Leylo nodded and said, "Immense strength is perfect; my mines to the north are exactly in need of hands. This one, and these few..." He casually pointed out ten of the strongest-looking barbarian slaves with the most "spirited" eyes, including the youth. "What is the price?"
Seeing that Leylo had made his choice so quickly—and picked the most valuable young braves—Andrew felt a surge of secret joy. His eyes darted around as he quoted a price: "My Lord has an excellent eye! These are the 'hard bones' we had a terrible time capturing. Each one... fifty gold dragons!"
This price was clearly inflated. An ordinary, strong barbarian slave usually fetched between twenty to thirty gold dragons on the market. Andrew was banking on Leylo's urgent need for labor to hike the price.
Leylo's eyebrows didn't even twitch, but the corners of his mouth curled into an imperceptible arc. "Manager Andrew, are you joking with me? Fifty gold dragons? For that price, I could buy a trained gladiator in the south." He paused, his tone carrying a hint of mockery. "These 'hard bones' look to me like nothing more than stray dogs with broken spines. Whether they can even survive until next spring is a question. I'm only buying them for convenience to save the trouble of recruiting refugees. Twenty gold dragons each—not a coin more."
Andrew's smile stiffened. "My Lord, that... that's too low! Look at their frames, their strength..."
"Frames? Strength?" Leylo scoffed, pointing at the defiant youth. "Look at his wounds, and look at their hollow expressions. After buying them, I have to treat their injuries, provide food, and assign men to guard them against escape or riots. These are all costs. Twenty gold dragons is already a generous offer considering our need for manpower."
"My Lord, thirty-five! I can't go lower! That's practically cost price!" Andrew began to haggle.
"Twenty-five." Leylo remained unmoved. "That is my final offer. If you don't find it profitable, then forget it. Blackstone Town lacks people, but I am in no rush." He acted indifferent, as if the deal were inconsequential.
Andrew looked at Leylo's calm face, then at the slaves he brought. On long journeys, slave attrition was common; selling them now was better than having them die on the road. He grit his teeth, seemingly making a difficult choice. "Fine! Twenty-five it is! Let's call it a gesture of friendship! However, My Lord, that brat you chose..." He pointed to the fierce youth. "His temper is wild. Several of my guards suffered at his hands. You'd best guard him carefully after you take him back."
Ed stepped forward, took a coin pouch from an attendant, counted out two hundred and fifty heavy gold dragons, and handed them to Andrew.
The transaction was complete. The ten barbarian slaves, including the boy named Thor, were taken over by Ed's guards. They looked around blankly, not yet fully grasping this new turn in their fate. Thor remained as defiant as ever, but as his gaze swept over Leylo, a flicker of complex, unreadable emotion appeared in his eyes.
"Thank you for your patronage, My Lord!" Andrew stashed the coins, beaming. "Does My Lord require any other 'goods'?"
"No need." Leylo waved him off. "Have your party finish resupplying and leave. Blackstone Town is small; it cannot host too many guests."
After leaving Old Buck to handle the caravan's logistics, Leylo turned his attention to the ten barbarians. Their wounds stung in the cold air, but the uncertainty of their future and the bone-deep humiliation were harder to bear. They were like cattle waiting to be redistributed.
Leylo paced in front of them, with Ed following close behind. "Raise your heads."
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable authority. The slaves hesitated; most kept their heads down. Only Thor kept his chin up, glaring at Leylo like a cornered cub.
"I know you hate me. You hate everyone who turned you into slaves." Leylo paused, observing them. Except for Thor's eyes becoming fiercer, the others showed little change—perhaps out of despair, or perhaps because they didn't believe a new master would ever speak a kind word.
"But now, your fate is in my hands," Leylo continued flatly. "I am giving you a choice."
This finally drew a reaction; a few slaves looked up slightly.
"I need hands. I need laborers for the mines, but I also need warriors who can fight for me." Leylo pointed toward the town. "Here, warriors receive respect, food, weapons, and perhaps even freedom and glory. As for laborers..." He didn't finish, but the implication was clear. "You can choose: continue as a slave laborer driven to the brink of death, or take up arms, swear fealty to me, and become a warrior."
A dead silence fell over the clearing. These barbarian youths clearly hadn't expected such words. A slave was a slave—since when did they have a choice? They looked at each other, eyes full of suspicion. Fealty to the human lord who just "bought" them? It sounded like a cruel joke.
No one responded. Thor even sneered and turned his head away, as if Leylo's words were an insult to barbarian braves.
"It seems you don't believe me," Leylo said, unfazed. "Or perhaps you think it's shameful to serve a human who 'bought' you?" His gaze fell on Thor again. "Barbarians revere strength, don't they? The strong rule."
Thor snapped his head back, growling at Leylo.
"Excellent." Leylo nodded, a smile appearing on his face—a smile that made even Ed feel a chill. "Then we shall settle this the barbarian way. You ten can take turns challenging me."
Leylo held up a single finger. "If even one of you can defeat me, all of you will receive your freedom immediately. I will have men escort you safely out of my territory. I do not go back on my word."
The ten youths froze, their eyes erupting with unbelievable light. Freedom? Just for defeating him? It was a godsend. Though they were slaves, their innate fighting spirit and thirst for freedom were instantly ignited.
"However..." Leylo's tone shifted. "If all of you lose, you must swear a Blood Oath to me. From then on, you will serve me with absolute loyalty, becoming my sharpest spear and my sturdiest shield. Any further treachery will be met with death without mercy!"
A Blood Oath! The most sacred and severe vow in the barbarian tribes. Once sworn, it meant dedicating one's soul and loyalty entirely to another. The condition was harsh, but compared to an endless life of slavery, the lure of "victory equals freedom" was far too great.