Chapter 19
On The Way Home
The next day, after having stayed the night in the castle, Tyroth set out together with Ragnir to do some shopping for Mutopia as soon as the market area opened, right after a hefty breakfast.
Once the duo arrived at the market area, Ragnir told Tyroth that the dragon could wander around on his own if he wanted to, as long as he didn't start any trouble, and they would meet up outside the gates that they arrived at the day before.
While Tyroth wasn't too exited to walk around alone, if there was one thing that he had missed from being human, it was going to fairs and the like. In his younger days, he had loved strolling through fairs, looking at all the strange and curious items that people were selling.
It was slightly against his better judgement, but Tyroth agreed with Ragnir, and the two parted company for the time being.
People continued to look anxiously at Tyroth as he walked around, but he tried not to let it affect him. As long as he behaved himself, nothing bad would happen, or at least so he hoped. At the very least, since everyone gave him a wide berth, the risk of falling victim to pickpockets was very low.
While looking through all the things that were for sale, he also took his time to keep an eye on the populace, trying to get a grip on the general populace. From what he could see, the vast majority was human, roughly ninety percent, give or take, and most of them were white, though there were plenty of the other colours as well across all the social levels.
Of the remaining ten percent, about half seemed to be the shorter folks; dwarves, gnomes and halflings, while the last group mostly consisted of elves and/or half-elves, and a small group of all kinds of people, ranging from half-orcs, dragonborns, and tieflings, to very obscure humanoids like minotaurs, tritons, tabaxi, and even the odd loxodon, or elephant-people.
Just as Tyroth had hoped, the very nature of a DnD world, with its many sentient species, would allow the Mutopians to coexist with the natives, even if it might be somewhat strained.
As he continued walking, he soon found himself by a stall that was selling clothes and fabrics, but it was the people running the stall that had caught his attention. They were Asian, or whatever the counterpart in that world was, and as Tyroth thought about it, they were the first ones that he had seen.
Ragnir had said that there was some bad blood between Torgalia and the Empire of Kiosho, and the Empire had been described as being very Japanese or Chinese-like. Maybe the people that lived there also looked like Asians, and didn't venture into Torgalia often, either by choice or due to hostilities. However, the salesmen didn't seem to attract much attention, but that could be because of Tyroth himself drawing all of it.
Deciding to move on, there was one article of clothing that caused him to remain for a moment longer, a straw hat. Low with an inclined rim, almost the spitting image of how the turtles had described the hats of the Foot Elite, which at least three of the brothers had supposedly shown an interest in.
A smile crept upon Tyroth's lips.
"Excuse me." Tyroth said as he approached one of the salesmen and pointed at the hat. "Do you have any more of this?"
"Yes. Many, many more." the salesman said cautiously, his English, or Common, heavily broken by another predominate language. "Very good against sun, protect head."
"I'd like to buy, let's see… thirty of them."
Upon saying that, Tyroth was met with wide eyes and rapid talking between the salesmen in what sounded very Japanese, and that would have been next to impossible to understand even in his own language.
Eventually, they seemed to calm down, and Tyroth could finally pay for the hats, as well as to have them delivered to Ragnir's cart, together with some large rolls of silk clothe. Despite it being what felt like an expensive purchase, it took a very small toll of the funds that he had been given.
And with that out of the way, Tyroth continued his stroll through the city.
Some time later, and with a bag full of smaller items he thought they would need in Mutopia, Tyroth was on his way to where he and Ragnir would meet. As he did, however, he passed by a place that he had rather avoided completely.
A familiar voice was bellowing from the same platform as the day before, as the fat woman was still trying to sell her slaves.
Tyroth's stomach twisted in disgust at the mere thought of slavery, let alone that slaves were being sold so openly. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't, he just couldn't turn a blind eye to this kind of injustice, but what could he do about it? It was still legal, and if he tried to free the slaves, he'd technically be breaking the laws, it would probably be considered stealing.
Trying to figure out some way to help the poor souls, his eyes wandered over them. There were only three left, and not recognising any of them, he assumed that all that he saw last time had been sold. The three that remained were all young women, dressed in rags just as those before them and with manacles and collars chained together, and flanked by a couple of what Tyroth assumed were the woman's personal soldiers.
Looking the slaves over from a distance, there was one thing that caught Tyroth's eyes, namely the edges of the tips of their ears were all red, and when Tyroth focused on that he soon saw why, they had been cut off. That's when he realised that the three were not human, but elven, the similarities with Zaleria becoming clear.
Judging by how long ears Zaleria had, it looked like these poor elves had had almost half of their eras cut off, meaning that not only have they been enslaved, but they have been mutilated too. Probably out of spite, prejudice or to exert dominance.
Looking around, mostly to see if he could get an idea on what to do, Tyroth spotted a couple of solider dressed the same way as those that guarded the slaves the last time the dragon saw this place. There were three of them, all sitting around a table behind the platform, seemingly off duty at the moment, and they seemed to be talking. And that gave Tyroth an idea.
Moving as close to the soldiers as he could without drawing too much attention to himself, he leaned against a wall and began eating some fruit that he had bought, hopping to look like he was only taking a break from his shopping. For a good fifteen minutes, he focused on listening in on the soldiers, and for the most part, what they said was little of interest to him, but eventually…
"Gee, the boss still hasn't sold those sluts?" said one soldier. "We've been trying for, what, a couple of months now."
"Tell me about it." said a second soldier. "No other slave have taken this long. And I thought that someone would want them, at the very least as a personal toy."
"Guess no one here wants elves then." said the first one. "Probably have to cut them loose then, if the boss can't sell them soon."
"No complaints from me, I can't stand those knife-eared freaks." the second one responded. "I know a few good alleys where we can dump the remains."
"Shut your trap!" the third one cut in. "If anyone discovers that, the boss will kill us!"
Shaking, Tyroth reached for his sword, wanting nothing more than to cut down these lowlifes, but he forced himself to calm down, and clean what was once an apple, but now more resembled apple-sauce, from his hand. He didn't have to read between the lines to figure out that they were going to kill the poor elves, and he wasn't going to let that happen, but he couldn't just go on a rampage, no matter how much some people deserved it. He needed to be far more tactical about how he dealt with this.
After thinking hard, he came to the conclusion that there was only one way to save them, that didn't include violence in any way, justified or otherwise, and he didn't like it, but he had no other choice.
Steeling himself, he walked over to the platform again, and spoke to the fat woman.
"How much for the three elves?" he asked, the words leaving a sour taste in his mouth and his stomach twisting in disgust. The fat woman, on the other hand, was more than happy.
"A mere fifty gold each, one hundred and fifty for all three. Barely a paltry sum." she said with a wide grin.
That would be fifteen platinum coins, affordable but still a lot of money, and Tyroth wasn't sure just how much a slave was worth, it wasn't anything he would ever even consider.
"That does seem a bit expensive to me. They don't really look all that good from here. Can I have a closer look?"
"By all means. Inspect the goods. I'm sure you'll find them of good standard."
Stepping up on the platform, Tyroth approached the three elves, finally getting a good look at them. From ground level, it had looked like their shoulder long hair had been black, but there was actually only one of them that had it, while the other two had very dark green and blue hair respectively. The ones with black and blue hair had the same silvery eyes as Zaleria, while the one with green hair had eyes like pools of gold.
The three recoiled ever so slightly as Tyroth approached them, but a stern look from the woman selling them quickly caused them to stand nearly absolutely still while Tyroth reluctantly inspected them, and he did not like what he saw.
The cuts on their ears were jagged and uneven, as if someone had used a dull knife to do the deed, and the wounds, while decently healed, showed signs of dirt and possibly infection. The metal shackles had left red marks and their wrists, ankles and necks, with a few small areas being open wounds, and sighted just under the edges of the rags they wore, were numerous bruises, some old and nearly healed, and some far newer.
Again, Tyroth's hand wanted to reach for the sword, to cleave the wretched excuse for a human in half and rid the world of her, but he restrained himself once again, if just barely.
"I think the price is a bit too high." he said. "If you are willing to go down to an even one hundred gold, however, we have a deal."
"Hmm… I usually don't do discounts…" the fat woman said, holding her chin for a moment. "But, since they are the last batch… sure, it's a deal!"
Counting up ten platinum coins, Tyroth placed them in the palm of the fat woman, whose face was a horrible mixture of a child overjoyed at a gift and a miser scamming someone off of their last money. No sooner had she put the coins in a pouch on her side, than she handed over the end of the chain that connected the women together.
"One more thing." Tyroth said before the fat woman could excuse herself. "Is there a key to the manacles and collars?"
Her face twisted to one of annoyance, and she dug up a key from her pockets, which she tossed to Tyroth.
"To the manacles. But there's no key for the collars, can't have them think they'll ever be their own persons again, now can we?" she said smugly.
A low growl escaped Tyroth's lips, and he promised himself that he would take her down one day, but not then and there.
"Let's go. We've got a long trip ahead of us." he said to the elves and gently tugged on the chain, to which they reluctantly, yet obediently, followed.
A little while later, Tyroth passed through the gates and met with Ragnir.
Ragnir was leaning against his cart, his trusty old ox already yoked and ready to move out. However, tied to the back of the cart were two horses, that themselves were yoked to another cart, and tied to the back of that cart were two cows and two bulls, which all in turn pulled yet another cart. Spread across the two carts, in spacious cages with roofs for protection against the sun were six pigs, eight goats, and at least two dozen chickens and a rooster.
And aside from all those animals, there were several crates, barrels and sacks that were most likely filled with all sorts of other things.
Seeing Tyroth, the dwarf was about to greet the dragon, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the chained elves.
"Not now." Tyroth said in a low voice, similar to how Ragnir did it back when they first saw slavery in the city, so the dwarf knew something was up and let it slide, for now at least.
Once the duo and the elves were seated in the cart, they began the long journey to Mutopia, in silence.
Several hours later, they stopped by a small stream to take a short break and let the animals rest a little. And at that point, Ragnir couldn't keep quiet any longer.
"Okay, what's going on? When we arrived in Berstolia, you were appalled at the mere sight of slaves being sold, and then you go and buy some of your own?! I saw those poor girls on my way back to the cart."
"I'll explain everything shortly, Ragnir. But there's one thing I have to do first, and it might just give you the answer." Tyroth said and walked off.
The elves were sitting in silence, carefully eating the food that they had been given, as if afraid to eat more than they were allowed. When Tyroth approached them, they all tensed up.
"M-master?" the black haired one said in a quivering voice.
"Just hold still for a moment." Tyroth said softly as he knelt by her side and took a firm grip on the collar.
His mana was channelled into his index finger, making it glow red, the tip growing longer and sharp as a blade. The elf stiffened and screwed her eyes shut tight, her breathing turned shallow and quick, then she felt a weight being removed from her neck. As she opened her eyes, she saw the collar, cut open, laying to the side of Tyroth as he was using the key to unlock the manacles.
"There, that should make it more comfortable for you." Tyroth said, rising to his feet and moving over to the other elves and repeating the process.
All three of them were left completely speechless by this act, and while Tyroth freed the remaining elves, the first one felt where the collar had been with trembling hands, as if afraid that it was only an illusion. Wincing at the touch of her fingers on the sores, she was convinced that it was real.
"W-why…?" she asked in a weak voice as Tyroth had removed the last of the manacles and collars from the others.
"I am not your master. I'm no one's master, and I never want to be. Slavery is wrong, and something that I will fight against whenever I get the chance. The only reason that I resorted to buying you three from that wretched creature, was so I could save your lives and set you free."
"F-free…? We're… free?" the golden eyed elf asked.
"Yes, you are free to live your own lives however you wish. And if you'll let us, my friends and I will take care of you until you've recovered from this ordeal. After that, you are all welcome to stay in our village for as long as you like."
The three elves exchanged looks, as if wanting to confirm that it was true. Then, the black haired elf started crying, tears streaming down her cheeks, with the other two following shortly after.
"No one… no one has shown us… such kindness for so long…" she sobbed. "This… what you have done for us… what you have given us… we can never repay you…"
"And you don't have to." Tyroth said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "All I ask is that you all try to live a good life, and we will all help you reach that goal."
"Thank you… thank you so much…"
Over by the carts, Ragnir watched the whole thing, and smiled.
Finally done with this one, and I must say, I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out.
Next time, we'll return to the new Mutopia, and see just how the inhabitants have been doing.
On a small note, all turtles except for Leo, who was unconscious at the time, complimented the hats of the Foot Elite, and now they will get some of their own. :)