I do not own or maintain any rights to Rising of The Shield Hero they belong to One Piece Books and Aneko Yusagi. I am just playing in their sandbox for a minute.

Chapter 11: Antithesis

The slums, I decided, were a completely different world from the market district and upper-class housing of the city. It had taken me a little over half an hour to make my way here, using the directions from the thief I had caught earlier. I figured I was about another fifteen minutes away from the area where I now knew the slave market was operating. I was careful to maintain my disguise for the time being, but I knew I would be changing into the clothes I had brought specifically for this part of the operation before long. Unlike the wealthier areas of Castle Town, the residents here paid close attention to the beggar I was pretending to be. Some looked like they wished they could offer help, while others watched with greed clearly shining in their eyes.

I was careful not to draw any more attention from the residents than I had to while walking the final leg of my journey to the slave markets. I knew I was getting closer when I could barely see the tops of the circus tents that had been described to me. I selected a building that would allow me to observe the market without being seen and made my approach. As I slid around the corner of the building, I finally laid my eyes on my goal. I was disgusted by the facade of the tent; it was a picture-perfect replica of a circus tent. However, I could smell the death and suffering emanating from the canvas structure from more than two hundred yards away.

I tried not to be distracted by the obnoxious bright yellow and red colors of this circus of nightmares as I kept watch for its hellish ringmaster. I adjusted my position carefully to get a better view of the front of the tent, hoping to catch a glimpse inside if anyone entered or exited. I mimicked my previous act of pretending to be asleep under the eaves of a structure so I could watch without being seen in turn. I was quite surprised when my silent vigil was interrupted by some company.

"Whew, what a night," a masculine voice said as the speaker settled next to me.

I pretended to wake up from a near sleep before I responded, "Hmm, it has been quite a night for me, stranger," I said, glancing at the person who had joined me out of the corner of my eye. He looked to be slightly older than I actually was and was clothed in the same kind of fabric that all the peasants seemed to wear.

He let out a barking laugh. "Aye, I imagine you haven't made any friends today. People around here don't take kindly to folks like us loitering about," he finished with a smile in my direction. "Say, what's your name? I haven't seen you around before."

"Digby," I replied, knowing it was an old English name for a settlement by a ditch. "What about yourself, stranger?" I asked in return.

He nodded for a moment before responding, "I am Bartcly Emerson. So, what brings you to these parts? Not many would stray so close to Belukas's little carnival."

"Nothing in particular," I said quickly. "It hasn't been a good day for begging. What about you? If not many are willing to come here, what motivates a man like yourself?" I added with a yawn.

Bartcly yawned before he spoke. "I wanted to see if anybody was up to no good tonight." His words triggered my senses, putting me on high alert. "You know slavery is outlawed in Melromarc? A stupid little quirk in the wording makes it okay as long as they don't sell human slaves," he finished, glaring at the entrance of the tent.

"What do you mean?" I asked, shifting my position to get more comfortable. "Even the king owns slaves, or at least that's the word on the street."

"Aye, that he does, but the queen hates it. I heard he drove every slave into the stables so that the heroes wouldn't see them when they got summoned," he said, grating his teeth.

I quickly realized Bartcly had an agenda; I just needed to figure out who it was aimed against. "So who do you think would be up to something tonight?" I asked, briefly turning my head to look at him.

His face could be described as ruggedly handsome, with clearly defined features accentuated by a well-kept salt-and-pepper goatee. His hair was neatly trimmed and cut short. However, it was his eyes that told the real story. The unwavering anger with which he looked at the tent suggested that he was definitely not a friend of Belukas. His features pulled into a sneer for a brief moment before he spoke again. "Probably some damned noble thinking they're above the law," he said, unable to mask the hate in his voice now that I knew to look for it. "I'm not sure we'll see any tonight; in fact, it's unlikely. They'll all show up early tomorrow evening," he continued as he pulled a pipe from his tunic and began to pack it.

"Why would the time of day affect whether nobles are buying slaves?" I asked carefully.

"You're new to town, aren't you, Digby? The reason for that is because that's when the nobles pay off the gate guards to not show up for duty, allowing them to sneak their black market wares in. You could sneak an army past those dim-witted bastards from midnight to dawn, and no one would be the wiser," he explained, holding a piece of straw to the flame of a torch to light his pipe.

"Surely it can't be that easy," I replied, putting my head down into my pack.

"But it is! What's happened is that the nobles pay off the guards to skip their shifts for a few hours, but they never return when they should. Part of their bribe includes the time they should be watching for invaders at the brothel—for free. Inevitably, they get drunk on women and wine and fail to show up in the morning by the time their relief arrives. Normally, in a well-run unit, that would cause the morning crew to get angry and report them to an officer, you know?" he asked rhetorically, taking a few drags from his pipe. After blowing out the smoke, he continued, "Well, not here, my friend. The guards on that side of the wall are all on a one-three week rotation, so they are all in on it. One week, the day guard is crewed by the first watch, and then it rotates the next."

"Why doesn't the king put a stop to it?" I asked, accepting the pipe when he offered it to me.

"Well, he doesn't know," he said with a cheeky smile as I took a drag of smoke. "That man is completely incompetent nowadays. He used to be a great leader years back when he was the Staff Hero, but I think the last war with Siltvelt ruined his ability to lead."

I blew out the smoke I was holding as I passed the pipe back to him. "Thank you for the warnings."

"Thank nothing of it," he said dismissively. I don't enjoy seeing the rich and powerful abuse their positions without consequence." He took another drag off of the dimly lit pipe. "A final warning if I might be so bold," He said, blowing out the smoke, "If you have any business with Belukas at all, never trust the man. Be decisive, and don't let him do much talking."

I attempted to hide my startled expression before I asked, "Why would you think I have business with Belukas?"

"Call it a hunch for now; whatever your business is, I highly doubt that it's to buy a slave." He said snuffing out the pipe. "Your business is your own, however. Thank you for the chat and stay warm tonight." He said standing to leave.

"Take care of yourself, Bartcly," I said gruffly, waving goodbye. He hummed in acknowledgment as he walked off into the deepening shadows. I didn't have to wait long after Bartcly's departure before I finally saw what I had been anticipating. One by one, the lights in the windows of the slums were extinguished. At last, a short man in a top hat emerged from the tent, looked around the square, and closed the entrance of the tent behind him.

Authors Notes

I'm back! I sincerely apologize for the long wait, and I truly appreciate your patience. Thank you for returning to this story, and a warm welcome to those who are new! I am working on getting back into writing as a hobby. It won't be an easy journey, but I am committed to giving it my best effort. If you enjoy this story and would like to see more, please leave a review or send me a private message. Your support means more to me than I can express! Additionally, I will revisit the story to correct the numerous errors that plague this piece of fiction and hopefully make it the best it can be.

Thanks again,

Sobe James.