72 Ashan 719
The Market in Lair wasn’t like the Market in Shanty or the Market in Gleam. Yet the market in Lair had the most to offer than any other in Quacia. Housed inside the stone architecture of a den, it kept out the elements of rain and wind, but it also kept out those who might interfere with the various merchandise that was on offer. Slavery wasn’t illegal in Quacia, but there were certain other reasons why Lair had their own slave’s market away from proper society. Here, they had more than mere ithecals for sale.
Zarik walked along the crowd, encased in dark attire of black leathers. He had his hood drawn up, to shadow his face from view, and not a bit of his skin or features could be seen. The only thing that truly could, other than his tall, lean masculine figure, was the gossamer wings that kept folded against his backside and a ring of iridescent light that hovered above his head as a halo. Both of which marked him clearly to anyone with eyes and the slightest knowledge of such things: the man was a mage - another thing allowed in Quacia, though treated warily by those who did not wish to get caught up in such matters as the arcane.
There was a reason why he kept hidden though. In the past trials, Zarik had gathered a reputation for himself. He was known as a lord, as a husband, and as someone who didn’t belong in Lair anymore. The first two were no longer true, however, but the last… it was better if he kept his identity as quiet as possible. Luckily, his reputation didn’t include his halo and wings in how most people described him in their rumors and gossip.
He kept a hand on his belt where his coin purse was, wary of pick-pockets. Zarik listened to the various stall owners shout about their illicit wares. There were herbs that weren’t supposed to be allowed through the gates of Condemnation and liquors not accepted by the ports. People offered up items of enchantment, artifacts that weren’t supposed to exist but somehow had made it the filthy south corner of the world so that Quacians could haggle between themselves about it. Zarik kept a sharp ear, listening for any mention of echo scrolls or likewise.
But there was more than simple items he was here for… Zarik turned a corner, walking through the interior market, and descended the stairs to a lower down level. A large platform was in the center of the basement level, and on the platform, people were in chains: ithecals, humans, biqajs, and so on. There was no discrimination as to who was stripped down to the barest of coarse clothing and shackled to the bolts in the stone floor. Around them, slave traders paced with whips in hand and ready swords at their hips - ready to quell any uprising that might take place.
A few merchants called out, trying to entice the meandering Quacians to consider purchase of this slave or that. Women with ample figures, ready to be used… in the kitchens. Muscular Lotharro offered up to use like dogs in the fighting pits or for hard labor. Zarik recognized a few Guild members lingering around the few Lothar men, pinching at them with metal clasps as if to check the certainty of the muscles and the sharpness of their bestial teeth. Here, one could truly find any type of slave they wanted… and so Zarik hurried down the steps and entered the slave market.
He held his cloak tighter around him, and made sure his features couldn’t be seen. Zarik didn’t want to be recognized. He listened to the overlapping pitches of the merchants. He hesitated, as one of the more boisterous men flurried his hands in gesture to a large woman who had a glower on her face. It wasn’t his first time in the slave market, but it was his first time with actual nel to purchase with. Before had been more out of curiosity and interest in the case that he might one trial be able to keep a slave. While he wouldn’t have as much wealth as if he’d stayed under his husband’s command, he had stored enough that a cheaper slave would be a feasible investment.
There were many reasons he wished for one too. He simply needed to find the most reasonable deal of the lot… someone who wouldn’t require too much training, and could potentially earn more money for their household - as well as earn their keep. Zarik hesitated, then nearly jumped out of his skin when a woman spoke next to his shoulder.
“She’s a fine cook, that one,” said the sly Quacian lady with a heavy Vahanic accent. She pointed at the plump older woman who glowered at them. “Used to have a mouth on her, but we forked her tongue so she doesn’t say anything now.”
“Sh-she’s a bit.. Too…” he stammered, unwilling to say what he thought.
“Ah, yes, she is,” agreed the woman to his unspoken thought. “What are you looking for, sir? Perhaps I can direct you to a suitable purchase. I speak common well.”
She started to lead, the skirts of her lace dress dragged over the stone floor. In her hands, she held a feathered fan. He supposed she was a merchant, or perhaps a negotiator of sorts that acted on behalf of the slave traders.
“I’m looking for someone a bit more…” he hesitated then said, “Domesticated than these. They all look so…”
“Wild?” she finished his sentence for him. “That’s because they are. We only bring the rough labor and those who required more brutal training to the Lair market. If it’s domestic slaves you’re seeking, those are kept elsewhere.”
“Elsewhere?” he asked surprised. Zarik didn’t know that the slave market was split in such a manner. He said, “Are they nearby?”
“I can take you there,” she offered. “We have a tunnel leading to it. But first I must ask to see proof of nel. At least ten gold for entry.”
Zarik felt around his coin purse, then held out the ten gold for her to look at. She took five from the top, then whistled at a nearby merchant who nodded at her. She gestured for him to follow.
They went through a tunnel of stone and dirt, until they went up stairs, and then reached the interior hall of a place that Zarik didn’t recognize. He asked, “Where are we?”
“This is the private auction room of Maestro Danilo, who sits upon the Guild of Industry,” she answered.
“O-oh,” said Zarik and he tried not to concern himself too much about this fact. He saw a few other people in the room, and heard what sounded like bare feet pattering on nearby stone. The woman nodded to a couple of the other people who looked similar to her in dress and beside them, they had also brought potential buyers to the private auction.
“Will the slaves be shown soon?” asked a gruff man with a handlebar mustache from the corner. He crossed his arms and seemed impatient, though Zarik didn’t know how long he’d been waiting. Zarik had only just arrived after all.
“Yes, yes, here they come now,” said the woman as she gestured for the slaves to be brought in.
Zarik walked along the crowd, encased in dark attire of black leathers. He had his hood drawn up, to shadow his face from view, and not a bit of his skin or features could be seen. The only thing that truly could, other than his tall, lean masculine figure, was the gossamer wings that kept folded against his backside and a ring of iridescent light that hovered above his head as a halo. Both of which marked him clearly to anyone with eyes and the slightest knowledge of such things: the man was a mage - another thing allowed in Quacia, though treated warily by those who did not wish to get caught up in such matters as the arcane.
There was a reason why he kept hidden though. In the past trials, Zarik had gathered a reputation for himself. He was known as a lord, as a husband, and as someone who didn’t belong in Lair anymore. The first two were no longer true, however, but the last… it was better if he kept his identity as quiet as possible. Luckily, his reputation didn’t include his halo and wings in how most people described him in their rumors and gossip.
He kept a hand on his belt where his coin purse was, wary of pick-pockets. Zarik listened to the various stall owners shout about their illicit wares. There were herbs that weren’t supposed to be allowed through the gates of Condemnation and liquors not accepted by the ports. People offered up items of enchantment, artifacts that weren’t supposed to exist but somehow had made it the filthy south corner of the world so that Quacians could haggle between themselves about it. Zarik kept a sharp ear, listening for any mention of echo scrolls or likewise.
But there was more than simple items he was here for… Zarik turned a corner, walking through the interior market, and descended the stairs to a lower down level. A large platform was in the center of the basement level, and on the platform, people were in chains: ithecals, humans, biqajs, and so on. There was no discrimination as to who was stripped down to the barest of coarse clothing and shackled to the bolts in the stone floor. Around them, slave traders paced with whips in hand and ready swords at their hips - ready to quell any uprising that might take place.
A few merchants called out, trying to entice the meandering Quacians to consider purchase of this slave or that. Women with ample figures, ready to be used… in the kitchens. Muscular Lotharro offered up to use like dogs in the fighting pits or for hard labor. Zarik recognized a few Guild members lingering around the few Lothar men, pinching at them with metal clasps as if to check the certainty of the muscles and the sharpness of their bestial teeth. Here, one could truly find any type of slave they wanted… and so Zarik hurried down the steps and entered the slave market.
He held his cloak tighter around him, and made sure his features couldn’t be seen. Zarik didn’t want to be recognized. He listened to the overlapping pitches of the merchants. He hesitated, as one of the more boisterous men flurried his hands in gesture to a large woman who had a glower on her face. It wasn’t his first time in the slave market, but it was his first time with actual nel to purchase with. Before had been more out of curiosity and interest in the case that he might one trial be able to keep a slave. While he wouldn’t have as much wealth as if he’d stayed under his husband’s command, he had stored enough that a cheaper slave would be a feasible investment.
There were many reasons he wished for one too. He simply needed to find the most reasonable deal of the lot… someone who wouldn’t require too much training, and could potentially earn more money for their household - as well as earn their keep. Zarik hesitated, then nearly jumped out of his skin when a woman spoke next to his shoulder.
“She’s a fine cook, that one,” said the sly Quacian lady with a heavy Vahanic accent. She pointed at the plump older woman who glowered at them. “Used to have a mouth on her, but we forked her tongue so she doesn’t say anything now.”
“Sh-she’s a bit.. Too…” he stammered, unwilling to say what he thought.
“Ah, yes, she is,” agreed the woman to his unspoken thought. “What are you looking for, sir? Perhaps I can direct you to a suitable purchase. I speak common well.”
She started to lead, the skirts of her lace dress dragged over the stone floor. In her hands, she held a feathered fan. He supposed she was a merchant, or perhaps a negotiator of sorts that acted on behalf of the slave traders.
“I’m looking for someone a bit more…” he hesitated then said, “Domesticated than these. They all look so…”
“Wild?” she finished his sentence for him. “That’s because they are. We only bring the rough labor and those who required more brutal training to the Lair market. If it’s domestic slaves you’re seeking, those are kept elsewhere.”
“Elsewhere?” he asked surprised. Zarik didn’t know that the slave market was split in such a manner. He said, “Are they nearby?”
“I can take you there,” she offered. “We have a tunnel leading to it. But first I must ask to see proof of nel. At least ten gold for entry.”
Zarik felt around his coin purse, then held out the ten gold for her to look at. She took five from the top, then whistled at a nearby merchant who nodded at her. She gestured for him to follow.
They went through a tunnel of stone and dirt, until they went up stairs, and then reached the interior hall of a place that Zarik didn’t recognize. He asked, “Where are we?”
“This is the private auction room of Maestro Danilo, who sits upon the Guild of Industry,” she answered.
“O-oh,” said Zarik and he tried not to concern himself too much about this fact. He saw a few other people in the room, and heard what sounded like bare feet pattering on nearby stone. The woman nodded to a couple of the other people who looked similar to her in dress and beside them, they had also brought potential buyers to the private auction.
“Will the slaves be shown soon?” asked a gruff man with a handlebar mustache from the corner. He crossed his arms and seemed impatient, though Zarik didn’t know how long he’d been waiting. Zarik had only just arrived after all.
“Yes, yes, here they come now,” said the woman as she gestured for the slaves to be brought in.
