When we get back into the carriage after lunch, Nicholas doesn’t immediately go back to his paperwork but frowns through the window. He doesn’t seem to be focussing on anything in particular, though.

  We’ve been travelling for a little while when he turns his frown to me.

  “You’re paying your slaves now, are you?” he asks, his voice carefully neutral.

  “I am,” I reply, just as levelly. My heart starts beating a little faster – the absence of obvious disapproval is almost as marked as if he’d snapped at me.

  There’s silence for a few minutes. I don’t think I’m imagining the tension between us.

  “It sets a dangerous precedent,” he warns. “If you stop paying them, they will be more difficult to control – even with a Bond in place.”

  “I don’t intend on stopping.”

  “And what about if you buy or are given more slaves?” Nicholas asks, acting like he didn’t hear my interjection. “Do you intend to pay them too? Because if you don’t, that could cause jealousy which brings its own consequences.”

  “I intend to pay any slaves in my employ,” I answer firmly.

  This time Nicholas stops to regard me piercingly.

  “That…rather defeats the point of having slaves in the first place. We pay an upfront cost for their labour already. Paying them twice seems rather…uneconomic – and over a large scale, as I’m coming to think that you intend to do this, it raises the costs for an operation significantly.”

  I shake my head.

  “It doesn’t have to. And in the long term, I reckon it will work out to be far better for the economy – both us personally, and the wider country.”

  “Explain.”

  I take a moment to gather my words. I’m not an economist, nor a finance expert, but I know a little of Earth’s history. Enough to know that economies based on slave-labour just aren’t as effective as those that are based on free workers. But how to explain that to Nicholas?

  I’m confident that he wouldn’t try to forbid me from acting as I feel right – he has to know that I wouldn’t obey him. But as the lord of my House, he has the power to forbid me from using House resources, forcing me to rely on my own funds. That’s not the end of the world – with the Cores, gold and gems I brought from the other world, I’m sitting on a nice little nest-egg – but if my expenses exceed my income, I will run out of money eventually.

  There’s also the factor that as a Great Lord, Nicholas has a lot of influence. If I can convince him that my way of doing things is better than the way he’s previously been treating his slaves – as well as that is by local standards – then others are more likely to adopt the approach.

  Which all means that this conversation is very important. And my heartrate increases accordingly.

  “You probably don’t know, but slave-holding has been practised over the millenia on my homeworld,” I start, deciding that use cases are more likely to convince Nicholas than just my ‘feelings’. He raises an eyebrow in surprise.

  “From your dislike of it, I hadn’t imagined that there were slaves where you came from.”

  “There aren’t – not legal ones, anyway,” I confirm. “Of course, there are always those who take advantage of vulnerable people to trap them with fear and threats. But legally, no human can be the property of another human. And we don’t have other species who interact with us on an equal basis.” I’m aware that plenty of animals are very intelligent, but the fact is that none of them interact with humans on an equal basis, especially when it comes to buying and selling goods which is most relevant to our discussion here. “And there are multiple reasons for that.”

  “Which are?”

  “First, how efficient are slaves, really?” I ask him challengingly. “Let’s take two men – non-Classers. One is a slave, one is being paid for his work and supports his family. Which do you think is going to work harder on a consistent basis?”

  Nicholas is silent for a moment.

  “I see your point. The paid labourer works for his family – he fears losing his job if he doesn’t work hard, or perhaps even works extra hours if it will earn him more. The slave labourer works only under threat of punishment.”

  “Exactly. And to have that threat of punishment, you need to have people to apply it – which, incidentally, is an extra cost. Also, if the punishment is corporal in nature, you may end up with a slave who’s injured and unable to work for a time – inefficient.” The word tastes like ash in my mouth – there are other descriptions I’d rather use. But I’m steering away from emotional language intentionally. “Not to mention that the future perspective is worse, especially if the people are treated poorly. Either they develop resentment and might spitefully ignore a critical issue if it’s not going to rebound on them, or they become like machines when they’re too traumatised or afraid, and are unable to deal with anything beyond explicit orders.

  “On the other hand, a paid labourer whose livelihood is dependent on the business doing well will be more willing to find solutions to problems without even involving their bosses. Especially if they get a bonus if their efforts have increased the profit of the business in a specific period of time. And if the paid labourer has to be punished for wrongdoing, since his motivation for work is to earn money for his family, withholding some payment would be more than enough to bring him in line. And, in the case that that’s not enough, he can be replaced by someone else. No need for overseers keeping an eye on everyone at every minute, a whip ready in one hand.” A sneer curls my lip at the thought, but I push through to finish my argument. “So which is more cost-effective?”

  I can’t help thinking back to feeling the scar tissue on Loran’s back when I healed him after the kidnapping. Years of it, scars laid upon scars. What kind of society can condone that? But, right now, I’m arguing based on economics, not morals, so I keep that thought inside my head.

  Nicholas considers the matter slowly then dips his head.

  “You do make a good point,” he admits. “Which is one reason why I treat my own slaves well – I find that they are more productive and loyal that way.”

  “Exactly, because the implied threat if they don’t cooperate is that they will be sold to someone else who won’t treat them as well.” And, if I have my way, that strategy won’t work in the future because no one will be treating slaves like most people are now. But I decide not to say that right now – I don’t want to risk Nicholas feeling threatened. “Besides that, there’s the question of money flow. Which do you think works better for the economy – a small group of people spending a lot from time to time, or a very large group of people each spending little, but together spending a lot?”

  Nicholas eyes me.

  “I have a feeling you’re about to tell me,” he comments sardonically.

  I shrug a little.

  “Well, based on the experience of various societies on Earth, it’s the latter. If wealth is concentrated in the hands of a small group, much of it will be squirrelled away in vaults and banks, removing it from circulation.” I decide not to linger on this point, the bank balance on the Titanbend account coming to mind. “The histories on Earth are clear – the proportion of people in the middle class is a clear indicator of the health of that country’s economy.”

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  “Middle class?”

  “Ah, that is to say, people who earn enough to live a comfortable lifestyle with everything they need and some of what they want. Where I come from, that was characterised by having their own house, a car or two, perhaps a pet animal, perhaps children who were educated to a high standard. People who could go on holiday a couple of times a year, who had a little bit of money saved up so if something went wrong, they wouldn’t immediately have to choose between food or being homeless. It depended on the society in question. How that would look here, I’m not sure.”

  “Perhaps the equivalent of a master crafter,” Nicholas murmurs thoughtfully. “One who has sufficient demand that they need not be too concerned about where the next meal is coming from. And who can usually choose to stop working when they become too old to use their tools without fearing that they and their dependents will be destitute.”

  “That sounds about right,” I agree. “Those are people who contribute highly to the economy because they’re willing to spend money on non-essentials – on extra clothes, or perfume, or treats to eat. They might go to a restaurant or visit the theatre or…I don’t know what other entertainment you have here.”

  “The gladiator or beast fights,” Nicholas supplies. I give him a sideways look.

  “...Right. Gladiator and beast fights.” Is it surprising that this is something else this society has in common with Ancient Rome? “Anyway, surely you can see the benefit of that? People spend money which means others earn money. If there’s a large portion of society who don’t even have money to spend, that throttles the economy and reduces the number of businesses that can exist.”

  “And you think that by paying slaves this can be improved?” Nicholas asks sceptically. “Don’t you think they’ll just save up for their own freedom?”

  “They might do, but that’s fine,” I argue. “Because once they’re free, they can get a paying job and circulate money that way.”

  “Unless they just return to committing crimes,” Nicholas points out.

  “Which is why I think they should be encouraged to learn new skills while enslaved.” I give Nicholas a firm look that indicates just how strongly I feel about this topic. “The population of Moriax is undereducated – and it’s holding the country back.”

  Nicholas frowns.

  “There are plenty of schools available for citizens.”

  “That’s exactly my point – for citizens. But if what you told me about Azaarde is correct, more than thirty-five percent of its population aren’t considered to be citizens – and that’s not even including the slaves! Just people who can’t afford to pay even the basic rate of taxes. What schools are available for them?”

  Nicholas’ frown deepens.

  “It’s precisely because they don’t pay taxes that the amenities of citizens are not available to them. If they will not participate in the economy of the society then they should not benefit from it.”

  I point my finger at him, perhaps getting a little carried away.

  “That, that is the issue here. What chance do they have to participate in the economy if they have no education?” I ask him passionately. “We’re not talking about small numbers here – we’re talking about more than a third of the city. How many unskilled labourer jobs are there available? Nowhere near enough for the number of people looking, I bet. Especially not with slaves taking many of the roles as seemingly cheaper labour. So no job, no education to take one of the jobs that are available…but they’re hungry. What do they do?”

  “They turn to crime,” Nicholas sighs, recognising my point more easily than I was expecting.

  “Exactly, and I, for one, can’t blame them,” I challenge him. He stays silent, but his eyes are thoughtful. I decide to push just a bit further. “I’m not saying there aren’t people who will choose to go back to committing crimes even with education but…now he’s bought his freedom, Loran wants to become a carpenter, and with the money left over from what I gave him, he’s been able to buy an apprenticeship. How many slaves just needed an opportunity to turn them away from crime? Alyna is talented with runes. I don’t know her story, but I doubt it’s much different from Loran’s.

  “How many potential carpenters, blacksmiths, alchemists, enchanters, leather-workers, tailors are lost because there just isn’t the education available? How much better could Moriax be if it gave more opportunities to its people?”

  I stop there. I’ve said my piece – and it feels incredibly good to verbalise all of that – and now Nicholas needs to have some time to process it. I stare out of the window to give him some space.

  When the silence stretches on for more than a few minutes, I pull my lap-desk out again and start writing a to-do list – I have lots of things to accomplish in Azaarde and don’t want to forget anything. I could use my status interface but I prefer to write my ideas down by hand now I have pen and sort-of-paper available to me.

  In the end, Nicholas spends the rest of the journey in thoughtful silence. I finish my to-do list and start writing down some other thoughts about various matters – the expedition, the journey, development for my companions, development for myself. Even if I don’t practise any magic or weapons skills, I definitely feel that I’ve used the time productively.

  Still, I can’t help it as doubt beats in my chest the longer the silence lingers – what hope do I have for changing people’s opinions here if I can’t even convince Nicholas?

  Azaarde comes into sight as the sun heads for the horizon. Though the city skyline is what attracts my attention first, the city itself actually starts significantly earlier – with the slums.

  Much like the ones I saw in Whalehost and Sandend, though far bigger than either of those, they’re different from the slums I’ve seen in pictures on Earth. There’s no corrugated iron or plastic bags – the shelters are wooden lean-tos instead. But the thin-faced and hard-eyed people I see make it very clear that, among the downtrodden and destitute, there are far too many similarities even between worlds. There’s a stench here, too, that makes its way even into the carriage. It’s the scent of unwashed bodies and hopelessness.

  We stay moving at a trot – the people are clearly expected to get out of our way. It’s slow enough that I can see them clearly, though. See how their eyes widen in recognition at the Titanbend crest on the door of the carriage. Notice that it’s not only hopeless resignation present in their eyes, but anger too. It seems to be a tired sort of emotion, though – one that rails against the unfairness of fate without any real hope of being able to change it. It makes my heart hurt and I can’t help staring accusingly at Nicholas. This, this is what I was talking about. How does this help anyone?

  He flinches slightly – perhaps I accidentally projected more than I intended there.

  Is this where you grew up? I send to Loran before I think the question through properly. He might not want to reveal such things to me. I shouldn’t have asked. But before I can retract the question, he responds.

  It is. His mental voice sounds distant, troubled. Alyna too. And Rory was not much better after his parents died.

  I clench my teeth together hard enough that they creak slightly. I forcibly release my jaw.

  Do you…. I hesitate. Do you want to find your family while you’re here? If they need help….

  Thank you, Markus, Loran responds, still distant. I can’t tell what he’s feeling – whether he’s grateful for the offer or resentful that it needs to be made. I don’t try to dig past the surface – he deserves some privacy.

  And Alyna, do you have anyone here? I ask next, still tentative.

  No, she responds shortly.

  I leave it at that.

  I’m uncomfortably thankful when we enter the more prosperous area – obvious by the better houses, the cleaner streets, the more colourful clothing, and the better atmosphere. As much as I feel for the people in the slums, I’d rather not spend time there. And that thought makes me feel incredibly guilty.

  Finally, Nicholas moves, eyeing me with a measured look in his eyes. He’s not convinced – yet. But there’s a crack in his confidence – a fear that perhaps he’s not as justified as he thought he was.

  “Very well. House Titanbend will support you – for now. I want to see a plan and approximate timeline of what you intend to do – and the outcomes you expect to see if it is successful. If it is…well. We’ll see after that.”

  I dip my head briefly, trying to summon up a smile but finding it stiff after the suffering I’ve just seen.

  “Thanks Nicholas. You won’t regret this.” I’ll make sure of that. The thousands of people forgotten or abandoned by the system here are my motivation.

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