Slave Merchant: Derick Walker-7
To explain the story of Solari World, it goes something like this. In the beginning, two clans of extraordinary power ruled the continent: the Solar Clan and the Lunar Clan. Both possessed abilities that far surpassed those of ordinary humans, and they reigned over the land as its undisputed masters.
But there cannot be two suns in the same sky. In this case it was one sun and one moon, so you might think they could have coexisted — but of course they didn't. The two mighty clans fell into conflict as naturally as breathing. After generations of savage bloodshed, a winner and a loser were decided. As the game's title itself makes plain, the victors were the Solar Clan.
They drove the Lunar Clan from the continent. Then they vanished themselves. Rather than remain as the continent's absolute rulers, the victorious Solar Clan chose to leave the future of the land in the hands of ordinary humanity.
And so peace came to the continent. There were wars, and there were disasters, but compared to the brutal feud between the two clans, they were trivial things. The Lunar Clan, however, had been banished — and it was only natural that they would hone a blade of vengeance. The peace the Solar Clan had built came with an expiration date. That much was inevitable.
Exiled to a small island far from the mainland, the Lunar Clan gathered its strength. They were already a people of tremendous power, and they tempered that power further still, feeding it on their hatred for the continent. They watched and waited, hungry for any chance to trample the peace to dust. The people of the continent came to call them demons — and their leader, the Demon King of the Moon.
Where there is a moon, there is also a sun. Though they had hidden themselves from the world, the Solar Clan never once let down their guard against their old enemy. Whenever the moon's ambition touched the continent, the sun revealed itself without fail. Unlike the Demon King of the Moon, who invaded at the head of vast armies, the heir of the Solar Clan was always a single person. He stood with the people of the continent and held the Demon King at bay. They called him the Solar Hero.
Well — that's the gist of it. It's a dime-a-dozen premise, but you can tell they at least tried to throw in some original flavor. The basic format never strays from the classic hero template, so the story isn't hard to follow.
Jean, the protagonist of this world, is the Solar Hero of the current generation. And the Solar Medal in his possession is the proof. That is exactly why I took it. The Solar Medal is, in and of itself, the mark of the Hero.
That said, vanishingly few people even know the medal exists, so walking around flashing it like a Status Plaque and announcing, "I'm the Hero!" is out of the question. What matters to me are the handful of people who would recognize it.
The Solar Clan has a peculiar trait that sets it apart from the Lunar Clan. Where the Lunar Clan inherits its power through blood, the Solar Clan inherits through will. Whether they even deserve to be called a "clan" is an open question, but that's how it works.
The one who inherits the Solar Hero's power is an ordinary person who possesses a true hero's values. The previous Hero selects a successor of great potential and a strong sense of justice, and passes the Solar Medal into their keeping. When that successor awakens to their own potential, the changing of the guard is complete.
In the early game, Jean thinks of the Solar Medal as nothing more than a charm some strange old woman pressed into his hands. Whether the developers wanted a twist or not, the fact that Jean is the Hero isn't revealed until nearly the final chapter of the first playthrough.
Awaken to that potential, and the medal grants power befitting a Solar Hero — but that's not in the cards for me. One of the Hero's most essential prerequisites is a righteous heart, and I am woefully short on that particular commodity. The raw power the medal offers is tempting, I'll admit. But what I need right now is the medal itself.
"Welcome to the Hillis Slave Market. Please, allow me to escort you."
The moment I showed my Status Plaque to the soldiers guarding the entrance, a man in luxurious silk came hurrying out. He led me not down the corridor used by ordinary customers, but through a different passage entirely. It didn't seem to be a VIP route — more of a staff-only corridor. Apparently my particular status as a slave merchant earned me this special treatment.
A slave merchant hardly ranks alongside the nobility, of course, but in a place like this I was a man of the same trade. A little extra service came with the territory.
"I need a woman to attend me at night."
I spoke down to him as a matter of course, and he took it as a matter of course. I'd been worried he might recognize my face, but fortunately no such misfortune occurred.
"Heh heh. I see. The auction is still four days off — you must have been getting restless. We do have a few pieces scheduled for the block, but if Master Derick Walker wishes it, we can pull them early for you."
The right to buy auction stock ahead of the sale. That was a considerable privilege. And the way he referred to slaves as "pieces" and "stock" made it abundantly clear that in this world, human rights didn't even cast a shadow.
"I'll take my time looking around."
"Please, allow me to show you."
The Hillis Slave Market was not particularly large compared to the exchanges beyond the city walls — and for good reason. Every slave traded here was a premium article. Supply was vanishingly small next to the common markets. A slave meant for labor would have years of mercenary experience behind them; many could read and write. The sex slaves popular with nobles and merchants were, without exception, specimens of outstanding beauty.
They were slaves, yes — but they were a different class of merchandise from anything sold outside the walls. If you thought of them as handbags, the slaves at the outer markets were cheap wholesale-stall stock. The ones here were Louis Vuitton.
The holding pens were different too. The basic form was the same — cages with wooden bars — but here they kept two slaves to a cell. The outer markets crammed at least five into each one. Even the cages themselves were far larger. I passed through the storage area where strapping Combat Slaves were put on display. Pushing through a forest of naked, muscle-bound men who wore not a stitch of clothing — as if that were the most natural thing in the world — I made my way deeper inside, and a fragrant perfume brushed my nose. The man guiding me beside me puffed up with pride.
"Every slave in our establishment is exclusive-grade, without exception. As you can see from the Combat Slaves, they are mint condition — not a single defect on any of them. Even the most fastidious nobles are fully satisfied with the quality. And that standard applies to every other category of slave as well. I am certain Master Derick Walker will be pleased."
The slave I was looking for was already decided. I let his pitch go in one ear and out the other as I pressed deeper into the exchange. Past the Combat Slave pens, the sex-slave storage finally came into view. Unexpectedly, male and female slaves were mixed together. They weren't sharing cells — a men's cage sat beside a women's cage, and so on — but the arrangement existed because the people who bought slaves for sexual purposes were not exclusively men.
I'd been looking forward to a feast for the eyes. Instead, landmines were mixed in with the goods, and my cock was having trouble responding. They could have at least separated them by sex. I was deeply disappointed by this establishment's wretched sense of presentation.
"Please, take your time. If any slave catches your interest, we will bring them out for you."
The slaves' eyes turned toward me. I was a man who might become their master; of course they were interested. Some of them put on a seductive display, trying to catch my eye. The infuriating part was that it wasn't just the females. The males were doing it too. Fuck…
"Heh heh. They're all desperate to catch Master Derick Walker's eye. Truth be told, this entire line is scheduled for the auction — but if you want any of them, they're yours."
I rolled my eyes over the cages, searching for her. The setting materials had been clear: she was locked up in Tellibai's high-end slave market. And this was Tellibai's only high-end slave market. She had to be here. I didn't spare the other slaves a glance as I moved forward, scanning the cells around me. The man at my side muttered under his breath.
"Picky eater, isn't he. Don't tell me he's a faggot."
He'd said it as if I wouldn't hear — but I heard every word. That they would assign a halfwit like this to escort an important client made my confidence in this entire establishment drop like a stone.
Still, after a thorough survey of the stock, I found her. Even knowing she had to be here, I hadn't been able to let go of the tension until I actually laid eyes on her. I'd even started to wonder whether something I'd done had set off a butterfly effect and changed the future. Fortunately, it seemed that murdering the protagonist had not altered the near term.
"This one. Bring her out."
"Haha. You have an excellent eye, sir. She was brought in from abroad only a few days ago."
The man drew a key from his side. The keys clinked against each other like coins. He unlocked the cage door. The two women inside flinched and trembled at the sight of us. He pointed at the one I had indicated.
"You. Come out."
She stepped forward without resistance. Like the others, she wore not a scrap of clothing. A leather collar hung at her throat, a little bell dangling from it, announcing her status as a slave for all to see.
I looked her over slowly, from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. In the game, you never got to see her like this — stripped completely bare — so I took my time and committed every detail to memory.
Her hair was a pale brown, a little dry and unkempt, falling all the way to her waist. Her face was small — small enough that, with only a slight exaggeration, you could say it was no bigger than my fist. Her round eyes were not particularly wide, and yet they still looked large. A high, well-shaped nose lent her a mature allure. Her pressed lips were red as cherries, and the sensual collarbones descending from her throat drew a man's gaze as if by force.
The highlight sat below them. Her breasts were neither excessive nor slight. A D-cup, give or take? Compared to a Korean woman, they were enormous, of course. Her nipples were a deep, rich pink.
"Not a cavity in her head — a healthy little thing. When she first arrived, though, her nutrition was in a sorry state. We've been feeding her well for the past few days and she's recovered. Keep feeding her properly and her looks will only improve."
Without warning, the man guiding me reached out, pushed his fingers into her mouth, and spread his thumb and forefinger to display the inside. She opened for him without protest. Just as he'd said: a set of clean, white teeth, not a single cavity among them.
"And of course she's a virgin down below as well. Most of the girls we put up for auction are, but some gentlemen actually prefer them already broken in — so if you wish, we can train her here at the establishment ourselves. Spread."
He gave her ass a sharp slap. She turned toward me and spread her cheeks. Her legs were planted at hip width, so her pussy was fully visible — and her asshole too, without the slightest obstruction.
She used both hands to spread her pussy open, making sure the inside could be seen clearly. The man pulled her wider still, putting the hymen on full display.
"Virgins are what the market wants these days, so we are very thorough about this sort of management. Haha."
"Buhihit! Now that's the slave I wanted."
I said it with a laugh. Even to my own ears, the sound was thoroughly vulgar. One of the greatest drawbacks of this body was that my laugh came out like a pig's squeal. It wasn't something I did on purpose — the fat made the sound resonate through my nose.
"The price is five gold. Given that we're pulling her straight off the auction block, I'm afraid we must insist on that much."
Five gold coins.
It was enough to make your jaw drop. I'd done a little research: a scrawny adult man went for about fifty silver. Even an excellent Combat Slave could be had for a single gold if you found a good one.
Sex slaves ran higher, of course, but five gold was still steep. I didn't bother haggling. I'd already exchanged a fat stack of platinum coins for gold, so I pulled the money from my pocket and paid on the spot.
"Heehee! Thank you so much! I'll have the slave prepared for you right away."