A cold wind howled through the East Market of Frost Halberd City.
The air was thick with the pungent smell of animal hides, the aroma of roasted meat, and the sharp clang of iron tools striking metal. The stalls lining the streets were crude and simple, most consisting of nothing more than a few wooden poles holding up worn canopies, beneath which goods were displayed in a disorderly fashion.
Originally, this place had been nothing more than a small trading post, occasionally visited by nearby farmers and hunters to exchange meat, hides, and wild produce for food and daily necessities. However, ever since the Northern Territory Reclamation Order had been issued, merchant guilds from all over the Empire, scenting profit like wolves catching the smell of blood, had swarmed in.
They forcibly transformed this humble market into a bustling trade center.
At the easternmost edge of the market stood a roughly constructed wooden fence enclosing a wide open area. Inside, a group of ragged slaves stood packed together.
Most of them were hunched over with their heads lowered, as if they had long since grown accustomed to being treated as commodities rather than people. Occasionally, one could spot a pair of eyes flashing with defiance, filled with suppressed anger. Yet whenever such sparks appeared, the sharp crack of a whip would soon follow. After ten lashes, any remaining resistance was completely extinguished.
Although slave trading existed in a legal gray area within the Empire, in the chaotic Northern Territory it was practically an open secret. Both pioneering nobles and smugglers understood one simple truth: what was most lacking here was manpower.
"Come and take a look! Strong young laborers here! Skilled in mining, logging, bricklaying, and cotton picking—more capable than an ox!"
"Snow Country prisoners of war for sale! They're not fully tamed yet, but the price is cheap! Buy them, train them for a few months, and they'll be obedient as dogs!"
"Looking for smarter slaves? These ones are literate and can even help manage accounts!"
Shouts rose and fell without pause as slave merchants enthusiastically promoted their merchandise. To them, the slaves before them were no different from livestock or tools.
One slave merchant noticed Louis and his group approaching. His eyes lit up immediately, and he plastered on an obsequious smile as he hurried forward.
"Sirs! Please take a look! These are the finest laborers in the entire Northern Territory—guaranteed to endure cold and hunger, hardworking, and priced very reasonably!"
The official accompanying Louis frowned and spoke coldly, "This is Baron Calvin. Watch your words carefully and do not harbor improper intentions."
"Of course, of course!" the slave merchant waved his hands repeatedly, his smile growing even more enthusiastic. "This humble one conducts business honestly and fairly. My prices are absolutely reasonable. All the slaves here are capable hands—farming, chopping wood, building houses, picking cotton—there's nothing they can't do!"
He waved his hand sharply, signaling the slaves behind him to stand upright. A few reacted reflexively and straightened their backs, but most remained motionless, their eyes dull and lifeless.
"Take a look at these men," the slave merchant continued, walking over and patting the shoulders of several dark-skinned slaves. "Strong, sturdy young fellows, full of strength—each one worth at least two oxen!"
"Don't let their thin appearance fool you," he added confidently. "They eat little but work a lot. As long as you feed them, they'll work from dawn until nightfall without a single complaint!"
Lowering his voice, the slave merchant leaned closer and smiled suggestively. "And if you have… other interests, we also have higher-end goods available. From the South—fair-skinned, well-trained, guaranteed to satisfy."
Louis's brows furrowed slightly. "No need."
Seeing this, the slave merchant immediately returned to a professional smile and nodded repeatedly. "Naturally. You are clearly a man of foresight. Right now, manpower is what matters most in Northern Territory reclamation. These rough serfs are the most practical choice. Rest assured, they're hardworking and obedient—no trouble at all."
Louis quietly examined the slaves before him.
They wore tattered clothing, their skin pale from malnutrition, and many of their faces were marked by a numb resignation. Despite the slave merchant's boasting, most were clearly underfed, and some even stood unsteadily, their legs weak.
Even so, among slaves of this level, their overall condition was considered acceptable.
Louis's gaze moved slowly across the group before stopping on a thin young boy.
The boy was tightly huddled in a woman's arms, his frail body trembling like a frightened animal. To most people, he would appear no different from any other pitiful slave child.
But Louis knew better.
According to the intelligence provided by the system, this boy—Weil—possessed the potential of a Peak Knight.
If not for that reminder, no one would ever imagine that this timid, fragile-looking child could one day grow into a warrior capable of influencing the outcome of a war.
In another corner of the slave group stood a man even thinner than the rest. He kept his head lowered, his back slightly hunched, as if trying to make himself disappear entirely. Messy gray hair obscured his face, and his eyes darted about nervously, deliberately avoiding contact with anyone around him.
He looked utterly unremarkable—more miserable and broken than the other slaves.
To an ordinary observer, he would appear to be nothing more than a wretched man pushed to the brink of collapse.
Yet Louis knew exactly who he was.
This man was Silco, an alchemy apprentice who had fled to the Northern Territory after being hunted down for theft.
Seeing Louis show interest, the slave merchant quickly patted his chest and said confidently, "Sir, if you buy from me, I guarantee you won't be disappointed!"
Louis did not respond immediately. Instead, he asked calmly, "How much for one slave?"
"Eight silver coins for a man," the slave merchant replied with a smile. "Four silver coins for women and children."
Louis nodded slightly.
The prices were not cheap, but neither were they outrageous. Clearly, the slave merchant was wary of the official accompanying Louis and did not dare to overcharge too blatantly.
"How many people do you have here in total?" Louis asked.
"Over three hundred and eighty," the merchant replied. "If you need more, I can arrange additional shipments from outside the city."
"These will do," Louis said decisively.
Afterward, he visited several other slave merchants and purchased an additional 120 people.
In total, he acquired 500 slaves, spending 380 gold coins.
This single transaction alone nearly halved his assets.
(Currency setting: 10 iron coins = 1 copper coin; 10 copper coins = 1 silver coin; 10 silver coins = 1 gold coin.)
Next, Louis purchased large quantities of grain, seeds, farming tools, weapons, and other necessities required for developing his territory. Prices in the Northern Territory were at least twice as high as those in the South, which further strained his finances.
Once all purchases were complete, Louis tallied his remaining funds and found that he had only 68 gold coins left.
He was poor.
During his two days in Frost Halberd City, Louis had not only been busy acquiring supplies but had also met several other noble lords who had been sent to pioneer territories.
After a few brief interactions, he lost interest in these so-called nobles.
Some spent their days drunk in taverns, using alcohol to escape reality. Others wore constant expressions of despair, their faces ashen as they fretted endlessly about the future. Many openly cursed the Emperor as incompetent in front of Louis, condemned their parents as heartless, and lamented that they could not immediately flee back to the South.
Louis responded only with polite, noncommittal smiles and made no effort to continue engaging with them.
Two days later, outside the gates of Frost Halberd City, a massive group of nearly a thousand people assembled, ready to depart.
Louis mounted his horse and gazed into the distance.
There lay Red Tide Territory—his domain.
"Depart!"
At his command, the vast procession began to move, heading southeast toward Red Tide Territory in the Northern Territory.
For more chapters
patreon.com/Robertt45