The slave market square of Aldoria is a stark contrast to the bustling and vibrant town center. Located in a more secluded part of the town, it has a heavy, somber atmosphere that feels markedly different from the lively markets and streets I’ve explored so far. I hear a lot of weeping and admonishing shouts in reply. A few cracking sounds made by whips can also be heard. What a lovely place.
As I approach, the first thing I notice is the large iron gate that marks the entrance. It’s adorned with intricate carvings, perhaps to lend an air of legitimacy and formality to the trade conducted within. Two guards stand watch at the entrance, their expressions impassive. They don’t bother me.
Inside, the market is laid out in a series of open-air stalls and pens, each one showcasing different slaves available for purchase. The area is divided into sections based on the types of slaves being sold- laborers, domestic servants, combat-trained individuals, and women- as well as some rather handsome men- dressed in skimpy loincloths only. I can imagine what their intended purpose is.
The stalls are constructed of sturdy wood, with iron bars and gates to keep the slaves contained.
There are wooden platforms where some slaves stand or sit, looking out with various expressions ranging from utter hopelessness to quiet defiance and even some absolute indifference. Seeing some slaves being resigned to such a cruel fate that is awaiting them makes this scene even uglier.
Vendors line the main path, calling out to potential buyers and advertising their slaves’ skills. The noise is a constant hum of chatter, punctuated by the occasional shout or the clanking of chains. Screams and wails from the “wares” are met with the crack of a whip and scornful shouts. It’s a busy place, with a mix of prospective buyers, curious onlookers, and slaves awaiting their fate.
The air is thick with the smell of sweat, unwashed bodies, and the faint tang of fear. It’s an unpleasant odor, one I’ve never experienced before. There’s also the occasional whiff of incense burning from the vendors’ stalls, likely an attempt to mask the stench. This place is special for a Western 21st-century guy like me.
Never in my life did I think I’d see so many people objectified and sold for profit.
As I walk around I see a few wooden posts around the market where notices and descriptions of the slaves are posted. Some are handwritten, detailing the slaves’ skills, ages, and origins. Others have more elaborate signs, indicating higher value or specialized training.
The slaves themselves vary widely in appearance. Some are humans, others are demi-humans with animalistic features like ears, tails, or fur. I also see elves and dwarves. What peculiar creatures. Always dreamed of seeing them. I can write going to a slave market and meeting demi-humans off my fantasy bucket list. ƒгeewebnovёl.com
In one section, I see a group of demi-human slaves. There’s a wolf-kin with striking amber eyes and ears that twitch anxiously at every sound, a fox-kin with bright red fur and a bushy tail, and a rabbit-girl with large, expressive eyes and long ears that droop slightly. They’re all collared, but they don’t seem physically restrained otherwise. Sadly they seem to go for more than the human slaves.
Perhaps they are considered as exotic products.
Another section features more rugged, combat-ready slaves. These are mostly men and women with muscular builds and scars that tell tales of past battles. They look more defiant, their eyes scanning the crowd with a mix of challenge and angry rebellion against their cruel fate.
The vendors are a mix of experienced traders and opportunistic merchants. They range from slick-talking salesmen to gruff, no-nonsense individuals who clearly view their wares as mere commodities to make a quick buck on.
Overall, the slave market is a harsh reminder of the realities of this world. It’s a place where lives are bought and sold, and where power dynamics are on full display. As I walk through, I can’t help but feel a mix of fascination and unease. This is a world far removed from the one I grew up in.
Determined to gather more information, I approach one of the vendors who looks more friendly than the rest. He’s an older man with a weathered face and a surprisingly kind expression. His stall features a mix of slaves, including a few demi-humans.
“Good morning,” I greet him. “I’m new to Aldoria and was hoping you could tell me more about the slaves you have here.”
The vendor nods, his eyes lighting up with interest. “Of course, young master. What are you looking for? Laborers, house servants, perhaps someone more combat-ready or a beautiful, seductive bed warmer? I have a nice lady that can fulfill all four criteria. She is trained in the art of combat and servicing, and my wife also taught her how to be a proficient maid.
With her strength, laborious jobs will also be finished in a breeze.”
He gestures to a dejected young woman that has eyes devoid of any hope with his hand and I can see a wooden plate hanging from her neck, sitting on top of her bare, perky breasts with a few numbers carved on it. I can only chuckle wryly at the ingenious but utterly cruel and dehumanizing marketing strategy. She costs a lot; 5 gold and 35 silver.
If the exchange rate is the same between gold and silver as it is with silver and bronze then she costs 535 silver or 53500 bronze. Way out of my budget. Besides, I want my slave to be more feisty, with a strong will to live. This one would likely jump into harm’s way the first chance she gets.
“I’m interested in someone who can assist with protection and perhaps help me level up safely,” I explain. “I’ve heard that some slaves are magically bound to ensure their loyalty. Is that true?”
