The Special Economic Zone Chapter 3: You'll be Ready

 

You’ll be Ready

Thorn knew that, first, he needed to find the location of the demihumans that Rea wanted freed. To do that he needed information. The adventurer’s guildhouse sounded like the best place to start looking. He knew where it was instantly because of his sensing aura. After making a few turns down well-maintained streets, he found it.

The building was taller than the buildings around it by several stories, and it was built out of a black metal that looked far too advanced, technologically, for humans of the level he had seen in town. Was it an alien artifact? Some sort of castle built by a long-dead wizard?

Whatever it was, Thorn didn’t really have the capacity to find out without asking. He entered the building. The place was crowded, filled with humans holding armor and weapons in plain sight. There were even a few demihumans, though they were all obviously still slaves.

Thorn approached the information desk. “Hello.” He greeted the person behind the counter, a young woman with short blonde hair and glasses.

The woman frowned. “Have you come to apply to be an adventurer?”

Thorn nodded. “Yes. I need information and I thought this would be the fastest way to get it.”

The receptionist turned around, rummaging through a series of filing cabinets. “It’s been a while since someone applied at this branch.” She withdrew a single piece of paper from a bottom shelf, unfurling it onto the counter. “The duke of Albern has been increasing taxes recently.” She put her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“I won’t.” Thorn looked at the paper spread out on the table. “What is that?”

“Before I tell you, I’m going to have to charge you a tax. It’s been decreed that every appraisal carries a fee of two silver coins.”

Thorn conjured two silver coins and put them on the table. “Is this enough?”

“Of course, sir.” The woman appeared surprised that Thorn had actually paid. “You seem to be of better means than the normal folk who come in here.”

“I do happen to have a big sponsor.” Thorn reached for the paper.

“Not yet. I have to say the spell.” The receptionist held her hand over the sigil. “Isith lem soranil.” The paper glowed with a radiant green light.

“It looks like you are level one, with below average stats in everything except constitution.” The receptionist appeared apologetic. “It appears that you’ll be starting at rank E. Don’t worry, though. You will level up as you kill more monsters and complete more quests.”

Thorn shook his head. “That’s fine. As long as I have access to the information I need.”

“What do you need to know?”

“Do you know of a group of vulpine demihuman slaves that were sold recently around here?”

“There are a lot of slaves being sold around here. I wouldn’t know.” The receptionist looked a bit miffed. “Is that the specific race you would like to acquire?”

“Um, no, not really. I’m just looking for a group of individuals.”

The receptionist leaned over the counter. “If you want knowledge about slaves, then you should go to Hanson’s at the edge of town. He’ll know more about it than I would.” The receptionist smiled. “Thank you for registering with the guild. Here is your guild card.” She handed Thorn a metal card with his name written on it.

“I never told you my name.” Thorn pocketed the card.

“The initiation spell automatically draws the name of the user.” The receptionist bowed. “My name is Eila. If you need anything else, do please stop by again. All quests are posted on the board over there. Thank you!” She appeared glad to be done with Thorn.

Thorn shrugged and turned around.

“And please don’t try to sell any goods you acquire through slaying monsters to anyone but us!”

Thorn turned around. “Okay. I’ll be careful about that.” He frowned, faced the door, and left the guild house. It took him ten minutes to find Hanson’s. He could smell the place a quarter of a mile away. It reeked of sadness, dirt, and misery. When he caught sight of the building he grimaced.

The building was stout, with several stories of barred windows through which saddened not-exactly-human faces looked. Thorn hated being in the vicinity of the building. Still, he had a mission, so he swallowed his gut feeling and entered.

The interior was filled with taxidermized big game animals, most of which Thorn did not recognize from Earth. A large animal with a giraffe’s neck and the fur of a bear took up the majority of the room’s central area.

“May I help you?” A well-groomed man wearing a single monocle looked up from a stack of papers.

“I’m here to ask some questions.”

The man looked back to his work. “If you’re not buying, I suggest you don’t waste my time.”

“Okay, I’ll buy a few slaves too.” It wouldn’t hurt to free a few more—Thorn had the cash.

The man dotted something with a pen on his stack of papers and looked up again. “Then follow me.” He got up from his seat.

Thorn followed the man into a back room. It was dark, cast in a deep shadow that seemed to suck in the light from the tiny window. The smell was even worse inside the building.

Cages lined the walls, inside of which demihumans were held. The conditions were horridly crowded.

“I’m looking for vulpine individuals.” Thorn did his best not to show his emotion. “I was asked by a, um, a person interested in them particularly.”

“Ooh, a master of taste.” The monocled man opened the door into another room. “This is where we keep all our vulpine individuals, as you requested.”

Thorn walked up to the nearest cage.

“Excuse me.” The monocled man stepped away. “I must attend to business. Call me when you have found your selection.”

Thorn knelt down beside the cage and looked at the wolf person inside. They looked almost human, but instead of normal ears they had wolf ears, and a wolf tail extended from behind them.

“Can you speak Basic?”

The wolf person tilted his head. “You are not speaking Basic. You know the vulpine language?”

Thorn hesitated. “Yes. I suppose so. I need to know, are you friends of Rea from Farrow Dells?”

“Ah, mother! You know her?”

Thorn sighed. “Yes. Yes I do. Now I’m going to buy as many slaves as I can, but I need to make sure that I pick up all of Rea’s friends and family.”

“Well, there’s …” The wolf person sighed. “I don’t know. We lost our names and now we can’t find each other.”

The monocle man returned to the room.

“Are you Hanson?” Thorn crossed his arms.

“Yes I am.” Hanson put his hands in his fancy coat pocket. “Now have you found who you were looking for?”

“Yes. I’ll buy them all.”

Hanson lifted his monocle. “All of them? What are you going to do with fifty demihuman slaves?”

“I have a project I need done. Also, can I buy some carriages to transport them?”

Hanson grinned. “Of course you can. Come with me.”

Thorn followed Hanson into the first room. He sat down across the desk.

Hanson pulled out a large pile of paperwork. “Now sign here, here, and here. We’ll tax this, this, and this.”

The total came to about seven gold coins.

“Seven ginpap, twelve tinbars, and six gennies.”

“Seven gold, twelve silver, and six copper, right?” Thorn conjured a moneybag with the exact amount inside of it. “Take it.”

Hanson counted the money with a meticulous air. When it was counted, he smiled. “Very well, sir. I don’t care what you are going to use all those slaves for, but good luck keeping them busy.”

Thorn stood up. “Very well. Can I get everything sorted by this afternoon?”

“Be back in two hours and I’ll have everyone loaded up. If you want you can hire some guards to protect your cargo when you transport it.”

“No thank you.” Thorn bowed. He turned around and left the room.

Hands in pockets, he strolled down the street, looking at the various examples of medieval architecture. The place was ridiculously dirty. Manure and feces flooded the narrow, shallow sewage drain. Horses pulled dirty carriages through the muck. A woman tossed a chamber pot out the window with the cry “tallyho!”

Thorn held his nose as he passed through a particularly nasty neighborhood.

Two vulpine demihuman ruffians stepped out of an alleyway and held daggers towards Thorn.

“Eh, what you doing here?”

Thorn spoke back in vulpine—the switch was as easy as putting on a fake accent. “You don’t want to hurt me.”

“The boy knows our language.” Their speech in vulpine was actually quite royal in tone. While their basic speech was that of a ruffian, their vulpine was regal.

Thorn nodded. “Hey, are you free actors? Or are you slaves?”

“We work for the lord of thieves.” The second vulpine smiled. “You know our language, so we’ll exempt you from our mugging.”

“What are your names?”

“Altris and Bok. He’s Altris, and I’m Bok.”

Thorn knew, through his magic translator, that those names were given to high standing members of vulpine society. Bok was a thin, scrawny vulpine with a long and dirty tail. Altris was rather fat and had a long beard.

Thorn crossed his hands. “Do you think you can take me to your leader?”

“The lord of thieves? Why would you want to see him?”

“Because I have a few things I want to ask him.”

“He doesn’t like people who infringe on his schedule, and he’s always busy.” Bok shrugged his shoulders. “But we can try to get you an audience.”

“Preferably in an hour. I have to pick up something in two hours.”

Bok and Altris looked at each other. “Well, it couldn’t hurt to ask.” They looked at Thorn. “Come on.”

Thorn followed them through the alleyways until they came to a large abandoned warehouse. Two large, muscular feline guards stood at the doorway. Thorn watched them as he passed, but neither showed any emotion.

Bok and Altris led Thorn through the maze of boxes and crates, up a flight of stairs, and then into a large meeting room. A single human was standing amidst at least a dozen demihumans. The human looked up.

“Ah, a guest.” He smiled at Thorn. “Thorn, correct? My name is Ron. I run things around here.”

Well, that was easy. Thorn shook Ron’s hand. “I have a question to ask of you.”

“Go ahead.”

“I figured you would be more willing to tell me this than the guild house. What kind of things has the Duke of Albern been doing recently?”

“Well, you certainly ask the right questions.” Ron waved his hand. “Everyone, out.”

The medley of demihumans left the room, leaving it empty except for Ron and Thorn. Ron sat down on a crate.

“It all started a year ago. The duke of Albern started requesting large numbers of slaves. We don’t know what for, but we can speculate.” Ron shifted. “At the same time the duke started hiking taxes, and imposing tariffs on everything. The duke is up to something, we know it, but we can’t find out exactly what that thing is.”

“So where did you get your slaves?”

Ron spat. “They’re not slaves. Not to me, they aren’t. When I buy a slave I give them the option of going home. About a quarter take that option. I don’t care, I have the funds.” Ron eyed Thorn. “You seem to be of the same mindset.”

“I am.” Thorn stood up. “Thanks for the information.”

“I really didn’t tell you anything you didn’t already know.” Ron pointed at the ring on Thorn’s fingers. “That’s a nice piece.”

“Thanks. It was a gift.” Thorn sat down. “I’ve really come to discuss a certain something. I need to find a group of individuals. And I need to be smart about who helps me.”