Kaen Eowenríel stood before the group of slaves, his eyes devoid of sympathy. He moved between them as if inspecting merchandise, evaluating each one with calm detachment.
Caden and Will followed silently behind him.
Finally, Kaen paused, brows furrowed in thought, and asked, "How many top-grade slaves do you have here?"
Balord replied promptly, "There are 120 men and only 30 women left. As you can imagine, women are always in higher demand."
"I'll take them all," Kaen said without hesitation.
"What?" Balord blinked, as if he'd misheard.
"I said, I'll take all of them."
Balord's squinty eyes widened in astonishment, as though he had just heard something unimaginable.
"Sir… are you saying—you're really going to purchase all of them? That'll cost you hundreds of gold coins!"
"Yes," Kaen affirmed. "You heard me correctly."
With that confirmation, Balord was instantly overjoyed. His face bloomed into a radiant smile.
"Sir, you're a godsend! I swear, I'll never forget this day. You're the most generous man I've ever met!"
Thirty women and one hundred twenty men—one hundred fifty slaves in total.
Because Kaen was making such a large purchase, Balord generously dropped the price to four gold coins per head, totaling six hundred gold.
Of course, Kaen wasn't carrying that much money on him. So, they drew up a contract.
The terms were simple:
Kaen would pay 100 gold coins as a deposit and take ten male slaves with him immediately. The rest would remain here in Balord's custody. Within ten days, Kaen would return with the remaining 500 gold. If he failed to do so, the contract would be void and the deposit forfeited.
Kaen didn't even blink before signing.
He selected ten strong-looking men and instructed Caden and Will to take them back to the tavern.
Once all arrangements were made, Kaen turned to Balord. "I heard a new batch of slaves arrived yesterday—former guards of the old lord and his second son?"
Balord nodded. "Word's spreading fast around town. Yes, they're here."
Balord didn't try to hide anything—especially not from someone who had just dropped hundreds of gold. His tone had already shifted to one of deep respect.
He sighed. "The squabbles between nobles… such a shame. Family and loyalty are all just illusions. When power is on the line, they'll tear each other apart. Looks like the young master Bree drew the short straw."
"What's the price on that batch?" Kaen asked.
At that, Balord's expression stiffened. He paused, frowning deeply before finally speaking with hesitation.
"Lord Kaen," he said solemnly, "I am a businessman—greedy, yes—but since you're currently my most valued customer, I feel I must warn you. That group? They're cursed. Anyone who buys them is asking for trouble."
Kaen's gaze sharpened. "You're saying the new lord wants them dead—quietly, in the slave markets?"
"Who knows?" Balord shrugged indifferently. "They didn't cost me a single coin. If someone powerful enough wants to take them off my hands, why should I stop them?"
Kaen chuckled softly. "And what if I am powerful enough to take them off your hands?"
"Huh?"
Balord's eyes met Kaen's, and for the first time, he caught a glimpse of something—unshakable confidence and poise radiating from this young man.
. . .
Ten minutes later.
In the underground dungeon of the slave market, Balord led the way with a torch, illuminating the cold, damp stone corridor.
"If you really want them," he said, "I'll sell the lot for three hundred gold. We trade—coin for captives—but I'm warning you now: if someone comes looking for revenge, don't come crying to me. I told you what you needed to know."
Kaen's voice was calm. "Relax. I wouldn't gamble with my life."
"I sincerely hope so."
They walked a little deeper into the darkness until they reached a row of iron-barred cells. The torchlight cast flickering shadows on the walls, revealing what lay inside.
Over a hundred muscular men were locked away in separate cells. Their eyes turned to the approaching duo—cold, wary, unwelcoming.
"That one's the old lord's second son—Young Master Bree," Balord said, pointing. "Looks sickly. If you buy him, you'll be throwing away money."
Kaen stepped up to the cell where a pale, frail-looking youth was huddled in the center, surrounded protectively by a group of large men.
"You are Bree?" Kaen asked.
"I am. Who are you?"
"Your hope," Kaen said evenly.
He stared into the youth's eyes and continued, "Have you thought about revenge? I can help you."
The words had barely left Kaen's mouth when Balord's expression changed entirely. His eyes nearly popped out of his head.
Did he hear that right?
This young man just offered to help Bree—avenge himself?
By the Valar!
That's treason!
Balord's mind went blank. He instinctively stepped back, intending to flee the dungeon—but then Kaen's voice echoed again.
"Pretend you heard nothing, and you'll earn gold. Leak this to anyone, and I promise… your death will be swift."
Balord froze. He swallowed hard. His thoughts raced.
He'd been in Middle-earth long enough to know how to read people.
And Kaen? He wasn't some nobody.
He dressed like nobility, moved with a warrior's confidence, and casually spent six hundred gold coins like pocket change. The lord of this town couldn't even dream of that kind of wealth.
Everything about this man—his manner, his bearing—spoke of hidden power and mystery.
Who's to say he wasn't the son of some great lord? Or a key figure in the realm?
Balord knew one thing for sure—this was someone he couldn't afford to cross.
With a deep breath, he said, "I'll stay silent. But I won't be involved."
Kaen nodded. "That's your choice."
"You… you're really willing to help me?" Bree's voice trembled.
There was desperation in his eyes—like a drowning man who had finally found something to cling to.
"I'm a slave now," Bree said. "I've lost everything. And my brother commands a force of three hundred soldiers."
Kaen looked him over carefully, then glanced around at the others locked behind the bars. "Sounds like you're underestimating yourself. From where I'm standing, you've got over a hundred strong soldiers."
Bree shook his head. "We have no weapons. No armor. Barely enough food to stay alive."
Kaen smiled. "Don't worry. I'll take care of that."
Then he asked, "I heard you have a sister—Joanna? She's in Rivendell?"
"Yes," Bree nodded. "But she won't be much help. She's a scholar. A talented architect, but… not a fighter."
Kaen's eyes glimmered with something unreadable. "No. We need her help."
Bree frowned. "What are you planning?"
Kaen turned, and with a voice like distant thunder, said just four words—
"We seek aid… abroad."