"Sorry, but I'm really in a rush. This product was to be delivered yesterday." Barion spoke, "May we pass?"
"N-Naturally! A member of the Merchant's Guild is always welcome in our fair city!" The guard quickly humbled himself in that matter, his tone lending an unheard-of respect to the man he spoke to with boredom in his voice not one moment ago.
"We'll be on our way, then."
As Barion thrashed the horses to trot onward, whispers had begun to fill the air surrounding the wagon, and Din was surprised to see that not one of those citizens seemed to regard her presence anymore. When the two of them had passed through the guardhouse into a small square, she looked back towards the badge in Barion's hand, "That badge…"
"It's just a token of membership." He replied, pocketing the object in question, "I'm part of the Merchant's Guild. The one sponsored by the chamber of commerce."
"The Merchant's Guild?" Din paused, "I think I've heard of that before…"
"Well, it's nothing too fancy. Just means I can throw my weight around a little, is all."
"More importantly-" She changed the subject, "we're inside the city now, so isn't it about time you paid me?"
"Let me drop by a warehouse first. The money can change hands all at once that way."
Nearabouts the entrance to the city was the district focused primarily on trade, where the workmen and craftsmen walking around were replaced by wagons not unlike Barion's. Amidst the streets, goods of all shapes and quantities were loaded and unloaded from the carts of prospective merchants. Though the traders there sold freely, such was not the case for Barion, who instead directed the wagon further into the district where a large warehouse awaited. There, only a number of carriages gathered, most of them flying the same banner. It was close to the warehouse that Barion's wagon came to a stop, and as he dismounted, one such set of banners caught his eye, "Hm."
"What is it?" Din asked after moving along and dropping down beside him.
"Those wagons are flying Khazmani banners. They've come a long way."
"Khazman… the Lunar Dominion?"
"Wonder what they're carrying. I hear the deserts of Khazman are host to flowers that sell for a fortune as alchemical reagents."
"Speaking of which… what are you selling, exactly?"
"Mandrake oil. Twelve barrels' worth." He replied.
"Never heard of it."
"I'm not surprised. It's brewed in the Henklomeon Steppe. Mandrake roots kill whoever pulls them out, so it's sometimes called 'blood wine' since almost 200 people need to die to make a single bottle."
"200…" Din repeated, "And you've got twelve barrels of it?"
"Calling it a 'rarity' wouldn't do it justice. It's more like a legend." Barion continued, "And to the rich and powerful, it's worth more than adamantite."
As they spoke, the two walked towards a smaller office which was next to the warehouse. The portly man at the counter, who had been occupying himself with a mountain of documents, regarded the two with disinterest at first, but had his eye caught by the unmistakable appearance of an Elf, "How can I help you?"
"I'm from the Merchant's Guild. I have twelve barrels of mandrake oil to sell." Barion explained, making sure to flash his badge at the same time.
"The Merchant's Guild? Mandrake oil?" He repeated, and stared at the badge for a moment before proceeding, "How much would you be expecting for a single barrel?"
"I was told by a contact here that the governor is planning a soirée. I would part with them for 5,000 gold a barrel, or 35,000 for the whole lot."
The bookman shook his head, "For that amount, we would first need to confirm the authenticity and quality of the goods whether you're a member of the Merchant's Guild or not. And the payment would have to be authorised by the royal treasurer. It is true that Governor Gleen demanded such luxuries for his party, but I haven't the gold on hand to be paying for such an expense."
"That's acceptable, but I won't part with the oil before I've received payment."
"I'll be drafting your appearance today whether you sell anything or not, and also what you claim to be holding. If the goods are damaged or lost, you'll be able to claim reparations."
"Okay. Thank you."
"And, this one here-" He continued, pointing a finger at Din, "Is she also part of your delivery?"
"Bastard! How dare you talk about me like some kind of object!" Din went to step towards the counter, but Barion extended a hand to stop her.
"This one belongs to me. She isn't for sale."
"Wha-?" Din's eyes widened, "As if I would ever-"
"If that's the case, then please ensure she causes no trouble in the city."
"Will do."
Though she was enraged by the bookkeeper's words, Din was not the sort to lash out indiscriminately. A potent injustice, that she, who was oppressed, could not speak up or act to defend herself, lest she confirm the bias of those who would call her less than human.
Labourers arrived shortly to relieve Barion's wagon of its barrels, which he watched with the eager eyes of a hawk to ensure that they were removed safely. As the last barrel was rolled into the warehouse, both he and Din returned to the wagon's seats, and Barion went to update his Information Tablet.
"Do you think the city will pay for your barrels?" Din asked.
"If they don't, the Merchant's Guild will sanction them. Bookkeepers like him are responsible for recording each and every commodity that comes into town, so there's proof that we own them." He answered, "Of course, if they decide on a disagreeable price, we'll be taking the barrels back."
"Do you mean to call them 'our' barrels, or are you too engrossed in your tablet?"
"You're my business partner now, so you've got a legal right to associate yourself with me. That also means you're my co-defendant if it turns out the barrels aren't up to the Merchant Guild's standards."
"...And they are, aren't they?"
"I wouldn't have travelled here from the Henklomeon Steppe if they weren't." He finished simply, and from his belt detached a pouch, before pausing, "...Now that I think about it, how do you plan on carrying 1,000 gold coins?"
"Didn't you say you had around 9,000 pieces on you? How are you carrying those?"
"I had a holding enchantment applied to this pouch." He replied, "It's where I keep all my money. But I really doubt you're carrying around something similar."
"That's true…" She admitted.
"Well, it's not like your pay's going anywhere." Barion said, grabbing the wagon's reins, "I'm starving. Let's go eat something tasty."
"As if I would want to eat anything in this city. Humans ruin the sanctity of food by adding spices and oils. A meal is best enjoyed straight from the source."
-Is what Din said at that moment, looking quite pleased with herself as she did. But when the two of them went gallivanting about the day markets, it was as if her attitude had turned upside down.
"Barion, look at that."
"Barion, buy this for me."
"Barion, let's go try that next."
Is this woman a glutton? He thought to himself, watching Din scoff down a local baked dessert as if her life depended on it. Shamelessly disregarding the attention she garnered as an Elf, it was at least pleasing for him to see her happy with something. Certainly, the outing had burned a larger hole in his pocket than he would have liked, but the prospect of a successful deal with his mandrake oil blinded him to the transient nature of gold.
"Aren't you going to finish eating, Barion?"
"Unlike you, I only have a single stomach."
"Then I'll help myself, if you don't mind." She mused greedily, swiping his portion away in an instant, "It's a sin to waste food, after all."
They were seated in a tavern, one which had begun to fill as the sun set completely over the horizon. If it had already become so late, Barion thought to himself, then it was unlikely that the two of them would see a conclusion to their trade that day. More worried about his stock than he normally was, he bothered himself with a tankard as the night rolled on. Din's alabaster-white hair and distinctive ears gathered glances in that place, not all of them particularly welcoming, though the girl herself was too enraptured with her meal to worry.
"So, Din-" He struck up a conversation, "what does an Elf plan on doing with 1,000 gold, anyway?"
"Don't phrase it like Elves don't use money." She replied, "We still need to trade with humans for metal and medicine. 1,000 gold could last me decades if I'm careful with it."
She then went silent, but spoke up again, "...Or, maybe it's better off somewhere else."
"How do you mean?"
"With an Elf enclave, I mean." She elaborated, "That kind of money could make a real difference for people who need it. Maybe I could use it to convince some to leave the peninsula and head for the mainland."
"I thought Branda was the homeland of Elves?"
"It is." She nodded, "But, what's a homeland worth if you can't be safe there? Being prideful about our rightful place just ends up getting more Elves kidnapped. There's no chance for us to reclaim Branda, so what's the point in staying?"
"I won't argue with that."
"But, even so, just how many others would listen to me?" She continued, "So many Elves have already died trying to rebel against human occupation… there are probably less than 50,000 of us left, and that's including those who are slaves."
Curling a fist, she slammed it against the table, "Damn it… just talking about it--no, even just being in this city makes my blood boil! Knowing there are so many of my own people trapped here…"
In that way, Din was a representation of the hidden desires of her people, Barion thought. Those who wished to rise against the humans and drive them out, and those who wished to leave their ancestry behind in order to survive. Knowing she was there, in that very city that had stolen the lives of so many of her own, without being able to lash out or ease their suffering in any way--as a human, Barion had never felt such genuine helplessness.
"Oi, big brother."
-Like that, a huge man from another table called out to Barion, "How much?"
He turned his head to face the man, "How much? For what?"
"Ain't it obvious? How much to spend a night with your Elf!" The man chuckled, and the others at his table followed suit, "Girl's got a killer body. I'd give you a week's wages if you let me take her upstairs for a round or two."
"Is that so." Barion muttered, "I'll have to decline."
"...Hah?" The man, who suddenly appeared displeased, frowned, "This your first time owning a slave, big brother? If you're flaunting the goods like that on a night like this, it's the way of things to let every man take a crack at her, you know?"
"Sorry, but this one's a collector's item. She belongs to me."
"Bariooon…" Din warned, "Don't get carried away."
"Hehehe…" The man stared at her with a pleased look on his face, "You're really gonna let your slave talk to you like that, big brother?"
"That's what I'm into."
"Huh?" The man blinked, and slowly returned to his drink, "The people you meet sometimes. Gods…"
"Huh." Din crossed her arms, "I was expecting him to pick a fight with you."
"Let's not get into the habit of attracting unwanted attention. I wouldn't want to stay in this city for any longer than it takes for me to get my money." He said, pausing to take a drink of his own, "And, I wasn't exaggerating, either. My type of woman is the kind who likes to be aggressive."
"I didn't ask!"
"Even so." He continued, "I'm surprised you managed to keep your cool. Even I was getting a little pissed off with how that guy was talking about you."
"You see how it is? A man could push an Elf like me down in a public place like this and nobody would try to stop him. They don't see us as people, just objects to please themselves with. A commodity, like everything else that passes through the city."
"It's a lot better than how things were before the Holy Alliance was formed. The word 'trader' was practically synonymous with 'kidnapper' after the Demon King's defeat. People of all sorts were being lifted from their homes and sold in faraway countries."
"Just because it was 'worse' then-" Din began, "doesn't mean it's 'better' now."
"I won't try to relate to you. Nothing I say can contradict the injustice of slavery."
"You're a member of the Merchant's Guild. You have power and influence." She listed, "Why not report the city and start an investigation?"
"I would need evidence to condemn every slave owner here, and proof of every slave that's held against their will. Even a thorough investigation by the Guild won't turn up every kidnapped Elf."
"Even if it saves just a handful, it would be worth it."
"Din…"
"What else am I supposed to do?" She went on, "You're the only human I know."
To think, at only midday, she had tried to murder him and steal his livelihood, and now there she sat, exchanging a meal with him, pouring her heart out about the plight of her people and the ones responsible. Of course he could sense that injustice. Of course he wanted to help her. Yes, for that was his 'way', the very values which had formed a pillar of unbreakable strength in his mind. It was almost a nostalgic feeling.
"Forget it." Din relented, "I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up."
"No." He said, "Let's do something about it."
"...What?"
"I've got a few contacts here in the city. Let's try to undermine the operation a little."
"How are we supposed to do that?"
"Good question." Saying that, he finished off the last of his drink and stood up from the table, looking back towards Din with a confident smirk, "Let's start by attending the governor's party."