The General Store Merchant at the Slave Auction
"Everyone's loaded."
The day-hired coachman came toward me, lantern in hand. Outside the auction house, night had already fallen, black as ink.
I fished a small LED flashlight out of my coat and shone it into the cargo bed of the roofless wagon—one of the two carriages I'd rented for the day. Startled by the sudden flood of light, the women sitting pressed shoulder to shoulder flinched and shrank into themselves. I quietly counted heads to make sure no one was missing.
"What is that stick, anyway? Did you stuff fireflies inside it?"
"Well. Something like that."
"Huh? It's far too bright to be fireflies, though?"
"...I put in a lot of them."
"Fascinating. How do you make the light go off and on like that?"
"...I asked the fireflies for a favor. Told them we don't need them right now, so would they kindly turn themselves off."
"Heh heh. You're quite the one, master."
I humored the coachman's wonder at the flashlight with whatever answers came to hand.
"Load this one up as well."
"Aha! Right away, sir!"
I pointed at the big-chested creature worth three gold coins that had trailed along behind me. The half-elf was still completely naked. The only thing she wore was the rusted chain shackled around her legs.
"Whoa! What in the world is this? Is that even a person?!"
The coachman swept his lantern over the naked half-elf and simply could not tear his eyes away.
Evening had turned the air quite chilly, yet the girl made no attempt to huddle against the cold or cover herself the way the other women had. I had a pretty good idea what was going through her mind. Among the female slaves who had washed up in this place, quite a few behaved exactly like that. That expression was complete and utter surrender—to her own life from this moment on.
The women who had made it this far had already endured worse hells than anything waiting for them here. I couldn't swear it was all one hundred percent true, not having witnessed it with my own eyes, but I had heard the account from the auction house. They had already lost their fathers, husbands, and sons to the invaders who overran their country. Mothers too old to be of use were put to the sword; the rest were raped by enemy soldiers. Their property was seized and their homes put to the torch. The livestock they had raised and tended like family were devoured or slaughtered for sport. The ancestral graves they had honored for generations were dug open, the bones churned up while the looters rifled through them for anything of value.
They even went so far as to poison the village wells, which were worth nothing to them, and to spray some special agent over the harvested fields so that not so much as a single stalk of wheat would ever grow from that soil again. And so their beloved hometowns, steeped in precious memory, were defiled and destroyed over and over and over. Why annihilate everything these women had, so thoroughly and so deliberately? I was told it was to sever even their last hope—the hope of betraying a master someday, running, and returning home. To force them to see with their own eyes that nothing at all remained of the land they came from.
These were women who had taken in every one of those scenes, missing nothing, before being dragged here. The only reasons they were still breathing were their youth and a body to sell. They wanted to die; they should have followed their families into death; but when it came to it, they lacked the courage—so they had killed their own minds instead. My life is over already. Kill me or keep me, do as you like. Just leave me alone. Yes. That was precisely the expression the half-elf wore right now.
At this rate, there'd be an accident. Load her stripped bare like this, and the coachmen would inevitably keep craning around to gawk at the half-elf's naked body instead of watching the road. The horses would drift off course, or they'd miss whatever obstacle appeared ahead until it was too late.
"Put this on."
I pulled off the fine silk cloak I was wearing and laid it over the elf's shoulders. The half-elf looked down at the soft fabric touching her bare skin, but made no move to actually put it on—she simply let it hang there, and the slippery silk slid straight to the ground.
Swish.
"I said, put it on."
I retrieved the cloak, and this time settled it properly across her shoulders and fastened the buttons for her, one by one. Only then did it seem to dawn on the half-elf that I had taken off my own clothes to dress her; she stared at me for a long moment with wide, stunned eyes.
"Move out."
Only at midnight did the two carriages finally set off. One was the roofed, high-grade carriage I rode in; the other, the open wagon carrying the eleven slaves. Mounted guards rode out front and brought up the rear, with more on either flank, covering every direction. Of course, nothing here came free either. I had hired every last one of them.
"...You know, masters like you are a rare breed. Now, us—we only do this because it pays, but still."
While I was squinting over my ledger by flashlight, the coachman, apparently bored, struck up a conversation.
"Most customers who buy slaves bed down at an inn nearby and set off at first light. Safer that way, and cheaper. The roads are crawling with bandits after dark these days, what with the world in such a state. That's why we charge a premium for night travel—every man out here is risking his neck."
"There's a mountain of work waiting for me at home."
"Course there is, course there is. The busiest general merchant in all of Greenhill—no wonder your days are full."
"......."
"As a matter of fact, I heard a thing or two about you while you were at the auction."
?
"They say you deal in special foreign goods that no ordinary general store would carry."
"Nope. All idle rumor."
"Modest, aren't we? Word has it you sell every manner of thing. Magic flint that raises a fire in a single strike, an essence blending hundreds of flower scents into one, biscuits that taste like walking through the gates of heaven on the first bite. If the coin were right, I'd dearly love to browse your shop myself!"
"It's nothing, really. People exaggerate."
Word-of-mouth for the shop was the kind of thing you could never have too much of, but I was exhausted. I had spent every last ounce of energy getting through today's auction without a hitch, and right now all I wanted was a little quiet. I did my best not to feed the coachman's curiosity by talking up my merchandise, but the man carried right on regardless.
"But where on earth do you source such rare goods? Do you craft them yourself, perhaps? Or do you have wizards or alchemists lending you a hand?"
"Look here."
"Yes?"
"You want to work for me again next time?"
"I do."
"Then button it."
"Yessir!"
.......
Blessed silence.
At last I had some time to myself. I finished balancing the ledger and opened the book I'd been reading a great deal lately—This Race and Monsters, Volume 3, borrowed from the Greenhill library. Thanks to the illustrations in that book, I had held on to a full three gold coins today.
Reading in the carriage, with the drum of hoofbeats in my ears and the chirr of crickets drifting in from far off, I felt drowsiness wash over me.
......
Mmm.
"...Look here. Where are we about now?"
"We've left the castle behind and crossed the middle bridge."
"And the forest?"
"The forest is another hour or so ahead."
"Wake me when we get there."
"Very good, sir."
I closed the book and was dozing within ten minutes. I had rented the smoothest-riding carriage money could buy, but oh, how I longed to be sleeping properly in my own bed at home. Still, there was work left to do. The most important item on today's schedule.
"Master."
...
"We've reached the Intermediate Forest."
"Stop."
Already?
I rose groggily and had the carriage halted. It looked as if tens of millions of stars were scattered overhead. Beneath the clear night sky, the pitch-dark forest rose up sheer and black ahead of us. When the lead carriage stopped, the wagon behind it halted as well, and the guards naturally reined in around us.
"Master, is something the matter?"
"Wait here a moment. Up we go!"
Flashlight in hand, I stepped up onto the driver's box, aimed the beam at the forest, and set it to strobe. A moment later, a single torch emerged from among the trees—and then that one flame split into many.
"Who goes there?!"
At the sight of the approaching torches, the guards ripped the bows from their backs and shouted.
"We're acquainted with Lord Luciel! Do not attack!"
"Lord... Luciel?!"
"That's right. I arranged to meet some people I know here."
I hadn't told the coachman or the guards beforehand, so naturally they had taken them for bandits. I had deliberately kept it quiet out of fear the word might leak. The strangers began to emerge into the open—all ten of them men. They were no unwelcome callers as far as I was concerned. I had already met with them in advance, heard their circumstances, and talked everything through. I stepped forward to settle my guards.
"These men are here to take the slaves I bought. To put it precisely, they're men who need brides, not slaves."
"Brides, sir?"
"I'm going to marry the slaves off to these men."
"Huh?"
"What?!"
"Whaaat?!!"
Only then did the guards nod along, satisfied. Truth be told, they must have found it strange already—these men carried no weapons and looked nothing like bandits. Up close, they all had the honest faces of farmers or laborers. Every last one a lifelong bachelor.
"So that's why you bought only the female slaves! To think you'd turn a profit this way too—you truly are a merchant born and bred!"
The coachman slapped his knee as the realization struck him. The urge to offer a correction surged up in me, but I had far too much to do to spare the man any more time.
"Right, then. Everyone down, please."
The female slaves began climbing down one by one, their faces bewildered. A few were too frightened to descend at all, terrified that some fresh danger was about to begin. Once they were all on the ground, I first unlocked the shackles binding their hands and feet. Then I gathered them into a group and spoke.
"...You were all fated to live out your lives as slaves in this country. Now that you've been sold, you already know what would be required of you."
Every head came up. They looked bewildered that the man who had bought them—their new owner—was speaking to them with such courtesy.
"But that is no longer so. I intend to give you a choice about the fate that awaits you. From this moment, you have two options before you."
....
"One: you may choose the life of a slave, exactly as things were. If so, I will return you to the slave market and have you relisted as 'unused merchandise, pre-purchase.'"
....
"If you refuse that, then right now I will help you live in this country as free people—that is, as commoners. Of course, having come from a defeated nation, you cannot become free on your own now that you are here. For women like you, the easiest path to freedom in this land is to take a commoner husband in marriage."
!!!
At that, they all began stealing glances at one another. Some faces brightened on the spot, as though they had glimpsed a new possibility of hope in lives that had held nothing but despair.
"Even that will be no easy road. You will have to hide your origins from everyone around you, and should anyone discover you were slaves, you may well face discrimination and mistreatment from the people here. But those men will help you."
I pointed at the grooms—the bachelors. The men were in their forties and fifties, with one in his sixties. Ten in all.
"Of course, you may not care for the grooms I have prepared. But given your circumstances, this is the best you will find. Every one of them is an honest man who will love his wife for the rest of his days. I guarantee it."
"It's true. To think a day like this would ever come."
"Thank you for giving us this chance!"
Several of the quicker-witted women bowed their heads to me the instant I finished speaking, offering heartfelt thanks, wholly in accord with everything I'd said.
"From here on, the grooms will not be choosing brides. The brides will choose their own grooms. It is late, so I ask your understanding that I cannot give you much time."
"C-could we... could we ever go back home?"
A young girl who had barely reached womanhood raised her hand timidly and asked. I shook my head firmly.
"I'm sorry, but that is beyond my power. There are no ships bound for your country, and even if some way back existed, I could not promise you would live to see it."
If I could have managed it, I would have done so long ago.
Nods all around. Everyone agreed. They had already been fortunate beyond words simply to survive the journey here; to be handed a chance at a life outside slavery on top of it was an enormous stroke of luck for these women.
But one person—one half-elf—seemed unable to bring herself to agree. She stood at the very back, head turned away, doing her utmost to shut out my words.
She understood every word of it. So she did comprehend human speech after all. Perhaps she could even speak it.
Two of the women, quickest to decide, were already putting their choice into motion. Judging by their bearing, they were women who had lost husbands to the war—widows, both. I had given them no time to ask questions, nor to study anyone's face properly in the light, so quite literally they were choosing their partners by torchlight and instinct alone. They went and stood before the two youngest of the ten men, who broke into wide grins and welcomed them.
"I swear I will make you happy."
"Let's love one another and live well together."
"We'll build a peaceful household. Raise a whole flock of children."
Perhaps that broke the ice, for the remaining women each went and stood beside a man of their choosing. A strange group matchmaking, held in the woods at midnight. The coachmen and the guards watched it all with odd looks on their faces, but they didn't seem particularly fazed. Their job was their job; the rest was no concern of theirs.
"...I'm with child. Would any of you be willing to take even someone like me?"
"Me as well..."
The two pregnant women at the back stroked their swollen bellies as they spoke, faces apologetic—and the oldest of the farmers raised his hand. A man in his prime followed suit.
"All my life I've wanted a child of my own, and now at last my wish has come true. Live with me. Son or daughter, whosever child—it matters not to me."
"Thank you, truly. I will serve you faithfully all my life, master!"
"No. As Lord Luciel said—from now on we are to be husbands, not masters. Let the two of us live well together, from this day on."
"Ohh...."
Relief seemed to wring tears of joy from them; here and there, quiet sobbing could be heard. Fortunately, every woman had found a partner. All but one.
The half-elf still had her back pressed against the wagon, holding herself in a defensive crouch. Hers was the face of total distrust—whatever happened, she would believe nothing and no one.
"She's truly beautiful."
"She hardly looks human."
"Where on earth is she from, to have a face like that?"
The bachelors, seeing the half-elf for the first time, could never have guessed she was human with elf blood in her veins; they could only marvel, over and over. Every man stole at least one glance at her surpassing beauty, but her guarded posture made it impossible to approach, and one by one they turned instead toward more attainable brides. They all had their pride and knew their station; not one of them dared imagine taking a woman of that caliber to wife.
I, for my part, had expected as much—that she would never meekly accept becoming the wife of some wheat farmer, shepherd, or innkeeper. I had never intended to hand over a woman like her to anyone in the first place. Besides, there were no men left to pair her with.
Once ten couples had formed on the spot, I left them with one final word.
"If your husbands should ever fail to take you as wives—if they treat you as slaves in even the smallest way—come and find me. I run a general store in a village called Greenhill, about two hours from here. It is the house with the green roof; you cannot miss it."
"That will never happen."
"We will never disappoint you, Lord Luciel."
In that moment, every one of the men seemed utterly sincere. I had spoken with each of them beforehand and knew just how desperate they were; I doubted them no longer.
"Lord Luciel... and, um, this as well..."
One of the bachelors stepped forward as their representative and held out a pouch of mixed silver and copper coins. These days I could tell what a purse held just by its size and the way it sat in a hand. Fifty silver at the very most. That was roughly a year's income for men like these.
"You have changed every life here. To send you off empty-handed would be poor manners on our part. This is everything we could scrape together among ourselves—"
"I don't need it."
I refused on the spot. Yes, mine was a profession that had to turn a profit—but taking a fee for a good deed leaves a foul taste in the mouth. It would make me no better than some black-market trafficker.
"Do not mistake my sincerity for commerce."
"Ah! Is that how you see it? Understood. Then we shall repay you in our own way, Lord Luciel."
"We will surely repay the kindness you have shown us!"
"Please accept our deepest gratitude, once more!"
At the displeasure in my voice, the men flinched and stumbled over themselves. They bowed their heads again and again, repeating how extraordinary a thing I had done, and how grateful they were for it.
"You're handing over the slaves without taking a single coin?! Not one copper?!"
The only one still gaping was the coachman who had driven me here.
And so, having safely seen the ten couples off toward home on their own horses and carts, I settled accounts with the coachman of the wagon that had carried the women and two of the guards.
"Much obliged. You're free to head back."
"Do get home safely, sir."
I opened the door of my own carriage for the half-elf, who stood there blank as a post, and said:
"Get in."