"Have the guards removed and let my people take over the watch," Lance said. "Transport the grain I brought here. Release the news that we’ve overco the crisis by using Walter’s reserve supplies. Then, recruit people to fill the vacancies, resu the rchant group’s activities, and prepare for the cargo shipnt in a few days."
What is he planning? Tiffany wondered. She wanted to ask, but he cut her off.
"I’ll tell you what you need to know. As for what you shouldn’t, it’s useless for you to hear it. You don’t need to know why; you just need to follow orders."
Facing such an authoritative Lance, Tiffany felt a hint of resistance. However, Lance gave her no ti to refuse and imdiately pressed on.
"Next, take sowhere."
"Where to?"
"The talent market," Lance said with a smirk. "Of course, you all prefer to call it the Slave Market."
Tiffany frowned at his words. She knew of the place but disliked it.
It wasn’t that she had any moral qualms about the cruelty of selling Slaves. On the contrary, slavery was quite common, having even beco a tradition in this world. Most people simply didn’t understand the reality. In their view, Slaves were all criminals, captives, or Barbarians—those unworthy of sympathy. In fact, discriminating against Slaves was politically correct; they weren’t considered human.
What Tiffany found repellent was purely the filth of such places. Imagine so many people eating, drinking, defecating, and sleeping together in a cramped space—it was like a pigsty.
Despite her dislike, she led him there. However, the location made even Lance lose his composure a little.
"Your Slave Market is actually inside the prison."
.bg-ssp-10081{margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;display:flex;justify-content:center;}Ads by PubRev
"No," Tiffany clarified, her expression a bit odd. "The prison is inside the Slave Market. Managing the prison costs money, so the Governor outsourced it to specialized Slave Owners, thereby directly saving on administrative expenses."
What a genius, Lance thought, marveling at the Governor’s progressive thinking.
"Esteed guests!"
As they approached, a gaunt, middle-aged man erged to greet them. After sizing them up, he seed to recognize Tiffany. After all, Walter had so renown in this area, and she was the only young woman in their circle who favored short hair and n’s attire. The other man, though simply dressed, exuded an extraordinary aura. Furthermore, he walked in the lead position, a place of honor.
"Isn’t this Miss Tiffany?" the man said. "Walter and I go way back. And this gentleman is...?" He then turned to Lance, clearly eager to build rapport.
"I need a batch of Slaves. What’s the quality of your stock?"
Lance had no ti for pleasantries. Between rchants, only interests mattered. Otherwise, when Walter faced misfortune, why hadn’t any of his "friends" offered help?
"Certainly! We have the finest Slaves in Ovando City. What are your requirents, sir?"
"Show them to first."
"Very well, this way, please." The man turned to lead them, clearly desperate to make this sale.
Entering the prison, they were imdiately struck by an overwhelming sense of despair. The light barely extended a few paces before being swallowed by darkness. A long, gloomy corridor stretched deep into the blackness. High on the walls, oil lamps hung at intervals, their soybean-sized flas casting a faint glow upon the mottled, age-old stone.
In short: the air reeked, the light was dim, and the place was dilapidated.
The mont Tiffany stepped inside, she instinctively covered her mouth and nose. Lance now understood her earlier reaction to his ntion of the Slave Market.
"If you don’t like it, you can head back. I can go in alone."
"No, I’m fine." Tiffany chose to stay, enduring the overpowering stench. These Slave Owners weren’t easy to deal with, and she worried Lance, unfamiliar with the situation, might be swindled.
"Here."
Tiffany looked montarily stunned as Lance handed her a handkerchief. She accepted it and pressed it to her nose and mouth, which indeed helped significantly.
Lance wasted no ti and had already ventured deeper with the Slave Owner.
The prison—or rather, this repeatedly modified version of one—had been partitioned with tal bars to create even more cells. Every inch of usable space was exploited to cram in as many people as possible. Such a structure naturally lacked a sewage system, so excrent and various refuse flowed freely. Furthermore, to prevent escapes, there was no ventilation, aning the stench of fernting waste perated the entire enclosed space.
Even a dog would turn its nose up at these conditions. Anyone confined here for long would likely develop so form of madness. Yet, scores of humans were cramd inside.
When Lance entered, the Slaves realized a potential buyer had arrived. They knew that only being sold could free them from this hellhole. So thrust their hands through the bars, crying out.
"Pick ! I’ll do anything!"
"Choose ! I’m of Nobility! Save , and I’ll give you countless Gold Coins!"
"Select ! I..."
Chaos erupted. Everyone shouted, trying to entice or deceive, their hands desperately reaching to grab anyone passing by.
Those still capable of shouting so loudly in this environnt were mostly in solitary cells. This indicated they were dangerous; only those who had killed fellow inmates earned such "privileges."
Overwheld by the chaotic scene, Tiffany saw contorted, savage faces looming in the dark cells and blackened hands reaching out. Though she was too far away to be touched, she instinctively edged closer to Lance, seeking a sliver of security.
Lance, however, ignored them and continued deeper.
The Slave Owner, anwhile, relentlessly promoted his "rchandise."
"These have all been carefully selected by us..."
"I want Slaves," Lance said, glancing at him. "And you’re showing this rubbish?"
Most of these were captured bandits or Gang criminals—seasoned, unruly, and difficult to manage. Buying them was pointless, unless one needed fodder for the arena.
The Slave Owner chuckled awkwardly, then quickly changed his tune. "TEE HEE HEE... The guest is clearly an expert. I won’t waste any more of your ti. This way, please."
He seems so natural in this environnt, Tiffany observed, not at all like it’s his first ti in such a place. Her curiosity deepened.
They proceeded further in. This area primarily contained larger cells, cramd with various people. Unlike those before, these prisoners barely had the strength to cry out. They lay or huddled, showing little reaction as Lance and Tiffany passed, their eyes filled with a bleakness devoid of any hope.
User Comments
0 comments from readers