Cilanthra, slave warehouse.

Corinth was having a very good day. Being assigned as a sub-branch head was his lifelong dream. A position with power, wealth and status, why would he not want it? All he had to do was laze about and order around some slaves. The contracts did the rest.

“Oi! Stop being lazy and move into order! These cages aren’t gonna move themselves, you know!” Corinth shouted at the bunch of lazy slaves. Why couldn't they just do the work instead of troubling him?

Corinth walked around a pile of boxes, sure that the slaves would be slacking there too. And they were! The fools weren’t even there! Furious, he stomped towards the slaves. The idiots had run away, they weren’t behind the cages, nor sitting on any of the tables. When would they realize that running away was not an option? Corinth mentally summoned his Qi, letting it into his merchant’s tool.

It was, in his opinion, the best thing ever invented, now he could sit as all the slaves reported to him. What punishment should he give these run away slaves? A flogging? Moving the cages? Hmm…where were they? The slaves should have reported in by now.

Corinth looked around the warehouse in alarm, finding it suspiciously quiet. Panicking, he started looking for the slaves, finding none. The cages, the workstations, the showcases, all of them were empty. The Shadow Prince would kill him for this. Such incompetence was not appreciated within the organization.

Finally, after a period of panicked searching, Corinth found a slave walking around the showcase section. Corinth didn’t recognize the slave, but judging by the gaudy clothing, he was obviously one of the showcase’s prime items. The ‘royal concubine’ section had received much praise and acclaim and was bound to be his bestseller.

“What are you doing? Return to your section at once!” Corinth yelled at the man, sending Qi into the tool. But surprisingly, the slave had no reaction to the order. Instead, he turned to him, and calmly said.

“So, you are the head of this monstrosity. Then it's best if you follow me, I have some questions for you.” the slave said, as his eyes sparkled.

As if someone had flipped a switch, the entire area was engulfed with fire. The warehouse melting in seconds as Corinth found himself being wrested away from the area. Looking at the cold metal walls that now surrounded him, had a single worrisome thought on his mind.

‘That wasn’t a slave, was it?’

The Count’s mansion, Cilanthra.

The Count was horrified. A page had just informed him that a large crater had just appeared in the miners district. A crater that was a kilometer in radius and sixty six metres deep with the royal seal embossed at the bottom.

To add to his misery, he had just been informed that the head of the royal inquisition and its entire council had just been let go from their posts, and the new council would be investigating Cilanthra for signs of ‘tax evasion, illegal trade practices and slavery’.

Each and every one of these charges would have him relinquished of his title, with the last one ending with him being executed by the inquisition. To make things worse, he was now a social pariah. Communicators had begun breaking the second the order had come through, people that had been begging him for information now abandoning him.

To make things worse, whoever destroyed the miner's district had left him a letter. A letter that, while being largely factual, had stated one thing very clearly.

The goods recovered from the warehouse have been sent to the Archduchess Altura, for her contribution in revealing this smuggling ring. The slaves have also been sent to her for rehabilitation into proper society. It is preferred if the Count of Cilanthra perform his duties and report such practices to the royal inquisition post-haste. The failure to do so is considered to be a crime under royal law.

This meant that he had already been convicted of failing to report practices he wasn’t even aware of. And to make things worse, he had just signed away on what were likely some very valuable ‘goods’ in that warehouse. Especially the slaves, they would likely be a fine replacement for the people he had lost just a few days ago.

The Count clenched his fists in frustration. If only he had just a bit more power, no one would dare target him then. But it was all temporary, he would face this inquisition and come out winning. With hesitation plain on his face, the Count removed a communicator from his pocket.

Taking a deep breath, the Count sent his Qi into the communicator and said to the image that appeared, “If the offer still stands, young Duke Artin, I would love to offer you the hospitality of Cilanthra.”

Outside the tunnel, before the City gate.

Norvithius was nervous. It had not been long since he had been a merchant in the outskirts of the Dark Empire. A rich one, but a mere merchant nonetheless. And then he had killed an insect in his shop. A baby Fiery Roach that had given him one Qi. But that was enough for him to germinate his seed and get the ‘Fair Earth’ element.

And then he had been kidnapped by one of his suppliers, kept in a cage and bound with shackles of ice. The guards had enjoyed telling him how they were made specifically to hold Earth attuned cultivators. Little did they know that he could not have harmed them even he were unshackled. A commoner in the Dark Empire knew nothing about magic or Qi. And he doubted one Qi would grant him any great powers.

The guards moved him often, taking him through underground ways that left him with no idea of where they were. And then, for what must have been the tenth time they had put him in a cage, he was freed, along with what must have been thousands of other slaves. The man who had freed him had been decked in black and gold, and looked as if he were some sort of High Noble.

According to him, they had been smuggled into the Kingdom for unknown reasons and were to cross a tunnel into a duchy where they would be rehabilitated. Norvithius had heard little about the Kingdom except that it was a barren, snowy place that was in constant war with its neighbor, the Jade Sect.

And he was finding the definition to be true. Instead of the thick trees and wet soil of the Empire, here there was little but snow and ice. There was not a sign of the vegetation that could be found everywhere in the Empire.

Even his fellow slaves avoided him, their lighter coloration showcasing that none of them belonged to the Empire. Norvithius shook himself, trying to do away with the creeping cold. The air here was far too dry for his comfort.

Deciding that waiting was not in his best interest, he began walking towards the gate. Besides him, several others followed suit. At the gate, they were met by a very buff old man that simply glared at them menacingly.

But Norvithius had dealt with buff old men before, his own father was one after all, so he wasn’t as cowered as the others seemed to be.

“Good Evening sir, I fear that I am a bit lost. I was directed here by a man that rescued me from an extremely unpleasant circumstance. Would you be willing to give me a moment of your time and aid me in understanding where I find myself?” Norvithius asked, putting on the same tone he would while dealing with a customer from one of the cities. Hopefully that would be enough for this man.

“Yes. But it is not me that you have to deal with. The Archduchess will be arriving and will handle the next part. I have been charged with preventing any ruckus in the meanwhile. I presume that there will not be any ruckus?” the man said.

“I am sure that is an agreeable circumstance.” Norvithius replied, wondering who this man was. And why an Archduchess was coming personally to deal with him. As far as he knew, Dukes and the like were at the same level as Vassal Kings of the Empire. And no vassal King would ever bother to talk with a commoner, let alone a freed slave.

But it was not his place to ask about such things. A commoner was, after all, a commoner. And a slave was a level below even that. But perhaps it was because Norvithius hadn’t been a slave too long, but he did not feel any different than he did a few days ago.

Sure, he was angry at his slavers, but the actions felt…passing? Of no importance? If someone told him to recount his experience and judge the crimes committed, he was sure he could do it. In an impartial manner, even.

Perhaps it was his seed, he had been told that he had a judge attuned element. It made sense that a judge seed would grant its user heightened impartiality and logic, while muffling emotions. But Norvithius was unsure if he liked this development, he was proud of his ability to empathize and relate to people.

Being a judgmental machine that only used logic did not appeal to him. In fact, it went against everything he stood for. But that was for later, right now a girl of no more than ten had arrived at the scene. Norvithius would have missed her if not for his newfound logic, but it had taken him very little time to conclude that this was the Archduchess.

The way she walked, the way those around her responded to her presence. People moved out of the way, wherever she walked she was the center of attention. The mere fact that she was here was a thing of interest to them. Moreover, nods of respect followed her, she was respected, perhaps even feared.

Something had happened recently that had made people fear her.

“Welcome to this little duchy of mine. The King has informed me of your circumstances, though I fear it shall be awhile before we can build enough houses, a recent…influx of residents has sadly overwhelmed our housing system. But I am sure Aswelth can have it all set up in a few hours. Meanwhile, I have decided to hold a welcome feast to welcome our new members. I am sure you are hungry.” The Archduchess said as she smiled.

With a wave of her hand, she made tables of Ice suddenly appear around the area. And with another wave, food appeared on the table. Norvithius recognized those dishes. It was the same food the slavers had lorded over him, telling him he would never eat again. What a genius move, using the food to hold a feast.

The buff man had likely given the Archduchess the slavers' entire food store, much of which he knew to be food that would rot in a few days. Holding a feast would calm the newly freed slaves nerves, and he was sure they would enjoy eating the food.

The irony was not lost on him. Norvithius headed towards the table where his guard's favorite food was kept. This was one meal he would thoroughly enjoy.