The afternoon sun blazed fiercely, heating the cobblestone paths until they were scalding hot.
A dull, rhythmic thud of footsteps and the creak of wagon wheels rolling over the ground approached from the northwest, shattering the tranquility of the town's afternoon.
"Sir!" A soldier rushed hurriedly into the stone house, his face bearing a hint of solemnity.
"A group has arrived from outside the town. It's a large contingent. Judging by their flags and what they're escorting... it looks like a slave-hunting party."
A slave-hunting party?
Raylo nodded. Calculating the time, he figured they were due.
"How many are there? And what do they want?"
Raylo stood up, and Moonlight ceased her play, raising her head to look at the doorway with golden vertical pupils.
"There are about fifty or sixty guards, all armed and looking quite formidable. They're escorting... roughly four to five hundred slaves, shackled in wagons and roped together. Their supervisor hopes to enter the town to rest and purchase some supplies," the soldier reported.
Raylo pondered for a moment.
"Let them in."
Raylo made his decision quickly.
"Tell the guards to stay vigilant. Send someone to inform Ed and Bolin to bring their men over to maintain order."
"Yes, sir!" The soldier took his orders and left.
Not long after, a group exuding an odor of sweat, dust, and an indescribable air of oppression slowly rolled into Blackstone Town.
Leading the way were a dozen or so guards mounted on shabby horses, clad in leather armor and with curved swords at their waists. Their eyes scanned the curious townsfolk warily, their faces bearing a professional coldness and wariness.
Following closely behind were several large wooden prison wagons, their wheels rumbling and emitting a piercing noise.
The wagons were crammed full of slaves of various skin tones and ages. Most were barely clothed, their expressions numb, eyes hollow, as if they had completely given up hope for their fates.
A pungent stench filled the air.
Between the wagons were even more slaves chained together with thick ropes, herded forward by the guards like livestock. These individuals appeared slightly stronger, but they too kept their heads down, shuffling along, the shackles on their feet and hands chafing their skin, leaving bloody trails.
At the rear of the column were a dozen or so supply wagons, along with another twenty to thirty guards walking or riding on horseback.
A middle-aged man with a slightly plump figure and dressed in relatively decent silk clothing rode a chestnut horse, surrounded by guards. He was clearly the supervisor of this slave-hunting party.
The townsfolk spontaneously cleared a path, their whispered conversations replacing the previous hubbub. The excitement brought by the pegasus had not yet fully faded, but this cruel and realistic scene now confronted them, making them aware of another side of this world.
Some women turned their heads away with不忍 (unbearable) expressions, while most of the men remained silent, their eyes filled with complex emotions.
The plump supervisor dismounted and approached Raylo with a professional smile plastered on his face, quickening his pace.
A few steps away, he cupped his hands in a salute and said, "You must be the lord of Blackstone Town, sir? I'm Andrew, the supervisor of this... er, party. Passing through your esteemed land, we would like to request some conveniences from you, allowing our men and 'goods' to rest briefly and replenish some food and water."
His words were cautious, referring to the slave-hunting party as a "party" and the slaves as "goods."
"I am Raylo, the lord of Blackstone Town."
Raylo nodded, his gaze sweeping calmly over Andrew and the cold-eyed guards behind him.
"Blackstone Town welcomes all guests who abide by the rules. You may rest in a designated area. If you need supplies, you may purchase them from my men at fair prices."
"Thank you, sir! Thank you, sir!"
Andrew's smile broadened, and he quickly expressed his gratitude.
"We'll definitely cause no trouble. We'll replenish our supplies and be on our way."
Raylo remained noncommittal, his gaze shifting to the enslaved individuals being escorted.
He slowly scanned the crowd. Most of the slaves kept their heads down, numbly enduring the searing sun and the guards' reprimands.
Suddenly, his gaze locked onto an exceptionally tall barbarian youth.
The youth was chained beside a prison wagon. Unlike the other listless barbarian slaves, although he too was shirtless, covered in scars and grime, his back remained straight.
Beneath his tousled, chestnut-brown hair were eyes burning with the flames of anger and defiance, staring fixedly at the surrounding guards as if he were a trapped young lion.
He appeared to be no more than fifteen or sixteen years old, but his frame was unusually stocky, with clearly defined muscle lines. Even in such dire circumstances, one could still discern the immense strength and potential within him.
"Supervisor Andrew, it seems you've had quite a successful trip this time."
Raylo withdrew his gaze and casually opened his mouth.
"Where did you acquire so many 'goods'?"
A hint of smugness appeared on Andrew's face. "Back from the northern barbarian grasslands' edge, sir. We were lucky. We stumbled upon some tribal conflicts and picked up a few bargains along the way."
He said it nonchalantly, as if discussing the most ordinary of businesses.
Raylo understood.
Conflicts between barbarian tribes were common, and the defeated often became slaves. It was a harsh law of the grasslands.
"Speaking of which, my Blackstone Town is just being established. I'm in need of labor."
Raylo changed the subject, his tone remaining calm.
"Clearing farmland, constructing buildings—all require a large workforce. I see among your 'goods' there are many strong barbarian individuals. I wonder if Supervisor Andrew would be willing to part with some of them?"
Andrew's eyes lit up.
He had thought the lord of this remote town was merely providing a convenience, but he hadn't expected an unexpected business opportunity.
In the slave trade, the most important thing was buyers.
"Sir, you're joking. As long as the price is right, all my 'goods' are negotiable," Andrew said, rubbing his hands together, his attitude even more enthusiastic.
"I wonder what kind of 'goods' you're interested in?"
"I have no interest in the scrawny ones."
Raylo interrupted him, his gaze once again glancing discreetly at the barbarian youth.
"I need those who can truly work hard and have strength. For example... those barbarian youths and adults."
Andrew followed Raylo's gaze and immediately caught on.
He walked to the middle of the column and yelled loudly, ordering the guards to pull out a few of the strongest-looking barbarian slaves and line them up.
"Sir, please take a look!"
Andrew pointed at the slaves, as if introducing merchandise.
"These are all carefully selected barbarian warriors. Although they've become captives, they definitely don't lack strength! Whether it's quarrying rocks or felling forests, they're all experts!"
There were about a dozen barbarian slaves brought out. Most of them bore injuries, their eyes filled with humiliation and hatred, but their bodies were indeed much stronger than the other slaves.
Raylo stepped forward slowly, carefully examining these slaves.
He acted like a picky buyer, scrutinizing their muscles, bones, and even reaching out to squeeze one of their arms.
The barbarian youth whom Raylo's gaze had locked onto was among them.
When Raylo approached him, the youth suddenly raised his head, his bloodshot eyes glaring fiercely at Raylo, a low growl emanating from his throat as if in defiance.
"Oh? This little fellow has quite a temper."
Raylo said calmly, stopping Andrew.
"What's your name?" Raylo asked the barbarian youth.
The youth glared at him without speaking.
Seeing this, Andrew immediately stepped forward to reprimand him.
"This fellow's name is Thor. He's the son of the chief of a small tribe of the Barbarian Bear Clan," Andrew said. "He's not old, but he's got a lot of strength. He's injured several of my men."