Book 1, Chapter 115

Mokoff

The assistant laughed, “Special names, aren’t they? These two are self-proclaimed gourmets. But be warned, as intelligent as they are trolls are trolls. Intelligence doesn’t relate to appetite, only danger; they see us as food. Don’t count on them abiding by the laws, and don’t have any hopes for their loyalty either. They only pledge loyalty to those who have the power to kill them in the moment.

Tiramisu grew displeased upon hearing the ill words about him, “Ignorant human! Don’t treat us as if we are ordinary trolls! We are gourmets!”

Richard laughed this time. These two trolls were interesting indeed, but he still decided to look through all seven cells before making a choice. He’d already known Morfan would prepare a batch of unique slaves for him, but from the quality of these slaves it seemed like Morfan really viewed high priestess Ferlyn with great respect. Sadly, he couldn’t take all of the slaves. The interplanar portal only allowed for a small number of people.

There were mages, warriors, assassins, even a priest amongst the slaves, a real priest! It was beyond remarkable that one could abduct someone of faith, turning him into a slave. It caused Richard to grow curious about Morfan’s background.

An unusual entry was an elven bard. The man was quarter human and three quarters sun-elf, a rare species. His elven heritage made him look beautiful, so much so that he could pass as a beauty if he dressed as a girl.

Another thing that caught Richard’s attention was the last cell he visited. Inside was a drow warrior, a classical example of her race: arrogant, sultry, and murderous, with dark skin and long silver hair.

When Richard first saw her, she was cowering in a dark corner of the cell, avoiding sunlight at all costs. Her dark skin made her almost indistinguishable from the shadows, and one would have missed her if they were not attentive.

Dark elves were quite restricted in the day, but at night they turned into the most dangerous of opponents. This one was a warrior, not one of the dreaded shamans, but Morfan still priced her at 60,000 gold, more expensive than the two trolls combined.

That was just the cold hard truth, though. The trolls were good-for-nothings apart from their use in battle, but the young and beautiful elf was different. Her main use wasn’t on the field, it was instead on a soft and fluffy bed. She was worth the price for most royalty.

Once they’d gone through everyone once, the assistant turned around and asked, “So? Have you made up your mind, young master?”

Richard was still considering it, but Flowsand was quick to speak, “The trolls and the bard.” She then sensed Richard’s inquisitive gaze, saying indifferently, “They have the potential to become saints. The rest do not.”

“You can probe their potential?” Richard asked in shock. He’d gone through a test when he first entered the Deepblue as well, but he remembered it being an unbearably long and painful procedure.

Flowsand nodded, “Yes, but it has a great price. Such things drain my blessing, if I probe any further I will fall in level.”

Richard understood her immediately, walking over to the assistant and pointing Flowsand’s choices out, “I want these three.”

The assistant was rather dumbfounded at his choice, taking a glance at the drow. He didn’t understand why she was not one of Richard’s choices, given how many uses she had. The dark elf came from Morfan’s personal collection, one that he’d curated for royalty. He’d only added this rare treasure here as a gesture of goodwill once he saw that Flowsand had come along as well.

But then, he had second thoughts as he looked at the elven bard. Royals had all sorts of bizarre fetishes, and this bard had more than one use as well. In fact, he might even have more uses than that elf.

The assistant sorted his thoughts out, no longer doubting Richard’s decision. He proceeded to finish his duty, explaining the precautions they had to take, “Alright. I need to remind you that slaves are slaves, regardless of quality. None of them took on this role willingly, so you should not count on their loyalty. Be alert at all times, and prepared to deliver harsh punishments if the time calls for it.”

“No need to worry, I have contracts,” Richard said, taking out a scroll for each slave.

“Magic slave contracts! Okay, I understand. Still, young master, remember my words.” The assistant’s tone held respect, but his thoughts were otherwise. Although these contracts were the best assurance of a slave’s loyalty, it depended on the situation. The scrolls in Richard’s hands were almost the same price as the slaves. He would rather use that extra money to buy more slaves instead of being wasteful like this. There were plenty of ways to train them, and the occasional sacrifice of one or two was nothing.

The trolls and the elf stood still as the contracts took effect, before following Richard out. The elven bard introduced himself, his background, and his skills using poetry.

He was Olar Floatwind, the child of a strong sun elf warrior and a half-elf. His impure heritage left him facing discrimination since birth, causing his mother to take him and wander alone. He was eventually captured by a team of adventurers, becoming a slave. However, Olar’s bloodline abilities and talent started to show as he grew. He was currently a level 8 bard, and rather skilled at archery as well, all without any formal training. He would be thirty this year, but that only barely made him an adult amongst the elves who lived to two hundred years of age.

Bards were similar to clerics, mages, and assassins all at once. Those of this class mainly supported their party in battle. This wasn’t a class Olar had chosen himself; it was something he had been forced into by slave traffickers to please the aristocrats and royalty. His beautiful soothing voice, striking looks, and aura made any banquet calm and satisfying. Some ladies even fell head over heels for him.

Richard paid the assistant upon their arrival at Mokoff, and bought some equipment for his newly acquired slaves in the market. They quickly made their way to a docked ship without rest, starting their journey for the final goal of this journey.

The ship was enormous, able to hold up to 500 people at once on a long-haul journey. Everyone occupying it was from either the Archerons or the Church of the Eternal Dragon, carefully selected after multiple stringent tests. Apart from sailors and soldiers, they’d also brought along dozens of craftsmen of different specialisations, as well about ten low-level mages.

Their destination this time was an island not on the Alliance’s records, leaving Richard able to claim it for his own the moment he arrived. And Richard already had a name in mind for it: Yessë-va-ilu. It was a term from the ancient elven language, meaning the beginning of everything.

The passengers of this ship were to become the first settlers of Yessë-va-ilu, the first of Richard’s citizens. And for this, Richard had added another 15,000 coins to the debt he owed the Archerons.