowd. None of them expected to hear these words.
"I will not force you to stay. Those who wish to leave may go."
The slaves looked at one another uncertainly, but no one moved.
"But if you choose to stay, you will not be slaves. I will teach you skills. Those who work hard will earn food, clothing, silver and one day, freedom."
The faint flicker of hope in their eyes burned brighter.
"I will not give you chains..." Simon’s voice echoed across the riverbank. "...I will give you a future."
Not a single person left.
From that day on, they were no longer slaves, they were the first apprentices of Brambleford’s industrial revolution.
The gears of history had begun to turn.
In the coming years, these forgotten n would beco craftsn, engineers, and foren, the backbone of Simon’s factories.
While others scrambled for power, Simon quietly laid the foundation of a new era.
One day, these three hundred n would build machines that would shake the entire Eldorian Empire.
One day, their hands would forge the weapons that would break the shackles of the noble clans.
One day, they would look back on this mont...
And realize that hope had been reborn by the banks of the Ford River.
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