As the convoy moved into the city, the buildings subtly began to change. After passing through a thick gate and well maintained walls, thatched roofing shifted to stone walls and slanted wood roofing. The barest hints at modern architecture that Thomas was sure cost a pretty penny in the era he found himself in.
"Father, who designed this city?"
The Duke looked down at Thomas. "Why your great-grandfather did of course. Quite the forward thinker, huh?"
He valued his privacy so much that he has a walled estate separate from the walled city he is supposed to govern. Defensively, I don't know if that's logical.
Interrupting his thoughts, a small boy bumped into Thomas and bounced back landing on his rear. To Thomas, the boy wore rags, patched up with other fabrics and it looked a size too big. Additional hurried footsteps slowed as they got to the group, The leader of the group looked like the cliched mafia boss and addressed the group.
"Thanks for stopping that little scamp, been chasin' 'em for 3 blocks almost. Kindly hand 'em over, please."
"He's lying." The muffled whisper coming from behind Thomas's leg. "He has 12 other kids in a shed, selling them off to the highest bidder."
Thomas looked at his father, expecting disgust but instead he only saw resignation.
"Father?"
"Thomas, this is how the world works. Some are born to rule, some are born to be ruled. Some don't even get that. Hand the boy over."
Thomas struggled to square the man so concerned with his well-being 45 minutes ago to this man who green-lit slavery.
"Buy him."
"what?"
"You heard me." Thomas steeled himself. If I can only save one for now, it may be enough. "He said they were to the highest bidder, what higher can a bidder be than a Duke."
Geoffrey considered his son's request and turned to the slaver who had spoken. "How much?"
The trader grinned wide. "3 gold coins."
"Done."
The trader's smiled faltered. This particular slave was spoken for by a neighboring Count. It would not look good for business if he suddenly couldn't deliver.
"Your Grace, perhaps you would be interested in other merchandise? This slave is supposed to go to...."
"2 gold... the longer you delay the less you get but rest assured, the slave is coming with me."
"On second thought, 2 gold seems fair." The slaver agreed, noting the knights who looked like they were waiting for an excuse to unsheathe their swords.
"Pleasure doing business," the Duke said tossing two gold coins to the slaver, the latter having a look that spoke volumes on vengeance, not that he would ever show that side to the Duke. That's the quickest way to the executioner's blade.
The remainder of the day past by in a blur for Thomas, purchasing new clothes for his recently acquired servant. He also purchased in great quantities oaks and hickory planks from the woodsman. He had decided on his first business venture.
After securing the use of a shed that had previously held random tools, Thomas had repurposed it into a tiny operation for creating soap. After telling the system, he began to get small hints of advice from the System regarding mistakes he made. This cut down the time of trial and error for his testing on his new products. From the hardwoods, he created lye. From the chef on the castle grounds, he obtain the fat from pigs that had been slaughtered for their meal that day. Careful to pick wonderfully scented flowers from the castle garden (careful to stay out of sight of his family), his final product was finished. Months in the making, aided by a system; soap had arrived to this world.
Heading to his Father's study, Thomas was eager to show off his first invention. Picking up his pace the closer he got to the office door, a figure suddenly intercepted him. Gloria, his step-mother, and Duchess of House Plantagenet.
"I know you come from sub-standard stock, but please keep in mind nobility walks through these halls. Not run like the uncultured rabble populating that city."
"Good morning, Your Grace." Thomas replied, ignoring her admonishment and causing a vein in her forehead to start pulsing.
"You impudent, little worm. It's bad enough we had to tolerate my husband's dalliances with your whore mother but now God has seen fit to burden me with you. The sooner you leave my house the better. Now what is that?"
Spotting the carefully wrapped parcel that Thomas ineffectively tried to hide behind his back, she snatch the package.
"It's soap, Your Grace. I made it, it's supposed to be used when you bathe and it's good for your skin. That bar has lavender mixed in for scent." Thomas replied. He didn't like his step-mother but this could prove to be a boon he didn't seen coming. A duchess spreading his invention through word of mouth held much more weight than a fourth son.
"Whose house?" A voice calmly muttered behind her. Turning slowly, recognizing the voice of her husband; Gloria had the good sense to at least look embarrassed.
"Dear husband, I t-thought you were busy with the r-royal s-summons?"
"I finished early, now what's all this I heard about my boy and leaving? We've gone over this, he will leave once he finds his path. Not a minute sooner. Come, boy. There is much we have to discuss."
Thomas walked past his step-mother and into his father's study.
Gloria, who had hoped to spend a few minutes with her husband, felt defeated. She had married into a Duke's house thinking he looked so handsome at the time but his eyes had wandered ever since. The only proof of such a betrayal was carefully wrapped in noble clothing, currently sitting in the Duke's study.
"A bath." she muttered to no one in particular. "I will feel much better after a bath. Who knows, maybe this soap thing is poison and it can rid me of my prison."