Chapter 19

I paced the room, my mind racing as I tried to calm the storm of emotions raging within me. That’s how my friends found me when they entered, concern evident on their faces. A few moments later, a servant arrived, carrying a tray with a steaming cup of relaxing tea. I took it gratefully, inhaling its soothing aroma before taking a sip.

While waiting for my father’s reply, I turned my attention to gathering information about the slave trader. What I learned only fueled my disgust. The man was a greedy and arrogant merchant who specialized in capturing and selling beastkin. His preferred method was cowardly—using sleeping gas to subdue his victims before hauling them away in chains. Worse still, he operated under a royal order that allowed him to conduct business freely within this district, exempt from taxes and seemingly above scrutiny.

We discussed his practices for a while longer, our conversation drifting to other matters as I slowly regained my composure. Though my fury still simmered beneath the surface, I was rational enough to continue my planned purchases. With a nod to my friends, I excused myself and stepped out of the merchant’s dwelling.

The moment I exited, my runner returned, breathless from his haste. My eyes immediately scanned his hands for the response, but he simply pointed toward the entry archway.

I followed his gaze and, upon seeing my father’s “reply,” let out a laugh—deep, satisfied, and laced with anticipation.

A full company of royal guards had arrived, their polished armor gleaming under the sunlight. Their commander approached me, saluted crisply, and asked a single question in a firm voice.

“Where is the offender, my prince?”

Without hesitation, I turned to a nearby eunuch and asked for the location of the slaver. The eunuch, eager to comply, gestured toward a two-story building at the end of the street.

The commander gave a sharp nod, and in an instant, the guards moved. Like a tide of steel and discipline, they marched toward the merchant’s dwelling. Within moments, the man was dragged out in shackles, his protests silenced by the stern hands of the royal enforcers. Along with him, several locked boxes were seized from his possessions, undoubtedly filled with ill-gotten wealth.

Behind him, his handlers and workers were rounded up, their fate sealed alongside their master’s. Two guards remained stationed outside his now-abandoned dwelling, securing the property until further orders were given.

As the commander prepared to depart, he turned to me, saluted once more, and spoke with unwavering certainty.

“The offender has been arrested and will stand before the king for judgment.”

With that, he and his men escorted the disgraced slaver and his accomplices away. I watched them disappear into the distance, a grim satisfaction settling within me. Justice had been swift.

The entire day was spent purchasing slaves of various kinds. We moved from one shop to another, scouring the markets for as many as we could afford. Each establishment held a different atmosphere—some were grand and luxurious, catering to wealthy buyers with well-dressed attendants and extravagant displays, while others were nothing more than dimly lit, foul-smelling warehouses where the enslaved were kept in deplorable conditions.

With every purchase, I felt a mix of satisfaction and unease. On the one hand, I was securing their freedom, pulling them away from lives of servitude. On the other, I couldn’t ignore the sheer scale of this industry—the cold efficiency with which lives were bought and sold like mere commodities.