Three days had passed since the battle at the Kobold warcamp.
Aamon, Alexia, and Yue strode through the familiar streets of Dusk Town. The scent of baked bread, forge-smoke, and rain-damp stone filled the air. Life moved as usual here—merchants calling out prices, adventurers swapping stories, children darting between market stalls. No one would have guessed that a dangerous tribe had been wiped out just beyond the forest.
Their destination was the Adventurers' Association, a modest two-story building near the center of town. The front hall was warm, busy with adventurers of all ranks reporting in or bickering over rewards. Behind a polished wooden counter stood a woman in her mid-thirties—poised, professional, with auburn hair tied into a neat bun and sharp eyes that missed nothing.
As they approached, her gaze flicked to the group, lingering on the blood-stained wraps bundled in Aamon's arms.
"Back from a hunt?" she asked, raising a brow. Her tone was crisp but not unkind.
Aamon nodded and unwrapped the trophies—thirty pelts of First Order kobolds, and a larger, darker-scaled one from the evolved Second Order warlord.
Her eyes widened slightly. "A Second Order kobold? That's… not a foe most new adventurers would dare challenge."
She quickly composed herself, motioning a nearby clerk to fetch a senior assessor.
A few moments passed. The trophies were examined, logged, and approved.
"The Second Order kobold qualifies as a separate mission," the receptionist confirmed. "Your total reward… 400 copper coins."
Aamon accepted the pouch of coin silently.
Alexia rolled her eyes. "All that effort for this much? Next time we'll charge extra for slaying a warlord."
Yue giggled softly, but said nothing, quietly content to be back among the hum of civilization.
They left the Association soon after. Aamon made a short detour to a weaponsmith, where he retrieved his repaired sword. The smith—a grizzled man with soot-stained hands—grunted in approval when Aamon inspected the balance and nodded.
Now, coins in pocket and blades freshly sharpened, Aamon led them deeper into the city.
Alexia noticed the change in atmosphere as they crossed into an older district. The streets grew quieter, and the shops… stranger. Yue stayed close, eyes flicking to shadowed alleys and barred windows.
"Aamon…" Alexia said slowly. "Where are we going?"
"A place that might help us grow stronger," he replied without turning. "In a world like this… power can take many forms. People included."
They stopped in front of a tall, iron-wrought gate. Beyond it loomed a manor of dark stone and red banners. A gilded sign read:
Velmark Slave Emporium – Certified by Royal Decree
Yue flinched. "This is… a slave market?"
Aamon nodded. "Not for cruelty. Not for chains. But if we're going to keep growing… we'll need others who can fight. Who want purpose."
Alexia crossed her arms. "You think buying loyalty is safer than earning it?"
"I think giving someone a second chance can forge loyalty deeper than gold."
The gates creaked open.
And with that, the three stepped into the shadowed halls of the emporium—a place that may define the future development of his territory, if his idea worked.
As the heavy doors closed behind them with a dull thud, Aamon's eyes swept across the chamber. Slaves of all races and origins stood or knelt in silence—some with defiant stares, others blank-eyed and broken. Behind golden grilles and runed cages, their fates hung suspended in chains and contract seals.
Alexia frowned beside him. "So this is your plan? Buying slaves?"
Yue, silent and watchful, tilted her head. "This place... it doesn't feel right."
Aamon didn't answer immediately. Instead, he kept walking, his boots clicking against marble.
"It's not about ownership," he said at last. "It's about structure."
He stopped before a pen where several beastkin huddled together—dirty but strong. Their eyes followed him warily.
"If we want the territory to thrive, we need more than just raw strength. We need hands to build. Minds to plan. People with skills—crafters, farmers, guards, healers."
Yue blinked. "So… you're thinking of recruiting from here?"
He nodded. "This place isn't just a market. It's a chance to find those who've been cast aside. If we offer them more than chains—a purpose, a new life—they'll follow. Willingly. Not as slaves."
Alexia crossed her arms, still skeptical but thoughtful. "That's… ambitious."
"It's necessary," Aamon replied. "We don't have the time or resources to build a population from scratch. But if we can reshape what's already broken, we can start something real."
He looked back toward the cages.
"This place might be dark… but it could light the first spark of something far greater."
The air inside the slave emporium was thick with musk, incense, and tension. Rows of cages and pens stretched into the shadowed distance, some holding people, others beasts, and a few—empty—awaiting the next shipment.
A worker stationed nearby stepped forward as Aamon and his group entered. She wore a neutral expression, trained in customer service but already gauging them as small spenders.
"Welcome, honored guests," she said with a practiced smile. "What type of slaves are you looking for today?"
Aamon paused, letting his eyes drift across the dimly lit holding pens. "Do you sell beasts here?"
The assistant raised a brow in mild surprise, then gave a short nod. "We do. Most are unawakened, common stock—good for labor, hunting, or training. Prices usually range around 50 to 60 copper each."
Aamon nodded once. "Show us the unawakened beast sector."
There was a flicker of restrained disappointment in her eyes. Clearly, she had hoped for a more extravagant purchase. Still, she gestured with an open palm and led them down a quieter hallway, the sound of muffled growls and scratching growing louder with every step.
They arrived at a low-ceilinged chamber lined with reinforced cages. Inside, various beasts lay curled, pacing, or watching with wary eyes.
Aamon's gaze locked on one pen in particular—filled with compact, sinewy creatures that bore short, curved horns on their heads.
"Horned rabbits," he murmured.
The assistant picked up his interest. "A good choice, sir. Fast, aggressive, breedable in captivity. We have a few variants—Desert Horned, Forest Horned, and even a few of the rarer Spiritual Horned Rabbits. Each variety has unique traits."
"Price?" Aamon asked.
"Seventy copper each, regardless of variant."