Chapter 20: Chapter 11 – Harsh Merchandise

Saladin Pletimur had always lived his life going by the creed of 'If it makes money, do it'. He didn't consider himself an evil person, but he knew that many would disagree with that statement.

After all, the number of lives he'd ruined through even just his policies had been so high that, eventually, it had come back to bite him in the ass.

One of the people he'd scammed for his entire life's savings had somehow become his majesty's favorite court official, and unfortunately for Saladin, the man must've had dwarven blood in him, because dear gods could that man hold a grudge.

He'd been out for blood. His thriving business, which had once dealt with all sorts of things, ranging from simple fishing and carpet-making all the way to the trading of exotic slaves had been ruined in a matter of months, and Saladin had almost found himself being dragged to the execution stand for treason once his less... public dealings came to light.

However, he'd gotten lucky, his newfound tormentor had been content in simply taking all of Saladin's wealth and then leaving him to suffer as a homeless and destitute nobody. After all, there was no way that Saladin would've been able to recover from such a blow, right?

Fortunately for him, however, the man had been wrong. Thanks to several hidden stashes and a massive amount of blackmail and owed favors, Saladin had been able to rebuild himself to a decent level of wealth.

He'd still needed to escape that particular kingdom, however, lest that man turn his eyes upon him once more.

He'd traveled through a number of different kingdoms and realms, and had he been a lesser man, he might have been content in settling down with what he'd had left. But alas, Saladin was no mere peasant, for he had tasted the greatest drug of all: money.

Saladin had been desperate to find something, an opportunity or chance or whatever, that would've allowed him to rebuild his empire and reclaim the wealth and power that he'd once enjoyed, but alas, that opportunity had never come.

Or... So he'd thought. One night, after a long visit to one of his favorite slaves- a very sexy half-elf woman with one of the nicest pair that Saladin had ever seen, Saladin had gone to a bar so as to get himself properly drunk.

And it was there that he'd heard the adventurers talk. And oh boy, did they talk.

They'd spoken of the north, of its many wonders, mysteries, and dangers. They'd bragged about their desires to capture exotic beasts and slaves to sell, so convinced that it would make them wealthy beyond measure, or that they'd be able to find some rare treasure that would allow them to rise to the level of heroes.

Saladin, of course, had been greatly interested, and after, ahem, 'greasing' some of the adventurers with a few well-placed bribes, they'd been more than happy to share everything they knew with him.

And so, now utterly convinced that he'd at last found the opportunity he'd been craving for, Saladin had used the entirety of his wealth to secure himself a proper expedition, one that should've been more than capable of braving the north's dangers.

He'd hired three different adventurers' teams, paying them handsomely and promising them untold rewards should they follow him loyally and dutifully. Unfortunately, they weren't exactly up to the standard he would have liked, but they were the best he could afford.

They traveled for over a month before finally reaching the north, passing through dozens of petty kingdoms, republics, theocracies, and other such nations. Saladin also made sure that they never stepped foot into a nonhuman nation, something that left the adventurers grumbling since they'd have cut a week off their travel had they done so, but Saladin straight-up refused.

Still, once they were at the border, their journey didn't end there, for they still had to go into the north proper, something that Saladin wasted no time in doing, utterly uncaring about such meaningless things like 'logistics' and 'preparation'.

And, to be fair, the north was a sight to behold, with snow stretching as far as the eye could see, large trees that at times grew into outright forests while at other times appearing so sparcely that it seemed as though there were none whatsoever.

There were other beautiful features here too, like the frozen streams that ran through the land.

Thankfully for Saladin's group, those very streams were key in preventing them from dying of dehydration, and the abundant but difficult-to-catch supply of small game ensured they wouldn't starve to death, even if it certainly was no royal feast.

Unfortunately, however, their luck ended there, for despite them having access to some food and water, everything else that they'd always taken for granted was gone, up here in the frozen and wild north.

For six grueling days, Saladin ordered the adventurers around, constantly forcing them to patrol huge areas of the frozen wasteland in the vain hope of capturing one of the elusive Snow-Elves that were said to live around here, or failing that, instructing them to search for precious plants, ingredients, animals, or whatever else they could find so that Saladin could still make a profit.

By the end of the sixth day, however, the adventurers had started grumbling, because apparently, working every hour of the day at temperatures that could and would kill a man without special equipment for little pay, few results, and a lack of creature comfort was not actually all that great.

Saladin had gotten spooked when he'd overheard two adventurers talking about forcing him to return, something that would've effectively shattered all his hopes and dreams.

He couldn't allow that, and therefore, he took a risk, digging up all the remaining alcohol from his supply and throwing a massive party to boost morale, hoping it would quell the unrest.

It worked, to an extent. Drunk adventurers were happy adventurers, although not exactly good ones.

Still, as everyone went to sleep, Saladin attempted to haggle with the elected leader of the adventurers.

Saladin liked the man. He was an effective and strong man, while also being pleasantly easy to negotiate with, but even he was starting to get difficult.

Back during their journey through the human lands, Saladin had been able to keep him happy and loyal by throwing the best whores he could find at the man, but now that they were in the north, well, whores were not exactly easy to find up here, to say the least.

"Sir Pletimur, I've already told you that my boys are starting to get rowdy. You're being far too harsh on them." The man said obstinately, daring to look helpless after Saladin had demanded he deal with the unrest.

Saladin grumbled silently to himself before responding. "Nonsense! You're adventurers, what's a little extra work gonna do? I've already paid you enough, and I can feel it in my bones, we're so close to striking it rich!" He proclaimed.

The man's expression turned frustrated for a second before he schooled himself. "Sir, that's what you said the last three times I warned you, but you kept telling me to overwork my men. If they rebel here, we won't live to see another day." He said gravely, and Saladin scowled, knowing the man to be right.

Unfortunately, that was when Saladin's life fell apart, and it all started with a slight rustle.

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He turned to yell at the intruder that dared to enter his tent this late at night without permission, only to be forced to swallow his words once he beheld the person that'd entered.

It was a red-haired woman. She was beautiful, young, fit, and blessed with a pair of breasts that Saladin knew many nobles back in his home country would've, and had, killed for.

All in all, had he met her in any other situation, Saladin might've tried to get her kidnapped so that he could enjoy her for himself.

But alas, his depravity meant nothing here, and as his wits returned to him a moment later, he was finally able to see the truth of the strange woman.

She was a nonhuman, as the pair of tails behind her and the foxy ears atop her head proudly indicated. And considering just where he was, then that also meant that she must've been a native.

Saladin's eyes bore into the woman. He had no idea how she'd gotten here through all the guards outside, but with the adventurer leader at his side, he was confident that he could manage to capture her.

And once he had... Well. Northern races sold well, and such a beautiful specimen would sell for even more.

Then, her emerald eyes turned to stare at him, and she grinned, displaying two rows of blood-covered, almost comically sharp teeth.

He recoiled at the sight, his greed quickly vanishing as fear and caution replaced it. Why... was she so confident? How was it again that she'd managed to sneak in?

At his sides, he could spot the leader leering at the fox nonhuman, his rational thinking, unfortunately, having been obliterated by the sight of a beautiful girl before him.

And just as he was thinking that, the fox moved. He lacked any training as a warrior or mage, hence, his eyes couldn't even process the event until it'd happened.

One second, she was at the entrance. The next, she was arm-deep into the chest of the man he'd considered to be the strongest adventurer he'd ever hired.

He let out a scream as he fell on his butt, scrambling back as horror dawned on him. Where were the others? Why weren't they rushing here already?

Her hand came out, holding the man's heart as he fell down to the floor, a look of confused horror on his face. Then, the monster began to eat the heart.

When she turned to him, he felt as though his soul would leave his body. Fear took hold of him, and his consciousness left him.

---

Someone was yelling at Saladin. With a small grumble, Saladin stubbornly refused to wake, even as the one trying to wake him up kept raising her voice.

His slaves would sometimes try to wake him up at the time he told them to, only to fail to do so out of fear of angering him. Then, without fail, he would punish them violently, as was his right as their owner, which was why he only held the most attractive girls and women he could afford at his mansion.

Old habits die hard, but as a punch struck him hard enough to launch him away from wherever he'd been laying, they died pretty quickly as a scream tore itself from his throat.

Memories came rushing back, and he quickly looked up, finding the face of nightmares staring down at him with an angry scowl.

He begged incoherently for his life as he scanned the area for any escape, not realizing how futile the notion was. He was in a tent that looked to be made of fur, and it was very dark inside. It was bigger than the tent he'd been in with the adventurers, but only by a little.

The woman growled violently, so he begged even harder as he tried to retreat. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be the answer the woman had wished for, as she grabbed him by the cheeks and dragged him to the center of the tent.

He shut his trap pretty quickly, doing his best to ignore the painful and bleeding lines where her claws had touched his flesh.

Seeing that he'd finally stopped pissing himself in fear, metaphorically, of course, he would never piss himself, the monster pointed at herself.

"Kira." She said, then repeated the word, again and again. Finally, she pointed at him, looking at him with an expectant gaze.

He blinked a bit, not understanding what she was trying to convey. She growled when he didn't respond, causing him to shrink back.

She stomped off to one of the corners, picked up a random round stone, and then came stomping back. She pointed at it and said something he couldn't understand.

Thankfully, Saladin's brain finally caught up with him and he understood what she was trying to do. He slowly and carefully pointed at the rock and said, "R-rock."

Then, with a trembling finger, he pointed at himself and whispered hesitantly, "S-Saladin..."

The monster grinned, and Saladin understood, at that precise moment, that death would come quickly if she was displeased.

And so, he was forced to act like a scared servant to an angry and dangerous master. Some would call it karma, but Saladin would much rather call it an injustice against a righteous and proper man.

His opinion, unfortunately, mattered very little to his new master.

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