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Chapter 2
🕑 Added 2024-01-29 15:40:17 +0000 UTCChapter 2
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What does the average fantasy fan usually imagine when it comes to fantasy outlaws? The answer is easy - a bunch of dirty, smelly, and overgrown men, armed with whatever they can find and with no discipline at all. In many cases, especially if we are talking about low-ranking brigands of yesterday's plowmen, this picture is almost indistinguishable from reality. Otherwise, there are almost always at least a few overlaps.
These brigands clearly did not read any clichéd fantasy, and they did not forget about personal hygiene. They had a neat appearance, very high levels, and a distinct aura of professionalism that was more akin to army men than to real thugs. In general, my suspicions about the strangeness of the situation arose almost immediately when my shadows detected the four of them.
Although I'm getting ahead of myself because we didn't know much about the bandits, to begin with. My clairvoyance fed me a few unhelpful facts, like the color of the eyes of the travelers murdered in the clearing, or what their killers ate for dinner. Hans and his specialized skills were quite clear on the direction the bandits were moving, and I saw something of that myself, but we didn't know the background of the events.
"In short, it was like this." The former King's Border Guard's imposing attitude was gone as soon as he got down to business. "There were five travelers, not family, all young, it seemed. They walked without carts and luggage, which is strange - the road is deserted, only various villages nearby. They were exhausted and settled down for the night, and, without making a fire, directly on the ground. At night they were found and killed."
At the moment Hans looked more like a retired Special Forces major than a jolly womanizer. He looked as good as Losius, even if the impression was of a different kind. I'd never seen him like that even in the goblin woods, and it was more serious there than here. Apparently, the man's fervent love for the criminal element was even stronger than I had originally thought.
The object of my reflection itself shadowed toward the edge of the clearing, pointing out the details that he alone could see, which I immediately began to decipher with an inquisitive gaze that had been switched to active mode. The pathfinder's fingers barely touched the ground, the grass, and the bark of trees, as if reading the information with just a touch.
Four. They walked confidently through the forest. They surrounded the clearing and put the villagers in the grass. Resistance was minimal, they were taken alive. Then they were all interrogated and killed, and then dragged the corpses deeper into the woods. They weren't lazy and carried them in their arms, so they wouldn't leave a drag. We should look where they were thrown.
This was where my skills, namely the sphere of shadows, came in handy. I knew what I was supposed to be looking for, and I immediately found it. And indeed, the bastards were not lazy - the bodies were carried on their backs for nearly a mile and a half, leaving them at the very edge of my senses, piled with branches and poured over with some dissolving stuff. It was strange that they hadn't buried them, leaving the acid-whitened bones to the beast, but they probably figured no one would go that deep into the woods.
"It's a mile and a half that way." I point my finger."Six remains, piled up in a heap and covered with twigs. They looked like they'd been doused with some kind of acid, so much so that I wouldn't have found any bodies if I hadn't been sifting through everything."
The jaeger only nodded at my words, scratching his chin thoughtfully and figuring something out in his mind. I could tell from his displeased face that the equation didn't add up, which made Hans a little angry.
"It's all weird." He finally summed it up. "I'd understand if the bitchy road rats had done a nice, clever job. There are some really careful fellows among them who don't like to leave traces. But this alchemy... that's a bit much. If scum like that buys potions, it's certainly not that kind. Are they bandits?"
"Let's go see, I guess," Losius suggested, and he gripped his blade more comfortably. " I don't want to sleep in such a dangerous place, anyway, where obscure bandits, who may not even be bandits, roam about as if they were at home."
I look silently at Taria, who only shrugs in response. As you wish, Boss, so be it. The girl herself, who had changed her dress for sturdy traveling clothes and even dressed in the lightest possible armor, was not worried at all, being fully confident in my strength. She was impressed by the massacre of the overly intemperate mercenaries, impressed indeed.
"Tie up the horses, give them some oats, and we can move out." The nobleman summed up and went to stall his transport.
I just proudly turned away and passed the care of my abominable creature on to my subordinates. It may be immoral, but, you know, these animals really piss me off. Riding is three times more exhausting than running and even faster than those nags.
With the quiet laughter of my comrades-in-arms, and under the scornful gaze of my Nemesis of four hooves, I began to set alchemical traps around the camp, remembering to say out loud twice what and where I was leaving it. And be sure to wait for an answer from each of the three, except Ygra. The latter was now chewing on a deer a mile away from us, not intending to impose her company. Thanks for the fact that swamp ogres are naturally creepy introverts, for I do not want to imagine what it would be like for me if she was as social as goblins, for example.
Half an hour later, we were standing over a small hole - acid rather than dug - where the remains of the dead lay. The bones were white-white and melted as if they were wax candles. While Hans prowls around looking for traces, I myself twirl the phalanx of someone's finger in my hands, simultaneously grinding essentialism.
My attempt to figure out what was doused in the corpses by reagent breakdown was unexpectedly successful, though I didn't expect it myself. It was either luck or intuition that allowed me to find the hidden mechanism of my abilities on the first try, but the system message that popped up made me feel better, and I was happy about the increase in my class skill.
Reagent breakdown: 4/5
Allows easy extraction of essences from alchemical reagents; difficulty depends on the rank of the reagent, its quantity, characteristics, and user skills; allows you to hold and manipulate the collected essence; allows you to better understand the nature and origin of essences; compositions created from pure essences are guaranteed to be of higher quality; compositions created with essences have a chance to get a higher grade or additional effects (the effect depends on the original reagents); at maximum concentration, allows you to get a higher grade or additional effects (the effect depends on the original reagents)
It's about time, I must say, that this bonus popped up. I am even willing to endure the resulting mild migraine (I didn't even get a nosebleed!), since my abilities are developing. I put the pain and joy aside, getting instead scattered and unhelpful information about the essence in the bone.
The bone itself can be seen without any problems, but what I need is not a bone, not a part of the human body, but exactly what melted the bone, partially merged with its structure. The essentialism worked together with clairvoyance, which allowed me to get at least some crumbs of information, which I was able to merge into one picture.
"The acid is alchemical, which I think is obvious," I announced my verdict, getting reactions from both Hans, who was digging through the remaining traces, and from Losius and Taria, who were playing the local equivalent of rock, scissors, and paper. "But I can say other things, too. First, this stuff was very fresh, literally not a week from creation. Second, continuing with the first, the compound itself is short-lived, which means an unpleasant fact. Even though the creator of the potion is clearly not the most powerful alchemist, he probably works for brigands. And I don't exclude that he works for them alone."
Hans cursed in response to my tirade, and a satisfied Taria hid two silver coins in her pocket, having somehow managed to beat the much faster and more agile duelist. Parasites! I'm playing detective here, and they don't give a damn!
"I'm pretty sure they're not bandits." Remarks Hans. "I have no idea who they are or what the hell they're doing in this neck of the woods, but they're too good for ordinary rats."
For a few seconds, I thought about going back to the sleeping place in peace, giving up on the incomprehensible murderers, who, in fact, are not my concern. Then I looked at the bones of the innocently murdered and was determined to avenge their deaths... Well, who am I to lie, I was just ready to fight the legendary creature again, just to avoid going back to my bloodthirsty nag!
"Can you track them?" I ask the most competent tracker among us all.
"Not without problems, the tracks are old, and the bastards themselves are not bad at walking, but I can do it," He answers me gloomily. "We'll catch up, we'll ask them, we'll strangle them, and then we'll go on."
"I have nothing against punishing murderers, so you can count on me." Simple and mundane, as if he were signing up for a walk, said Losius.
"And I need the levels." Not at all embarrassed, and not trying to pretend to be the best she was, Taria said. "And practice, too, because I'm about to lose the rest of my mind from the torment of the breaks."
The girl chose not to notice the aristocrat's critical gaze, looking at me expectantly. Like, come on, praise me, Kostya, praise me completely!
We should tie the horses properly and leave them some food so they don't scatter while we're gone. And then we can give the bitches some pepper and honey to make them shit their pants.
I sighed, surprised at Hans's enthusiasm, and began laying more traps around the camp. Losing all my belongings just because I decided to go on a rampage would be an epic failure.
Before they left, Losius returned and covered the bones of the dead with a layer of heavenly power, giving the souls peace and ensuring that the undead would not spawn themselves in the place. The alchemy used by the killers was supposed to prevent the rise, but there's no telling. And it's also worthwhile to give the unknowing dead a good burial, even if it's only in passing.
Even if they were complete creeps, which is doubtful, death forgave them.
Death forgives everyone.
I was internally reconciled to spend at least another week in the woods, but our supposed adversaries weren't idiots to hide that deep, either. They had a long way to go to get back from there, and time was of the essence.
The fateful - for them - meeting happened in the evening when Taria managed to take the second level in the skill of reading traces and almost passed out from fatigue. I, too, got it and in record time brought it up to ten - the consequence of high perception and perk of Incvisitive Eye boosting the growth of skill, because of which I developed really fast. I had never needed this skill before - I had enough sphere and clairvoyance. It's still a little more than completely useless to me now, but since it's developing, I don't want to let it get in the way.
To return to the subject - we were ready to get up for the night, to give Tarya a rest, and not to go in the night in the unknown, but it was at that moment that the sphere detected our mutts. They were sitting very well, in a specially made hiding place, located in the crown of a lone tree of an obscure variety, right on the edge of a wide clearing. The position was so well chosen that it completely blocked all the directions of movement that could be seen even with the sphere.
The steep precipice and the river on one side, and several deep ravines, gradually changing to a swamp on the other, left us with only two options - forward, straight to the patrol post, and back, to the place we came from. Apparently, this place was a natural fortress, which was not easy to get into.
A flash of clairvoyance confirmed my assumptions while revealing other details as well. For example, the funny fact is that only a few paths were leading to the center of the fortress, including even a very old but still usable road. Except that all these paths were sealed off from all sides, which allowed them to feel secure from espionage as well as from invasion. All the same, clairvoyance told me that crossing rivers, ravines, or marshes were an almost impossible task for any significant force. Storming the outlaws' strongholds would only be possible if the attackers were outnumbered and outmaneuvered, and even then losses would be imminent.
But the most important protection of this once-preserved place - before the appearance of bandits - was anonymity and obscurity. That is why the locals tried so hard to keep their presence a secret and leave no traces that could lead to them. Traces such as a few abandoned corpses beside the road, for example.
How interesting everything is, though.
I had to leave my comrades-in-arms at the resting place, which they had decided to arrange and go quietly to scout the surroundings. Four men were sitting in a tree hideout, and they were all at fairly good levels - all of them with classes. Two archers with crossbows at the thirteenth, an archer at the fourteenth, and a poacher at the sixteenth. The latter was needed to set up and take care of the many mechanical traps that densely overlapped the available territory. Not that they were set up at every turn, but they blocked all likely paths of movement with assurance.
A couple of magic tricks were present, too, perfectly palpable in the shadows. They weren't impressive in comparison to the dungeons of the ancient necropolis, but I remembered the strange trap that managed to hide from my sense of danger and shadow senses. There would hardly be one here, for I can't even guess the price of such a miracle. On the other hand, I don't need more than one to be headless.
After circling the tree, scanning again for anything that seemed suspicious, I tried to sense the camp, but it was apparently much farther away than my shadows indicated. I walked almost two kilometers forward, finding several quite obvious trails (trail reading, yes) trodden by the locals, but I never found the camp. Clairvoyance told me that the area itself is quite vast, and no one uses this side. They just put an outpost here, just in case.
I'm beginning to respect the local ringleader, and I'm beginning to believe less and less that they're outlaws. As if we didn't accidentally find some secret base of the local secret service. It's all too suspicious. The clairvoyance, apparently considering its duty done, responded to my requests very reluctantly, not giving out any serious data.
Having given up on finding the camp, I decided to deal with the outpost first. It was at that moment that I sensed another four men moving in the direction of the outpost, presumably straight from the camp. Even without clairvoyance, I could guess that these fellows would act as replacements for those already sitting in the hut.
The torment of choice, honestly - to kill both fours or let one of them go first, and then take the other to have a longer window of time to plan. My thirst for experience demanded that I kill them all, but common sense, on the contrary, told me to wait and understand the situation. For once I decided to listen to my brains, and then I went to my guys to report the data I had collected.
I have a feeling this situation won't be as easy as it might seem.
"That's the way it is, folks." Finishing a brief retelling of my conclusions. "What do we do now?"
All three of us looked very thoughtful, and for different reasons. Hans was clearly overestimating his conclusions about the danger of our adversaries. Losius was assessing the prospect of conflict with the Secret Watchmen if their training camp were here. And Taria - thank you, clairvoyant, for that information - was wondering if she could trick me into making a healing hand cream to rid her hands of the many scratches she'd received on the road through the forest she'd just learned to walk through.
And only Ygra, who, on my quick teleportation order, moved into the swamps that (if I'm not mistaken) surround the camp, was absolutely happy: the prospect of a good hunt, a recently eaten boar, and her native habitat! What else does this fool need to be happy?
"Given our situation, a conflict with the secret watch, if it is them, is inevitable anyway, so I see no reason why we can't engage in a conflict. But I'd rather question the local sentinels first, before rushing into battle. I thought you said you could brew both a tincture of truth and a potion of oblivion, Tin?"
Losius, as always, was judicious, wanting to minimize the risks. My opinion is identical to his - if there are too serious guys sitting here, it would be better for us to leave quietly while we can than to rush into a fight we don't need personally.
"I can, of course." I calmly agree, snacking on some nuts in honey at the same time.
In general, it was not for nothing that I decided to spend money on normal food for the road, not for nothing at all - such fast food not only tastes better than the old corned beef and cookies, but it is also healthier. And in a pinch, these peanuts can be used for alchemical ingredients. I'm not kidding, because my gift right now tells me that these nuts can be used to make three different potions. And if you take different kinds of nuts, you can make all nine of them.
"And I can do even better than you!" Proudly and accusingly, Taria declares at the same time.
She's no kidding either, by the way. With her hypnotic tits she could take over a major city, not to mention erase the memory of four robbers by interrogating them. It was largely because of this ability that I didn't kill her back in the day.
"So can you, who argues." I nod silently and nonchalantly, continuing to eat peanuts, which infuriates the girl to the point of redness of the tips of her ears.
Losius and Hans look at each other, assessing Taria with a new eye, since they had not seen her status, and therefore were unaware of the dangers presented by her naked breasts.
We argued with each other, with Hans' sarcastic comments and Losius' restrained laughter, trying hard to keep a serious expression on our faces. Damn it, we'll have to go into battle in a couple of hours, and we're fooling around. It's a shame we can't laugh - we don't have that much distance to the hiding place, and the hearing here is perfect.
The circus is gone, but the clowns in our faces will carry anyone away.
To my surprise, the other four didn't stay the night, heading for camp in the night, which was a dangerous decision. Even if they hadn't set any traps on the other side, they still had a good chance of tripping over some indistinguishable snag in the darkness and breaking their legs, if not their necks. Something tells me that with their thirst for conspiracy, there's no way to light torches unless you want to be punished by your superiors, whatever they may be.
The answer to this riddle was instantly obtained, as soon as the fighters went into the night, they took out a small vial. I could have guessed after finding the acid-dissolved bodies - alchemy was not in short supply here. The night vision potion was one of the most popular and sought-after "limited combat" compositions. And there were so many recipes for this potion that it was not even funny. I was the only one who empirically found four varieties with different ingredients, and there were many more!
Anyway, the old shift left, and half an hour later it was out of my perception, leaving our four (Ygra, waiting for orders, didn't count) alone with the enemy four. This time the lineup was a little different - one archer, one bowman, one hunter (a semi-combat class, probably here for trap control), and one huntsman. Not a tracker like Hans, who was a jaeger by position, but a jaeger by class. Unlike a standard tracker, a jaeger is an unusual grade, even if it is far from rare. But having such a class in a level fourteen "outlaw" only adds suspicion to the pile.
We decided to take these mongrels at once. All sorts of clever tricks, like attacking just before dawn and other nonsense, were easily outweighed by the need to get information quickly, as well as by our levels. Even if I didn't participate, Hans, Losius, and the not-so-defenseless Taria alone would be enough to nail these birds (sitting in a crone) without loss. With me, I just don't see what force majeure could happen in a capture attempt.
After all, what could possibly go wrong?
Nothing went wrong, for it was strictly according to Hans's plan, which he was executing. My role was to be a safety net in case the tracker got it wrong, but the man was a tough guy, and his advanced level, combined with his increased characteristics and knowledge of the techniques of such guys, prevented him from screwing up.
Under the cover of night, Hans, who had his own equivalent of night vision, went around all the traps, which I had listed in advance and indicated their locations, and then easily climbed the tree, disarming the alarms. The alarms were clearly set on the [bleep] out, just not believing in a possible attack. This is a living example of the need for extreme caution. Not that normal alarms could have saved them, but I had to grumble, as a true sofa expert should.
Oh, where are you, my sofa?
The epic battle did not happen; a few paces away from the ambushing men, Hans did not risk sneaking into the gatehouse - he was not me with my stealth, he could have made a noise - and simply threw in a small gas bomb with a sleeping potion that I had made on the fly from the herbs I could find. By morning this hastily made stuff would be useless, but within a day I could knock bulls off their feet with it.
The four men, not the highest-ranked, were clearly not bulls, unless figuratively, so they didn't even have time to be surprised. No, maybe they would have reacted to the attack, but only if they were focused and ready to fight. Relaxed and almost joking, they were doomed - not even a single breath was required since my composition was contacting and did not require one.
After that, all I had to do was wait a minute for the potion to dissolve, and then drag out the sleeping beauties, search them, and tie them up tightly. By the way, they had with them a fairly good quality signal amulet, designed to sound the alarm. It makes sense because, without the ability to quickly yell "men, we're being killed here," their very stay at the post would be useless.
The whole operation went according to plan I even got nervous at first.
"You know who you bitches crossed the road with? We're walking under such people that it's like woo!" That's how the youngest of the men who had just regained consciousness greeted our company. "You're buried alive!"
Hans, of course, was good - he kicked him in the kidneys as if he had kicked a free-kick at a soccer goal, which immediately shut up the most talkative one, destroying his arrogance, and with the second kick, he also took away his liver. I guess he didn't measure his strength.
"You don't learn a fucking thing." Doomfully the pathfinder responded to the situation as a whole.
Judging by my companion's reaction to the talker's speech and the distinctive language it contained, these guys were closer to bandits than to the security forces. No, they may mislead us with such pretenses, but the gust of the talker was too sincere, and the vocabulary of the law-enforcers is not so similar to that of bandits. Even if they behave almost identically, and at times without almost.
"Shall we talk?" The former border guard smiles the most disposing smile that would make any mirror crack. "Or shall we do it the hard way?"
To the credit of all four of them, they logically assumed that they would not be released alive, so they were not going to make life easy for us. Well, the three of them certainly weren't, for the archer, who had received the life-giving beating, was only howling in pain, not distracting for complicated plans and strategies of escape.
"For facking what?" The highest-ranked one, with jaeger class, asked reasonably. "You're going to kill me anyway, so I'm going to have to put my ass on the line to make it easier for you."
He's braving it, of course, but he still has some hope. At the very least, to stall for time until help arrives, even if it's not for a couple of hours. It was a way to fight despair, not a real plan of action, but I had a certain respect for the man.
"So, you know, we have ways of loosening tongues without even skinning the fingers." Still good-naturedly, Hans declared, not the least bit embarrassed by the enemy's refusal.
"So use it, you stinking dick." And he spat in the face, not at Hans, but at Locij, who was standing a little to the side, apparently hoping to make him angry and get a quick death.
Losius made a single movement, elegant and graceful, and then poked the camel in the solar plexus with the sheath of his rapier. Other than that, he didn't dignify the captive with a single word, and he didn't even lose the boring look a-la "king who happened to be in a pigsty for some reason".
"Stop! Stop! I'll tell you, but don't kill me!" The lowest-level hunter among them cried out. "I'll tell you everything, yeah, just let me go, yeah."
The hunters aren't really fighters, not particularly suited to combat. A few of their skills are designed to resist beasts of all kinds, not to kill sentient beings. However, to consider them defenseless would be epic proportions of stupidity, which, however, does not prevent many short-sighted individuals from thinking so. Alas, this particular one was definitely not a fighter, even if he could kill.
The clairvoyant clearly indicated this, sending a pile of unrelated visions. He was used to shooting arrows from ambush or from under the protection of his comrades' backs, used to killing with his traps and loops, used to taunt those who were weaker, but he did not know how to fight. But he could fear, and his wild imagination and experience suggested hundreds of torture methods that could be applied to him.
After such scenes, I was reluctant to deal with them in a good way, because all these guys, including the main group, were certainly not innocent lambs. I wanted to play Gestapo, to be honest, but I suppressed my sadistic outburst with an effort of will. First of all, it was long and inefficient, and second of all, why would I need my potions and Taria's powers?
By the way about the tits!
"Taria, can you do the interrogation?" I'm probing the ground to see if she's ready to use her powers. I wondered if she would be ashamed or worried about it.
"Sure, right now!" The agreement came before I'd even finished my speech.
Worried?
Ashamed?
Taria?
The sun's really heated my head, I swear.
Losius only smirked in response to the process of "inquiry," but Hans, the dog, laughed like my horse and only didn't point a finger. I was not surprised that they were both familiar with the existence of mind-affecting powers. Nor were they much surprised that Taria had such power, especially since I had already hinted at something like that. But the focus of this ability, however, caused them both to break a pattern. But if the polite and restrained aristocrat managed to hold his emotions, not wanting to make a scene, then Hans just burst out. I even had to shut him up so as not to interfere with the interrogation. And still, he whimpered softly into his sleeve, wiping away the tears in his eyes.
Fortunately, Taria, who had stripped off her leather vest and the shirt beneath it and was topless, so to speak, ignored him with truly aristocratic restraint. She was more interested in using her newfound powers, though, for such control over other people's brains turned her on more than any other love potion, which required her to exercise a great deal of self-control.
"Be silent until asked. Don't move. Answer all questions you are asked. Don't worry or be afraid. Everything that is happening is normal, you are not in danger. Don't listen to anything but our questions. Don't pay attention to our conversations with each other. Answer fully and only about the matter at hand."
After this tirade, the woman wondered if there was anything else to order, but when she found nothing, she went back to get dressed, trying to keep her back to us all, to avoid accidents. I was paranoid, though, and kept my Gaze on the whole time, for fear of surprises on her part. Even if those surprises were accidental.
"You're a stern beauty, though." The snarling pathfinder said nothing but a smug snort. Whoever it was, Taria herself was sure of her sternness, even when she should have been.
I ignore the two of them, and, glancing at Losius with a weary sigh, I turn to the four of them, sitting motionless. Today we have a long and fruitful conversation about eternal things. And something tells me that after this conversation I do not want to solve the problem with the prisoners quietly, peacefully, and without blood. On the contrary, I will sincerely wish to add bloody colors to the grayness of their not-too-righteous lives.
"Well, let's get started. Tell me, what do you do in life..."
In the kingdom of Melareth, everything is complicated with slavery. It's kind of there, but it's still not very popular. Slaves are used for the dirtiest and most dangerous jobs, in all sorts of underground fights, as servants for really rich people ( who find it easier to buy a slave once than to keep a staff of free people) and, of course, by selling all sorts of bed toys. This is the basis of the local slave market.
The problem here is the same - the Melaretians themselves can be shackled under a very limited list of conditions. Debts, crimes, captivity during a military conflict, and the like. Naturally, there weren't too many of these losers, but they were mostly at the bottom of the live goods list. There was little use for such slaves, except to send them to the fighting pits, because you couldn't turn a former mercenary or soldier of an enemy state into a useful worker. And those laborers who have been sold into debt slavery are in most cases, mediocre workers.
So where to look for goods if the demand for them exceeds supply? In the same kingdom Sorz quite officially (semi-officially, to be specific) create full-fledged squads as if robbers, taking into slavery entire villages. It is not a great loss if they are caught, because they will not be officially recognized as their own people. In Sorz, everyone who is not a citizen is considered a slave, and there are different situations when you have to prove your nationality from the cage. Wild people, as they are wild!
But back to Melareth, namely to their problem of finding slaves. Here all sorts of bad people have decided to adopt the methods of their neighbors, quickly and confidently learning the art of human trapping. Of course, it's a risky occupation, as local HR managers are captured here only for interrogation and subsequent brutal execution, but it still pays very well.
Such groups catch their goods all over the kingdom, often taking them either to Sorz, from where they leave again, but through Sorz intermediaries, or selling them to local bigwigs. But this is the bottom line of quality. Such gangs arise regularly and regularly die, but they can always be equipped with new ones - the city bottom seems true, pardon the pun, bottomless.
Where do they get the elite slaves and slave girls? Trained warriors who will bring their lanista huge sums of money, fighting to the death in the arena? Beautiful maidens who will charm the next rich man and force him to part with his gold? High-class craftsmen and artisans, who can create masterpieces? Or even those who combine several of the items on the list at once?
You can't just walk through the villages and raid them, you can't catch a random traveler on the road or a drunken man in a dark alley. This requires a very serious organization and conspiracy and must be covered from the very top, otherwise, it will quickly get eaten. And the levels of these guys are not inferior to the professional military: to catch such victims is an extremely dangerous occupation, which can shorten the life to zero and the size of the body by about one head.
Such guys can afford their own alchemist, their own secret base, located in the middle of nowhere but close enough to the main trade roads, a strong fighting backbone that can easily and quickly destroy almost any opponent... They can afford a lot of things, and such guys are not fools.
No, there are, of course, relatively legitimate ways to get an elite slave. For example, many successful businessmen buy off children (girls, mostly) from starving peasants, and then raise them from the very basics, training them according to all the rules. The resulting elite courtesans or just whores (depending on the quality of the training and the efforts of the trainees themselves) are taken like hotcakes by all kinds of moneybags. But these are all isolated situations and with limited choice.
Non-humans can't be bred that way. Either it's far away, unprofitable, or suicidal. Elves, for example, for just a hint of selling their child will let you live a couple of hours just because of such impudence will not immediately think of how they will kill you.
The Beastfolk may well sell, but it depends on the tribe. The children of their enemies can be enslaved, but the Beastfolk are in much less demand than the elves. Yes, and in general - a long, painful, and the profits will not go right away. Real "businessmen" want to get their piece quickly, and those who can think long-term will find a more reliable way to earn money than such ventures.
This is why illegal slave-trafficking organizations flourish, even if they have their official representation. It is simpler, more profitable, and does not require much ingenuity to master. Thus, even our grandfathers went for slaves and we were told to!
Our clients belonged to an elite gang of human and nonhuman hunters. Yes, it wasn't just humans they traded in, but there wasn't even a lot of them. Beastfolk of all kinds (it was relatively easy to catch them, but they were still exotic), some sapient kinds of monsters like Orcs (both ordinary savages and relatively civilized ones), all kinds of dwarves and halflings (the former as craftsmen, the latter... who knows why), and even sometimes (very sometimes) real elves.
Several independently operating groups, almost three hundred men of overall combat potential (they very rarely get together), a few extremely experienced fighters with rare classes and high levels, general caution and careful sweeping of all witnesses made them extremely effective hunters. The money for selling said exotic prey, combined with bribes and gifts to those who were supposed to catch them, turned these guys into quite elusive monsters.
The few bodies we found were actually a huge screwup on their part. All the local villages almost entirely support the catchers in one way or another. Supplies, information, and even youngsters for development - the villagers provided the creatures with an excellent back. The bastards themselves very thoughtfully did not shit where they lived, so conflicts and snitching did not happen. And if they did, the peasants themselves whacked those who were too talkative and did not agree with the general policy of the party.
And then a couple of dashing guys got into some serious trouble in one of the villages. A couple of guys got stabbed, a couple of girls got messed up, and a few idiots decided to go and complain to the nearest big town. Of course, they would have been met there by the guards they'd already bribed, and probably buried them with their own hands, but there are risks in life.
One of the ringleaders, having received through the amulet a report from the headman, who had been bought with his guts, about the plans of this company, silently paid "for his trouble" (clairvoyance claimed that the relatives of the victims did not receive a single penny of the money), scared the headman into wetting his pants and sent his men after the runners.
Had we passed even a couple of weeks later, all traces would have disappeared long ago, and the secret of the slave traders would have remained unsolved for a very long time until they would have been killed by an unfortunate accident or by their patrons covering their tracks.
But here we come.
After the interrogation, Hans silently and without a second's hesitation reached for his weapon. I even had to tap him on the hands and wag my finger at the temple. After receiving a response of utter bewilderment, I still switched from the language of gestures and hints to direct human speech:
"Come on, dummy, they're supposed to signal through the amulet any moment now," I explain. "And the new shift will wait another three days for the new ones to arrive. Now we're going to erase their memories, and then we're going to figure out the best way to give everyone involved the anal punishment."
My words brought Hans back to his senses but were met with little understanding. Apparently, the pathfinder's dislike of this kind of man was too strong. And my words were not taken seriously enough, as Taria had confirmed.
"Tin, of course, I understand everything, but there are more than two hundred of them." Taria shrugged uncertainly. "And there's only five of us, even if you count Green Tits. It's too risky."
"Yeah, Tin, don't be stupid." Hans backed her up. "I'd love to have crows eating those bastards by morning, but they're too strong, bitches. Let's bleed them out and get to the nearest town. We can try to set guards on them there. They didn't buy them all, and whoever's covering them has enemies anyway."
And only Losius looks at me very calmly, obviously suspecting that I'm making something up. Given the look on my face, I'm sure the bandits won't like my idea.
"Guys. I understand, but you're making some mistakes in your judgment." I raise my hands in a conciliatory gesture of reassurance. "First of all, it's not "just the five of us," it's "the whole five of us". Secondly, instead of cutting these mongrels up, they could be sent to their own camp to cut up whoever they can."
At this point, both men reassessed the degree of danger of one proudly chin-up woman with an extremely unpleasant ability.
"Thirdly, you have me, and before you start lecturing me about self-confidence, I suggest you look at this." I send them a description of the title I got for destroying a small orc army, and, waiting for the eyes to widen in surprise, I continue. "Seriously, even one legendary creature could devour this whole gang without a pant, and even Legends die."
At the last phrase, which alludes to something we've all experienced, I stop talking and let them think about it before jumping to any conclusions.
"Are you sure you can handle such a crowd in a straight fight? Surely there are more than just ordinary fighters, and there are those who are not inferior to me." Losius asks.
"In a straight fight, probably not." I agree. "But I don't intend to fight them face to face. A few diversions, a couple of assassinations from long range, a few summoned Shadows, whose potential you have already appreciated, and it will work. Especially since we're not up against hardened veterans of many conflicts, but ordinary brigands. Yes, they are well-equipped and disciplined, but they are used to attack and retreat, not to defend themselves against those who come after them. If we do it right, we can if not defeat them, then we can inflict tangible damage on them and get away in time. That is my opinion."
"I'm with you, f*ck it! I hate those *** *** **** at *******! And if you have a plan, I'm all for letting their guts out." Immediately Hans agrees before I even get a chance to offer a vote.
"I knew it would be that way from the beginning, so I just don't change my mind. Especially since, on my estate, those caught in human catching were quartered on my father's orders. And that's only if they were brought in alive, because much more often they were executed on the spot. I'm with you, don't doubt it."
"Well, since I'm outnumbered, I'm with you, Tin." Taria was hesitant, and she obviously didn't want to take any chances. "In this life, though, I am always wanted to try new things. To wear expensive jewelry, to live in the nobles' quarters, to be in a palace at a ball, to destroy a small army of slave traders... Little things like that, you know. I'll stay with you, all right, or you'll surely be lost without me."
I could only hum in response to such a speech. Taria had said yes now, not to please me, but because of what she'd said in the first place. To make a difference in her life. My words of choice, it turned out, had managed to take root in her soul, even though I didn't really believe it myself.
"Ygra won't mind either, I'm sure." I take the risk of voting for the ogre. "And so, by unanimous decision, I call upon all those around me to bring a little justice, fairness, and bloody murder to these woods."
The answer was the silent, but very eloquent smiles of all three, which was answered by the no less bloodthirsty smile of one of the accidental travelers. From that moment, as it seemed to me, the fate of the inhabitants of the forest camp was sealed.
They are not legendary monsters.
They are not a gloomy cult serving incomprehensible and deadly bullshit.
They are not the undead, nor the beasts summoned by orcs, nor the creatures of the Shadow.
They are creatures made of bone and flesh, just like each of us. Cruel, intelligent, perhaps strong, who have lost the right to be called human, but are still mere mortals. I once heard a song that contained a funny phrase that stuck in my head for a long time. Not because of its deep meaning, no, it was just that the melody was very sticky.
'I'm not afraid of God, I am afraid of man' [1].
I wasn't joking when I said that they no longer have the right to be called human beings. I'd rather leave all these pathological monologues about the relativity of Good and Evil, about Darkness being true and Light always lying, for arguments in forums (if I can get there, where there is the Internet). My credo is simple: when I see shit like that, I try to make sure that I don't see it again, unless, of course, I'm in the mood for it.
Naturally, no one gave me the right to decide who is worthy of being called human and who is not. To be honest, I don't give a shit. I suppose it was because of this "don't give a shit" that the local bosses disliked us, Heroes, from the very beginning. Whether the Heroes of the past were good or bad, they all had one thing in common: they did what they wanted to do, and what they were strong enough to do.
And if I can say anything positive about my time in this reality, it is that I am now strong enough to do many things that I would never have dared to do on Earth. And since our company had encountered those who are considered monsters in human form, even by the standards of blood-soaked and cynical Alurei, it would be a shame not to get some experience for their fights. It was a world that had changed me, though, for my person had not suffered from so many mental disorders before, and I had a much higher regard for killing (despite my desire to end the lives of some individuals).
I'd rather leave the discussion of whether slave-traders can be considered another subtype of monster for some other day. Preferably one a couple of hundred years from now, when I'll be sipping beer on the Black Throne in the middle of the Dark Citadel.
One thing I do know is that all of us, me, Hans, Losius, Taria, and even, forgive me, Admin, Ygra, can count as humans. Well, it's complicated with Ygra, but I'm not talking about biological species, but more of a moral question, right?
And since we are humans, these jerks should be afraid of us.
And we good people are the guys who are so... harsh.
We'll bring Evil to its' knees and kill it brutally.
* * *
Authors note:
[1] - Marina Lambrini Diamandis "Savages".
Honestly, the dice were kind of boring - no crits at all. I can't even remember the last time that happened. Those few hundred, including the bonuses, were also so boring that it was a pain.
But the enemy appeared strong, the levels will raise all, even MC. If, of course, handle - but everything can go wrong a lot of ways. Starting with defeat, ending with the fact that the thugs will scatter and there will be no one to kill.
Ah, yes! A successful point in the remoralization of Taria. And Hans, who, as mentioned, has a special relationship with slave traders and brigands.
Hans's backstory somehow doesn't seem to fit, giving out in bits and pieces for a few chapters now. There was a spoiler comment revealing a few more reasons why he dislikes this kind of character, but I deleted it. I'd rather reveal it in the text.
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1pSnAMYePyf_l32uFlhhA96hRq1ocdboD/view?usp=sharing - The bandits had something similar in the tree, only hidden right in the crown. You wouldn't notice it right away if you hadn't developed your perception.
