Chapter 771: I’m Just Following The Rules [Part 1]

"Boss, we got a good haul today!" A skinny man said with excitement. "Loitering around the borders of the City of Alabaster really yields great profits for us. We managed to get two Half-Elves, two Dwarves, an Elf, and three Beastkins. They will sell a lot on the black market."

A scar-faced man smirked after hearing his subordinate's reply. The Port City of Alabaster is a gathering place for the various humanoid races, so it was very easy to capture some of them as long as they traveled beyond its borders.

There were many slave traders, bandits, and mercenary groups that hunted these other races, for profits in the Black Market, along the borders of the city in secret. 

Even though the punishment for kidnapping was the Death Penalty, none of them gave a hoot. For them, as long as there was quick cash to be made, all they needed was to move swiftly and retreat just as fast.

"The auction will be held in two days," the scar-faced man said. "Let's bring them to the underground headquarters. Make sure to erase our traces. I don't want the border patrols to get wind of our operation.

"Yes, boss!"

The scar-faced man was the leader of a bandit group named Wild Hounds. 

They don't have a permanent place of residence, because they believed that no place was safe. The Wild Hounds would only visit cities where the Dark Traders were located because these cities were under the Black Market's control.

It was the safe haven for criminals, and most wanted people who had bounties on their heads would take permanent residence in these cities.

The group traveled for three days until they arrived at one of these hidden cities that had been dug inside a mountain. 

This city was called Truedawn. It was the underground city that held the biggest auction house located near the city of Alabaster. Due to its close proximity to the city of Alabaster, only certified members of the Dark Guilds knew of its existence. 

These members had powerful restrictions carved into their bodies to prevented them from leaking the city's location to anyone. The price of breaking this restriction was a very slow, and painful death.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that Truedawn was the strongest stronghold of the Dark Traders in the Western Sphere of the Central Continent. This was a very important city to the Dark Guilds and its defenses were second to none, resembling a formidable fortress, which used the geography to its maximum advantage.

Even if an army were to siege it, the Dark Guilds could easily defend it due to the powerful magical arrays that they had placed around the mountain.

"All of you get out!" the scar-faced man ordered. "Make sure to bring them to the underground containment area first. Skipper, I'll leave everything to you, do you understand?"

"Don't worry, Boss," Skipper replied. "I know what to do."

The scar-faced man snorted before taking his leave. He still had other things to do in the city, and would visit the Auction house after a few hours, so he left the captured "merchandise" in the hands of his subordinates.

A few minutes later, the scar-faced man arrived at a magnificent structure that was located at the center of the city. 

"Brock, you're finally back," a middle-aged man wearing glasses greeted. "How was your haul? Did you manage to snag us a few elven beauties? They are quite high in demand right now."

Brock smiled before nodding his head. "I got one, and she's quite the looker. We also have two dwarves in their early twenties, but they are pretty at best. Nothing special."

The middle-aged man made a gesture, and Brock sat on the couch opposite him.

"We have noble ladies looking for good looking men," the middle-aged man commented. "Did you manage to get a few?"

"We caught two Half-Elves," Brock replied. "I'm quite confident that the ladies will love them."

"How about labor work?

"We captured a few Beastkins. They will do just fine."

The middle-aged man chuckled as he extended his hand. "It's always a pleasure working with you, Brock. With your merchandise, we will have over a fifty slaves in this auction."

Brock held the middle-aged man's hand firmly and shook it twice before letting go. "It's always a pleasure working with you, Sir. I just hope that the remuneration I will get from the Auction will satisfy me."

"How about Sixty Percent?"

"Sixty-five."

"Fine. You have a deal."

The middle-aged man chuckled as he adjusted his glasses. "The border patrols are getting more active as of late. Lie low for a while and don't come out of the city. You'll have plenty of cash to spend when the auction is over, so you don't need to hurry to get back to work."

Brock pondered for a while before giving the man a brief nod. 

"Okay," Brock replied. "I'll stay and enjoy your hospitality, Lord Grayson. If possible, I'd also like to sightsee in the Aiur Empire for a few days."

Grayson smiled after he heard Brock's reply. "Of course. I will make the necessary arrangements for you and your men.

Grayson was a Marquis in the Aiur Empire, and one of the major backers of the slave trading in the west. Arranging for Brock's accommodation in his Domain was a very simple thing for him.

—–

Meanwhile at the underground area…

"Hurry up and start moving!" Skipper shouted as he used a wooden stick to strike the Half-Elf's back whose good looks made him feel insecure. 

"He's at it again, that Skipper," one of the bandits said in disdain. 

"Aren't you used to it by now?" a burly man asked. "He's always like that when he faces off against any good looking man. If not for his fear of the boss' wrath, he might have ruined the faces of all of the Elven Men that we've captured over this long while."

"Still, that Half-Elf is quite a catch. I'm sure that our lady customers will be pleased."

"Indeed. He will sell for a few thousands when the bidding starts."

The ragtag group of Elves, Half-Elf, Beastmen, and Dwarves, were tied up in special metal chains that prevented them from using magic. 

This was the standard equipment that slave traders use in order to neutralize their captives. As long as they were wearing these shackles, they were no different from commoners who couldn't use magic.

When they arrived at their destination, all the demihumans were locked up. They would be appraised by the elders of the Auction House and, depending on the result of the appraisal, their initial bidding prices would be set.

"Get in!" Skipper kicked the back of the Half-Elf, sending him falling face first inside a prison cell. 

"Skipper, don't step out of line! If that Half-Elf's face is injured his price will decrease," the burly man shouted. "I'm sure you don't want to make our boss angry, right?"

"So what?" Skipper sneered. "At most he will just have minor bruises. Do you think the Auction House doesn't have the ability to cast a healing spell on his face?"

The burly man snorted. "We'll see what the boss says later. If the Auctioneers complain to him later, you'd better prepare yourself for a beating."

Skipper shrugged as he gave the Half-Elf one last glance before leaving the underground room. Although his Boss might nag at him later, he just couldn't stop the urges to beat up the Half-Elf that made him feel inferior.

As soon as the bandits had left the scene, the Half-Elf slowly propped himself up from the ground and dusted off his clothes.

'Optimus, start to map this area. Make sure to give me as detailed a report as soon as possible.''

< I'm on it. >

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