Transcendence, page 28
part #6 of The Beginning After The End Series
The woman, seeing the two half-empty mugs, snorted. “You really shouldn’t be spoiling your slaves like this. It makes them think they can act out.”
“How I treat my slaves is none of your business,” Olfred replied curtly, slipping another piece of bread underneath his mask. “Now what can I do for the two of you? I hope you can keep things succinct.”
“Succinct?” the man scoffed. The wooden backrest groaned in protest as he leaned back on the seat, but it held out. “Some fancy words you got there. You should be careful around these parts, especially if you’re traveling from the south.”
I could see them trying to size up Olfred. Mica could pass as a human child but I was worried that they might realize Olfred wasn’t human.
“Thank you for the advice,” Olfred responded, locking eyes with the two of them.
“We wanted to give you a warm welcome,” the woman said, leaning forward on her elbows.
“We came over after seeing the way you treated your slaves,” her companion continued, shooting a pointed gaze at Mica and me. “We have a whole stable of slaves for sale that I feel you’d be interested in.”
My jaw clenched at his words. I imagined a room full of children and adults alike, barely clothed and fed, kept only as commodities.
“I’ll have to politely decline,” the old Lance replied almost immediately.
“Don’t say that.” The portly woman slid to the edge of her seat to be closer to Olfred. “We’ve got a fine selection of women and girls if you’re not looking for a more practical slave.”
“We even have dwarves and elves,” the large man added, his cracked lips curling into a lewd grin.
There was a beat of silence before Olfred responded. “I thought interracial slavery had been banned since the formation of the Council?”
“That’s why it’ll cost you an arm and a leg if you want to buy one.” The man burst into hoarse laughter at what he considered his joke.
If the Lance was angry, he did a good job of hiding it. Mica, on the other hand, stirred beside me. I was able to sense the minuscule amount of mana leaking from her, but even that small amount was enough to fill me with unease. Not long after the union of the three races, the leaders of all three sides had made a collective effort to abolish slavery. However, getting rid of slavery in one fell swoop would not only have caused dissatisfaction amongst slave owners, but severely disrupted the economy by essentially eliminating a large portion of the kingdoms’ workforces. In order to remedy this, the Council had been working diligently to take a step-by-step approach: rewarding owners who freed their slaves, and heavily taxing those who kept them.
While slavery existed in all three kingdoms, there had always been high demand in Sapin for dwarven and particularly elven slaves. At least that’s what Vincent Helstea, the owner of the Helstea Auction House, had told me.
Olfred gently pushed the bowl of stew away. “On second thought, perhaps I am a little curious about what you have to offer.”
The woman inched a bit closer, her face contorted into something she probably considered coquettish. “I knew you’d be interested. I’ll let our boss know.”
“I would like to at least get settled into an inn somewhere nearby first,” Olfred said. “Our journey has been somewhat rough.”
The woman locked eyes with her companion, then gave a twitch of her head. With a nod, he waved a giant arm at an old man with a slight hunch, who had been idly drying glasses with a towel. “A room for the gent and his two slaves!”
The woman didn’t give Olfred a chance to object, leading him toward the back door with her bearded companion close behind. This time, the seated men and women in our way scooted their chairs, clearing a path as their gazes bore holes in us.
Before following the hunched elder into the back hall, I looked back once more at Sebastian. He was smiling in our direction, with a barmaid whispering something into his ear.
Once we walked deeper into the scarcely-lit hallway, much of the clamor from the tavern died down. Mica and I trailed behind Olfred silently while the masked Lance responded to the portly woman’s idle chatter.
“Here’s your room, sir. That’ll be two silvers.” The old man held out an empty palm; his other hand held a rusted key.
Two silvers? For a dingy room up here in Ashber? I couldn’t believe it. Two silvers was a reasonable price for a plot of land up here.
‘I’ve never had an interest in this continent’s currency, but even to me it sounds ridiculous,’ Sylvie responded incredulously.
Nevertheless, Olfred played his role of the weary naive noble and produced two glimmering coins from inside his cloak.
Without even a thank-you, the old man dropped the key into Olfred’s hand and tottered back to the tavern. The woman, on the other hand, seemed even more flirtatious after Olfred produced the coins, going as far as squeezing Olfred’s arm before she and her companion headed back.
“We’ll meet back at the tavern in an hour.” She shot Olfred a wink as she left.
Once the door was closed behind us, I slammed my fist against the wall. Since my fist wasn’t coated in mana, a jarring pain shot up my arm—but even that was welcome. The fact that I couldn’t do anything for those slaves and for my town… I deserved the worst.
Pushing down the boiling anger I felt in my gut, I scanned the room, which was no larger than the bathroom at my old house here in Ashber. There was one bed and a dresser squeezed in; even taking Mica’s small frame into account, she and I would have to sleep sitting up.
Mica pulled her hood off, then jumped on the bed, burying her face into the pillow before screaming in frustration.
“You did good holding back from those two,” I praised her, removing my cloak as well. “That woman, especially.”
Taking off his mask, Olfred replied, “Her charming appearance doesn’t make up for the fact that she has captured one of my own.”
I blinked, still unable to get used to the dwarves’ tastes.
“If not for this darn mission, Mica would’ve flattened this entire tavern!” Mica cried, her voice muffled by the pillow.
“My thoughts were the same,” Olfred replied. “Our circumstances, however, force us to be discreet.”
I turned to the older Lance. “Whether we decide to act, our mission takes priority. It’s no problem going with them to see these slaves, though—in fact, it gives us a better cover to look around.”
Olfred nodded in response as he unclipped his cloak and slung it over the wooden dresser.
I sat down at the foot of the bed. Sylvie fumed beside me.
Something on your mind?
‘I don’t understand why there is a high demand for slaves of different races. Is it because humans feel guilt for enslaving one of their own?’ my bond asked.
No. Sickeningly enough, a lot of noble families practiced interbreeding with their dwarven or elven slaves so their children would have better and a wider range of mage potential. Lucas Wykes was a product of that practice.
Sylvie didn’t reply, but through our bond, I could feel her anger spilling out; I didn’t blame her, though. When I’d first read about elves, I had thought of them as a mystical race with a high affinity for magic. That belief was further enforced by the fact that my stay in Elenoir had been mostly with the royal family. Thinking back to the time I had rescued Tessia from slave traders, I should’ve guessed that they either targeted children or weaker, unsuspecting adults.
The Council banned interracial slavery a few years ago, but it looks like it’s still going on.
‘What about the forest surrounding the elven kingdom? Isn’t it supposed to deter most beings other than elves and native animals?’
Yes. That’s why elven slaves are so rare. The traders not only need to be adept fighters, they need to have hounds capable of guiding them through Elshire Forest.
Contempt spilled from my bond. ‘To go to such lengths...’
I came from a modest household; my parents would never have been able to afford a slave, even if they had wanted one. I hadn’t been exposed to the practice of keeping slaves when I was young, which is, perhaps, why I had grown to feel so strongly about the topic. The fact that this was happening in my hometown did more than just irritate me.
“If we can’t handle this directly, Mica is going to inform the Council of what’s going on here,” the small Lance said abruptly, bolting up on the bed.
I nodded, not bothering to turn to face the dwarf. “Sounds like a plan.”
The inn had one bathroom at the far end of the hall, and when Olfred left the room to use it, an unfamiliar man with a small dagger clipped to his waist escorted him there. Olfred said the man was nice enough, but it was obvious that a place like this didn’t offer concierge service. We were basically being held prisoner here.
An hour passed by in the blink of an eye. We decided it was best for Mica to stay behind in case she wasn’t able to control her temper. Despite her numerous complaints, the child-like Lance was out like a light as soon as her head hit her rolled-up cloak, which she was using as a makeshift pillow.
Olfred and I donned our disguises once more before opening our door. We had known there were people waiting just outside, so we remained casual.
“Had a good rest?” the portly woman asked, her voice a bit more slurred than when we had first spoken to her.
Judging by her companion’s flushed cheeks, they had been drinking while they waited for us.
“Come! Follow us, this way. Our leader wants to meet with you,” the woman said, cozying up to Olfred.
I remained silent and trailed behind my ‘master.’
Then the bearded man spoke. “Your smaller slave isn’t joining us?”
“She is unaccustomed to traveling such long distances,” Olfred answered, “so I decided to just let her sleep in the room.”
The bearded man’s lips curled up into a snide grin.
“Ah! But I bet she is accustomed to other things,” he said, nudging Olfred with his elbow.
I rolled my eyes. Does this ape have no sense of decency?
The muffled clamor of the tavern grew louder as we approached the entrance. The establishment was still busy, but the table closest to us was open, with only one person sitting at it.
Sebastian.
“Here they are, Leader,” the woman said. The slur in her voice had vanished.
Leader? I almost repeated it aloud, and glanced upward to get a better view of the balding conjurer.
I had no lingering resentment toward Sebastian. Even back then, when I was still a little boy in this world, I had seen him as greedy and shameless, but insignificant. The childlike desire he’d had for my bond—and the fact that he had used the king to try and ‘coerce’ me into giving her up—had annoyed me, but I’d never thought he’d be up here.
Even if he had been punished back then for his actions at the auction house, I doubted it would have been anything more than a warning. He was a noble; he shouldn’t have any interest in a remote town like Ashber.
“You may leave.” He dismissed them with a wave of his hand. Sebastian’s beady eyes inspected me and I could feel him probing for my mana core level. He wouldn’t be able to sense anything, of course. Even if I wasn’t at the white core stage yet, I was at a high enough level that his senses wouldn’t be able to detect traces of my mana. His gaze moved from my sternum up to my face, but upon seeing my disheveled hair and dirt-stained skin, his focus turned to Olfred.
“It’s a pleasure,” Sebastian said with a wide, seemingly innocent smile. “Allow me to welcome you to my town.”
Chapter 35
Conducting Business
“Nice to meet you,” Olfred said with as much courtesy as he could muster. “My name is Cladence, from House—”
Sebastian held up a palm, interrupting the masked Lance. “Let me stop you right there. House names aren’t necessary in circumstances like this. I’ll simply refer you to as Cladence, and you can call me Sebastian.”
“Very well,” Olfred replied. “Sebastian.”
“Good.” The beady-eyed conjurer nodded in approval. “Now. Before we get down to business…”
Sebastian muttered a chant and waved his arm ostentatiously. After a few moments, a translucent shroud covered us, dampening the noise of the tavern. An obvious but not very impressive demonstration of wind-attribute magic. Still, I played my role as the naive slave and gasped in amazement.
The conjurer’s gaze shifted from me to Olfred, but upon seeing that his masked guest didn’t show any discernible awe at this demonstration, a ghost of a frown crossed Sebastian’s lips.
“It’s a little rowdy in here, and the folks present aren’t the most well-mannered,” he said, leaning forward for one of the mugs filled with beer in the center of the table. “Please excuse my subordinates’ behavior. Bothering you like that when you’d finally sat down to rest—I’ll have to reprimand them.”
Olfred reached forward, his large hand gripping the handle of the mug tightly. “It’s not a problem. Thank you for the hospitality here at the inn.”
“Hospitality?” The balding conjurer looked at the masked Lance incredulously. “You and I both know that this place is fit for nothing but mud hogs.”
Olfred chuckled, the sound hollow and humorless behind the mask, before taking a swig from his mug.
It was obvious that Sebastian was staring at Olfred’s head, trying to see what his face looked like underneath the mask.
“Is something the matter?” the dwarf said when he noticed.
Sebastian shrugged nonchalantly as he sipped from his own mug. “Just curious about the story behind your mask. I’ve seen adventurers wear them from time to time, but never nobles.”
Olfred scratched his head. “Is it so obvious that I’m a noble?”
“Well, it takes one to know one,” Sebastian said proudly.
“I figured,” Olfred nodded. “With your tidy appearance and magical prowess, you seem out of place here as well.”
Compared to the nasty men, most of whom were dressed in rags, Sebastian really did stand out in his richly-dyed doublet and hose.
Sebastian’s eyes twinkled in delight at Olfred’s flattery. “Indeed. I’d take offense if you had thought me the same as those imps.”
Olfred banged his mug back on the table. “I’d be a fool if I did.”
Their conversation continued in this vein, and it seemed the two of them had really hit it off. Whether Olfred was a very good actor or actually found Sebastian amiable, I wasn’t sure, but after a few more mugs of ale, Sebastian was a red, hiccupping mess. That was when his true personality came out.
“So… what kind of girl ar-are you looking for?” Sebastian asked, his eyes glazed.
“What makes you think I’m looking for a girl?” Olfred responded, one hand practically glued to a mug of alcohol.
The balding conjurer giggled drunkenly as he pointed a finger at the masked Lance. “Please. My subordinates told me how you practically lit up when they mentioned I had elves and dwarves in stock.”
Olfred paused for a moment, and I was almost afraid the Lance was going to say something he shouldn’t.
“And what if I am?” Olfred replied, his deep voice coming out slurred.
Sebastian held up both hands in a placating gesture. “I don’t judge. What’s the point of having money and power if you can’t splurge on what you want?”
“Exactly!” Olfred slammed his mug on the wooden table. “It’s because of all those damned entitled noble women looking down on me.”
Where is he going with this?
Leaning forward on the table, Olfred pointed at his mask. “Do you want to know the real reason I wear this stifling mask? It’s because I have scars all over my face from a house fire.”
“Oh, really now?” Sebastian asked, intrigued.
“And the worst thing is, that happened when I was still a teen. The injuries to my leg stunted my growth, so not only is my face disfigured, but now I’m a head shorter than even my own damned slave!” Olfred shot a finger at me as I stood there, puzzled.
Despite knowing Olfred’s true identity, his performance was so genuine that I had to wonder whether this incident had really happened.
‘He’s very believable,’ Sylvie commented, overhearing their conversation.
I’ll say.
“Tell me about it!” Sebastian finished off another mug of ale and set it down, then wiped the foam from his lips. “When I served the royal family, women rushed at the chance to get in bed with me. But once I was relieved of my position, those same tramps treated me like some sort of insect!”
“You served the royal family?” Olfred exclaimed. “Why did you retire?”
Sebastian gnashed his teeth, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the mug. “Because of that damned brat.”
“Brat? What brat?” Olfred asked.
The beady-eyed mage threw his mug on the ground, where it shattered upon impact. This drew wary gazes from the nearby tables. The noise from the tavern grew clearer; in his inebriated state, Sebastian wasn’t able to maintain the noise-dampening spell.
“I’m a dual-attribute conjurer, almost at the solid orange stage, yet the only respect I can get is from these dirty primitives!” he exclaimed, waving his arm around the tavern at the vile-looking men and the few women—who didn’t look much better.
Olfred raised his glass in the air. “Those shallow and wretched snakes! May they wrinkle and sag like the loose rags they are!”
Sebastian snorted gleefully as he laughed at the Lance’s toast. “I knew I’d found a good man when I saw you come in through those doors. Now let’s get you some brand new toys to play with!”
The two of them staggered out of the tavern. Sebastian was barely able to walk because of his limp—a souvenir of the broken leg I had given him when I was still a child.
“Hey, you. Come over here.” He gestured at me as he leaned against the wall of the tavern.
I silently obeyed, walking over to the intoxicated conjurer. He flung his arm around my shoulder, leaning heavily against me. “You don’t mind if I use your slave as a walking stick, do you, Cladence?”
