"Brother-in-law, buying so many slaves all at once... you must be gearing up for some grand scale sugar cane farming and brewing," Fisher remarked, quickly taking in the sight of the ragged beastmen.
Their unexpected presence at the hotel hinted at a longer, more complex conversation to come, one that would no doubt weave together their fates once more.
"Indeed!" Logan affirmed, his voice cutting through the tension in the air.
He noticed Jean avoiding eye contact, the remnants of last night's disagreement still lingering between them. Logan offered an apologetic glance in her direction before turning his attention to his brother-in-law, Fisher. "Brother Fisher, what brings you here so early?" he inquired, genuinely curious.
Fisher, with a hint of urgency in his tone, replied, "Didn't I hear that you were back to sugar production?"
"And how much sugar have we this time?" Fisher probed further, his interest piqued.
Logan knew Fisher had overheard Jean's earlier remarks and had rushed over. Despite Fisher's involvement in the wine trade, he had sought deals with other merchants, a move that surprised Fisher. Yet, Fisher seemed to always have a contingency plan.
Regardless, in the wine business, sharing opportunities was acceptable, but in the sugar industry, Fisher was determined not to let anyone else claim what he deemed his rightful share. "So, you're in a rush to get the goods?" Logan asked, a light chuckle escaping him.
"I had planned to wait a couple of days for the wine to ferment before calling you," Logan explained, still smiling.
"No need to wait. There's a joint caravan departing this afternoon, and I want this batch of goods to go with it," Fisher declared, his decision final.
Logan understood the urgency. Delays could lead to complications or lost opportunities.
"A joint caravan?" Logan queried, though he already knew the answer.
He nodded as Fisher explained. The joint caravan was a collaborative effort among various traders, both small-scale and speculative big businessmen. This arrangement often became necessary when the costs of hiring private mercenary groups were too prohibitive or when no suitable group was available.
Smaller merchants couldn't afford such luxuries on their own, so they pooled resources for greater security on perilous journeys.
Meanwhile, Logan directed Tyton and others to take a hundred slaves they had recently acquired to the backyard to prepare a meal. They were all in a sorry state, dirty, hungry, and barely able to stand. It was crucial they regained some strength first.
Logan and Fisher engaged in a lively conversation, sharing insights about the human kingdom and its complex dynamics.
Soon, Fisher's transport team arrived, bustling and ready for action. They were there to collect the massive shipment of maltose, 1,736 kilograms derived from 11,000 kilograms of wheat.
"I hate you, I'm not talking to you anymore!" Jean retorted, her embarrassment peaking as she slipped from Logan' lap and covered her face.
Logan laughed heartily, the sound echoing through the room.
...
In the backyard, the recently freed beastmen slaves were taking a communal bath, emerging clean and donning new garments. They lined up in a row, all looking healthier than before, though still gaunt from their previous ordeal.
"Not bad, not bad at all!" Logan remarked as he surveyed the group. These young werewolves, though skinny, were brimming with potential. The detestable former slave owner had been right; they would regain much of their strength in just half a month.
"Let's have the meal served quickly, let them eat," he instructed Tyton, his tone firm yet kind.
Turning back to Tyton, he added, "And tell them, as long as they serve me faithfully for two years, they will be freed from their slave status. Moreover, if they choose to pay a sum thereafter, they can leave here freely." Logan's words carried a promise of a new life, a stark contrast to the harshness they had known.
"This... they are slaves..." Tyton stammered, clearly taken aback by the directive, and even Jean looked on in surprise.
The notion of what a slave represented was stark, essentially viewed as less than human. A slave's life was wholly controlled by their master; they could be subjected to labor without pay, punishment, or worse, without any recourse. Not even divine intervention was expected in the plight of a slave.
"Slaves? No, they are not just slaves; they are our compatriots. Haven't you noticed they look just like us?" Logan challenged the conventional view sharply. "If we enslave our own people, how could we ever face the beast god? I believe even he would not forgive such actions!"
"Go, do as I've instructed!" Logan commanded firmly.
"Yes!" Tyton replied, his voice carrying a mix of respect and astonishment. Each decision this young chief made seemed to defy tradition, yet somehow led to unexpectedly positive outcomes. His respect for Logan deepened, though he remained inwardly stunned by the radical empathy shown towards their own kind.
What a perplexing world. And those damnable slave owners.
"You are indeed a very special person," Jean confessed, her admiration evident as she watched Logan. "I've always wondered why you were so captivating to me."
"Now I understand!" she exclaimed, a look of realization washing over her. The idea that they were all compatriots had never occurred to her; born into privilege, she had never needed to question where her comfort came from.
In her view, she was among the nobility of the beastmen world, far removed from the harsh realities faced by others.
However, Logan' words sparked a profound shift in her perspective, challenging her to rethink her views on freedom, kinship, and leadership.