As Logan mentioned the formidable prowess of his two chief lieutenants, the Beastman slave owner's expression twisted into a mask of consternation, his composure momentarily shattered.
Despite his initial panic, he swiftly recollected himself, taking solace in the fact that the walls of Canyon City were around him, a sanctuary of sorts.
"You exhibit such daring claims, yet still, you cling to the shadows of slavery," Logan remarked, his voice dripping with disdain.
Turning his attention to the group of scantily clad Beastman women lounging near their master, he commanded, "Leave us. I have business to discuss with your master alone."
With a sharp pivot, he addressed the Beastmen guards stationed by the door, "And you as well, clear the room!"
The room's occupants cast uncertain glances towards their master, seeking affirmation. The Beastman slave owner, studying Logan's domineering stance, so at ease, as if he owned the very ground he stood on, finally gave a reluctant nod.
A quiet shuffle of movement followed as the Beastman women and Beastmen guards vacated the room, the old wooden door groaning as it closed behind them.
"What might your name be? And why do you seek an audience with me?" the slave owner inquired, his tone icy, betraying his attempt to reclaim some semblance of authority.
"You may call me Corvinus," came the cold reply. "And why else would I come to a slave owner if not for matters concerning slavery?"
Corvinus's disdain for the slave trade was palpable. These despots plundered innocent lives, trafficking them for profit. Though Corvinus was far from a saint himself, having trodden many murky paths in both his past and present lives, the vile nature of this trade stirred a deep-seated loathing within him.
Predominantly, these heinous slave traders were Beastmens, though a minority were humans, goblins, and other lesser humanoid species. On a racial level, these slave owners were betrayers and sinners to their own kind, committing atrocities that even the dark deities of the underworld would find abominable.
"All the slaves?" The Beastman slave owner's brow furrowed in astonishment before a sneer crept onto his face. "Sir Logan, are you aware of the volume of slaves that pass through my operations every month?"
"Tens of thousands," he continued, his voice tinged with a mix of disbelief and curiosity. "Why would you possibly need so many?"
Logan's response was as frosty as the northern winds, "Yes, you heard correctly. Every slave you handle, now and in every coming month."
The purpose of such a massive undertaking seemed irrelevant to Logan as he added sharply, "You need not concern yourself with my plans for them. The question is, are you willing to engage in this business?"
"Are you serious?" The Beastman slave owner scrutinized Logan, his skepticism apparent. The mere fact that Logan had previously secured nearly a thousand slaves through the intermediary of the fat fox had been enough to intrigue him initially, considering the substantial financial implications.
The idea of handling tens of thousands of slaves monthly, summing up to nearly a hundred thousand a year, seemed beyond belief. He eyed Logan warily, "Do you think this is some kind of joks?"
"Will you conduct this business?" Logan pressed, his tone unyielding.
The Beastman slave owner hesitated, the magnitude of the deal dawning on him. "This...," he stammered, the prospect tantalizing yet daunting. Naturally, the business was appealing; such a transaction would be monumental.
It was true, though tens of thousands of slaves cycled through his hands each month, the majority were destined for the human kingdoms. The local demand in the wasteland was limited, focusing primarily on the stronger individuals, leaving a surplus that wasn't easy to offload.
When he had first heard from the fat fox about a buyer who had taken nearly a thousand slaves in just a couple of months, his interest was piqued. Buyers of that caliber were scarce in his region, making Logan a particularly valuable client.
Handling tens of thousands in one swoop? The idea was compelling. Selling to the human kingdoms wasn't just costly but risky, slaves could fall ill or die, and the journey was fraught with peril, including the not uncommon occurrence of betrayal and thievery among slave traders. Often, less than half of the slaves dispatched made it to their destination, which significantly cut into his profits.
"If it can be done," he mused aloud, his mind racing through the logistics and the potential rewards, "then yes, I'm interested. It would certainly simplify matters on my end."