Chapter 8
Lucina
I stroll through the dungeon.
I can't ignore the sight of men and women chained up like animals. Their faces are etched with despair and hopelessness.
It feels like browsing through a store—except instead of clothes, these are lives for sale.
The realization strikes me:
I am far from being a good person.
In a room full of men, one catches my attention.
I ask the greedy salesman about them. He proudly informs me they're former gladiators from an underground arena. Unable to fight anymore, they're now being sold off.
Intrigued, I enter the room despite the foul stench permeating the air.
There, in the corner, a young man with raven-black hair sits with his head bowed.
I make my way through the men, drawn to him.
Gently, I lift his chin.
His eyes meet mine—golden, like molten metal, sparkling despite the grime on his face. A fire burns in those eyes. A determination that hasn't been extinguished.
I drop his chin and leave the room.
"I want him."
The salesman bows and instructs some guards I hadn't even noticed were present.
I continue walking.
A commotion draws my attention.
A man in a mask drags a young boy with vibrant violet hair. The boy is skinny, fighting back with desperation palpable even from a distance.
I watch the scene unfold.
The boy makes eye contact with me. With a final surge of strength, he breaks free from his captor and rushes toward me.
He throws himself at my feet.
"Please." His voice cracks. "Please take me instead."
Desperation drips from every word.
I hesitate for a moment. Then I make my decision.
"I'll pay you double," I say to the boy's captor.
"I want the boy. No deal." The man sneers.
"Triple."
My tone leaves no room for negotiation.
The man pauses. Greed wars with caution.
The lure of money wins. He agrees.
The greedy salesman eagerly signals to the guards once more, sealing the transaction.
The salesman, emboldened by my willingness to spend a considerable amount of gold, decides to make a bold move.
Determination flashes in his eyes. He brings up a certain item. One so pricey it hasn't been sold in over two years.
He's glad to have found a wealthy customer today. Someone who won't flinch at the exorbitant price.
Intrigued, I follow him with eager steps.
He leads me to a secluded room.
Inside: a human-sized cage, isolated from the rest of the market.
My curiosity peaks. I approach the cage slowly.
My eyes widen.
Inside the cage stands the most stunning person I have ever laid eyes on.
Long, flowing golden hair cascades down his back. Cold, piercing green eyes stare back at me. Every feature seems sculpted by the gods.
I can't tear my gaze away.
"This here is a half-elf." The salesman's voice drips with pride and greed.
"As you can see, he inherited beauty from his elven side. His ears are slightly pointed too." He pauses.
"What do you think?"
I don't hesitate.
"I'll take him."
The salesman's eyes light up with excitement, as if afraid I'll change my mind. His guards quickly release the half-elf from his chains.
The salesman informs me of the prices:
· The half-elf: 1.2 million gold
· The runaway slave (violet hair): 60,000 gold
· The raven-haired man: 15,000 gold
He mentions that he deducted 5,000 gold from the raven-haired man's price due to his 'condition.' I pay the full amount anyway.
I need his discreet transport services, after all.
I pay the man in light luminescent crystals. Each crystal is worth 50,000 gold—rare and hard to obtain, monopolized by the church.
The salesman practically froths at the mouth with excitement as I hand them over. He bows eagerly, clearly thrilled with the exchange.
We then leave the inconspicuous tent.
The salesman informs me that my "goods" will be waiting at one of their affiliated hotels: the Fairy'sArms. Known for its luxurious accommodations, it's a fitting place for such transactions.
As a final gesture, the salesman hands me a golden ring.
"VIP status," he says. "Anyone associated with the Whispering Bazaar will treat you as such."
Maverick proves useful once again. He takes us to the hotel without delay.
Once we arrive outside the Fairy's Arms, I give him another assignment. He departs swiftly to carry out my orders.
I nod my thanks and make my way into the opulent hotel.
I step inside. They were expecting me.
A hotel attendant greets me instantly and leads me to what looks like an elevator contraption.
Curious and a bit apprehensive, I step inside.
*
The room is sumptuous. Opulent.
Lavish decorations and exquisite architecture truly live up to the hotel's reputation as a top luxury establishment. Intricate tapestries adorn the walls—scenes of mythical creatures and grand battles. The furniture gleams with golden accents and plush fabrics.
Elegance. Sophistication. Other fancy words.
I walk around the room, taking in every detail.
The grand chandelier casts a warm, inviting glow. Soft golden light fills the space. Large windows offer a breathtaking view of the city below—bustling streets and towering buildings.
The bed is like a cloud. Silk sheets. Fluffy pillows that beckon me to rest.
A small table in the corner holds a selection of fruits and pastries, along with a decanter of what I assume is fine wine.
I settle into the plush armchair by the window.
Luxury and comfort wash over me. I take in the view and enjoy the tranquility of the moment.
This is truly a place fit for royalty.
*
A soft knock on the door signals the arrival of the attendant.
She brings my three purchases.
The men are clean now. Dressed in luxurious clothing that looks almost out of place on their gaunt, skinny frames. Their collarbones and cheekbones protrude prominently,a stark contrast to the opulence of their attire.
I continue eating my fruit, watching the scene unfold.
The attendant leaves quietly. The door clicks shut.
Tension fills the room.
The three men stand before me, heads bowed in nervousness and trepidation. The raven-haired one seems injured—favoring his left foot over his right.
I observe them closely. Fear and uncertainty flicker in their eyes.
They're not used to such luxurious surroundings. The weight of their situation hangs heavy in the air.
Despite their discomfort, they remain silent.
Waiting for my next move.
The stalemate lasts for what feels like an eternity.
Twenty minutes of silence hang heavily in the air.
I simply sit and wait. Observing.
Finally, the purple-haired one breaks.
He drops to his knees before me.
"I greet my master." He bows his head low.
The other two follow suit quickly.
"I greet my master," they murmur in unison, heads bowed in deference.
I decide I've toyed with them enough.
"That's enough."
They lift their eyes to meet mine.
Their expressions are a mixture of fear, hesitation, hope, resignation.
A complicated array of emotions plays across their faces.
A twinge of pity stirs in my chest.
I sigh. A wave of warmth spreads under my cloak.
I take another piece of pastry and ponder.
What am I going to do with these three men kneeling before me?