Infiltrating Blackstone Town

Blackstone Town was even less impressive than Leopold had imagined.

From a distance, it looked like a stockade built of rough timber and rubble, situated on a gentle slope slightly higher than the surrounding terrain.

“Are we forcing our way in or sneaking in?” Isabella asked, keeping her body low as she stared intently at the guards near the wall.

Leopold did not answer immediately. Crouching behind the bushes, his gaze slowly traced the outline of the wall, counting the figures on the watchtowers.

“Forcing our way in is too foolish. We don't know how many people are inside, nor do we know what kind of magic the sorcerers use.” He paused, noticing a steady stream of scattered merchant caravans passing in and out of the main gate.

Leopold's gaze fell upon the guards conducting inspections at the gate.

Isabella followed his gaze. “...Will they let us slip in?”

Without taking his eyes off the main gate, Leopold narrowed his eyes and counted. Two guards stood at the entrance, short swords hanging from their waists, wearing no armor.

Most of their attention was focused on the vendors pushing handcarts and carrying sacks. They only cast cursory glances at the passing pedestrians, without searching or questioning them.

“Their inspection is very lax,” Leopold said softly. “And look over there—”

He tilted his chin toward the main gate. A vendor carrying a basket of goods was passing through, and the guard merely glanced at him before waving him through.

“They only guard against those who clearly don't look like they're here to trade.”

Isabella watched for a moment. “Then how do we get in? We don't have any goods on us.”

“That is indeed a problem. If all else fails, we could hijack a merchant caravan...” Leopold scratched his head. “But that would cause too much of a stir.”

Just as Leopold was fretting, several figures holding knives emerged from the forest.

“Don't move! This is a robbery!”

A few figures dressed in coarse cloth, brandishing woodcutters' cleavers and wooden clubs, stepped out from the bushes. Their leader was a tall, thin man who looked quite fierce.

“Robbery!” the tall, thin man shouted again, his voice slightly louder than before. “Hand over your valuables!”

Leopold stood in place, blinked, and then turned to look at Isabella. Isabella was also looking at him, and the two exchanged a knowing smile.

The goods had delivered themselves to their doorstep...

“Not bad. This saves us a lot of trouble.”

Leopold rotated his wrists and smiled at the six bandits. The bandits were taken aback by his smile, and the tall, thin leader instinctively tightened his grip on his cleaver.

“W-What are you laughing at?”

Outside the main gate of Blackstone Town, Leopold pushed a wooden cart. Several tightly bound bandits, their mouths stuffed with rags, were tossed onto the cart.

Isabella followed unhurriedly beside him.

The guards spotted them from a distance. One of them set down his water bowl, narrowing his eyes to size up the group.

“Halt. Who are you? What is your business here?”

Leopold stopped, a slightly greasy smile plastered on his face. “Sirs, we're in the slave trade. Just acquired a batch of goods from the south, and hearing that business is good here in Blackstone Town, we brought them over to take a look.”

As he spoke, he stepped aside so the guard could get a clear view of the bandits tied in a row behind him.

The guard's gaze swept over the bandits—coarse cloth clothes, faces covered in dirt and soot, mouths stuffed with rags. Some were still struggling desperately, emitting muffled whimpers from their throats.

“These goods... don't look very well-behaved,” the guard said, raising an eyebrow.

“Just caught them, they haven't accepted their fate yet.” Leopold kicked the nearest bandit and barked angrily, “Behave yourselves!”

The guard spat to the side and waved his hand. “Go on in. Head to Central Street, someone at the Black Tower Cathedral will take the goods. Don't wander aimlessly around town.”

“Thank you, sir.” Leopold nodded with a smile and continued pushing the cart forward.

“You... I...” The bandit leader struggled violently, his mouth constantly churning out muffled curses, but Leopold ignored him completely.

“It seems the slave trade takes place at the Black Tower Cathedral.”

The two pushed the cart through the main gate and walked along the main street. Blackstone Town was slightly livelier than it appeared from the outside, with a few stalls set up along the roadside selling crude ironware and dry rations.

“The people coming and going all seem to be human. Those sorcerers must be hiding deep,” Isabella observed quietly, scanning her surroundings.

“After all, humans and sorcerers are still hostile on the surface. Most of the traders here are human, so the sorcerers naturally avoid open association.”

No one spared them a second glance along the way, and no one paid much attention to the bound bandits on the cart.

“It seems slave trading is indeed a common occurrence here,” Isabella said in a low voice.

“Yes.” Leopold's gaze fell on the end of the street, where a black stone spire building stood, a black flag fluttering from its peak.

“Is that the Black Tower Cathedral?” Isabella followed his gaze. “It's quite prominent.”

“Prominent makes it easy to find.” Leopold steered the cart to the side of the road, stopping in front of a blacksmith's shop. “Let's take a break.”

Just then, a shirtless middle-aged man walked out of the blacksmith's shop, carrying a hammer over his shoulder.

“...A new batch of goods?”

“Yes, just acquired them,” Leopold replied naturally. “I heard the prices are good here, so I came to check out the market.”

“The market...” The blacksmith wiped the sweat from his face with the cloth draped over his shoulder. “Prices have indeed gone up lately, but they're hard to acquire.”

“Hard to acquire?”

The blacksmith gestured with his chin toward the Black Tower Cathedral. “The goods they want over there are getting more and more selective. In the past, as long as they were strong laborers, it was fine. Now they want people with 'spiritual affinity.' They even do some kind of physical exam; those who fail can't even enter the cathedral.”

“Spiritual affinity?” Leopold repeated the phrase, his face still wearing the merchant's smile. “What's the meaning of that? I've been in this trade for years, and this is the first time I've heard of someone choosing slaves based on 'spiritual affinity.'”

The blacksmith shrugged, leaned his hammer against the wall, and lowered his voice. “Who knows. Ever since those black-robed folks arrived, they started this whole routine.”

“Before, they only wanted young and strong ones. Now, they have to wave some small stone in front of you, and they only take you if there's a reaction.”

“I really don't understand what those people are up to anymore...”

After listening to the blacksmith, Leopold's smile remained unchanged, but a trace of contemplation appeared deep in his eyes.

“And what about those whose 'spiritual affinity' doesn't meet the standard? The cathedral doesn't take them?”

The blacksmith sneered. “Not take them? They do. It's just that the price is much lower, and they're thrown into the mines to quarry stone. There's plenty of work to go around anyway.”

He sized Leopold up, then glanced at the tightly bound bandits on the cart and shook his head. “These few pieces of goods of yours don't look like they have any spiritual affinity. At most, you'll get a miner's price.”

“That's not necessarily true.” Leopold patted the shoulder of the nearest bandit. “You can't judge a book by its cover, after all.”

The patted bandit struggled frantically, muffled curses escaping his mouth. Leopold ignored him and turned back to the blacksmith. “Are the people inside the cathedral easy to deal with?”

“Not really.” The blacksmith waved his hand. “Once they take the goods inside, they pay the money and that's it.”

“But at this hour, the cathedral should be closed.” The blacksmith looked up at the darkening sky. “Sigh! It's also since that group arrived that the cathedral closes so early...”

“Closed?” Leopold withdrew his gaze. “It closes this early? The sun hasn't even set yet.”

“Tell me about it.” The blacksmith shrugged, bending down to pick up his hammer. “In the past, the cathedral would at least stay open until dark, and travelers could go in to ask for a bowl of water. But now...”

He shook his head, leaving the sentence unfinished, and carried his hammer back into the shop. “Anyway, you won't be getting in tonight. Find a place to stay, and come back tomorrow morning.”

The blacksmith's figure vanished into the dark interior of his shop, the door curtain falling back into place. The pedestrians on the street gradually thinned out, and the vendors began packing up their stalls.

“It seems we can only take action tomorrow...” Leopold sighed.