Rise of the Archmage Alister

“That's nice of you,” Blas said with a raised brow, obviously prompting a more proper request.

Alister grumbled before composing himself, “Could you please buy their freedom, father?”

This got a pat on the head from the duke. “Better. But I would pose you a question… What's next for them then? They're either from far away, debtors, or criminals, all of which probably means they have nowhere to go or no means to get somewhere safe,” he explained, kneeling down to Alister’s level.

This made Alister's eyes cast to the ground, clearly upset by this news but trying to figure out an alternative, “Well… What if we purchase them, then? Maybe then that would get us time to see to making arrangements for them to be somewhere safe, or provide such a place if they lack one.”

Blas nodded, considering, “Another thing to think about is that, as it is, they have certain protections, and if they complete their term - given they’re debtors or prisoners - they'll get a number of supplies with which to establish themselves, as well as a chance at enrollment to work or settlement programs. But if their freedom is purchased, it's assumed they have someone to speak for and take care of them until they get on their feet. They still have the other enrollment options, but they get no supplies… Perhaps you should ask them what they think?”

This made Alister flustered, not even have considered that while still harshly judging those who would employ or purchase slaves. “I… You're right,” he said as he turned to those he'd brought with him. “My apologies. My name is Alister Severin, and this is Duke Blas Severin. Would you like to come with us?” He asked, seemingly humbled.

Before one of them could answer, the foreman spoke up. “Uhm… Apologies, but I'm afraid they're not for sale. Per orders from our higher-ups,” the elf explained, sharp ears sightly coloring as they stepped into the middle of the situation. Everyone froze as the duke stood and met his eyes.

“I supposed that would be the case. Don't worry, we'll be discussing the purchase with them,” he explained, everyone letting out a breath at his calm response. “That said, it does mean that we can't bring them with us now. Unless a leader that can approve the transaction is available?”

This got an awkward shuffle from the man, who began stroking his beard. “Well… I suppose there is someone…” He said reluctantly, “I'll go get them.”

It took a few minutes for the son of the owner to show up, a young man somewhere in his twenties who looked incredibly annoyed that he had to be there at all. His father was a viscount who owned a carriage company for generations - they were getting into this new rail business, seeing the money to be had in it.

The man seemed totally unamused by the Duke’s appearance and started off aggressively, “Do you make a habit of trying to mess with people’s livelihoods? I’m sure the project boss told you - they aren’t for sale. I don’t care that you’re the Duke! This is a hard enough project as is, without you making a mess of it.”

Blas blinked, staring at the man who was about the same height as he was. He had to resist laughing. Alister was too amused himself to be as annoyed at the man as he knew he should be. If only his mother was listening to this, she’d rip him a new one.

“Right. Right. The project. How silly of me. I should be focused on this, not some slaves my son wants!” Blas laughed, roughly clasping the man’s shoulder and turning him to face the rails, “Speaking of the project, I have a few… thoughts.” He had on a discomforting smile, “Let’s start with the basics, shall we? Quality of the metals. I know this isn’t a metal mining area, but I’d expect at least that you could get something decent. It’s a different color than what was set as the standard. It’s too red. Don’t tell me you’ve already let it start to rust? How is it meant to weather the elements this way? Foreman! Make a note. New rails. It seems the project will be delayed a few days as the smiths in the region fix these egregious issues. And next, let’s take a look at the state of these working conditions. Do you have any mages on staff?” He didn’t even bother to look at the boss’s son, looking right at a foreman, who sheepishly shook his head, “Then where is your water reserve!? Do you expect your workers to drink seawater? To wait for the end of the day? And the lack of any form of shade… you’ve taken down the trees nearby for the work to go through but not thought to bother with a simple break station. You could make a tent that could be put up in less than thirty minutes and yet you’ve let productivity be harmed for the sake of what? Laziness? Complicity? Your father is a viscount so you’re a baron, are you not? If he’s got any title to hand down to you, that is. How should I solve this? It would look bad upon the noble class if we could not keep such things in hand, would it not? I think I might have to pay the watchdogs a fair sum from now on… to ensure quality, you understand. And this… half of what you’ve put down in the last mile… you’re going to have to tear it up and do it again. How angry will Bernoth be at that news… oh, I’d hate to be in your father’s shoes when they learn of it. There must be fines for such poor management. Now then. Would you like it out of pocket, or can I take the few slaves my son has taken a liking to off your hands and not charge your father a harsh penalty for not following the king’s decree for the creation of the rails? After all, it’s his word that is law, is it not?”

The young man stammered, blood draining from his face as he strained for words, “I… that… I-I mean…”

“Just say yes, good sir. It’ll be easier for you to learn how to do it now - I’m sure your wife will appreciate,” Blas returned to the man’s stammering.

“I… please don’t charge my father, Duke Severin. I apologize for my demeanor,” he grumbled, regaining some semblance of composure as he gave a deep bow, “Forgive my ineptitude… if it would please you, take your favorites among the slaves as payment for my failures.”

Blas gave a smile, “I suppose I shall let it pass in this case and take your… kind gesture as an apology. Alister. Choose six.”

The poor man paled again but turned away, thinking better than to argue it. He was feeling embarrassed enough right now - he didn’t need to make it worse.

Alister nodded, somehow containing his amusement, and chose the three he had picked out as well as three other young slaves. In all, it was the pantherkin, the naga, and the orc who were chosen first, and now a young, confused-looking Fae, another beastkin - he guessed something like a raccoonkin - and a gnome.