Chapter 69

Chapter 69

At a shabby tavern, tucked into a dim alley...

Creak.

The rusty hinges groaned as Caron pushed the door open and stepped inside. The sound of the door quickly gave way to the rowdy chatter filling the room.

"I scored big this time!" a person called out.

"Yeah, just mercenary work ain't cutting it anymore! Next time, come with me, and..." another person said.

"We just need one big hit, that's all," someone else commented.

The raucous voices hit Caron's ears as he entered. The air was thick with the stench of sweat, alcohol, and other foul odors mingling together. A few of the patrons glanced in his direction, but they soon returned to their loud conversations, uninterested in the newcomer.

Caron exhaled lightly and made his way deeper into the tavern.

"I've already told the broker in Reben about you," Foina had said. "You'll meet him at a tavern called Cold Night. Just remember, he's not part of Caligo. Think of him more like... a necessary evil. If you catch even the slightest whiff of betrayal, well, I trust you'll know what to do. After all, dealing with traitors is your specialty. I also mentioned you were a buyer looking for slaves, so play along with that."

At the far end of the tavern, a middle-aged man sat alone. He wore a black eyepatch, and his crooked teeth were impossible to miss as he knocked back a strong glass of rum. His thinning hair gave him a rough, almost sleazy appearance, which matched his grim demeanor perfectly.

Caron approached and casually asked, "Did you come alone?"

The man looked up lazily, his voice dripping with disinterest as he replied, "You've got two eyes, don't you? Can't you see I'm alone?"

The rude tone matched his rough appearance. It was said that a person's life was reflected in how they spoke, and this ugly man seemed to fit the bill perfectly.

Caron let out a small chuckle and pulled out a chair, sitting across from the man. Immediately, the man frowned in irritation, asking, "What? You got a thing for crippled losers like me?"

"Cobler," Caron said evenly.

Cobler smirked and replied, "Well, well. How do you know my name?"

"You're the only one here who's one-eyed and balding. If there were an ugly contest, you'd win first place. The person who sent me said to look for the ugliest guy in the room, and here you are. Guess they weren't wrong," Caron said.

"Oh, you're from Thebe, huh? Well, why didn't you say so earlier? I've got a reputation for being real nice to my customers!" Cobler grinned widely, revealing his yellowed teeth.

"So," he continued, "You came to see the slave market, right?"

"I was looking to buy some slaves in Thebe, but I hear they've stopped trading there," Caron replied.

Cobler snickered, shaking his head and saying, "Ah, Caligo. Those ex-slaves love to act all righteous now. Used to do anything for a bit of coin, but now they want to play saints. But you're in the right place. Unlike those bastards, we still do anything that brings in cash."

We. That choice of words slightly grated on Caron's nerves.

He glanced around the room, taking note of the men filling the tavern. He had sensed the prying eyes on him from the moment he stepped in. Normally, in a tavern like this, mercenaries would relax, their gear left aside as they drank. But here, every one of these so-called mercenaries had their weapons strapped to their waists, even while drinking.

"Are they all part of the same crew?" Caron asked, suspicion edging his voice.

Cobler shrugged and answered, "This line of work? You can't do it alone. Surely you understand."

"I heard you were just a broker," Caron said.

"No, I'm also a slave trader. Everyone around here does business like that. If my stock doesn't suit your taste, don't worry. I can introduce you to other traders," Cobler said with a sly grin.

Caron could tell he was surrounded in the tavern. Any normal person would have felt the pressure by now, but not him. He calmly raised his hand and called over the tavern owner.

The owner, his forehead marred by a deep scar, approached with a scowl on his face. He asked, "What do you need?"

"A glass of beer," Caron said, his tone cool.

"Got it. Wait here," the owner replied before bringing over a lukewarm mug of beer.

Taking a sip, Caron immediately grimaced and complained, "How am I supposed to drink lukewarm beer and enjoy the taste?"

While Caron grumbled about the beer, Cobler's eyes ran up and down his figure. Caron was dressed like a typical mercenary, his face mostly hidden by a metal mask. But his voice and pale hands told a different story. This wasn't just any mercenary. He had the bearing of a young noble.

A noble looking for slaves?n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Hah, it's obvious, Cobler thought, because he knew that nobles who ventured into the southern borderlands for slaves were all the same. They were always insane, harboring perverse tastes or twisted desires. Some even enjoyed the thrill of killing people. Cobler had dealt with countless scum like that; they were so vile that even he, a slave trader, had been disgusted.

"Ughhhh!" Cobler groaned in pain.

"You spat on me, you filthy worm," Caron growled. Cobler's already ugly face was now bleeding from the nose.

Cobler's underlings tensed up at the sudden violence, but before they could act, Cobler quickly raised his hand, signaling them to stand down. He exclaimed, "Hold your ground, you fools! Do you know who this man is?! Hehe, Young Master, I'll be more careful from now on!"

"Walk at a distance. Don't come near me," Caron ordered coldly.

Cobler didn't know exactly who this kid was, or who was behind him, but one thing was clear. There was someone powerful behind the young man, someone far beyond Cobler's league.

If anything went wrong, Cobler knew that he would not only lose everything he'd built here, but he'd also likely spend the rest of his life on the run, being hunted relentlessly. So, he swallowed his pride. He thought this humiliation was nothing much compared to the fortune he could make if he played his cards right. He was willing to endure anything for that kind of money.

"Uh, Young Master..." Cobler began hesitantly.

"Your breath stinks, so get to the point," Caron interrupted sharply.

"...There's an auction for elves tonight. But, before that, would you like to visit my holding pens? You could check out the other merchandise as well," Cobler suggested.

Caron frowned at the mention of Cobler's offer. The way Cobler referred to the slaves as mere merchandise grated on his nerves. Memories of the past flashed before his eyes, making him more irritable than usual.

The urge to draw Guillotine and cut down the scum in front of him surged, but he held himself back. Killing the man could wait until after he got what he needed. The priority now was gathering information. Besides, he thought infiltrating these scum's hideouts directly could be useful for gathering more information.

"Is the holding pen far from here?" Caron asked.

Cobler eagerly shook his head and replied, "Oh no, not far at all! It's just around the corner, hehehe. Why don't we head over, and I'll prepare you some tea? I can also explain how the slave auction works while you enjoy a drink. How does that sound?"

"Liquor," Caron replied.

"Pardon?" Cobler blinked in confusion.

"I want liquor instead of tea. And I'm not drinking that piss they call beer here. You've got something good, right?" Caron said.

"O-Of course!" Cobler stuttered.

"Lead the way. Let's have a look around," Caron said, as he hadn't fully figured out this city, Reben, yet. This ugly bastard could spill something useful if he kept digging.

Just as Caron moved to leave, Cobler waved his hand and said, "Ah! The holding pen is connected to this place, Young Master!" He pointed toward a door leading to the tavern's basement and said, "I'll lead the way. Please follow me at your leisure!"

Cobler exchanged a brief glance with his underlings before plastering a wide, exaggerated grin on his face and heading toward the basement. He said, "This way, Young Master! Right this way!"

Caron followed Cobler's obnoxious chatter, his footsteps slow and deliberate as he descended into the basement. Then, he rested his hand on the hilt of Guillotine, which was strapped to his back.

Any signs of magic? Caron asked Guillotine in his mind.

"Just some basic alarm spells. Nothing dangerous, Owner," Guillotine replied.

Let me know if you sense anything off. I'll kill every last one of them if it comes to that, Caron thought.

"How many times do I have to tell you that their blood is disgusting? I'll warn you if there's real danger. Just stop bothering me, Owner," Guillotine grumbled.

While bickering with Guillotine, Caron soon found himself at the bottom of the stairs. Ahead, he saw a massive iron door looming, built into the wall of the basement. It was thick and clearly reinforced.

Cobler grinned grotesquely, his teeth flashing as he remarked, "Can't have the merchandise escaping, can we?"

The doors seemed far too thick and massive for holding mere slaves.

"Guys, open the door!" Cobler ordered.

"Yes, boss!" The burly men at the door immediately moved to obey, swinging open the heavy door to reveal a wide underground passage.

Caron's eyes narrowed as he stepped inside. He thought, This isn't just a passageway...

It looked more like a bunker. It had thick iron doors and reinforced walls, the kind of thing someone would expect to see in a military installation.

Caron wondered about the true identity of these people. There had been more than a few suspicious things about Cobler, making it unlikely that he was just a simple slave trader. But for now, Caron kept quiet and continued to follow along.

After they walked for a while, they reached their destination.

"What the hell is this?" Caron muttered as he took in the unexpected scene before him at the so-called "holding pen."