"You can come in," Lloyd said with a calm attitude.
"Thank you, Master Lloyd, I've done what you asked," a voice said.
Before Lloyd stood a young man, about twenty years old.
He had brown hair, combed back, and wore a monocle that gave him an intellectual air.
"Good, I'll follow you," the boy said, getting down from his seat.
That man was Daimon Notos, a young merchant who had recently entered the slave smuggling business.
The reason he hadn't died was because Lloyd saw potential in him.
After walking a good stretch through the rocky corridors of the fort, they finally arrived at a spacious cell.
There were several people placed there, dressed in ragged clothes.
A mark glowed on their necks, showing they were slaves.
"These are all the human slaves capable of working. As you can see, their condition is not the best; however, they were the only ones who weren't injured," Daimon said professionally.
"I see," Lloyd said, somewhat disappointed.
