Reviving a Dead Proposal

I drove the trucks toward the estate in Alexandria. The moment I was inside, I opened the gate and crossed over into Gaia.

The next morning, work on the lord's castle was in full swing. At the sight of the approaching trucks, the slaves and Marco came forward to greet me.

"You've returned, Guildmaster."

"Yeah. Nothing happened while I was gone?"

"No, sir. Did the hunt go well this time?"

"Of course. Not bad at all. There's a matter I'll have to settle going forward, but first we unload."

The cargo doors at the rear of the parked trucks swung open, and the slaves lined up to haul out sacks of fertilizer packed to the brim. It was stock for the great farm I meant to run. Gaia could already boast an untouched natural bounty, but add the strength of chemical fertilizer and the yield would only climb higher.

Once both trucks had been emptied, we moved on to the next job. IS-1 and IS-2 climbed in, each took a place at the far end of a cargo bed, and called out the starter phrase.

"Open, sweet potato."

With the words, the iron plate sealing the way vanished, and the hidden space showed itself — the section widened by spatial expansion. The plate that had covered it was gone without a trace. I had built it with that in mind from the moment the expansion was first laid in. In the real world, anyone at all might have had cause to look.

Inside the space newly opened, the cargo bed — stacked two tiers high — was crammed with the goods taken in Somalia, all of them sitting there with nothing to do but roll their eyes.

"Everybody down! Move out — now!"

At the slaves' order, the merchandise that had been sitting filed off the trucks and walked out into the open. Faced with the foreign land, fear crossed their faces, and they glanced about.

Marco studied the murmuring goods with open curiosity.

"This lot is dark-skinned?"

"Yeah. Think they won't fetch what they're worth?"

"Well. If you mean to sell them as sex slaves, it could be a problem. Customers with a taste for dark skin are rare, after all. But if they're for the farm, they'll do fine. A black horse or a dun one — hauling a wagon is the same work either way. Slaves are no different."

"Then I suppose that's fine."

Even so, it stung. I had already tasted the sex-slave market, where the real added value lay. Still, I would have to be satisfied with this.

"What will you do with this batch?"

"We don't need more hands on site?"

"No, sir. The heavy work that eats labor is already finished. Even if ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they stayed, there would be nowhere for them to work."

"Then I'll just sell them off. That's better, isn't it? Where's the market good these days?"

"It's the off-season, so they're all much the same. Trimalia is close. What do you think of going there?"

"Yeah? Then you hold things down. I'll make the trip."

"You will? I could go myself."

"No. There are a few things I want to look for while I'm there. I'll kill two birds with one stone."

"Yes, sir. Travel safely."

They had been shut in for a long time, so I gave the merchandise two days' rest. They would have to ride a long way again, and proper rest mattered. They needed to be in good shape if they were going to fetch their price.

While they rested, I walked the construction site, with Marco and Enne and her daughters following to explain how the work stood.

"This is where the spire will rise."

"The master's chambers will go in over this way."

"The wall runs from here out that way, and the gate will stand in the middle, right there. It will be a pair of swinging doors, with a thick wooden bar on the inside. Against emergency, we mean to hang one more barrier wall above the gate. Ordinarily it stays suspended over the entrance, and if trouble comes you cut the rope and it drops to seal the way."

The lord's castle was beginning to take a recognizable shape. On a foundation tamped solid, they were raising walls of fired clay brick. Quarried stone would have been sturdier, but the wall was only the last line of defense. I had no intention of pouring money into it. Better to invest in the weapons and deal with an enemy before they ever reached the stone.

"And there, and there — watchtowers will go up in eight places in all, just as you ordered. Once all eight are standing, they should cover every blind spot in every direction, the cliffs on the seaward side included."

At intervals along the curtain, rounded bastions were under construction, jutting out from the wall in a circle. Watchtowers to keep an eye on the approaches — and if I mounted defensive weapons there, they would earn their keep.

"We also consulted the mage tower in Trimalia about the matter you mentioned. Around the time our tower is finished, they mean to come out and lay in the enchantments."

"Good. You've worked hard."

"Not at all."

Enne showed me through what would become the central garden and the greenhouse inside the castle, the dining hall and the banquet hall, the bedchambers and the baths. I didn't mean the interior to be lavish overall, only clean and orderly. Spending past that felt like a waste, and once I was living here and earning, I could always invest further later.

The cost of raising a lord's castle turned out to be considerable. Three thousand gold had already gone in, and by the time the work was finished I expected more than seven thousand gold to have been sunk into it. I had held eighty-five hundred gold when construction began, so I was all but emptying the coffers. That was why I needed to sell the slaves I had brought and raise fresh funds.

"I'm going to have to do more hunting on Earth."

After getting tangled up with the CIA, I had meant to lie low for a while. Maybe I needed to find another way.

I finished the tour, ate, and rested inside my private air tent. I let the day pass slowly, and the next morning I pointed the trucks toward Trimalia.

The slave market of Trimalia. Counting the slaves taken in Somalia together with a hundred captured before them, I sold off four hundred and ninety. Some went retail, but most of the volume I dumped in bulk on wholesalers who had come to buy.

"Twenty or so ought to do me."

"Just twenty for me as well. No — not those. The ones in the back."

"This lot looks a bit spoiled. Knock the price down. Hey now, we're all in the same trade — why be like this? Just a little more off, come on."

Even selling them through unhurried haggling burned a good deal of stamina. Trimalia was called a royal capital, but its market was no great city on the order of Gerona or Harpeon, and there was a ceiling to its size. Only after a full week had I managed to sell off every slave I had brought, and some of the deals were not for coin at all, but barter for other slaves.

The greatest problem in Transilia, my fief, was the ratio of men to women. I would sell the male slaves off in time, but for the moment there were far too many men. So I traded about a hundred of them for women who had come up on the Trimalia market.

The take from selling four hundred and ninety slaves stood as follows.

With the price per head sliding into the high sevens in gold, the revenue wasn't all ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that large. Next to the peak market in Gerona, the unit price had fallen hard. Even so, it was hardly a small sum. Worked out in won, it came to some 16.6 billion. The trouble was that once I became a castle lord, the units I spent money in had grown absurdly large. Well. Nothing for it but to keep at the work.

With the money from the sale in hand, I called at the mage tower. Whether from our last transaction or not, the tower's chief mage greeted me like an old acquaintance the moment he saw me.

"A pleasure, Baron Terra."

"It's been a while."

"Yes. What brings you by today?"

"I'd like to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠commission a few pieces. If you have something suitable, I may buy it on the spot."

"I see. Please, come inside."

Sure enough, Earth or this world, a VIP received special treatment just the same. I followed the guide into a comfortable room, settled onto a plush sofa, and the chief mage sat down across from me.

"Now then — might you tell me what it is you require?"

With my business in Trimalia finished, I returned to Transilia and went over the interim books with Marco. Setting aside the funds already sunk into construction, what remained of the money from this sale, and what I had spent ordering new goods from the mage tower, the capital left over stood as follows.

In that span the number of residents had grown by a hundred and fifty. While I was away, slash-and-burn farmers and refugees who had heard the rumors came looking. If they meant to swell my population for free, I had no reason to refuse. People were assets.

The rest of the books ran like this.

There were sundry little magic items besides, but even leaving those out, this was the shape of it. And with the work still ahead, I couldn't stop investing. I called Marco in and gave him a new order.

"A sailing ship, my lord?"

"Yes. Moving by sea from here instead of overland will save time and cut the cost. How much budget will it take?"

"Even an ordinary sailing ship would run three to four thousand gold. One fitted with spatial expansion — I should think six thousand at the least."

Damn it. That was nearly what a lesser fief went for. Then again, of course it was.

"Look into the ships for now. And sailors to crew them."

"Yes, my lord."

I left the matter with Marco and decided to head back to Earth. Anyone whose face had been burned by the last job would stay behind. In place of the old crew, I made ready Giovanni and the three newly taken in Somalia — One, Two, and Three.

Maximus would remain here and take charge of military training for the orphans, the residents, and the slaves.

The pair who had taken to life here with surprising ease were Giovanni and Moreno. They had come up inside an organization and had run a fairly large one themselves, and perhaps that was why they had the slaves bent to their will in short order and worked them with a practiced hand. Once the two settled in as middle managers, a proper chain of command took hold among the slaves as well. Even so, I brought Giovanni back to Earth rather than Moreno, who had been the boss. Giovanni's face was the less exposed of the two.

The Alexandria estate. Choi Jeong-ah said there wasn't much time left before she had to return to Korea, and she was out filming without rest. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I found myself counting the days again as well. I had wanted to pull one fat score before heading back to Korea, and walking out of Somalia without managing it still gnawed at me — even if I had talked myself into lying low.

Partly to clear my head, I turned on the television. A special bulletin happened to be airing.

Al-Shabaab? They pulled off a bombing at the U.S. Embassy?

Watching the news, an idea flashed through my head. At once I recalled the card of the agent I had seen at the airport last time. His number had been written along the bottom.

I called for a slave.

"Giovanni."

"Yes, Chairman."

"Look me up a plane ticket."

"Where should I book it?"

"Somalia. Mogadishu — the soonest one you can find."

Maybe I wouldn't have to shut the Somalia business down after all.