The slave market's stench tormented Field until his nose stung. Those stingy merchants were leeches, every one — they wouldn't spend a single copper to let a slave bathe. Five or six slaves were crammed into one cramped cage, eating, drinking, pissing, shitting, and sleeping all in the same space.
No privacy, no dignity — and thanks to a lifetime of conditioning, not even the right to take their own lives.
In the cages set outside, more than a few female slaves wore not so much as a scrap of rag, their bodies fully exposed for passersby to ogle. It was a sales tactic, too, and a successful one: every day, snaggle-toothed old bachelors came by for an eyeful.
"My lord, looking to buy slaves? Essential for any farm — every one of them a diligent worker."
"Rare elf slaves, just a thousand gold!"
"New shop, just opened — come take a look, my lord!"
Field wore a well-cut black robe, a fine steel longsword at his hip, and had clean, handsome features — clearly a man of means. The slavers' eyes lit up. Nobles were their favorite kind of customer. For one, nobles spent freely, unlike those broke window-shoppers who only looked and never bought. For another, nobles burned through slaves at a staggering rate — they'd be back as repeat customers within days.
In a noble lord's eyes, a slave ranked below the hawks and hounds he kept, killed off on a whim.
Field's gaze swept the iron cages. The slaves' eyes held not even a basic spark of life. Filthy and matted, they were hard to tell male from female by the face alone, their bodies marked with savage whip scars. Now and then a slave would meet Field's eyes, then instantly drop its head and tremble.
"How much?" According to the map, the green dot was somewhere in this batch of slaves. Field searched as he haggled.
"My lord, prices vary wildly by race." The merchant — sharp-mouthed and monkey-cheeked, the spitting image of Suneo from Doraemon — rubbed his palms together. "Goblins, halflings, and Pigge-folk all go for ten silver. Demi-humans, twenty silver. Beastmen, sixty silver. And if you're after a plaything — heh heh — well, the price has no ceiling."
The merchant gestured with a wicked grin toward the slaves caged inside the building. The one that drew the eye most was the thousand-gold elf.
Exquisitely beautiful, draped in a sheer, revealing gauze that bared snow-white skin. But her eyes were vacant, like a halfwit's.
"This elf got broken in by goblins — given birth at least twenty-six times. Hah, still a hot item, though. I plan to send her to the auction house; you won't be buying her for a thousand gold then. Care to think it over?"
"I've no interest in her." The green dot wasn't her, and Field didn't have the kind of money to spend on a plaything. He shook his head at once. "How much for human slaves?"
"Humans are clever and know obedience better. Male slaves go for forty silver, females twenty-five — though those are for labor. If you want a bit of fun, I'd still recommend the elf. Even if you don't keep her for sport, killing her for the meat or making magic implements out of her — both are solid choices."
A chill crawled over Field. In this world, nobles were nothing like the elegant, dignified figures from TV dramas; they were feudal, savage brutes.
He'd heard elf flesh could nourish a man's vigor, so the proud elves got hauled straight to the dinner table — never mind how closely they resembled humans.
In the midst of the chatter, Field located the green dot. His gaze shifted to an iron cage in the corner, where a green dot hovered over the top like a marker in a video game.
A demi-human — a white-wolf demi-human, with crimson eyes, and ears and a tail like a wolf's.
Just now, dressed in coarse hemp, she crouched motionless in the cold, damp cage, only her eyes flicking now and then toward the keys at the merchant's waist.
"A rare grassland breed. Our slave-catchers put in no small effort to crack their stronghold. Those damned savages have a fierce will to fight." The merchant recounted the brutal facts with a smug look. "If you want to play with a wolf demi-human, you'd best bring your retainers to help — otherwise, one slip and she might bite off your... heh heh, some things are better felt than spoken."
"A beast-eared girl?"
Field's heart leapt. As a veteran Blue Star otaku, he had zero resistance to red-eyed beast-eared girls.
Like a man coaxing a dog, Field carefully reached out a hand, meaning to pat her head.
"Grrrrr~"
"You'd best be careful, my lord." The steward, Kao, knit his brow.
A threatening growl rumbled in the beast-eared girl's throat, a dangerous light flashing in those crimson eyes. Cavalry captain Connor already had a hand ready on his sword. "Lord Field, best not touch them. I'd rather nothing went wrong before we reach the Nightfall Territory."
"No need to be so tense. She's quite cute." Field said it, but he was a man who listened to reason, and he withdrew his hand at once. In the beast-eared girl's eyes he'd caught both defiance and despair — cute and pitiable both. He straightened the front of his robe. "How much?"
"Just three gold coins!" The merchant had read Field's desire and jacked the price up with his eyes shut.
One gold coin was a hundred silver; one silver, a hundred copper.
Field's face went flat, eyes narrowing. "You just said demi-humans were twenty silver. Trying to make a fool of a noble?"
"Oh, she's special — strikingly pretty, isn't she? Only captured recently, guaranteed a virgin, and never once peeped at by the filthy eyes of the lowborn. She's another piece bound for the auction floor. A face this fine, what a shame she's a demi-human — an unclean creature! Otherwise I wouldn't sell her for three hundred gold."
"Fifty silver. Don't test my patience." Field folded his arms across his chest and, in the tone of a man painting a grand picture, tempted him. "I'm about to take up my post in my own domain. The playthings and slaves I'll be buying won't end with her alone. One sale, or countless sales — I trust you can do the math."
"Hsss~" The words scratched right at the merchant's greed.
He wrestled with himself for a moment. Forging a tie with a landed noble who held real power was, without question, a fine idea. He gritted his teeth. "That'll depend on how many you buy."
The steward shot Field a baffled glance. The old Field had never haggled; he'd only ever pitied the merchants' hardships.
In the end, after careful picking, Field bought one hundred human slaves and one hundred demi-human slaves — a hundred and twenty of them men — plus the beast-eared girl he'd taken a liking to. The total came to fifty-three gold coins.
"My lord, here are the slaves' soul contracts, all verified by a Chosen."
"Contracts?" Field took the sheet of sheepskin. It was densely covered with a long list of names.
"Yes — oaths sworn with the slaves' own blood. Any who defy your will are burned to ash by holy fire." The merchant smiled lewdly and handed over the lead ropes binding the slaves. "So, you may do as you please. Enjoy yourself, my dear customer."
"I will." Field gave a dismissive wave. He was bound for the cursed land anyway; if he didn't enjoy himself, odds were the corruption would kill him first.