First thing the next day, we set off for Azaarde – by caravan since my balloon might accidentally challenge the authority of a number of high-Tier beasts in the mountains near Azaarde. A fight with them might be exciting, but would be disastrous for the non-Classers. Our form of conveyance is far more rustic therefore: a carriage for Nicholas and me, and wagons for everyone else.

  There are three of them – one for my companions, one for the servants and guards who are coming with us, and one for luggage. At least none of my own bags or boxes take up space in the last – they’re all in my Inventory, even the box of new clothes that the tailor had had delivered to the manor in my absence.

  I’d worried that the wagon for my companions would be a bit cramped – with the recent events, there’s no way any of us wanted to separate from each other for what will be at least days as probably weeks. Even Kalanthia would rather enter a human city than let us all go alone. Fortunately, it seems that a magical world has solutions for limited space.

  Nicholas’ demonstration of spatial enchantments made my head hurt – the canopy was somehow only just above Nicholas’ head and, at the same time, at least two metres above. I stopped asking questions before the headache turned into a migraine.

  I’ll have to get used to such enchantments, though – my ships for the expedition will have them to increase the amount of goods and number of people we can carry. But I might not try to learn them for myself. From what Nicholas says, spatial magic is one of the trickiest to do right – and unforgiving of errors.

  Several guards ride around and ahead of our caravan in order to deter attacks from man or beast, and to alert us to dangers up ahead. Despite this – or, perhaps, because of this – the journey itself is quiet.

  Nicholas and I take advantage of the peace to work on our own tasks. The smooth suspension of the carriage and the cushioned lap-desks that Nicholas pulled out of his Inventory make writing almost as easy as in a normal office.

  I don’t know what Nicholas was up to exactly, but I needed to write some letters to the local guilds in Azaarde – preparing the expedition means ensuring that I have the right people to start the settlement as well as to get us there in the first place. Namely, craftspeople to make us self-sustainable, fighters to keep them safe, and more general labourers to do all the other jobs.

  I know that Layton, Elarion, and Valence will all bring people – I’ve even discussed approximate numbers and skill distribution with them – but I am reluctant to rely on them for everything. While they are allies, I can’t forget that they’re also nobles. Depending too much on anyone risks putting me in their debt – that’s something Nicholas didn’t need to teach me.

  So, I need to bring my own force and that starts with approaching the guilds to see if they have anyone who they would recommend or who is interested in travelling so far from home.

  Of course, writing Moriaxan is a different matter from speaking it; I’m fortunate that the language stone gave me knowledge of the written language as it’s complicated enough that I wouldn’t want to have to learn it from scratch. Still, just because I know how it should look doesn’t mean my fingers will do what I ask them to, especially when it comes to the complex pictograms that are interspersed among the phonetic words. At least my increased Agility stats makes gaining muscle memory quicker and easier.

  It takes several drafts of the first letter before I’m content with both the wording and the neatness. I show it to Nicholas whose feedback means I have to write another two drafts before we’re both satisfied. At least practice makes better – by the time I write my last letter, I only need one draft before writing the real thing.

  Despite doing little physical work, my stomach is growling by the time we stop for lunch.

  “Keep it,” Nicholas tells me when I make to hand back the lap desk. “You never know when you’ll need it.”

  True enough. I thank him and we step out of the carriage.

  Much like the land we travelled through to get to Whalehost, we’re surrounded by fields. But here, close to Azaarde, they’re different shapes from most of those I’ve seen on my previous travels – circular rather than rectangular. I saw a few crop circles near Sandend, but assumed it was because of the dryness of the area. That can’t be true here – the verdant flora surrounding us indicates that irrigation isn’t an issue.

  “Why the circles?” I ask Nicholas nodding over to the closest one. He glances over and then points to something in the middle of the field – a post of some sort with a heavy head at the top.

  “Farming devices. Expensive, but the most effective way of enchanting the crops. Their area of influence extends out in a circle, so it’s not worth extending the field any more than that.”

  “Enchantments, huh?” I murmur. I know from River that there are potions for farmers here – much like we experimented with in the samurans’ world. But we didn’t even consider enchantments. “For what?”

  Nicholas shrugs.

  “I’m no expert in either enchantments or farming, however I believe that it’s much as one would expect: improved growth, improved nutrition, improved Energy content, driving away pests, reducing disease, increased speed of maturation, that sort of thing.”

  I nod, absently considering how, in the samurans’ world, we really only just touched the surface of the possibilities. Actually, thinking about it, it might be worth getting an experienced farmer or two on board – those enchantments sound useful for our settlement.

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  “Come – let’s eat. The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can get on the road again.”

  Lunch is cold, but very pleasant – unsurprising considering that several of us on this trip have Inventories that can keep food perfectly – and someone even has a Skill that, at the cost of mana, stops their Inventory from stripping the Energy out of the dishes. I check with Nicholas but, unfortunately, he doesn’t have any copies of that Skill. Perhaps I can figure it out for myself at some point.

  Even after I’ve eaten my fill, others are still munching so I move to check on my companions. Predictably, none of them like being cooped up in the wagon – though Ivor, Sirocco, and Noir have mostly been flying anyway – but other than that, they seem fine. After plenty of strokes, I manage to get free and walk over to where three figures are sitting apart from everyone else. Three pairs of eyes meet mine with varying degrees of wariness.

  “Sir?” Loran asks, the least wary of the group. I gaze at him silently for a long moment. “Markus,” he corrects himself finally in a hushed tone, darting a look at the group of Nicholas’ servants sitting not too far away. I give him a smile and he sends me a hint of exasperation that I’m not sure he meant to allow slip.

  “How’s the journey going?”

  “Fine,” Loran answers, but I narrow my eyes at him as I sense that he’s not being quite honest with me. His eyes dart away from mine.

  “If I don’t know what’s going on, I can’t do anything about it,” I tell him mildly – our relationship is still a bit fragile given everything. I’m not going to order him to tell me the truth, but hopefully he’ll give it to me anyway.

  “The others don’t know what te do with us,” Alyna says bluntly after a moment. I turn my attention to her and see her duck her head and hunch her shoulders a little.

  “Why’s that?”

  “It’s nothing to worry about, sir, I mean, Markus,” Loran rushes to reassure me, apparently finding his voice to step in between me and Alyna. “Just the normal…jockeying for position that always happens.”

  I keep myself silent for a long moment while I think. On the one hand, I’m not sure I like the term 'jockeying for position’ and what it implies. On the other, maybe I shouldn’t jump in unless they ask me to – it might make things worse.

  “Alright,” I say finally, letting them feel my reluctance. “But let me know if you need me to do or say something, OK? As long as you carry my Bond, you’re part of our pack, and we protect our own.” I meet the eyes of each one of them and push my sincerity at them. I won’t back them up if they’re the ones who started something, but I’m not letting people take advantage of them either.

  A mixture of emotions flicker across the Bond between me and the three. Loran’s are far more accepting – since the kidnapping, he seems to have come to understand that I will rescue him if he needs it. Alyna’s are far more uncertain, but she appears willing to give me the chance to prove my words. Rory is all but disbelieving – as well he might be considering his past. But now he’s one of my Bonded, I’m more concerned about the future than his past.

  On that note.

  “Here,” I say, reaching into my money pouch and pulling out several coins. I hand them over to each of them – two ten-copper bits to Rory and Loran, and three to Alyna. Still, they each stare at the money as if they can’t believe it.

  “Wha’...wha’ is this?” Rory asks, a hint of anger in his voice that I can tell is just covering his expectation for the shoe to drop.

  I shrug.

  “Your salaries. A little late – sorry about that. I meant it to be every tenday and we’re a bit past that. But better late than never, huh?”

  “But…wha’ salary?” asks Rory blankly. “We’re…we ain’t servants, we’re slaves. An’ slaves don’ get paid salaries.” His hand clenches convulsively around the coins, belying his resistance. But I feel his suspicion, his concern that there might be a darker reason behind this ‘gift’.

  He doesn’t seem to be the only one suspicious – Alyna is gazing at the coins in her hand warily. Only Loran seems more contemplative than cautious, though he’s no longer a slave so perhaps it’s more to do with that than trust in me, as much as that aches to think about.

  “I know it’s not normal, but it’s something I’m choosing to do. While you work for me, you’ll get paid. What you do with that money is up to you. Spend it, save it, invest it… Your choice. It’s yours. I’m not going to turn around and take it away from you.” I send them my sincerity through the Bond and feel some of the wariness turn into incredulity.

  “With this…ye’d let us buy back our freedom?” Alyna asks bluntly, even as Loran sends her a warning look.

  “If you save enough, yes,” I confirm.

  “But we’re not even doin’ anythin’ fer ye!” Rory practically explodes. Some of the servants nearby look around in response. He crosses his arms and scowls, a mixture of trepidation and irritation coming through the Bond. Then he catches the wide-eyed looks from Loran and Alyna and he hunches his shoulders. “Sorry, milord,” he grunts out, somewhat begrudgingly, but also with a note of fear. I decide that the best thing to do right now is ignore the whole thing.

  “You might not be actively working for me right now, but you’re on standby – once I find a good role for you, we’ll increase your salary commensurately. That’s why Alyna is getting a bit more – because of her work with runes.”

  “So, if we learned more skills, we could earn more?” Alyna asks shrewdly.

  “Yes, exactly.” At twenty coppers a tenday, it will take most of their lives to save up enough to buy back their service contracts, but if they learn some skills, maybe even a mastery in a craft, they could start making a lot more than that.

  I’ve had a lot of time to think about this since rescuing my companions. To consider how I’m going to approach the whole slavery issue. There are lots of things I could do, so working out what I should do has been difficult. In the end, the conclusion I’ve drawn is that I can’t try to abolish slavery all at once. It’s too embedded in society, and there are no other alternatives for justice right now beyond fines and corporal punishment. But perhaps if I can prove that a different way works, one that has an actual end-date, that doesn’t regularly leave people traumatised, and that leaves them with more options for work after they buy their own freedom, then that would be a good start.

  I can see it will be a hard sell, even to push people to just pay their slaves on a regular basis – and arguably I’m paying them a pittance by normal standards. Of course, I’m also supplying bed and board – anything I give them is pure profit for them. But if I can prove that they’re more productive when they have the hope of freedom if they work hard enough, then maybe I can convince the locals on monetary grounds, if moral ones are likely to fall on deaf ears.

  Ultimately, I have to do something.

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