Chapter 24 Slaves on the Edge of the Storm, a Hard Currency Harder Than Gold...
Slaves, a form of hard currency harder than gold.
"Give me one, what a fine slave! Who wouldn't need a slave?"
The cunning slave trader put his arm around yours and whispered, "She's still young, she can bring you a lot of fun..."
"Oh, it's about money? Then choose her. She's very submissive—especially good at making beds, doing housework, and taking care of children... She's had two children, so of course she can have three more!"
"What? You're afraid the slaves will eat your food for free? You mustn't have such concerns."
Our slaves here are all hardworking and conscientious. No whips are needed; just a word or a glance from you, and they'll obediently roll into the fields to till the land, eating very, very little each day.
"Haha, your joke is really funny~ You can't buy a person of noble blood at this price, of course she will get old."
"Oh, no problem, it's not troublesome at all to handle."
You can have her dig a hole and then punch her hard in the face a few times, and she'll fall in. Then have your newly bought slaves fill the hole... Hey, how could you not afford new ones—then let her children bury them!
This kind of persistent sales pitch can happen in any city-state on the Moonlit Continent, but rarely in the capital city of Norlanna.
Although the capital of Norlana boasts a vast and prosperous market, its slave market is divided into two areas: a smaller inner area and a larger outer area.
Only the most high-end goods can enter the inner city.
The behind-the-scenes bosses who operate high-end industries are unfathomable. Those who directly participate in the sales are all of noble blood, and even the slaves are occasionally mixed with some impoverished nobles or foreign noble blood prisoners of war.
These slave traders were often well-dressed and even operated their organizations in a family-like manner.
It is said that at their most arrogant, they even forced slaves and their henchmen to call them "mother".
However, this action greatly angered the Temple of Lilia, the goddess of love, covenant, marriage and family.
The Knights Templar declared this act blasphemous and slaughtered many.
Since then, no slave trader has dared to use the term "mother" again.
The temple's attack was accidental; the traders, protected by the slave system, had made a fortune from this "legitimate business."
Whether it's a large market, a small market, an alley, or a hidden doorway, you can find them everywhere.
The profits from this trade were so enormous that they built an entire complex of white stone buildings—at least three stories high and only slightly shorter than the royal palace—in the expensive capital of Norlana.
There are no whips or scoldings here. Only the most obedient, intelligent, and valuable slaves are transported here to curry favor with the nobles.
Slave traders would add all costs to the selling price, reaping the gold coins that the lesser nobles had just accumulated.
Of course, when facing real dignitaries and nobles, they display a different kind of graceful demeanor.
Gold coins? Oh~ Gold coins are just a general equivalent. But you, my lord, you will never be ordinary!
If a person of high rank and power is willing to protect their businesses, this group will always be willing to offer up their youngest and most beautiful products.
However, the slave market on the outskirts of the capital presented a completely different picture.
The cracking of whips echoed throughout the room.
The merchants' shouts and the weeping of the goods added a lot of liveliness to the place.
Occasionally, a few strong thugs would carry out a bloody body and throw it into a corner with a "hey!"
Don't get me wrong, anything that can be transported to the capital is not cheap.
Most of the slaves selected to be sold outside the city were not docile enough, or had various shortcomings.
The nobles were kind-hearted; they didn't even watch the butcher slaughter the pig before eating it, so naturally they wouldn't allow the women to spill their dirty blood on the white stone pavement.
So the traffickers paid out of their own pockets to build a higher and thicker section of wall on the edge of the city, and then put cages along the base of the wall.
Made of wood, iron, and even stone!
These "exquisite" cages are always filled with a variety of high-quality and inexpensive goods, waiting for citizens with various needs and plenty of gold coins to come and make their purchases.
"Wow, she's really tall!"
The slave market was very noisy in the afternoon. A tall woman, wearing a fur cloak even in the sweltering heat, slapped the bars of the iron cage.
The woman who spoke was very tall; if someone looked from behind the crowd, the first thing they would see was her ginger-yellow hair swaying above them.
However, her exclamation was not sarcastic, because the iron cage in front of her actually contained a huge man who could be called a mini-giant.
The iron cage was more than two meters high, but the little giant inside couldn't stretch his neck, so he simply sat on the ground and stared angrily at the people outside.
She was broad-shouldered and large, and even her shackles were much heavier than those of the other slaves, making her look like she was wearing four heavy weights on her limbs.
"Oh, how much would this style cost?" The woman with ginger-yellow hair looked around and chatted with the onlookers.
Faced with such a rare find, everyone immediately became interested. Regardless of how much money they had, they started making noise and commotion.
"Look at her red hair and red skin—she's a barbarian, definitely of mountain barbarian descent! Oh dear, so fierce..."
Someone reached out to touch it, but was startled and pulled back when the product clenched its fist.
"Hey, what else can you do besides fighting? Mining? Blacksmithing?" A woman with a face full of acne clicked her tongue. "It's a pity you can't have children! Otherwise, your offspring would be worth so much!"
"Oh~ How old are you? What's your name?" A seemingly kind old lady looked at the merchandise with the eyes of someone selecting vegetables. These questions weren't asked in vain; she was testing whether the other person was a person of noble blood.
"Alright, alright, don't touch things if you're not buying."
A burly, chestnut-haired woman walked over, holding a wooden stick.
She didn't wave her arms; she simply weighed the stick in her palm, which was about the size of a palm fan, and the surrounding crowd dispersed reluctantly.
However, it was obvious that such a large, alien creature, suspected to be of noble blood, wouldn't be sold to ordinary people, so they didn't show much regret.
"Hey, come and eat!"
The chestnut-haired woman slammed her stick against the iron gate and rudely threw in two pieces of unleavened dough, which landed on the ground with a clattering sound. It was unclear which one was the iron block.
“...Magaz,” the red-haired giant inside said hoarsely, “We fought together... Why did you betray us!”
"Tch." McGonagall turned her head and scratched her nose. "We've been more than fair. Who told you to lose in the end?"
Some of those listening nearby nodded in agreement: So that's how it is, they're from the slave warband.
The so-called slave warbands are a relatively common form of mercenary force on the Moonstorm Continent.
After all, there were very few people who were not employed in the land these days. Everyone had to pay heavy taxes to the lord's household, while only slaves "could" not pay any taxes.
Thus, a type of war slave emerged, created specifically for warfare. They only needed to train and did not need to farm, and they could eat meat frequently.
Unfortunately, such treatment is far from pleasant.
Putting aside the grueling training that makes one regret being born, just facing the cavalry of nobles on the battlefield is a pure nightmare.
Weapons, armor, and warhorses are certainly more valuable than people.
A war slave needs to win one or two battles to obtain a sharp spear and a shield; it is impossible to have armor unless one is promoted to captain or is lucky enough to capture it from the enemy.
As for warhorses? Keep dreaming about them—don't even think about it!
But being war slaves wasn't without its advantages; they had a great hope for freedom.
If they can successfully win the entire war, the best of them will be released on the spot as free people.
Moreover, according to unwritten rules, no matter how much a person slacks off or is targeted, they will definitely be released when they accumulate three victories.
The onlookers listened to their conversation from a distance, vaguely constructing a complete story in their minds.
The Moonlit Continent has many countries, and even more city-states that call themselves countries.
The slave legions were divided into two types.
A being subordinate to a lord generally has political and national affiliations.
Another type belongs to large slave owners, who will fight anyone for money.
A single slave owner is usually unable to cope with an entire war; they often share resources and sometimes even merge soldiers together into mixed units.
Therefore, allies in this war may very well become enemies in the next war.
The whole story sounds very simple.
The red-haired woman's master had chosen the wrong side in the war, so she was going to sell the little giant to recoup her losses.
McGonagall was lucky; she not only gained her freedom but also found a new job—working under slave traders.
......
"McGirl! I didn't desert!"
They started arguing, and the redhead, whom McGonagall called Salin, knelt inside the cage and shook the cage door frantically.
"Yes, yes, yes." McGonagall shrugged indifferently and looked at the old man who had appeared behind her at some point.
The old man had an imposing face, and a vertical scar running from his right eye to the corner of his mouth.
She wasn't of noble blood, yet she possessed an aloof and arrogant air that made people feel uneasy.
Scar-Eyed Doni... The people listening to the story quietly left, leaving the space to the old man.
She used to be just a penniless fishmonger named Donnie, but now everyone only dares to call her Scarface or the Legion Commander... even if she's just the leader of a mercenary group.
“Salin, I’m giving you one last chance.” Doni sighed as he stood in front of the cage. “I don’t need a rigid slave, I just want a clever general—do you understand what I mean?”
"Pah! Don't think I don't know you—" Salin tightened his throat and spat out a mouthful of saliva without hesitation.
Snap!
A whip lashed her face hard, drawing a blurry line of blood.
“McGrey, you good dog…” Salin grinned as he licked the blood from the corner of his lips.
McGonagall simply shrugged indifferently, bowing and scraping to Donny: "Commander, this guy's got a tough bone to crack, we'll have to hold out for a while longer..."
Donnie nodded and left with a gloomy expression.
Whoosh—a gust of wind blew by.
"Watch out or I'll slice you in two, and you won't get any dinner tonight!" McGonagall brandished her blood-stained whip menacingly and chased after him.
The red-haired giant slowly squatted down and picked up the flatbread from the ground.
She pressed the cake in her hands and ground it finely with both palms as if crushing a clod of earth, then poured all the powder into her mouth.
...and also kept a small key with an iron bar in his hand.
......
Three hours passed, and there were no screams or spreading bloodshed.
But Salin knew the time had come.
She used a key to unlock the heavy shackles and quickly twisted open the cage door with an iron bar.
Kesha...
For some reason, the torches for the evening had not yet been lit. The few guests around were surprised to see the cage door open, but they did not make a sound.
Because of the repeated stabs through their backs, the ragged slaves were very good at killing.
It's time to escape.
Salin's towering figure seemed to transform into a banner, drawing the silent merchandise—the warriors of the legion—towards her.
Some of them were complete strangers, but most were old acquaintances from the battlefield.
We may have been comrades-in-arms, or enemies, or both, but so what?
Their freedom will begin from this moment!
She would need luck; she would need to find a way to ignite this flame, burn through the lords' blockade, and lead her sisters back to the mountains, back to everyone's homeland—
"Commander, a group of people is coming this way! Yes, they're on horseback. There's a noble child who must be the master, and the other children seem to be guards... I counted twelve guards!" The girl who was in the lookout position warned the people below.
A distinguished guest who came to buy slaves?
The young mistress was accompanied by noble guards, whose guards were all children on horseback.
Salin instinctively loathed this bizarre phenomenon; she had a very dangerous premonition.
“Try to hijack…” Before she could finish speaking, a series of orderly charges suddenly rang out from outside.
"Monster—Monster—"
The battle-hardened comrade was shouting and yelling like a new recruit.
Salin quickly grabbed a spear from the side and chased after them. The market gates were rarely closed, and she immediately saw what was happening outside.
A gray-haired girl wanders the battlefield like a ghost, taking a life every now and then.
Such exquisite skill could never belong to an ordinary nobleman... If this person isn't the master, then who is...?
Salin immediately spotted the noble children in the middle of the crowd.
She was a girl with long, flowing hair and smooth, delicate skin. Her large, amber eyes sparkled with surprise and sadness.
So beautiful...no, she's probably—
A guess about her identity was about to emerge, but before Salin could shout "Stop!", an arrow shot out from behind her.
Whoosh—
It was aimed at me... no, it was aimed at that child?!
Salin immediately dodged, and the arrow's trajectory didn't pass through her body at all. Instead, it flew straight towards the girl with tears in her eyes and pierced deeply into her left shoulder.
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Author's Note: Third update complete~ From now on, updates will be at 12 PM daily. [Cheep emoji]
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