The guard struck the woman with the baton.
Not angrily.
He didn’t even look annoyed.
Thwack.
"Move."
She got up immediately.
No one in the entry line reacted. A mother kept talking to her son. A merchant argued over the price of chickens. Two soldiers at the gate glanced toward the group, then went back to checking documents.
Raven watched for several seconds.
Normal.
That was the important part.
Not the cruelty.
The normality.
Most societies were capable of producing cruelty. What truly defined a system was which forms of cruelty people stopped recognizing as cruelty at all.
Darius noticed where he was looking.
"Transit slaves."
Raven turned his head.
"Transit?"
"They’re probably being taken to the eastern district market. Greyhaven has a regional trade license."
"A market for people?"
Mira said:
"We told you slavery existed."
"Being told something and seeing it are different."
Darius nodded.
"I suppose."
Raven continued watching the group.
The feline woman had a black mark around her collarbone.
It didn’t look like ordinary ink.
Too symmetrical.
Runes.
"The mark?"
"Slave contract," Darius said. "Depends on the type. Some prevent escape. Others can cause pain. Higher-quality ones prevent direct attacks against the owner."
Raven looked at the back of the guard’s neck.
"Convenient."
Mira studied him.
"You don’t seem very surprised."
"I am surprised."
"You don’t look disgusted."
Raven looked at her.
"You want me to make a face?"
"No."
She remained quiet for a few steps.
Then asked:
"Does it bother you?"
Raven knew exactly what she meant.
He looked at the slaves again. The saurian had an additional chain between his wrists. The older human man walked with a limp. One of the women kept her eyes fixed on the ground.
Raven didn’t need any grand philosophy to conclude that he would strongly prefer not to be in their position.
"It would bother me quite a lot if the collar were around my neck."
Mira frowned slightly.
"That’s it?"
"What were you expecting?"
"I don’t know."
Raven kept walking.
"I don’t know any of them."
She opened her mouth.
Darius intervened.
"Don’t start."
"I’m only asking."
"And he’s only answering."
Mira crossed her arms.
"Maybe he’s interested in buying one."
Raven looked at her again.
"Did that look like commercial interest?"
"You’ve been staring since they appeared."
"I’ve been staring at everything since I arrived in this world."
The sentence came out before Raven decided whether he wanted to say it.
Darius raised an eyebrow.
So did Mira.
Raven didn’t correct himself.
They already knew he came from somewhere extraordinarily far away. The distinction between another continent and another dimension didn’t need to be explained yet.
Darius asked:
"So what are you interested in?"
Raven looked toward Greyhaven’s gate.
Soldiers. Runes. People being inspected before entering.
One man had been pulled aside because he was missing some kind of document.
Farther ahead, the chain of slaves disappeared beneath the wall.
"Surviving."
Darius waited.
Raven continued:
"And making sure I don’t end up as one of them."
Mira watched him for several seconds.
"That sounds pretty selfish."
"It works."
No one answered immediately.
Raven didn’t need to convince her.
He had learned something important during his first full day in Veyr.
Moral rules changed depending on who had enough power to write them.
That was extremely familiar.
Getting into Greyhaven took another forty minutes.
When they finally reached the inspection post, Raven realized his presence was going to be a problem before the guard even said anything.
"Documents."
Darius handed over a small leather folder.
The soldier checked several papers.
Name. Cargo. Trading license. Weapons transport permit.
Then he pointed at Mira.
"Registration."
She showed him a metal badge.
The guard barely looked at it.
He did the same with the other surviving members of the caravan.
Then came Raven.
"Registration."
"Don’t have one."
The guard looked up.
He was around thirty, with a short beard and the tired expression of someone who had repeated the same conversation hundreds of times.
"Identification."
"Don’t have that either."
"City of origin."
Raven thought about it.
"Wouldn’t mean anything to you."
The guard set down his pen.
"Try me."
"No."
Mira closed her eyes.
Darius immediately stepped in.
"We found him on the road."
"That improves the situation tremendously," the guard said.
"He saved us from a Stonehide Ravager."
The soldier looked at Raven again.
Then at his clothes.
Tactical vest. Boots. Bandages. Knife.
"Foreign mercenary."
"Something like that," Raven said.
"Which kingdom?"
"None you’ve heard of."
The guard studied him.
Predator’s Instinct detected no hostile intent.
Only suspicion.
Raven could work with suspicion.
The man pointed toward a small structure beside the gate.
"Provisional registration. Three days. After that, you’ll need resident identification, mercenary affiliation, a commercial sponsor, or ecclesiastical authorization."
"Price?"
The guard named an amount.
Raven looked at Darius.
The merchant translated immediately.
"Eight crowns."
Raven opened the pouch he’d received after killing the Ravager.
Pulled out the coins.
The guard took eight.
Apparently corruption existed in every world.
Then he pointed toward Raven’s weapons.
"Magical artifacts?"
"No."
"Cursed objects?"
"Not that I know of."
"Relics of demonic origin?"
Raven thought about the lithic gland stored with his equipment.
"Define relic."
The soldier looked at him.
"If you have to ask, probably not."
"Then no."
The man stamped something onto a small piece of parchment.
Then picked up a tool.
Raven saw the needle.
His hand shifted slightly.
"What’s that?"
"Temporary mark."
"No."
The guard raised an eyebrow.
"It’s mandatory."
"What does it do?"
"Allows security posts to confirm you entered legally. Disappears after three days."
"Mind control?"
The guard laughed.
"If we could mind-control every foreigner who walked through this gate, my job would be considerably easier."
Raven didn’t smile.
"Pain?"
"No."
"Tracking?"
"Only within the city’s security nodes."
So it was tracking.
The guard seemed completely unconcerned about admitting it.
Raven looked at Darius.
"Normal?"
"Completely."
Bad answer.
But refusing the mark meant not entering.
Raven had fewer than a hundred crowns, very little information, and nowhere else to go.