CHAPTER 140: CHAPTER 140: "GOODS" _1

Tiffany felt as if the entire space were shrouded in despair. Its silence was more oppressive than the previous clamor, intensifying her already difficult breathing into gasps.

Lance, however, was unaffected, his gaze sweeping over the Slaves—most of them commoners, and also the greatest consumables.

"Please feel free to choose, and let me know which one you like," the Slave Owner said.

"How many are here?"

"Over two hundred."

"I want a hundred healthy Slaves. What price can you offer for that many?"

A big deal! The Slave Owner’s interest was immediately piqued. He pondered for a moment before stating a number.

"Two Gold Coins per person."

"Do you think I’m an idiot for you to propose such a price?" Lance retorted.

"These are select, high-quality Slaves. In normal times, they would cost three Gold Coins..."

"That was before. You know the current market better than I do," Lance said indifferently. He was well-aware of the industry’s challenges from his conversations with the Slave Catchers.

The Slave Owner was in a bind, unable to express his struggles. Usually, this industry would be quite robust. Brothels, arenas, farms, and factories were all major consumers, and different types of people could fetch different prices. But now, many refugees, desperately seeking sustenance, had filled the greatest demand. No one expected that their industry would be the one hit hardest.

Business had been bleak, with no inquiries, yet the upkeep for the Slaves required money. The more Slaves he accumulated, the more money their upkeep consumed, to the point where he was practically paying out of pocket.

"The cost price is one Gold Coin. I can’t go any lower..."

"Then keep them for yourself." Lance seemed to have lost his last bit of patience and, without waiting for the Slave Owner to finish, turned and walked away.

"Hey! Don’t go!" the Slave Owner hurriedly called after him, unwilling to let a big customer—or a big sucker—slip through his fingers.

"Nineteen silver coins! I’m losing money here..."

"Eighteen... and I’ll throw in five children."

"Seventeen... and I’ll add a woman."

"Just tell me, what’s the lowest you can accept?" Pushed to the brink, the Slave Owner directly blocked Lance’s path.

"Fifteen."

The Slave Owner gasped as if startled by the number. "You’re practically slitting my throat!"

"I’ll take another fifty," Lance said, holding up five fingers.

"What a great cut! Done deal!" The Slave Owner’s demeanor swiftly changed. He seized Lance’s hand in a firm handshake as if afraid he might change his mind.

Though the Slave Owner’s actions were comical, he was actually very rational; his previous performance had been somewhat theatrical. With the disaster still spreading, there’s no hope of recovery within a year or two, he thought. Currently, only beautiful women and strong warriors are valuable Slaves. These commoners aren’t worth much. If I continue to provide for them, I’ll lose more than this amount. It’s better to get rid of them while someone is still interested. Better to take a small loss now than to be stuck with them and suffer a bigger loss later.

Lance said nothing. Essentially, I’m exchanging one hundred Gold Coins for one hundred and fifty laborers, he calculated. One must remember that these laborers don’t require wages. Within two to three months, I can recoup this investment, and any time beyond that is pure profit. There are too many industries in my territory that need developing. As long as the number of people doesn’t exceed the capacity of our food supply, the more, the better. Money only transforms into resources when spent; keeping it idle means it’s nothing more than scrap metal.

"This is the deposit. I will take the people away in three days." Lance took out a bag and jingled it in front of the Slave Owner. The sound of Gold Coins clashing brought a long-lost smile to the Slave Owner’s face.

Just as the Slave Owner extended his hand to receive it, Lance slowly withdrew his. "What if I get stopped while leading so many Slaves out of the city?"

"Don’t worry, no one dares to stop this deal," the Slave Owner said with a jesting laugh. "If you need it, I could even have the city defense force escort you out."

"That would be best~" Lance, understanding the implication, casually tossed the money bag over.

Tiffany was puzzled by the seemingly meaningless conversation between the two men. They’re speaking in code, she realized. Lance understood these people had dubious origins and feared attracting trouble, while the Slave Owner’s words implied he had connections in high places and no one would cause issues. The Slave Owner mentioning the city defense force was more about proving his clout to Lance.

"Let’s continue looking."

Lance wasn’t in a rush to leave and continued browsing under the guidance of the Slave Owner.

The prison had three levels. This first level contained the common "goods." Upon reaching the second level, Lance finally saw narrow ventilation windows. Although sealed with iron bars, sunlight still managed to penetrate.

Beneath this illumination were the more costly "goods": women and children.

If Tiffany hadn’t realized something was amiss earlier, the sight of these Slaves made it clear. After all, where would so many women and children among criminals and captives come from? They don’t look like they’re from the Barbarian Tribes!

"How much for these?" Lance asked.

"I won’t beat around the bush. Three Gold Coins for a woman, one for a child," the Slave Owner stated.

That’s too expensive, Lance thought, losing interest. These children can’t be directly converted into labor.

The Slave Owner didn’t insist. Instead, he waved his hand. "The five children and one woman I promised as a gift earlier—you may pick any from here, honored customer."

Lance showed little reaction, pacing among the cells. His gaze scanned over the trembling "goods" as if selecting. Some women, realizing this was a chance to leave, began to display themselves to Lance, hoping to be chosen.

But this rather sparked his aversion. He needed honest people.

As he passed one cell, a woman knelt, desperately holding up a baby wrapped in tattered cloth towards him, begging, "Sir, please, be merciful! Take the child with you!"

Lance stopped upon hearing the baby’s cry, frowning at the sight of the obviously newborn infant. Slave Catchers wouldn’t snatch infants, he deduced. They must have caught a pregnant woman who then gave birth in this jail.

In this era, infant mortality rates were shockingly high, especially in an environment like this. It was no wonder this mother would rather part with her child to send it away. But she must have known that a newborn, separated from its mother and handed to a stranger, would most likely die anyway. The only difference was dying here or dying outside. However, she had no choice but to pin her hopes for her child’s survival on this, even if it was just a fantasy.

Seeing this, Tiffany felt a surge of pity. I should use my own money to buy them, she thought, looking towards Lance.

"Just these two," Lance said, his indifferent expression unchanged. He used two of his ’gift’ slots for the woman and the infant.

"Thank you! Thank you, sir!" the woman cried out, overjoyed. "I will work like an ox and horse to repay your kindness!"

She hadn’t expected to be chosen and immediately burst into tears of gratitude.