Chapter 151
Chapter 151
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 151
Chapter Title: Pakenus Slave Traders
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‘Rugerspel, huh. It’s been a damn long time since I last heard that name.’
Ian glanced out the carriage window, surveying the surroundings. Rugerspel—a notoriously tricky slum even in the central district, wasn’t it? When guards got demoted, they were assigned here, and plenty quit because they couldn’t handle the grueling workload. Naturally, that created gaps in security, which fed into Rugerspel’s lawlessness in a vicious cycle.
A breeding ground for all sorts of crimes, incidents, and accidents. Bariel’s rotten lungs. And a world dirtier and uglier than the dregs of humanity.
“Rugerspel wasn’t always like this, I think.”
“Is that so?”
“Ah, Ian, you’re from the borderlands, so you wouldn’t know. This place used to be like Merelrof, where merchant groups stopped temporarily. But with all the vagrants of unknown origin, illegal immigrants, drug cartels, and slave traders setting up shop, it turned into this mess.”
Romandro cleared his throat, trying to maintain his dignity as he explained. He had locked eyes with drunks stumbling after the carriage. The coachman cracked his whip and yelled at them to back off, but it was pointless against those half out of their minds.
“Get lost! Do you know who’s in this carriage?”
“Some high-and-mighty type, I bet! Spare a coin, eh? The carriage noise ruined my buzz!”
“You lot! Out of the way!”
Crack!
‘The Rugerspel I know hasn’t been around that long, after all.’
Ian clicked his tongue, watching the vagrants. They looked so ragged and filthy, you wouldn’t think they were imperial citizens. In a true great nation, even alleys like this should see sunlight...
“Getting close now?”
“Yes. The compass light is getting stronger. It hasn’t moved to another area—it’s nearby.”
Romandro wiped sweat from his brow with a handkerchief and sighed. It was midday, yet the densely packed dilapidated buildings made it dim as dusk.
And that wasn’t all. Clotheslines strung with yellowed fabrics dangled in the air, filling it with the stench of filth, drunken shouts, sudden brawls—everything the senses could pick up screamed danger.
“What the hell does Berik need us for? He’s the type to stand up to the guard captain himself.”
“Doesn’t seem like something brute force can solve. And more than anything, it’s probably Hasha’s call.”
If it were just Berik, he would’ve grabbed Hasha the moment he found him and dragged him out. Even if there were obstacles, he’d hack a path with his sword. But since that hadn’t happened, it had to be Hasha’s request.
“Stop here and turn the carriage around.”
While Ian was talking with Romandro, the compass light swung in the opposite direction. They had passed the target. The coachman poked his head through the window, looking troubled.
“Uh, Viscount. The street’s too narrow to turn around. We can park, but to get back, we’d have to go quite a ways around.”
“I see. Got it. I’ll get out.”
“Ian, you’re getting out?”
“Stay in the carriage if you’d like, Romandro.”
Click. The door opened, unleashing a wave of sewage stench. At the same time, eyes from those watching them turned their way. Romandro quickly scanned left and right, deliberating. Stay here with the coachman in this deadly neighborhood? Or go with the mage Ian?
“Ian, let’s go together! Come on!”
Swish.
Ian kept following the compass, twisting and turning to find where the light shone strongest without reversing.
‘Seems like here.’
An unremarkable rundown building. Judging by the crates piled high in front, Ian figured it was a merchant group’s hideout. A grimy flag was staked by the door.
Romandro stroked his beard and sniffed.
“It’s in Chellim script. Pa, Pa...”
“Pakenus.”
“Ahh, right. Pakenus. Eh? You know Chellim too?”
Romandro nodded, then widened his eyes in surprise. But Ian had no intention of answering. He went to the door and peered inside.
“Pakenus... Hasha and Berik are here. Call someone from inside.”
“Here? Why?”
Romandro looked utterly baffled. The slave traders who’d dealt with Karenna’s bandit leader and undead. Ian had etched their name in his memory. And following the compass led right to them? No way that was coincidence.
Thud thud!
“Anyone inside?”
“Eek!”
Ian grabbed the doorknob and knocked without hesitation. A while later, a bald man, still bleary-eyed from sleep, appeared frowning.
Creak.
His attire suggested he was no lowlife from Rugerspel—some highborn type. Why visit a dump like this in broad daylight? The man sneered, looking Ian up and down.
“Sorry, but it’s not market day.”
Meaning no slave market today. Anyone showing up off-schedule was obvious.
Either a lecher after walled-in goods, an unlicensed doctor needing test subjects, or a cold-blooded sort seeking meat for pet monsters. Whatever the case, none were normal.
“Be off with you.”
Ian realized the interior was larger and deeper than it seemed. Men scattered around were rising one by one, eyeing the entrance.
“...I’m here to buy something.”
“I said it’s not market day. Don’t make me repeat myself!”
He couldn’t ask about Hasha and Berik here. Sure, some became slaves legally, but nearly half were kidnapped foreigners or fell victim to illegal means. Inquiring about them would just put the traders on alert.
Swish.
Ian pulled a gold coin from his pocket and held it up. The man’s eyes bulged as he opened his mouth to speak, but Ian pressed the coin to his chin and whispered.
“I said I want to buy something. Don’t make me repeat myself.”
He then slowly slipped the coin between the man’s teeth with a smile. The man bit down hard to confirm it was real, then stepped aside to let them in.
“...Come in.”
“Ahem, ex, excuse us!”
Romandro coughed awkwardly and stuck close behind Ian. The man led them to the farthest room.
“Wait a moment. I’ll inform the boss.”
Knock knock.
Once the man vanished, Romandro unwittingly let out a breath, and Ian checked the compass.
‘Definitely here.’
Seven visible trader goons. Like an anthill, the place had plenty of hidden spaces, so exact numbers were impossible. As Ian eyed them, a few grinned lewdly. Romandro’s neck stiffened.
“Wh-why are they grinning like that...?”
“Looks like they fancy you, Romandro.”
“Gasp! Me?”
Creak.
“Well, well, what’s this? Customers on a non-market day? If the guards catch us, we’re really in trouble. The fines are brutal! Ahahaha!”
The boss seemed too young for a slave trader leader. His bold, sly eyes screamed merchant. He extended a hand to Ian in greeting.
“Pleased to meet you. Boss Pakenus.”
“No need for names on my end.”
“Of course. Don’t care either. Haha! Sit, sit!”
He masked himself with light laughter, but no slave trader was careless.
Ian sat and scanned the office. No personal touches anywhere. This was a temporary base used upon arriving in the capital—one they could abandon and flee from at a moment’s notice.
“So, what are you after? You must’ve sought us out specifically. I won’t say it ‘cause it sounds too salesy, but we’ve got everything except what we don’t. If it’s missing, I’ll scout alternatives quick and hook you up.”
Grinning ear to ear, Pakenus clasped his hands, urging Ian to speak. Ian flicked his eyes toward the men standing firm behind him.
“Sorry. We had a sneak thief break in last night.”
“Sneak thief?”
“No real damage, but signs of entry have everyone on edge. The guy who let you in doesn’t usually bend, but gold does tempt, doesn’t it?”
Ian was certain. That thief was Berik. He’d infiltrated this far, met Hasha, and called Ian at Hasha’s request.
Ian tapped the table with his fingertips.
“How much merchandise you got?”
“About thirty in stock right now.”
“Mind if I take a look around?”
“Sorry, we don’t show to non-buyers. Tell me what you want, and I’ll bring it here.”
Ian stared Pakenus down.
“You sell beasts too?”
“Beasts? Ah, yeah, sure. We’ve got some.”
“Looking for playthings and something sturdy for sword practice. Pick and bring recommendations—I’ll choose.”
“For sword practice! Great choice! Thick fat layers are best for that. Hold on.”
Pakenus and his men shut the door and left the office. But only one set of footsteps faded. The other two were guarding the door. Romandro noticed too and whispered to Ian.
“You think Hasha and Berik are caught here?”
“Hasha might be. If they found out he’s a talking dog. But the thief...”
“Berik, right?”
“Probably. Since he’s with Hasha, he’s hiding somewhere in the building.”
“So what do we do?”
Romandro shrugged and tossed the question back. They didn’t know what Hasha and Berik wanted, so rash moves were out. Call the guards and tear the place apart?
“I’ll let Berik know. That we’re here.”
Zing. Zzz.
Ian slowly released his mana. His eyes turned golden, and his hair fluttered in the low, rippling breeze. Romandro gulped, glancing between the door and Ian.
“You’re signaling with mana? Think that thickhead Berik will notice?”
Boom! Bang!
Then it came—a loud crash from outside. Ian stopped the mana flow and turned.
“Guess he did.”
* * *
“What’s that noise?”
“No idea.”
Pakenus halted on his way down to the basement prison with his men. The sound came from their destination, so caution was key.
Tap tap!
“Boss Pakenus! Boss!”
“It’s chaos! Quiet down!”
“No, it’s just...”
The underling scrambling up the stairs babbled incoherently. Thick smoke. Worried it might be fire, Pakenus covered his mouth with his sleeve and headed down.
Creeeak.
The half-smashed door swung open on its own. Torchlight from the passage illuminated the basement prison, where a white dog and an unfamiliar man sat. Red hair matted with his underling’s blood.
“What the...?”
“Hey! Our master’s here, right?”
“Y-you, how did you get...”
“Our master’s here!?”
Berik infused his sword with mana and hopped to his feet.
Hasha did the same, bolting down the opposite passage while bellowing.
—Astanan! It’s time! Our savior’s here! Everyone, get up!