"Tempting. If I ever need someone to throw rocks at my enemies while drooling, I'll come right back."
The vendor's grin faltered. Renold gave a polite cough behind him, which Kael took as a silent plea not to antagonize everyone.
He gave a theatrical sigh and moved on.
Kael stopped in front of a stall that looked like it had given up trying to sell anything long ago. The sign overhead was crooked, the paint faded. A single lantern hung by a fraying rope, swinging just enough to be unsettling.
The vendor sat slouched behind a crate, reading what looked suspiciously like a romance novel. He didn't even look up.
Kael cleared his throat.
The vendor turned a page. "If you're here to browse, don't touch the merchandise. Some of them bite. One of them definitely curses."
Kael glanced at the three cages lined up behind him.
The first held a woman wrapped in chains that had clearly been enchanted by someone with a flair for dramatics—glowing runes, slow-moving vines of energy snaking along her wrists.
She looked up at Kael, dead-eyed, and said, "If you buy me, I'll smother you in your sleep."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "You'll have to get in line."
The vendor grunted. "She's a hemopath. Blood magic. Killed her last three owners. Got talent, though."
Kael squinted. "And you're just… openly selling her?"
The vendor shrugged. "Market's slow."
The second cage was empty. Or so Kael thought—until he noticed the faint shimmer of air warping just slightly, like heat off stone.
"What's in that one?" he asked.
The vendor pointed at a handwritten sign:
Invisibility curse. Possibly feral. Feed once daily. Do not open.
Kael stared. "...I'm not even sure if that's a warning or a sales pitch."
"Depends on your level of optimism," the vendor replied, flipping another page in his book.
Then Kael stepped to the third cage.
Inside sat a boy—young, maybe twelve—with wild hair and a grin that suggested he'd either just escaped from somewhere or hadn't noticed he was captured to begin with. He waved cheerfully at Kael.
"Hi! I've bitten six nobles. One of them cried!"
Kael blinked. "...Did they cry because of the bite?"
The boy tilted his head. "Maybe. I was also shouting their sins out loud. Sometimes I just know things. It makes people uncomfortable."
Kael looked back at Renold, who, for once, seemed to have no comment.
He looked at the vendor again. "Okay. What is this one?"
The vendor shrugged. "We don't know. Found him in the woods yelling at a demon. Or possibly his reflection. He hasn't stopped smiling since."
Kael turned back to the boy. "Are you cursed?"
The boy leaned forward, voice conspiratorial. "Nope. Just annoying."
Kael moved on.
Quickly.
***
Hours later—well, actually only two hours, but it felt like a lifetime—he finally sank onto a weathered stone bench at the edge of the slave market, like a man who'd just emerged from war. A very loud, morally confusing, contract-saturated war.
He exhaled slowly and rubbed his temples.
There was still one section left. The final aisle. The one roped off with velvet curtains and perfumed enchantments that wafted through the air like passive-aggressive invitations.
The "Pleasure & Companionship" sector.
Kael stared at it for a long moment. The enchanted lanterns flickered like they were winking at him. Somewhere in the distance, a flute played something entirely too sultry for a place built on blood contracts.
He sighed and muttered to himself,
"Not now."
He turned his head slightly and caught Renold staring at him—expression unreadable, posture formal, but definitely watching.
Kael squinted at him. "Don't judge me. I was just looking."
Renold raised a single eyebrow, elegantly silent.
Kael rolled his eyes and slouched deeper into the bench.
"Gods. I didn't think it'd be this hard to find one decent slave. Not even a fancy one. Just—someone who isn't possessed, cursed, or emotionally radioactive."
He rested his elbow on his knee and rubbed his forehead.
"I swear, all the good ones are already bought. Or sacrificed. Or, I don't know, ascended."
Renold, ever composed, stood beside the bench like a patient but mildly smug butler.
"I did tell you, Master," he said, tone slipping into the cheerful cadence of a door-to-door salesman, "our house has the finest maids. Efficient, loyal, and—most importantly—not currently possessed. Can't say the same for the competition."
Kael didn't even respond at first.
He was too busy staring at the table next to the bench, where someone had left a wrinkled newspaper—yesterday's issue, from the look of it. The parchment was yellowing at the edges, the ink half-faded. But the headline? That screamed just fine.
COUNT VAEL EXECUTED FOR TREASON – FAMILY SENTENCED TO LIFETIME SLAVERY
Kael blinked, then slowly leaned forward and picked it up.
He read aloud under his breath:
"Count Vael of the Western Border tried and executed for selling magical blueprints to rival kingdoms. As per Noble Law, all direct bloodline members are remanded into state-owned slavery..."
His eyes narrowed as the name jumped out at him again.
Selene Vael – daughter of the traitor, former top-tier magic student at Magic Academy.
His breath caught.
'That name.'
From the memories of original Kaelion, it struck a chord deep and clear—Selene Vael, rising star of the Magic Academy, a prodigy everyone whispered about.
A girl destined for greatness... and now reduced to this.
Kael's gaze hardened. The weight of that fall settled on him like a stone in his chest.
He turned slowly to Renold. "I want her."
Renold let out a quiet sigh, one that seemed to carry the weight of too many resigned mornings.
"Very well, Master. I will make the arrangements."
***