Golden Chains, Silent Prayers

Roy adjusted a cloak he had stashed in the truck, feeling the rough fabric chafe against his neck. He checked that Eryndra, Teddy, Lincoln, and Lutrian were similarly disguised. The cloaks were a flimsy attempt at anonymity, especially considering Eryndra's inherent presence and the Presidroids' subtle, yet undeniably mechanical, movements. Lutrian, already accustomed to hiding, simply pulled his ragged hood lower.

"Alright," Roy muttered, checking the cylinders of his two pistols. One was a classic, heavy revolver; the other, a more futuristic weapon that fired energy bolts. Both, thanks to the wonderfully unbalanced requests of his classmates, had infinite ammo. "Remember the plan: Stay low-key until we know what we're dealing with inside."

Eryndra shifted, the cloak doing little to conceal her tension. "What if the slaver caravan is more hostile than we anticipate?"

Roy met her gaze, his eyes flicking to Teddy and Lincoln. "Then we improvise," he said, stepping into the shadowed alley. "But first, let's see if money can do the talking."

They followed the caravan's trail through a labyrinth of narrow streets. Teddy carried a large backpack of gold coins, carefully stepping so he didn't make a sound. Worn-down stall keepers and watchful figures with shifty eyes populated the area. The alley eventually led to a stone archway, guarded by a single, massive man in front of a heavy metal door. The guard looked Roy up and down, his gaze lingering on the slight bulge of the weapons he assumed Roy carried beneath the cloak. He grunted, a sound more animal than human.

"No entry," he growled. "Private establishment. Keep moving."

Roy took a step forward, adopting his best "intimidatingly calm" voice. "I'm here to buy. I heard there was a new shipment I might be interested in."

The guard narrowed his eyes. "You expect me to believe some cloaked stranger? Who even wears a cloak to buy slaves? It's legal in this country!"

"Oh, I'll have to talk to my associate about not telling me this info," Roy growled as he turned his head to Lutrian who was looking away in shame. Roy reached into his pouch and produced three gold coins. He held them out. "I believe this will change your mind."

The guard's eyes widened at the sight of the gold. He snatched the coins, a sudden surge of exaggerated courtesy replacing his hostility. "R-right this way, sir." He pushed the heavy metal door open with a groan.

Eryndra gave the guard a pointed look as they passed. Teddy and Lincoln remained close behind Roy, their presence a silent warning. Lutrian, hood pulled low, scanned every corner with the practiced eye of someone used to danger.

The door led to a narrow, downward-sloping corridor. Flickering torches illuminated the damp walls. The passage widened as they descended, eventually opening into a vast, underground chamber. Roy sucked in a breath, the sight shocking him to his core. Over a thousand slaves were crammed into rows of cages, stacked several layers high, stretching across the cavern floor and lining the walls.

"By the Gods…" Lutrian whispered, his voice shaky with horror. "So…many…"

Men, women, and children, many of them emaciated and bearing the marks of abuse, huddled behind the iron bars. Beyond them, a separate section of cages, heavily reinforced, held prisoners who, despite their thin frames, radiated a palpable menace. Clearly, these were the criminals.

At the far end of the cavern, the slaver boss, a thin man with a greasy smile and a ledger tucked under his arm, noticed Roy's approach. He stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with avarice.

"A new buyer?" he asked. "I have fresh stock, and we also handle prison transfers. We can satisfy any need – domestic servants, laborers, anything you desire."

Roy fought the urge to vomit. He glanced at Eryndra, who gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, signaling him to stay calm. He activated his location beacon on his wrist, discreetly notifying Serenity of their location. "I'm…interested," Roy said, his voice tight with controlled anger. "But I need more information."

The slaver gestured expansively at the sea of cages. "We have around a thousand in total. Perhaps six or seven hundred are standard 'non-criminal' slaves – family debts, lost property, the usual 'unfortunate' situations. The rest are criminals – thieves, murderers, the dregs of society. Or so we claim," he added with a cruel chuckle.

Roy's grip tightened on his hidden pistol, his knuckles turning white. He turned to Eryndra. "Any suggestions?" he whispered.

Lutrian edged closer, swallowing nervously. "If these slaves are bound by contract, killing the slavers outright could kill them, too. The contract's fail-safe could harm the slave's soul if the master dies without formally releasing them."

Roy stiffened. "So then…what?"

Lutrian offered a grim smile. "Well," he said, "buy them first. After that, you are free to do as you wish with these…scum." He shot a venomous look at a guard who was roughly shoving a trembling slave. "The only question is, do you want dangerous criminals roaming free?"

Roy's gut twisted. "No. Some might deserve a second chance, but many could be murderers who would harm innocent people. We can't risk that."

Lutrian nodded. "So keep the lesser criminals contained. At least they won't be in the hands of these slavers."

Roy took a deep breath and prepared to harness his acting talents. He turned back to the slaver boss, who was looking increasingly impatient. "All of them," he said abruptly. "I'll buy every single one. Innocent and criminal, aside from the most heinous ones. What's your price?"

The slaver's jaw dropped. He stammered. "All? That's— I mean, it would normally be hundreds of gold—"

"Five hundred gold coins," Roy said, his voice now even and unwavering. "Three hundred and fifty for the non-criminals, one hundred and fifty for the criminals. You release them to me. I will be responsible for them."

A hush fell over the nearby guards. That amount of gold was far beyond what any local noble would casually carry. The boss blinked, greed warring with suspicion in his eyes. "That's…a substantial transaction, friend. Deal, I'll take it!" He snapped his fingers at his underlings, who immediately began scurrying to gather keys and documents.

Roy pointed a finger, his voice dropping to a cold, dangerous tone. "But there's more. Any non-violent slaves you acquire in the future, you will send them directly to a coastal village I control. I met one of your employees there, he knows the way," Roy said as he gestured for Teddy to deliver the bag. "In her is eight hundred gold coins, feel free to count. Consider three hundred of this an advance payment. For every slave who arrives and confirms they were treated kindly, you will receive an additional twenty five silver."

Eryndra shifted, her cloak rustling slightly. She could sense the escalating tension. The slaver boss eyed Roy with open apprehension. "And if they complain, we simply…forfeit the bonus?"

Roy's mana flared, a subtle but visible flicker in the torchlight. Lutrian and a handful of the slavers felt the sudden pressure. "Once I receive more than fifty minor complaints, or even five major ones," Roy said softly, his voice resonating with a deadly calm, "I will eradicate your entire operation in an instant." A faint crackle of energy, like miniature lightning, sparked around his shoulders. The slaver boss paled, almost dropping his ledger.

The man attempted a nervous laugh. "H-hey, that's quite a—"

Lutrian yanked back Roy's hood, revealing his face with a dramatic gesture. "You are addressing the Thunder Rider – the Iron God-King, Whipper of Children!" he declared. "Show some respect!"

A wave of fear washed over the assembled slavers. They'd heard the rumors: a monstrous iron ship, devastating cannons, and an unholy captain who annihilated all that opposed him. Seeing Roy's grim expression and the unsettling aura surrounding him was enough to stifle any further dissent. They bowed their heads, swallowing their objections.

Roy exhaled, letting the crackling energy subside. "Good. Now, get them all to the surface. I'll handle the transportation to their final location, just bring them outside the town."

He signaled Serenity through his earpiece, providing her with the coordinates to go to, just outside the camp. Roy and all the slaves and slavers met in that spot after an hour. Shortly after, the rhythmic thump-thump of helicopter blades echoed from above. Roy spotted a Presidroids gleefully piloting a cargo helicopter that carried a large container. He descended into a large clearing by the camp. After delivering the crate he flew off to get more.

Rows and rows of slaves were gently ushered into the crates. The entire operation took hours. Slaves blinked in the sudden daylight, some flinching at the helicopter's roar. Roy supervised the process, his pistol still concealed but within easy reach.

One by one, the containers were secured to the helicopter's cargo hook. The Presidroid pilot saluted Roy with mechanical precision, then lifted off, ferrying the slaves towards the coastal settlement. Initially, the townspeople and guild members outside were terrified by the "flying iron demon," but after the second or third trip, they gathered in crowds, whispering about the "iron demons" saving lives.

On the final load, Roy relayed a message over the helicopter's radio. "Tell the triplets and other Presidroids," Roy said, "to prepare shelter, food and medicine under Serenity's instruction. Place the new arrivals behind the third wall they're constructing. I'll deal with the logistical details later."

The Presidroid saluted again, his robotic eyes glowing. "Understood, Captain Gunn."

By dusk, the last container had disappeared into the sky. Roy stood outside, Eryndra beside him, their cloaks billowing in the evening breeze. Townsfolk and guild staff mingled, all craning their necks to watch the extraordinary sight of a cargo helicopter transporting cage after cage of people.

Eventually, the local Adventurer's Guild Branch Master approached – an older man with a staff that looked as weary as he did, and a polite, but cautious, smile. "Captain?" he said quietly, "may I inquire about your plans for so many slaves? Is it to power the Iron Wrath, as the rumors suggest?"

Roy sputtered. "The Iron Wrath? Are you referring to Eryndra, or my ship?" He glanced at her, bewildered, then back at the branch master. "I'm not— She's not— We're not powering anything. I'm giving them freedom and a place to live."

Eryndra simply raised an eyebrow, unperturbed by the absurd rumor. The branch master nodded slowly. "I understand. A benevolent god, then."

Roy's face flushed. "I am not a god," he insisted, crossing his arms defensively.

The branch master merely smirked. "As you say, Captain. And what about the criminals you acquired? Some of them are dangerous offenders."

Roy shrugged, hooking his thumbs into his belt. "They won't have freedom for now – only decent conditions: food, medical care, and the opportunity to atone for their crimes by serving those in need. I won't allow violent criminals to roam freely, but I won't mistreat them either."

"Ah." The branch master's smirk widened. "A compassionate approach. I could sense your kind heart."

Roy scowled, his anxiety spiking at the repeated "god" and "kind" comments. "Believe what you wish."