“Hmph... shallow.”
Bertrand was standing right in front of the main gate to the baron’s mansion. After he asked to be let in, an old man came to the front gate.
“What do you want? We’re very busy, here. You can’t visit without explicitly being summoned.”
Bertrand knew the man well, for he was a member of the baron’s family. His eyes were bloodshot and his breath heavy, however, as compared to his usually calm demeanor. Bertrand chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
Bertrand inwardly replied: “You.”
Bertrand had a relationship with the man, both having dealt in the slave trade. The old man had quite the peculiar tastes.
He’d go around random villages and calmly and politely court his pray. After luring her to the city, he’d use her and sell her off when he was done. Bertrand had purchased one such batch of slaves.
Bertrand was honestly impressed with this single-minded obsession of his. As the son of a whore himself, Bertrand would be inclined to scorn the man, but he had his own single-minded pursuit: he chased death. Thus, he came to sympathize with the man.
“I’m just here to pick them up, as usual.”
“The baron’s not home, leave me alone!”
“That’s right. But, for some reason, his carriage seems to be moving around the city with its usual gusto.”
The old man glared at Bertrand, but gave up and opened the door. Bertrand entrusted his sword to the househelp and walked in.
“Rats are everywhere, I see!” The old man muttered, in anger.
“Yeah. Though they don’t always catch the mouse.” Bertrand replied.
The old man grunted. So did his househelp.
“This way. I’m in no mood to talk, and you know the deal. Just take ‘em, pay, and get out.”
Bertrand was led away from the main family estate. While the baron was obviously involved in the slave trade, he took great care to separate his name from it officially. Right now, Bertrand was not dealing with the baron or his estate, but a rogue family member.
Bertrand was led to a warehouse and found the woman. The interior was completely without light, dusty, and moldy. The woman jerked her head as she heard the sound of the door opening. Her hair was disheveled, her face stained with blood and tears.
“She’s got a hell of a wild temper. Take her away as soon as possible.” The old man left, considering his business finished.
Bertrand snickered.
He crouched down next to the woman and whispered something in her ear. The woman’s face suddenly colored with surprise. He released her gags, wrapped her in his own cloak, and pulled her up.
Bertrand was somewhat surprised by her naivety, however. She had followed him without so much as a question, and seemed to show absolute trust in him. Easy prey. Made sense why the old man would target her.
Grabbing her hand, he pulled her outside of the warehouse, but the househelp objected.
“Wait! You haven’t paid yet!”
Bertrand punched him in the face.
“Heh.”
Bertrand pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket and dropped it on the househelps back. The contents stipulated that the baron would dismiss any member of the house partaking in the slave trade during his absence. A parting gift.
..........
“What did you tell Hannah, Bertrand?”
Marco, Bertrand, and Oiva sat at the bar, each with a bottle of sake in front of them. It was Marco who asked that question.
“Well, the woman who serves you ought to be a bit more refined. I merely imparted some truths of this world upon her.”
“...Hannah is stubborn, for better or for worse. Neither you nor I could change her.”
“Well, I did save her life, so...”
“You took advantage of that?”
“Maybe.”
Oiva, meanwhile, was thinking of a completely different matter.
“He’s acting like his slave...” He was, of course, talking about Bertrand’s unusual submissiveness.
“Alright. I have one more request for you. Find Jekyll Rosa.”
Jekyll Rosa was one of Solomon’s adjutants; a vassal, basically. She was tried with Solomon, but had probably been released by now. Obviously, having searched for Solomon for most his life, Bertrand knew about her.
“Evil-eyed Jekyll...”
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