He followed behind, every sense alert. Tales of southern traders had reached even the western region.
He'd heard stories of unsuspecting men disappearing without a trace, imperial customers fetching high prices in the shadowed corners of the south.
He wasn't about to let negligence turn him to the slave of some bastard.
Nuel's pace was steady, but his eyes flicked from shadow to shadow, noting every movement, every sound.
At last, they stopped before a weathered door. Khamari turned slowly, the candlelight catching his sharp features, and smiled.
"My friend," he said, voice low and measured, each syllable deliberate, "in my line, secrecy is not a choice it is survival. I must know… you are a man who can be trusted."
Nuel met his gaze, expression unreadable. Slowly, deliberately, he began to strip, letting each garment fall until nothing remained to hide. Khamari raised his hands, unarmed, and stepped closer. His fingers traced over Nuel's body with clinical attention, a practiced assessment hidden behind that same unnerving smile.
Satisfied, Khamari stepped back. Nuel dressed again swiftly, eyes never leaving the merchant's. A low chuckle escaped Khamari's throat as he opened the door.
"Welcome to my treasury. Mind your step," he said, leading the way down a narrow, creaking staircase.
The first thing Nuel saw made him pause: rusted chains lined the walls, each holding a skeleton, brittle and hollow, yet still shackled as if waiting for orders long forgotten.
"Business hasn't been good?" Nuel asked, calm but precise.
"With the new laws, from the west and east clamping down on slavery it's a miracle that my trade endures," Khamari replied, his grin now sharper, almost predatory.
The hallway stretched long and dimly lit, lined with more chains. Some held what could barely be called humans—thin shells of flesh stretched over brittle bones, hanging quietly in the shadows.
Finally, they stopped. "What sought of slave do you seek , My friend?" Khamari asked, voice low, carrying the weight of unspoken menace.
Nuel produced a slip of paper from his pocket, hands steady, and handed it over. The merchant examined it carefully, a slow smile spreading across his face.
"This will cost you, the younger the slave, the longer their life and so, the higher the price." Khamari said, eyes lingering on the list.
He said nothing, his eyes steady, paying the price would be no burden at all.
"Follow me," Khamari said, and disappeared into the deeper darkness of his shop, the faint clink of chains echoing behind them.