"Here we are."
Ron extended his hand to help the girl down from the cart, carefully inspecting her expression to see whether she approved his choice for their center of operations.
The warehouse was large and close to the port, with windows facing the ocean that provided light to its interior. There was a large gap in the roof where the beams had fallen along with a few tiles, creating a spot where the light shone directly down on the dusty floor.
"That is the hole you talked about before, right?"
"Yes. We got quite the discount because of it. I was thinking that we could put some of our men to work to fix it."
It was a very large space, with the chilly breeze coming through the large wooden doors, making clumps of dust dance up in the air in front of them, twirling for a while before peacefully falling back down.
"It is quite cold."
"Most warehouses are. It is a building made for storage, after all."
Neera looked back at the cages behind them. Many people were wearing rags that barely covered their skin, while some were even naked, hugging their arms and shuffling closer to each other to keep warm against the coastal weather.
"Mr. Ron."
"Yes?"
"Go and buy clothes, shirts, pants and shoes. It doesn't matter if the fabric is rough, but it must be thick. We can buy thinner shirts when the weather becomes warmer, but for now this is what we need the most."
"For all ninety three slaves? It will cost quite a bit."
"We have already invested a large amount of money in them. Or would you rather they die from the cold and throw our money down the drain?"
"You are right. I will do that now, then. Will you be okay on your own, Miss?"
Ron looked nervously at the people in the cages.
"It is alright. I have her with me, that should be enough."
Neera gestured towards Davina, standing guard behind her.
He stayed in his spot a little while longer, uncertain as to whether this was a good decision, but Neera's calm eyes finally made him relent. Nodding, he turned and left to do as instructed.
The girl then set her gaze on her companion.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes."
Davina walked towards the carts, opening the cages one by one to bring the people inside the warehouse. The shuffling of dirty feet on the floor was all that could be heard. No one even tried to escape.
'How much pain have they been through to become this docile?'
No matter how much Neera wondered about it, she knew it would make no difference at this point. The pain was already imparted. The scars were fixed on their skin.
Just like her, their lives had been permanently changed, their eyes completely different from what they once were.
The carts left down the street, with their drivers steering in the direction of the slave trader's shop. When she couldn't see them anymore, Neera regarded the new workers.
"Hello, everyone, my name is Neera. I am here acting as a proxy for Master Laurier, the main investor of this business. "
Weary eyes fell on her and Davina.
"Our partner, Mr. Ron, will be in charge of the administration of the company, and your direct superior from now on."
The tense postures told her this people didn't expect to receive a different treatment from what they had experienced with their previous owners. Scarce food, harsh work, and the sound of whips over their heads. The ones with a weaker physique wondered whether they would get past this season once more, or perish like many others beside them after their bodies had exhausted their strength.
Neera furrowed her brows at the sight before her.
"I know many here will find this hard to believe, as you must have hear it countless times before, but you will not be treated badly while in our care. This woman standing beside me is my friend, Davina, and I do not consider her to be inferior to myself."
Davina stepped forward, having mixed feelings at the surprise she perceived from the people around her.
"I'm Davina, a member of the Ronna tribe, and I can attest to the truth of her words. You will receive sufficient food and rest times between labor hours, along with the proper clothes to pass this season. What we require from you is to help in the construction of a fleet for international trade along with the naval engineers of this port. They will direct you in what you need to do and guide you through the process. After the ships are built, your job will be to man them as sailors."
Davina's words seemed to be better received among the slaves, the collar on he neck making them feel a trace of solidarity towards her. Although her voice was steady and her eyes were firm, there was still a lot of uncertainty. She could have easily been forced to defend her master in order to avoid punishment. Neera had told her it would take quite a while for these people to believe in what they were saying, as only time could work to validate the truth of their words.
----
When Ron came back, he noticed some of the more able-bodied men were already lifting the fallen beams to fix the opening on the warehouse's roof. The rest of the slaves sat on the floor, munching the bread they had previously bought for their arrival.
"I'm back, Miss. I see some workers are already fixing the roof."
"Hello, Mr. Ron. Yes, I thought it would be best to close it as soon as possible since the cold weather will still last a while longer. Did you manage to buy the clothes?"
"Yes."
Ron pointed to the cart behind him.
Neera called Davina over so she could begin distributing its contents.
"Prioritize those who have nothing on right now. We can't afford them falling sick."
Watching Davina swiftly making her way towards a group of shivering women with clothes in her arms, Neera spoke to Ron once more.
"Mr. Ron."
"Yes?"
"Have you read the terms of the slave ownership contract I gave you?"
"Yes. They are counted as part of the capital you are putting down for the business."
"That's right, but did you read the rest of the conditions?"
Ron felt a bit embarrassed. In his rush to get out of the slave trader's store, he had completely overlooked the papers Neera handed over for him to sign.
"Um... I... I did not."
"Well I suggest you study it in depth, since any breach of its terms could result in some losses for the Count in the business."
"What?!"
Ron quickly pulled out the folded paper he had stored in his pocket, his eyes flying over its contents.
´In order to protect the interests of the business, Party B must ensure the safety and wellbeing of all the human assets owned by Party A. This entails: proper food, working shifts of maximum four hours, no work at night for at least six hours, no physical punishment of any kind, no verbal abuse of any kind, sufficient rest time to restore full health in case of sickness and/or injury.
If any asset is damaged due to an external third party, it is Party B's responsibility to pursue the corresponding legal actions to ensure the reimbursement of the loss in full. If Party B fails to do so, it will be held responsible for the damage and will pay the corresponding amount to Party A.
None of the assets are to be used for any other purpose than the building of a commercial fleet. If this clause were to be broken, Party B will pay for the cost of the asset in full.
None of the assets are to be sold, traded, or discarded without the written consent of Party A. If this clause were to be broken, Party B will pay for the cost of the asset in full.'
His hands started trembling the moment his eyes passed the paragraphs. And there, in the bottom, as if taunting him, his rushed signature stood boldly in ink, right next to Mr. Laurier's.
He didn't think any of the statements were precisely wrong, he was in favor of treating the slaves with care, but all the clauses put the full brunt of any mishap oh his and the Count's side of the court. His employer would vomit blood the moment he saw this contract, specially after taking into account the fact that he had given Ron specific instructions to not let Laurier's side get any stronger.
They had the management rights, but both with the fleet and now this, Mr. Laurier appeared as the owner of the assets, lending it to their joint venture. Only the revenue of the business was split evenly half and half, but everything else was owned by their counterpart. This left them extremely vulnerable to Mr. Laurier's will.
'Should I just shred this paper?'
Ron thought so for a second before deciding against it. The girl had a copy with her anyway, which she had handed over to her escort for protection. There was no way to retrieve it peacefully, and they could not afford to antagonize their investor right now.
'This business in completely in their clutches. Master was too arrogant when he originally signed that contract, not even fully reading all the terms and conditions. If he had, he wouldn't have agreed of Mr. Laurier's ownership over everything without getting some shares of the assets himself. Now, I have done the same.'
Neera noticed the despair in the man's eyes, who dreaded the idea of discussing this with his master.
"Mr. Ron, it had been already stated in the original investment agreement that all the assets bought with my Master's money would be their own, a clause that the Count agreed to, so there should be no problem with that since you were just following the original contract. On the other hand, no repairs shall be charged to the Count if the people here are managed properly. What is there to fear?"
Ron looked at the girl's frigid eyes.
'She's right. As long as we don't step out of the agreement there will be no problem. I was intending to take good care of our slaves anyway.'
The man finally calmed down and nodded.
"I was just surprised, that is all. Your Master is quite sharp when it comes to business, isn't he?"
"Thank you for your kind words. We are only trying our best to protect our interests."
The little lady's face drew a smile that didn't reach the corners of her eyes, making Ron shudder under the full weight of her gaze. He decided to change the subject in hopes of leaving this weird atmosphere behind.
"In any case, may I ask why is your Master so adamant about these clauses? The contract is extremely exhaustive when it comes to rest and labor time."
Ron didn't believe all this clauses came from the goodness of a wealthy business mogul's heart. The parts where all the costs fell on them made sense, since most businessmen did their best to not expose themselves to monetary risks, but why would they limit the amount of work to be done by the slaves? Wouldn't a normal investor try to get the most of their money's worth?
"Well, all the slaves you can buy in this kingdom are foreigners, mainly coming from raids to the cities of the countries we are at war with, or bought from other kingdoms, so my Master was being specifically careful about their image towards our future trading partners."
"You mean the Nalia Empire?"
"Yes. You see, when it comes to skin tones and physical attributes, the people of the Empire are quite similar to the Ronna, don't you think?"
"Now that you mention it, it it is quite true."
"And how would you feel if someone offered to do business with you only to find out they treat people just like you in a horrible manner?"
"...Apprehensive, I guess."
"You wouldn't trust someone who disregards human life, would you?"
Ron remembered how he felt about that slave trader.
"I wouldn't."
"Exactly. So in order to maintain a proper image, our workers must be in good shape, just like how our ships have to look presentable to our partners' eyes."
He nodded in understanding. This Mr. Laurier was quite thorough when it came to thinking of the future of their business. Maybe it wasn't so bad to have someone that sharp as an associate.
"Oh and, Mr. Ron, one last thing."
"Yes?"
"My Master asked me to tell you that your work will be supervised."
"Supervised?"
"Yes. We need to ensure our requirements are met, so we will have someone record any breach of the contract to charge them all at once the next time we meet, not that we believe here will be any."
"What?! And who-?"
"We cannot tell you that, Mr. Ron, otherwise some might do things behind our backs, so it's best to leave it out of your scope. We just want you to be aware of it. Besides, it's not like you will breach the clauses, will you?"
"N-No."
"Good. Then we shall take our leave. Please take care of the business until our next meeting, Mr. Ron. I hope you have a good afternoon."
And after an elegant curtsy, Ron was left alone in the warehouse with the gazes of his new 'workers' glued to his nape.
His eyes followed at the figure of the little girl guiding the Ronna slave across the port.
"Ah, crap."